i could rule the land

“As the youngest of seven sons, I wasn’t particularly needed or wanted. Perhaps it was a good thing. I was able to study for longer than my father allowed my brothers before shoving them out the door to rule over some territory within our lands, and I could train for as long as I liked, since no one believed I’d be dumb enough to kill my way up the long list of heirs. And when I grew bored with studying and fighting … I learned what I could of the land from its people. Learned about the people, too.

I admit I shamelessly adore this bit. Lucien was a tiny nerd who enjoyed studying. And also yes to him mingling with the lowerborn faeries in his lands. 

He eased to his feet with a groan, his unbound hair glimmering as the midday sun overhead set the blood and wine hues aglow.

“I’d say that sounds more High-Lord-like than the life of an idle, unwanted son.”

A long, steely look. “Did you think it was mere hatred that prompted my brothers to do their best to break and kill me?”

Lucien as being powerful enough to rival for a High Lord’s heir: yep (where is that power why did i not get to see it I waited three books for this sjm how dare you deprive me????) 

Despite myself, a shudder rippled down my spine. I finished off the apple and uncoiled to my feet, plucking another off a low-hanging branch. “Would you want it—your father’s crown?”

“No one’s ever asked me that,” Lucien mused as we moved on, dodging fallen, rotting apples. The air was sticky-sweet. “The bloodshed that would be required to earn that crown wouldn’t be worth it. Neither would its festering court. I’d gain a crown—only to rule over a crafty, two-faced people.”

“Lord of Foxes,” I said, snorting as I remembered that mask he’d once worn.

Typically Lucien answer, twisted and careful…But he doesn’t actually say that he wouldn’t want to rule. Just…Not Beron’s court (I have a court u can rule, Lucien) 


Here is my first Jonsa fanfic called : Scars. I’ve had this idea in my head for a while now and finally finished writing it after foreeeever! Hope you guys like it! 

Winter was truly here. A snowstorm was raging outside Winterfell’s walls. It was the worst storm the North had seen since winter began… but there would still a many more to come before the arrival of spring.

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TrekFest 2017

Four times you fell for Bones, and the one time he fell for you, pt2: The Potentate

Word Count: 2178
Tags: @dolamrothianlady, @supermoonpanda, @kirkaholic123, @shewhorunswithfandoms @youdonebeengarthed, @starmission @emmkolenn@auduna-druitt @outside-the-government @yourtropegirl @pinkamour1588@impalaanddemons @flirtswithdanger @southernbellestatues@engineeringtrashcan @rayleyanns @sistasarah-sallysaidso @samaxraph99

The one thing you’d always loathed about your position as an ambassador was the need to attend functions that were only loosely tied to societies you interacted with. Feasts were difficult, as you never knew what delicacy you might have to gag down lest you offend, but parties and balls were your least favourite. So it was with begrudging acquiescence that you prepared for the planetary ball of Malvar III. It was billed as a celebration of the Malvarite delegation choosing to join the Federation. It was really a gala of excesses the Malvarites could barely afford. Choosing the Federation was a no-lose scenario. Their government was on the verge of bankruptcy and joining would allow the economy of the planet to recover significantly from the recession it had been mired in for decades, as new trade partners would become available. They seemed determined, despite your assurances that there was no need for the fete, to empty the treasury showing the Federation they were somehow worthy.

You checked your reflection in the mirror one last time. The only benefit you could find to the evening was that it gave you an excuse to wear something more comfortable than your ceremonial ambassadorial robes. Which said a lot about their comfort, considering you were poured into a slinky little black dress and a strappy pair of heels.

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the affairs of a kingdom

basilton pitch is an icy statue, all raven hair and skin pale as paper, crystal crowns and languid sprawls across golden thrones. his eyes are dark, grey as the depths of the ocean, and they spark with intelligence.

“i can rule alone, father.”

he could, with an iron fist. 

“a land needs compassion, not just logic and reason.” it’s been far to long since there’s been a queen, he means. “find your humanity.”

and so there’s a ball.

ladies, resplendent in jewel bright ball gowns dripping with diamonds and emeralds, stream in from every corner of the world to win his hand. they’re accompanied by kings and queens and princesses and princes- a ball like this is not to be missed. even the daughters of their rival come, arriving in elegant carriages and escorted by a golden haired prince with suspicious blue eyes and a freckled hand ever-resting on the pommel of his sword.

basilton thinks it’s ridiculous. no matter what the outcome of the ridiculous ball, a queen will not be chosen- and his father knows it. hidden in his orders was a threat- it’s been too long since there was a queen, and there will be one. 

there will be.

he’s played the perfect little prince.

he’s danced, and kissed dainty gloved hands, and escorted ladies to their carriages. he’s made polite conversation. he’s scrutinized each princess that’s fallen under his gaze.


milky gold hair, silver doe eyes, skin as pale as his own. she knows how it is to put up a front- her smile is cold and her eyes are as calculating as his own.


she’s a pale waif of a girl, walking fairy-light in her green gown and golden slippers. she’s making eyes at the one in the lilac dress and wildly curling hair across the room, so baz leaves her alone. he knows how she feels. 


sharp as a whip, she’s engaged to a prince across the waters. baz doesn’t know why she’s here. they exchange suspicious looks across the ballroom. 


she’s overly eager, bouncing on the balls of her feet and practically radiating energy. she talks so much that baz wishes there was a way to make her voice disappear- he doesn’t say this out loud.

his manners are perfect.

he feels eyes boring into the back of his head, raking up his back, studying how he moves and who he’s talking to and how he looks when he’s standing alone, for once, with a glass of wine in the corner.

they fall in love with him, or they think they do.

he’s ice.

the snows are fire.

the pitches are fire, too, but they’re careful. they melt away problems, slowly, softly, so that no one notices.

the snows are snapping, licking flames, sudden and unexpected. they’re words that singe and they’re sparking tempers, and it takes only the smallest movement to fan the flames.

there are two girls, twins- rose and celeste, both with rosy cheeks and baby blue eyes. one has freckles bridging her nose.

their younger brother is their escort- prince simon. hair like spun gold and deep blue eyes and moles all over, dotting his cheeks and his neck and- he’s beautiful.

he hates baz. 

he has before he even met him- baz hates him too, on principal. but simon’s always hovering, like it’s his duty to protect baz from the poor girls dancing with him.

it’s not. baz is hardly likely to pounce. 

they end up talking. 

it’s rough, scraping, just like baz expected.



and then they wait, for the other to make a move. sizing each other up.

“you’re not getting my sisters.”

and baz nods. because he knows that. he’s fine with that.

he’s a prince, and snow’s a prince, but he still thinks snow is the most beautiful person at the ball.

maybe he wasn’t meant to have a queen.

he doesn’t tell his father.

they come together in a desperate clash.

they hate each other. they hate each other. they hate they hate they hate-

they have to.


baz isn’t getting simon’s sisters.

but he is getting frantic kisses, and pale golden fingers contrasting against his own papery ones.

he is getting solid blue stares into his own grey eyes.

he is getting embraces so tight he couldn’t wiggle out of them if he tried.

(he doesn’t try.)

basilton pitch is in love with simon snow.

and it’s eye contact across crowded ballroom floors.

it’s tearing jealousy when he’s dancing with someone else.

it’s being confused. it’s everything blurring together except when he’s with him. it’s two princes, gold against silver.

“don’t go.” pale words, whispered against a bronze neck. “please.”

“i have to. i’m sorry, i have to-”

it’s only been two weeks.

and baz hasn’t chosen a queen.

“celeste,” suggests simon. “marry celeste. we could see each other, then-”

“i thought you hated me.” baz hides his face in simon’s chest, hearing him breath.

“i do,” says simon, but his voice is uncertain. 

“i can’t marry celeste, that’s a horrible thing to do.”

“it’s just strategy. i thought that’s what you pitches are all about?”

“of course not,” says baz, voice gentle as butterfly wings. simon buries his face in baz’s hair and wishes, wishes, wishes-


just a little longer.

“celeste, would you marry the prince?”

“of course.” her eyes are wide, confused. “that’s what i’m here for, isn’t it?”

“no, i- if he didn’t love you back.”

“i never expected he would. i thought this was just business. why?”

“i can’t- celeste, i can’t tell you-”

 she examines him with shrewd eyes- his mussed hair, desperate eyes.

“is it his sister?”

“no! it’s-”

her eyes slide shut, and when she opens them again she looks impossibly sad. “is it him?”

simon freezes. “i-”


“how could you know that? i-” his head droops. “-will you?”

“of course i will, simon. you’re my baby brother. but- don’t let anyone know. you can’t let anyone know.”

“she said she would.”

what? you told her? snow, you can’t- we can’t-”

“no, she figured it out on her own- but you have to say yes, okay? please.”

“of course. of course i’ll say yes, of course, but- no one can know, okay? please. no one can know why.”

they’re married in blue and grey silk, and it’s a grand affair- the union of two kingdoms, warring for centuries. baz looks like a marble statue, all angles and chiseled cheekbones, while celeste is as soft and radiant as a rose.

they’re both so beautiful.

“i love you, i love you, i love you-”

it’s baz’s wedding night but he’s kissing another. he should feel guilty but he can’t- all he feels is love and terror, deep inside-

what if they’re caught? found out? separated?

they have tonight.

“i love you so much. i love you. i love you.”

volturisecretary  asked:

I saw your tag novel and I'm curious- if you could had the opportunity to make your own vampire government system, how would you set it up to prevent crazy vampire world turmoil. A lot of people seem to be fans of the "vampire council" concept but I agree that it probably wouldn't work well with how vampires are portrayed in the books. Thanks :3.

This is such a great question! My headcanons about an idea vampire government are tentative, so forgive any ambiguity or logical gaps. 

  • Democracy won’t work. The idea of elected representatives is premised upon a changing pool of candidates and a populace that cares. Vampires definitely don’t have that the former. The number of ‘available’ politicians doesn’t change much throughout the decades, so even if the undead wanted to vote somebody out, there might be no good replacements to vote in. 

  • Also? Vampires are selfish. Yes, even the nice ones. Self-sacrifice and inconvenience don’t come to them easily. You can’t “make” a politician out of Carlisle or Siobhan or Rosalie if they’re not eager about the job. It’s also worth mentioning that vampire politics seem utterly joyless. Even the kindest characterization of the Volturi portrays them as paranoid, worn down, separated from their partners for long periods of time, and making hard ethical choices. I can’t see any of present-day non-ruling vamps signing up for that lifestyle willingly.

  • So where does that leave us? International satellite governments with similar mandates but different methods, staffed by long-term volunteers

  •  I really like the Volturi’s idea of indoctrinating newborns with their laws, but I wish they had taken it a step further, by settling up parallel government/working with local covens, and ultimately ingraining the idea that secrecy matters into vampire society.

  • Once everyone has agreed that secrecy is the law of the land, I could see various ruling covens using different methods of enforcement. Covens in high-population regions constantly being hammered by natural disasters could afford to be chill. Covens in low-density areas with excellent record-keeping, less so. Allowing vampires to work out a system that makes sense in their territory is more efficient than the Volturi swooping in after a disaster has already broken out.

  • Let’s talk checks and balances! First, I imagine that a network of established ruling covens would keep any tyrannical tendencies at bay. Like… if Aro were trying to recruit some wonderfully gifted person, three other covens would probably compete for them with more intriguing workplace benefits packages, and two more would offer that vampire a peaceful life on their territory. If a Vladimir or an Amun decided that he wanted to be worshipped, other covens would step in because of the human refugee influx onto their territory. 

    Second, with more vampire governments, there are– by necessity– more open positions. Ambitious vampires are no longer relegated to making battlefield speeches, Garrett-style. They can be the change they want to see in the world by actually signing up and doing the hard work of ruling. (And, because it really is hard work, I’d imagine that some coven would be grateful for volunteers at any given time.)

  • Basically, I think the strength of this system is as follows: nomads can continue living as they like, and the ambitious vampires can actually implement their vision, while being restrained by other, equally ambitious/intelligent vampires. 
A War On Two Fronts | Part Five

Summary:  All he has to do is kill her. If the Demon Prince can kill Princess Lucy Heartfilia, the war will be over and victory will be theirs. But he can’t do it. And she can’t quite bring herself to kill him either.

Rating: M               Ff Link

Words: 2048

A/N: Stuff actually happens this chapter!!!! And it’s longer than usual!!! The next part is my favourite but I did spent today writing a pretty intense scene so I hope that turned out okay too. You actually get some interaction this chapter, but jest a heads up, part six is the longest part so far. What could be in store?? Let me know what you thought of part five!!

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four /

Close Encounters

After receiving his lashes and spending over a week in confinement, Natsu had thought his punishment would be over.

But no.

Zeref had decided to send him on an errand, far away from any battlefield where the pesky Princess might be located. An errand, not only far away from the heat of battle, but located on the frosty northern continent. A convenient place to send someone who hated the cold.

Natsu hated the cold.

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