"Reject" Part 2 (Smut)

Not Wanted Part 2

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen x fem chubby reader

Summarize:

Trigger Warning:

Author’s note: Hello, this part 2 are a little short but the next part will be longer.

Warning: I have not corrected this part deeply because slightly under painkiller. I will reread and correct better when I can

---

As the sun rose, the light moved on the ground, slowly drawing closer to the wet ground. When the sun has reached the line, the archery tournament would begin. If for some people time was moving fast, for others time seemed to have slowed down. Among this people, there was you.

You dared not look around, knowing that your father was watching you, at the slightest misstep, he would have made you pay once the alcohol in sufficient quantity in his veins. All you observed were the archers who all wore tunics in the colors of their houses or the nobles for whom, they participated in this tournament. You did not recognize all the houses, the participants coming mainly from house far away from home, and low nobility, at the limit of the squire. You suspected that your father might think of approaching one of them in order to bargain your marriage. This thought gave you shivers in the back. You did not know any of them, and although some seemed to be full of nobility, the others made you think more of small boasters who were there only to woo young women and in nothing seemed to want to find a wife.

Lost in your thoughts, the sound of the horn startled you gently, your servant took your hand to reassure you, you had closed your eyes, feeling your heart palpitating, opening your eyelids you watched the archers bandage their bows, ready to shoot.

From his place, Daemon continued to observe you, noticing your startle, he raised an eyebrow, raising his cup of wine in front of his lips, he smiled in the corner before drinking a sip. He felt that these few days of games were going to be interesting.

---

The gentle breeze, rare in the lands of the Baratheon, did not bother the archers, it even helped them in the first rounds, even the less skilful had no difficulty in reaching their targets. The closest to the center of the target, were qualified for the following rounds. Gradually, the targets were placed further and further, increase the difficulty, the breeze with the distance, slightly deflect the arrows from their trajectories.

This show was not the most exciting, the people present screamed very little, concentrating on watching the remaining archers prepare to shoot their very last arrow. You would sigh, prefer to speak in low mass with your servant, whether it is the next games, or the young man who remains embedded in a corner of your head. Your servant, at times, looked discreetly in the direction of the stands where Prince Targaryen stood, explaining to you that the prince seemed to be bored, his gaze lost in the void.

You were restrained from looking in his direction, knowing that your father, although concentrating on the tournament, would keep an eye on you, his presence was a burden on your back.

---

A new blow of horn put an end to the tournament, put an end to the first game of the day, it indicated at the same time, the beginning of the banquait of noon.

The lords and lady present, began to leave the stands one after the other, several lady left in the direction of their tents, walking quickly for the young, you suspected that they wanted to change to make a good impression, They also see it as a matter of finding a husband. You felt less alone in this bargaining game, although you would have preferred to have as many choices as they, to have the right to get to know your or your suitors. To be able to prepare yourself and not to remain locked in your tent, to watch over by your servant and Sir Percival. You sighed so softly, knowing what you were to do during the day, your father having been very clear in the morning. You had to be a silent spectator, between each game, you had to go to your tent and wait there for the next games. Instead of banquets or dinner by the side of the lords and lady of the smallest houses, you would eat with your servant, always enclosed in your tent.

It was simple, crystal clear. It was. It was not counting on a person with a purplish gaze.

Your father did not participate in the Baratheon banquaint, but had invited himself to the home of the archery tournament winner. Leaving you back at your servant’s side.

"Lady Y/n, can we stop at the vote of the helmets of the knights of the jousting tournament?"

“I…”

You were thinking, you wanted to go, but on the other hand you knew that your father’s wrath would have been terrible. Until out of the corner of your eye you saw an advanced gray dot. Turning your head, you recognized the unknown, the prince. He was heading for the tents of the future tournaments. With a stroke of madness or courage, you looked at your servant.

“Why not, let’s go, we can always say we got lost on the way home.”

Gently holding your servant’s arm, you began to walk slowly, trying to pass incognito in the crowd of people. While keeping sight of the corner of the eye, the prince’s silver hair.

---

There were few people present for the helmet vote. Each was particular, some wore gilding, other helmets were forged of angular geometric shapes. Your servant watched them each, taking her time, you on the contrary, you had the look hung by a single helmet, this dark helmet, with the details of a dragon.

"May I, ladies? We have few votes, if you like one, we suggest you vote for the one of your preference."

A mestre of the house Baratheon had just spoken, he was part of the judges designer.

«To which knights does this helmet belong?» this question comes naturally from your lips.

“We can’t tell you, although the houses may show, we want to keep a form of fairness in voting.”

“Oh, well…. I vote for this one then.”

You slowly raised your hand towards the dragon helmet.

The maester took note of a parchment, placing it in a wooden box. He observed your servant waiting for her answer. Surprised, she looked at you, you nodded, the mestre would not have accepted her vote if the number of votes was so low. She chose a helmet with gold motifs, delicately inlaid in the helmet. The Maester thanked you for the votes when he left the tent.

You watched around you, hoping to see the silver hair but alas, he was not present. You sigh softly, taking delicately the arm of your servant, you mime to return, under the odors emanating from the food cooked on the wood fire, opening you the appetite.

What you didn’t know was that the prince, hiding in the middle of the crowd, could see you, he had seen you come out of the tent, and he was ready to ask with very little politeness, if you had voted and for whom. But he held back, a vote was nothing compared to future games and his intentions towards you.

---

The second day, marked the beginning of the tournament of combat between two teams, the teams were constituted of several houses, generally, the houses were close by their geographical positions or by marital alliance.

These games were located outside the cities and villages, can be very large in size and duration all day, or several days depending on the size of the teams and the distance separate them. During his games, the two teams had to take their opponents prisoner, they could make prisoner exchanges, but generally, they waited for the horn sounds that declared the end of the game day claim by the lord of the place.

Your father had gone to the games, he enjoyed the violence that emanated from his games, a cup of wine in his hand he was screaming for are team fetish.

You of your side, you were staying in your tent, your father had not enjoyed your little getaway of the previous day and you had forbidden to attend the games of the day. It was a relief in a way, you didn’t want to see you go down on both teams. There were other ideas in your head, like going for a walk in the city.

With your heart beating, you had taken a hooded cape from the trunk where the few clothes you had were. Your servant was ready to follow you, Sir Percival was not in the running, if he would have been, he would never have accepted. It was in secret that the two of you set off towards the city, with your head hidden by the hood.

---

The city consisted of wooden buildings and lime. There was a large street that led to tangles of smaller streets and alleys. Each street led to specific shops, there was a street of blacksmiths, a street of tailors, a street of market gardeners to name a few. The streets were paved with large stones, the streets bonded visitors and spectators of the games.

You could hear the cries of the merchants, the negotiations taking place between the merchant and the client. Musicians playing and singing, you could see color games coming from the clothes of passers-by. A smell of earth food reigned in the air, except at the time of passing in the street of the washerwomen, where a smell of soap and plant reigned in the street.

---

The sun almost at its zenith, you proposed to your servant to take advantage of this outing to eat outside the camp, it is more than joyful, that she accepted.

At the corner of the street taverns, you went in search of one of them who prepared dishes to your taste. One of them was interesting, because of its food offer but also because of its original name "The Smoked Pie". What a strange name.

As you entered the building, you were greeted by a sweet warmth and a mixture of smell, wood fire and food, the smell of roasted meat and soup rose to your nose. The place was luminous by its windows illuminate by the light coming from the street, only a part more removed from the entrance, was plunged into the penumbra.

The walls were composed of a light cob and consolidate pillar of dark wood in a color contrast.

Employees of the tavern, walked zigzagging through the aisles of tables, from the world was present, near to eat the specialties of the establishment. Fortunately, some seats were free at some tables, one of them was in the right corner of the counter, on the nearby tables, men and women feasted, sang, giving even more warmth to the place.

At this table, two hooded people were sitting, drinking and eating sense pay attention to the world around them.

It’s one step to decide that both of you start walking towards this table. The owner of the tavern sent an employer to welcome you, explaining the many dishes that the place offered, leaving you a few moments to choose. Your servant looked at you waiting for you to choose for both of you, though she knew you would have let her choose what she wanted to eat.

As you opened your mouth to begin to command, a male voice held you back.

"I don’t recommend their wine. It’s dog piss."

Outraged to have heard the words of the man, you raised your head, how did he dare to speak like that? for whom did he take himself?

"Keep an eye on..."

You could not continue your sentence, your heart missed a beat before starting to beat, your pupils began to dilate, this man... Those purple eyes... it was him...

Daemon Targaryen was right in front of you, and the world seemed to disappear around you.

It's maybe because of Christmas,

But I have just created a community on Tumblr.

Where chubby writer and reader can talk about every fandoms that they want and share fanfictions and all

Here the link https://www.tumblr.com/join/JHf8BX7O

Oh and Joyeux Noël à tout le monde 🎄🎄🎄🎇🎆🎉🎉

Shout out to all the Black ppl that can no longer participate directly in the fandom they love because of the stresses of racism 👍🏾 you contain multitudes of value and I'm sorry that the color of your skin and the power of your voice makes people not want to acknowledge that.

Hello everyone,

I hope you’re all right,

I don’t forget you, I just haven’t been much on my computer and it’s a bit hard for me to write long chapter with my phone.

I write anyway but in paper format , as attests it is some photos on the advance of "Not wanted part 3".

I also have a few notes to continue "Life in Dorne", because by testing Characters Ai and my personna finishing with a Martell and not Daemon, I want to write content on Dorne. (I want so much a series centered on Martell and Dorne in general) Even if I personally would be more of a Tyrell or a Stark, but I love Dorne. (This makes me think I could write for thé other houses, to think about, anyway I’ll specify at the beginning of one-shot.)

I also want to write about Maegor, he became my darling suddenly, I did not understand how but it happened. But I think I will focus on reading what already exists and interacting with the authors.

Good day to you, I come back quickly, that it is for small posts, like imaginings where when I will finish writing "Not wanted part 3".

Tenderly,

Earenwen🌿

Bonus: I almost forgot the pictures.

PS I write in a dyslexic French.😅

Hello, I hope it's okay for me to contact you. I've stumbled on your post about you feeling self-conscious about the lack of comments on your fics and all, and after browsing your blog, I wanted to ask if you still wanted a beta reader?

I'm also a native French speaker and there aren't too many of us in this fandom, so part of me thinks we should probably stick together. I'm sending this on anon in case you don't want help, but if you do, I'll reach out by DMs. I'm also a fanfic writer, I've been writing for HotD for 2 and a half years now.

Hello, yes of course you can contact me by DMs.

I accept help :)

Of course we can stick together, you too write for hotd? That's so cool :)

about your opinion on the difference in plus-size!reader stories, i don't know if it's like that with everyone (and i also don't know if this is considered prejudice, please tell me if it is), but i like it and i don't read it because i think i'm appropriating something that isn't for me. the same happens with black!reader stories: i like it but i don't read it, because for me there are already many stories in which i'm the main "target" and i feel that by reading (black or plus-size stories) i will be appropriating something that someone else deserves much more (i don't know if you understand what I'm trying to say)

Hello, I think I understood what you meant, and I’ll try to answer as best I can from my perspective. I’ll divide my answer into three parts. The chubby/plus size reader, the poc reader, and the appropriation question. For the chubby/plus size reader, I think that you and other people can read the fictions that we target chubby/plus size reader, because being myself in this category, I have read many fictions where the reader is thin, and other chubby/plus size reader have read too.

For the poc reader, I would have trouble answering, for being a white person, I think it depends on the authors, in some fandoms, people were very aggressive about white people and explaining clearly and aggressively that they did not want their writings read. But personally, no matter the color of the skin, the author or the target audience, you can like a work, read it, watch it or listen to it, I write my fictions as neutral as possible (apart from the chubby/plus size side) so that everyone can enjoy fanfiction and feel included. I have always lived around people of different origins so the fact of categories a person because of his skin color is an abstract concept. I have always been taught not to judge a person by his skin colour but by his actions.

And to finish the subject of appropriation, I think very sincerely that this is a very delicate subject because everyone will have a different vision of the subject. For me there is no appropriation as long as there is respect, as for example Japan, if I put on a traditional kimono I will learn the meaning, the rituals, the tradition that surrounds it, I would wear it with respect and not strut about. In my countrie there is no such issue, because it is just crazy to see that someone knows my country, (as long as there is respect) I speak with knowledge being of Belgian origin, there are few people who would have heard about my country. (We have Brussels as capital just in case)

To summarize, I think that according to the authors and readers, the answer may differ. I am not an expert and even from very far away .

I will end with this words.

If we have to divide ourselves into a place that should bring us together no matter where we come from, that we have to start reading, listening, or looking at something based on our skin color, or our size, then our civilization regresses because we should be united, It scares me because we are all human.

I hope I’ve managed to answer you, honestly, if you want to read something that makes you want to read and that you like, go ahead, read as many fictions as you want. is not ashamed. Because it does not matter who reads what we write as long as it is a person who has appreciated our work and that there is mutual respect between author and readers then what good is it to break our heads with it?

If anyone wants to respond, go ahead, I’d like to hear from you, and I’m sure annon as well.

I hope I didn’t hurt anyone, that was not my intention.

Earenwen 🌿

Hey, Merry Christmas 🎄

I Hope you have a nice day and night, with familly and/or friends.

I see you before the end of the year.

Do not worry, I do not forgot to write. 🙂

Earenwen 🌿

Part 6 of "Breathe everything will be fine"

Abstract: While the north is looking for you, you marry Daemon.  

Pairing: Daemon x chubby Fem reader  

Trigger warning: Small mention of blood (Valyrian wedding)

Masterlist : Here

Lord Stark watched the servants and knights of y/h/n wandering around the castle. The servants helping the knights to put on their armor, moving the weapons that were to be sharpened, strengthening the shields, adapting the ribs of mesh. He was walking down the halls, ready to meet your father. He heard it first, his friend spoke loudly, expressing his disdain and contempt for Daemon, that he would go and get you back.  

When Stark entered the room where your father was preparing, he surprised your father spanking the hundred pats. A big taste of sweat fell from his head, his veins were so swollen on His face that it became slightly visible. His eyes were bloodshot. 

"My friend, what happened?"  

"He kidnapped her!"  

"Who?"  

"Daemon! He dared to kidnap Y/n!"  

Lord Stark was stunned, he was still trying to keep a logical mind, you cared about your family, if you had left it was for a good reason, you were an adult, always the wisest, it was true that you had changed alongside the prince, maybe you did follow Daemon, like in King's Landing. Lord Stark did not want an open conflict with the Targaryen, whether it was Daemon or Viserys.  

“Before any attack, let’s find out where they went.”  

“The time to hear from them who knows what he has done to her!”  

“Calm down, your thoughts are not clear.”  

“How can I calm down?” 

“Y/n is a young adult woman who became attached to the prince, just as he seems to have become fond of her.” Lord Stark sighed. “If she left, maybe she left voluntarily.”  

"I will kill him, prince or not!"  

“Enough! I will help you find her, but I will not help you if you hatch an open conflict. If Y/n really left with the prince, ask yourself why. Why is she willing to follow the prince? Why is she willing to be denied?”  

Your father had stopped at Lord Stark’s monologue. He was looking at him with a pulsating heart and jerky breathing. He did not understand how his friend was so calm, troubled by anxiety and anger. 

For several weeks, your family had no news, crows were exchanged between the Red Keep and your family’s chastisement. Emissaries were sent throughout the kingdom to search for you. No news was to be deplored.  

Until an emissary spoke, he returned from the territories near the island of Dragonstone.  

“A dragon resembling Caraxes was seen circling Dragonstone (castle).”  

Sir Reinfrid had taken the lead's of research, your parents had remained on your lands. Lord Stark had ordered your father to stay, he could not help the search without risking a conflict with the royal family.  

The emissary was in front of Sir Reinfrid, he had just arrived after a few days of traveling, he had been sent with others to the area. 

"How long have they known?"  

"At least one moon, Sir."  

"And no one thought to warn the Targaryen house?"  

“No sir, according to villagers, the prince was married and his bride looked like Lady Y/h/n. They thought it was planned.”  

Sir Reinfrid had the impression that his blood was becoming as cold as the northern rivers. It must have been certain that you were married to the prince. He hoped that this marriage was not forced, that the prince was not so cruel and deceitful. But if he had known about past events, he wouldn’t have his thoughts. 

Because in Dragonstorne, concerns were not current.  

A moon rather, Caraxes had stopped at the foot of the castle, Daemon had helped you down from the dragon. As you walked away you turned to Caraxes, thanking the dragon with a gentle voice, he replied with a dull roar. Daemon, who had placed one of his hands in the hollow of your back, looked at Caraxes before speaking to him in High Valeryen, you looked at Daemon curious about his words, he smiled and made you enter the castle.  

Dragonstone is an island being very different than the territories of your family in Westeros, the castle was as different as yours, whether in the grandeur of the place, the decoration, but also in the global atmosphere, the castle seemed to have run out of life for several years. It was as if a happy life had left the castle. It took you several days to begin to adapt to the place, even if you continued to get slightly lost in the corridors, Daemon fortunately remained at your side for a long time, which allowed you to learn to distinguish the corridors, the different rooms composing the castle. 

It was necessary to wait several days before your union, until a priest arrived at the castle. The use of a priest was not mandatory, but Daemon wanted your union to be declared official. This allowed you to set the final details of your ceremonial dress, whether it be a seam or the size of the ceremonial headdress.  

The day had just come up, the breeze was warm, the sky passed from the colors of the night, to other warm ones whether it be red to orange to yellow, as close as possible to the sunrise.  

You watched the horizon, surprisingly you were not nervous, the future ceremony seemed to you most natural, a continuity in your relationship with Daemon.  

A few people were present, several knights loyal to Daemon, a few servants of the castle, one of the two servants who had helped you prepare the same morning.   

Daemon was looking you in the eye, the light of day gave warmer tones to her purplish eyes. Your heart beat softly, the serenity that emanated from Daemon, carried away any trace of anxiety that could cross you. Daemon looked at you with a look that no one could have imagined. His look was filled with a love, a sweetness that few people would have thought. 

The priest began the ceremony, placing a blade resembling an obsidian blade in Daemon’s hand, you smiled tenderly at him, your heart began to beat a little faster, anticipating future cuts, more for the future pain than for the gesture itself.  

Daemon had taken the time to explain to you what a traditional Valyrian marriage was. Telling the story about this ritual, why the Targaryen were getting married less and less in this way, how the ceremony of the seven replaced it. It helped you stay calm and relaxed, while nurturing your curiosity about the Targaryen.  

When the tip of the blade touched your lower lip, only the coldness of it remained in your memory, it was very sharp, there was almost no pain just a slight pressure, and a scratch, you felt a hot liquid flowing slowly, Daemon gently placed his thumb against the cut, collecting some blood. You continued to look him in the eye, seeing his hand approaching your forehead, he left a line of blood from the tip of your cap to the crossing between your eyebrows and your nose. 

Exhaling the air you unconsciously held back, you took the blade from Daemon’s hands, concentrating to keep your hand from shaking, you cut off your left hand on the surface, enough to draw blood, You then gently placed the tip of the blade in the middle of Daemon’s lower lip, cutting his lip, while trying to reassure yourself that it would not hurt him that much. You collected blood from his lip with your thumb and just like Daemon you placed your thumb on his forehead tracing the tip of a triangle. He took the blade from your hands to cut the inside of his left hand.  

With your heart pounding, you were trying to breathe quietly. Your left hands bound by a black and red purple ribbon embroidered with golden yellow thread, ready the Priest to recite the prayer in High Valyrian. 

« Hen lantoti ānogar / Va sȳndroti vāedroma / Mēro perzot gīhoti / Elēdroma iārza sīr / Izulī ampā perzī / Prūmī lanti sēteksi / Hen jenȳ māzīlarion / Qēlossa ozūndesi / Sȳndroro ōñō jēdo / Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi  » 

The priest handed you a cup, you drank a sip before handing the cup to Daemon, he also took a sip and then gave the cup to the loan. The world no longer existed around you two, no more Westeros, no more accepting or not accepting family. There was only Daemon and you, never could have imagined in your childhood to marry a prince, besides a Targaryen. But now there was no royalty, Daemon was just him, you didn’t want a title, just to be with the person you loved, right now and for the rest of your life. Whether he was a prince, a king, a knight or a thug, it didn’t matter to you, it was the man you fell in love with, not a title.  

His lips came out of your thoughts, when they landed on yours, you exchanged a sweet kiss, your cuts touching, there was a metallic taste in stooping, that changed the slightly sweet taste that Daemon’s lips could have after drinking wine. He placed his free hand against your face caressing your cheek, to arrive at the embrace between your head and neck. Getting you as close as possible, the only barrier being your left arms. You were now united by marriage, this union could not be removed so easily. A feeling of pure happiness invaded you, a few tears of joy made their way along your cheeks. With a thumb, Daemon gathered your tears, smiling tenderly. That smile that was dedicated to you.  

There was no great banquet, loud lords proclaim more or less sincere and convincing congratulations. No big ball and hours of dancing, or even a completely drunk guest.   

The knights had a meal and wine in their guard room, celebrating among themselves. The servants had a day of rest for the most part, some always ready to serve at the least request of the prince or yours, ready to prepare lunch and evening meal.  

You and Daemon are staying out of the castle for a while, enjoying the outside heat. You wandering around the castle, Caraxes watching in the distance.   

You looked at the landscape, Daemon’s hand resting in the hollow of your loins, summer was drawing to a close, the trees were not yet wearing their autumn clothes. The flowers were still in bloom, the wind taking away the petals of them.   

“It’s beautiful.”  

«Not as much as you, my pretty wife» 

You felt that sweet warmth again in your body.  

“I’m sure you’re even prettier without all his clothes.” Daemon had his face close to yours.  

“D… Daemon…” Your heart was starting to beat a little stronger.  

“Don’t be so shy, we’re married now. You’ve certainly pictured me naked, as I’ve pictured you more than once.” Daemon’s face was so close, it bit your earlobe gently.  

You moan softly, a shiver running through your body. Daemon was right, more than once you had imagined what he might look like naked. Several times late at night, after one of your meetings at the Red Keep, you imagined that the night would last longer, that it would sneak into your room and that you would succumb to lust. The gossip of his adventures in the brothels of King’s Landing did not please you very much, but at the same time, you imagined what he was doing there, whether it was you instead of one of his prostitutes. That night, you could discover the pleasures of the pulpit next to Daemon.  

Dragonstone seemed warmer since your union, the castle full of life, the servants like to bet on the time it would take you to give birth to your first child. Whether or not they know if you and Daemon wanted children or not, and if so so early or later. 

The only shadow on the table was an early autumn morning, a knight had gone in search of Daemon, a boat with a group of knights was approaching.  

Daemon was upset, if not annoying. Few matter who these people were, they had better have very good reasons to be on the Targaryen domain.  

The meeting took place on the bridge leading to the castle, You had insisted to be at his side, being calmer than him, you hoped to avoid any eventual overflow. Daemon recognized in the distance, the banners of your house and those Targaryen. He sighed and started pacing, if Viserys had sent this bastard Hightower, Daemon would make him lose his head at the slightest remark. You do grab Daemon’s hand, clutching it, trying to relax him without succeeding.  

The tension in the air was oppressive, you recognized Sir Geubert and Otto Hightower. Daemon’s gaze did not leave Otto, if your husband could spit fire, you were convinced that Hightower would be roasted before even speaking. 

"Prince Daemon!" Otto was not even trying to be complacent.  

"What do you want, you mangy dog?" Daemon had put his free hand on Dark Sister’s knob, ready to draw at the slightest moment.  

“We have learned that you are hiding here as well as your supposed union with Lady Y/h/n.”  

“We are married according to the ancient Valyrian tradition. You can fuck off.”  

"The king summons you both to the Red Keep, I doubt you want to avoid a war between the king and your family, Lady Y/h/n. " Otto turned his head in your direction.  

“My brother will do everything to avoid it, to the point that he would have us marry himself.”

Daemon was more and more annoyed, if Otto was present it was not only as a messenger, he was sure. Otto took out a parchment bearing the Targaryen seal. He stretched it towards Daemon.  

The letter contained a message from Viserys asking Daemon to come to the capital, whether he is married to you or not. He wanted the tensions to ease. 

"We will be present." You spoke for the first time since they arrived. "Now left Lord Hightower."  

“You don’t belong in this field.”  

“He is for the king’s successor, as long as Viserys has no sons, this is my husband’s domain.” You looked at Daemon before you started again. “You’d better leave before I let my husband cut off one of your limbs.”  

Daemon smirk, he was beginning to like the assurance you have, more and more. The cry of Caraxes put an end to hostilities. The great red dragon began to grow impatient, The knights accompanying Otto and Sir Geubert retreated, ready to flee at the slightest order.   

"Are you happy, Lady Y/n?" Sir Geubert spoke.  

You were nodding, more than happy with Daemon. Sir Geubert understood, that he now had to try to convince your family, perhaps that in the end, you had chosen to leave with the prince. 

Translation : (thanks to Reddit) 

Blood of two / Joined as one / Ghostly flame / And song of shadows / Two hearts as embers / Forged in fourteen fires / A future promised in glass / The stars stand witness / The vow spoken through time / Of darkness and light 

Tags list :  @the-phantom-of-arda

@tinypnut

@thestartitaness

Hello

here is a little update,

The fanfiction sequels are coming, I just had a very big delay due to several factors. The bug of the drive that I use to save my writings being one of them. Losing the texts was quite hard and I had some difficulty to rewrite after that.

Medical problems of relatives were just added on (everything is better), I took time to encourage me to write, I had the sequels in mind a part of the writings, in paper form, but… Yes it took time. Here, I am at the half of the rewrite of Not Wanted part 2, in paper format, normally, I would have finished it on Monday, while I write it on computer, it will be published around Thursday.

I hope you are all well.

See you Thursday,

Earenwen

Him been in a secret relationship, with his s/o.

Him been all cuddling sweat talking with his s/o in private.

But the moment they are in public.

He don't look at his s/o, whoever if his s/o his high or low born.

He don't talk with them.

The day his s/o try to go to him, smiling at him, and asking him if they are going to meet later that day. He will just act as he don't know his s/o.

Don't have been courting them in secret during a year.