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Audition Form All auditions will be accepted, so don't be afraid to send those in. About the character1. Name: Canon, oc or genderbeny2. Faceclaim: We ask for 2 faceclaim choices in the events 1 is taken or will be.a. Preferred faceclaim choiceb. Alternative faceclaim choice3. Second role choice, in case you don’t get this one: About the writer4. Do you have discord?5. Will your character only be discord based, on site or both:6. Do you have any obstacles that would cause your activity to be slow?Please provide a sample of your writing in the point of view of the character you're auditioning for.

Showing a little love to Frankie, Heather, and Ophelia

The sun was already starting its descent over the horizon. The sky over Las Vegas was various shades of orange and purple. Starlee had just locked the front door to Purebred and flipped the OPEN sign to CLOSED. While the bakery was officially closed for the day, she still had a lot of work to do. It was Monday night, so she needed extra work to fill the display case for the week ahead. Stretching her arms over her head, she went to the back kitchen, where cookie sheets were stacked and ready to be loaded.A large industrial mixer was hard at work whipping up the next giant batch of pet-friendly frosting. While that whirled behind Starlee, she pulled out a basket of cookie cutters and sifted through them until she found her desired shapes for the week. She would focus on a whole spring theme since St. Patricks Day had just ended and Easter was just around the corner. Last week's clovers and shamrocks went over without a hitch, so we were confident her floral bouquets would be just as popular. Star carefully cut out the tulip, daisy, sunflower, and rose shapes from a batch of cookie dough on the aluminum table. She placed them on the awaiting cookie sheets and popped them into the oven, knowing they would need to bake low and slow until they reached the perfect texture for her furry friends. The frosting was light and fluffy when the treats were in the range. Starlee turned the mixer off, and silence fell over the bakery. A few clicks on her phone had music blaring through mounted speakers, and she was ready to start decorating.First things first, Star needed to color the frosting accordingly. She'd need a whole rainbow of colors to be able to start decorating. Grabbing a small mixing bowl, Star scooped some white frosting in and reached for the red food dye. After removing the cap, her grip changed and released much more than a few drops. Star's hands were doused in the colorant. "Sh*t." She went to wipe her hands on her apron, but after looking at the stained hands, her pulse started to rise.The bakery lights started to flicker, and she felt the uneasy sense she would pass out. Looking at her hands again, they were different. They were no longer stained with food dye. This time, they were caked in blood. Frantic, she looked around and was back in Chicago, back in her childhood home. She wore the same clothes she wore on the night her parents were killed, the front of her bloodied with handprints. The front door was ajar, just as she remembered. That meant one thing would await her as she rounded the corner into the living room.She took a few steps forward as sirens crept up behind her. With each step, she moved toward the door jam, the further away it seemed. She knew what she would find but was still desperate to see it. The sirens grew louder until they were so loud that she had to put her hands over her ears. She squeezed her eyes shut and screamed for the noise to stop. As if, by some miracle, it did. When she opened her eyes again, everything was silent.She was back in her kitchen, only this time, she was on the floor. Her knees pulled up to her chest, and her whole body was tense. She passed out and had some nightmares. That thing hadn't happened before, and she wasn't even entirely sure what triggered it. She was still a little shakey when she looked down at her hands; they were still stained red from the dye. Her apron, streaked with red dye from her hands, covered her front. Star took a moment to look around the room and tell herself she was okay.  She was a least going to be okay. She counted herself lucky that she didn't have to round that corner one more time. There could have been no recovery from that. With a sigh, Star pulled herself up and removed the cookies from the oven. The loud sirens were her alarm going off. It was as good of a spot as any to call it a night. After the episode that just happened, she needed a hot shower and to catch some sleep. She'd try again in the morning.

Weekly task idea. A moodboard with descriptions of your characters bucket list- where they want to go and why. At least 6 locations or things but you can do as many as you want to do. 

(New drabble, with a touch of inspiration from Hamilton) May, 1884. CHARLEY’S SONG: PART III Farm of J.T. Ford, near Richmond, MO “What in Creation have you been up to, Charley?”Bob whispered to the empty room as if his deceased sibling’s spirit hovered in the doorway nearby. But there was no actual response to the question; even the echo of Charley’s voice had quieted in his kid brother’s imagination. Only the dead man’s written secrets, finally exposed from their breached hiding place, offered any clue or explanation.Mindful of the spilled lamp oil and shattered glass littering the floor, Bob gently lifted a small bundle of paper items from the narrow cranny. There was just enough light from the downstairs fireplace and candles in the hall outside his door to make him certain he’d retrieved a stash of letters tucked beneath the broken floorboard in Charley’s room. Puzzled, Bob stood up and hurriedly stuffed the letters into his pocket before carefully navigating his way around the mess on the floor. He needed to clear a safe path before it got too late, relieved he hadn’t awakened his mama or alerted their nearly deaf old hounddog to all the activity. Returning a moment later with a broom, rag and dustbin, he made quick work of tidying up, eager to get back to Charley’s hidden treasure.Closing the door and lighting another lamp to read by, Bob fished the letters from his pocket and slumped onto the edge of the bed. Hearing his father and brother return to the farmhouse, he paused in an anxious silence, listening to the men readying themselves for lights-out, their footsteps eventually ascending the staircase. Thankfully no one called out for him or knocked on the door to continue the earlier confrontation - he guessed the breakfast table would be another uncomfortable ordeal after the earlier scene in the barn. Waiting until all was quiet again, he breathed easier once it became clear he wouldn’t be interrupted.Untying the frayed red ribbon holding the letters together, Bob flipped through them in complete bewilderment. He counted a total of nineteen separate envelopes, all sealed as if Charley had originally meant to mail them but ultimately decided against it. Each letter was addressed to the same person, a woman known only too well to both brothers:Mrs. Zerelda Mimms JamesKansas City, Missouri“Zee’s been in KC too?” Bob blinked to himself, staring at her name spelled out in Charley’s handwriting. There was no mistaking the intended recipient was the widow and first cousin of Jesse James. Charley had taken great care to address Zee by both her maiden and married names in order to avoid any delivery mixups mistaking her for Jesse’s mother, Zerelda James Simms Samuel. It appeared Charley kept tabs on where Zee was living after she and her two young children were forced to leave the rented cottage in St. Joseph. Bob was surprised he had not seen her in the city, but he also didn’t know how seldom the still-grieving widow ventured out of her brother’s Kansas City home.The last time Bob had laid eyes on Zee was at their murder trial two years earlier, when she and her aunt had given their emotional testimony against the Ford brothers in court. He had been unable to look her in the eye at the time, and was too preoccupied with his own defense and desire for fame to concern himself with following Zee’s affairs in the aftermath. Once upon a time, Bob had been sweet on Zee, just as all the men in Jesse’s orbit were. She had always been courteous to the youngest Ford, even if he could tell his awkward stares and jumpy demeanor made her uneasy in his presence. Surely she had every reason to outright despise him and his brother after the events of April 3, 1882.The fact that Charley had been writing to her, at least nineteen times that Bob could see, unnerved him more than a little. Had they been corresponding regularly all along? Were other letters actually sent? Should he leave well enough alone and respect their privacy by not reading Charley’s private mail?“Well, you’re not here to stop me, so I reckon you forfeit your chance to complain about it,” Bob challenged his brother one last time, stretching out on one side to make himself comfortable on the bed where Charley had taken his last breath. The first letter was pried open carefully, with all the delicate attention of one who intended to hide all evidence of wrongdoing. But that was silly, wasn’t it? Bob reminded himself with some amusement that Charley couldn’t hurt him anymore. Or so he thought, before he actually started reading.The first letter was composed on Christmas Eve, 1882, just a few months after they were pardoned for the murder of Jesse James and had returned to the East coast where their traveling stage reenactment of the assassination had been popular:My Dear Zee,It is not without sympathy that I realize how cruel you must think that I call you Dear. I mean no disrespect to you or to Jesse by doing so. It is with a heart full of regret that I acknowledge the pain I have caused you…after you brought me into your home and accepted me like the cousin we told everyone in St. Joe I was…Not a night goes by that I don’t see Jesse’s face in the dark, seeking the revenge I rightfully deserve. I don’t sleep at night because of the consumption and hearing your screams in my nightmares, but I don’t deserve to sleep…I wish with every inch of my being that I could take back how we done Jesse wrong…I know deep down I do not deserve your forgiveness, but I find myself writing to shamefully beg for it anyway…Charley’s consumption was worsening at the time the letter was written, as were relations between the brothers. Bob was increasingly obsessed with his own reputation and newfound theater talent, while Charley became engrossed in the pursuit of alternative methods of treatment for his many health problems. Charley embraced wild superstitions and sought the advice of tarot readers and charlatan faith healers, undertook electric shock and relied heavily on morphine just to get through each day. He even took to constantly speaking of Zee James as the ideal female against which all women, particularly the sexually liberal dance hall girls who offered their affections to the young budding actors for free, were to be compared.So that’s where your mind was while you were seein’ too much of the Gypsies and slum witches, huh, Charley? Stranded in the past with Zee. Whole lotta good it did you, too…The other letters were much the same, outlining Charley’s countless regrets over the last two years of his life and begging for Zee’s forgiveness for his involvement in her husband’s murder. He had even written as recently as a week before his suicide, tormented by sickness and debilitating remorse, with Jesse’s wife serving as the focus of Charley’s desired redemption.Working his way through the bundle of correspondence, Bob couldn’t help but notice a distinct escalation in Charley’s contempt of his younger sibling. The progressively venomous depictions of Bob’s character in each unsent letter to Zee seemed to coincide with the actual timeline of the siblings’ gradual estrangement:When Bob told me about his plan with Crittendon for the reward money, I was against it because Jesse was our friend and he depended on us for that last job…it was only because Bobby killed Wood Hite in cold blood instead of minding his business that this all had to happen. Jesse wouldn’t have any reason to come after us Fords if Bob didn’t interfere with the feud between Wood and D*ck Liddil…he might still be alive today otherwise, and you would still have your Jesse…I can’t even stomach playing Jesse in this stage show no more…it makes me feel dirty, killing our friend again and again…Bob takes great pleasure in fancying himself a showman like he done for PT Barnum for a spell, all on Jesse’s back…I detest the sight of him most days, yet I see both of us whenever I look at my wretched face in the mirror…I saw your boy and Jesse’s mama today on the street in KC when we did a show here…I tried hiding from her like the coward Bob is, but she called to me and I begged her forgiveness. She told me that if God could forgive me, so could she, but not before then…I couldn’t even look little Jesse, Jr. in the eyes, I’m so ashamed…he knows I helped get his daddy killed, but I didn’t pull the trigger, Zee, or even plan any of it until it was clear Jesse meant to kill us in the end for all Bob had done. I should have shot Bob myself instead and let Jesse have his turn with me, like the vermin we are…Ever since he was a child, Bob had a dream to be like the Great Jesse James or be the one to capture the big outlaw and become a hero for it. He was forever trying to convince us he was something more special than he was…Bob’s always had a meanness about him, like a bad seed. I never realized just how bad until I really thought about it more…there was the time when we were kids and he got mad because one of the jersey cows always kicked at him when she was being milked. He swore he’d kill her if she kicked him again. One hot night, we were milking, and that cow kicked at the flies but kicked Bob and his bucket hard, sending them both flying. He left in a huff and then I heard a bang - Bob had shot that jersey dead because he said he’d kill her if she kicked again, and she kicked. Our daddy gave him the hiding of his life that night, but it sure didn’t knock any sense into him…I’m dying, Zee, and I got nothing to prove, no lies to spit or sell. Bob’s the one using Jesse to make himself into something he never was. I’m just a man full of regret and shame for stabbing a friend in the back. If I had to do it all over again, I’d have been a better man, one worthy of a kindhearted angel like Mrs. Zee James, instead of this loathsome carcass with a wretched soul unworthy of Hell itself…I’m going to make it right, Zee, and do right by Jesse, as best as I can after all this time. I’m no coward like my brother, Bob. I will face Hell’s wrath with acceptance of my many sins in this life, and wait for my brother there when it’s his time to burn with me. I would apologize for us both, but Bob has more to answer for on his own and my days are done, it’s all come down to this…it is time for me to go…I’m so sorry, Zee. I never deserved your forgiveness, I see that now, but I’ve made my peace with that.Writing out such terrible confessions and accusations with the intent of sharing them with Mrs. Jesse James was a palpable betrayal Bob felt like a knife blade to his heart. Charley, five years Bob’s senior, had been the one family member Bob was closest to. The pair had been thick as literal thieves for most of Bob’s life, no matter that Charley frequently joined in the bullying against the youngest of the eleven Ford children. Bob had only been accepted as a member of the James-Younger gang thanks to Charley’s exaggerated recommendations; Jesse and Frank James never fully trusted the kid, and for good reason.Learning what Charley actually thought of him for all those years was a revelation Bob didn’t much care for.Bob fought the onslaught of heartbreak for the second time that night, summoning the familiar empowerment of his own rage as the antidote for despair. He wasn’t like Charley, who wallowed in his depressions and mourned endlessly for the what-could-have-beens at the end of his life. Bob Ford was hellbent on making his own luck and controlling the narrative about how the public perceived him. Charley’s devastating condemnation of his own flesh and blood would be discarded like everything else that contradicted Robert Ford’s desired legacy.No one would ever need to know.Well, I’ve got no real family now, anyway. They’re just people with the same name as me, nothin’ substantial to make of that. All they ever did was make fun of me and they never let up, always makin’ promises they never kept and blamin’ me for everything that went wrong. Nobody ever believed in me. So I gotta rely on myself. I’ll show ‘em all.Holding the letters in his lap, Bob gazed blankly at Charley’s cursive a final time. It didn’t take much effort at all to start emotionally detaching himself from his blood kin, he discovered. They were fast losing any meaning for the young man whose psychological damage continued unchecked. Bob would have to be his own top priority going forward.His belly rumbled, demanding nourishment before he turned in for the night. Easing the letters back into his pocket, he got up and tiptoed to the door, slowly easing it open to avoid loud creaks from the hinges. Satisfied that the sleeping household was oblivious to his descent, Bob made his way downstairs and raided the cornbread left over from supper. Staring absently at the fireplace as he chewed, he recalled something Charley had last said to him as they parted ways in St. Louis just before the new year:“You best watch your step from now on, Bobby. Remember that little gypsy down by the railroad tracks I told you about? She was tellin’ me about how neither of us is headin’ for no glory. You just keep that in mind while you got yourself all starry-eyed for some bright future that ain’t in the cards. There ain’t no glory for us Fords, not a jot.”Lowering himself to sit cross-legged in front of the fire, Bob pulled the letters from his pocket. He watched the flames lick the blackened stone, their crack-pop-hiss the only sounds filling the room besides the mechanical hands ticking inside the tall case clock. He didn’t even think twice about pushing family loyalties from his heart. He knew it was time to abandon all the sentimentality of keepsakes and cherished momentos like the Jesse James memorabilia he collected from childhood into his late teens. Attaching too much affection to anything or anyone was a waste of time, he decided. They only let a man down in the end.There ain’t no glory for us Fords, not a jot.“No glory for you, maybe, Charley,” Bob whispered aloud, before popping the last bite of cornbread into his mouth. One by one, he fed letters into the fire, watching mesmerized as the pages and envelopes containing Charley’s last words on the character of his brother Robert Ford caught the flames and curled up in charred waves before disintegrating into ash.(To be continued in Charley’s Song: Epilogue)   template credit.

Death hated when her brother caused so much destruction against the humans. Sometimes it wasn’t a bad thing because in order for new things to blossom, old things had to die. That was where she came in—having to ferry the dead to their final resting places, good or bad. The ones she encountered would always try to make deals with her so they could stay on the living plane but that wasn’t what she was there for. Each time a little piece of her died with them when they had to go, and it was her job to be there for all of them. Most deaths occurred in Mystic Falls; Especially when it came to the Salvatore brothers. Her idiotic brothers. They officially knew that they were related to her, a celebrity and a goddess of many entities, but of course, they weren’t afraid of her seeing as they had been through their share of things in the town. Though she hated the trouble they would get themselves into, it was her job to always look out for them whether they wanted her to or not.       This time was different, Stefan Salvatore had long died due to taking Damon’s place with Katherine in order to save the town and Damon had gone on to become human and be with his one true love; Elena Gilbert. The doppelganger of Katherine Pierce. It broke her heart when she had to take both brothers, it was a bittersweet moment when the two were reunited in heaven, exactly where they belonged. It was time for a new generation to take over, life, souls, and entities. Rihanna had taken up residence in Mystic Falls for a few days to hide from the paparazzi, her 12-year-old daughter was a gifted child and she decided to enroll her in the school for the gifted, she knew of a professor named Alaric Saltzman; a man who had lost his wife on their wedding day and almost his unborn twin daughter until they were moved to the womb of the last vampire walking, Caroline Forbes. It was a well-known lore that vampires couldn’t pro-create but with the gift of magic, it was a new way of life. The goddess had watched them grow into smart, beautiful young women and Caroline earned the motherly role with how she protected them. Next to the twins, there was another gifted child that caught Rihanna’s eye; Hope Mikaelson, the daughter of Niklaus. The hybrid that all vampires feared once upon a time. He was heartless and dangerous, but when it came to his daughter, he could be the softest person anyone had ever met.     The goddess wandered the woods. Her husband didn’t like when she did so since she was heavily pregnant, but knew and understood a goddess like her could handle the dangers of the woods. She could hear howls coming from a distance, causing her to smile to herself as she walked towards it. Reaching the middle of the darkened woods, she could see several wolves laying together until one of them perked up and looked in her direction. She wasn’t afraid but had been on her P’s and Q’s if something happened and they tried to attack her. “Worry not, pup. I come in peace.” She spoke telepathically to the wolf as her green eyes glowed and she stepped closer to the pack, holding several bloodied pieces of meat for them, setting it on the ground. Before she knew it, the female wolf stood on all fours to slowly walk in the direction that smelled of blood. Looking at the woman again, the female wolf began to eat the meat, getting her fill; she stepped closer to the woman, nudging her belly before licking it and whimpering. Rihanna smiled and pet the animal gently. “Attagirl. I am Robyn Rihanna Fenty. But you can call me Teleute. Death. Or Calypso. I am looking for Hope, but not to harm her. Mainly warn her.” Rihanna spoke to the wolf, knowing she could understand her. The wolf tilted its head before looking far into the distance, a dimly lit house showed. Hearing the sounds of laughter and banter coming from it. “Thank you, love. I owe you and your family dinner. I shall return.” Rihanna promised before she departed from the pack of wolves and continued on her journey to find the young Mikaelson.

Inside Daphne She has Bipolar and Schizophrenia She was diagnosed with both when she was 13 Her parents were ashamed that she had it  treated her differently than her sister and brothers due to her mental illness  They have had her in therapy since she was 13 They entered the cult cause it was claimed that she could be fixed She also has PTSD Due to being in being in the cult and watching both her parents being Killed due to doing a wrongdoing in Dr.Ryan's Eyes Her twin sister has always been there for her and is her biggest cheerleader when she is slipping with her mental illness She has never once thought of her sister as a shame or a burden

@import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=BenchNine'); @import 'https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Roboto+Condensed'; @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Oswald&display=swap'); @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Anton&display=swap'); @font-face { font-family: "BebasNeueVE"; src: url("https://dl.dropbox.com/s/sezab7p2jgqc34c/BebasNeue.otf");} @font-face { font-family: "BenguiatStdVE"; src: url("https://dl.dropbox.com/s/cf39uoqoy8w9hnz/BenguiatStd-Medium.otf");} @import url('https://fonts.googleapis.com/css2?family=Abril+Fatface&display=swap'); betty ♔ cooper home comment message gallery blog stream bulletins navilink violent delightswith violent ends Betty would not budge from her position even as he sneered at her and moved one step closer to her. Determination began to set in, strengthening not only her physical but also her mental fortitude. "I didn't..." Once she realized how Jughead had interpreted Archie's message, she felt a sudden stabbing ache in her chest, which caused her original venomous tone to lose some of its sting. Betty was unaware of the lengths that Archie had gone to or the liberties that he had taken in response to her request that he advises Jughead to maintain his distance while causing the least amount of harm and consequences possible."That wasn't my intention at all." Her voice cracked with emotion as a look of despair flashed over her face. The expression was brief and transitory, but the Serpent who stood before her did not fail to see it. Whatever had happened had resulted in Jughead no longer taking her calls, which was the primary reason why she had gone to the South Side in the first place in pursuit of him. Furthermore, Jughead had stopped answering his phone.Betty made an effort to make a speedy recovery by channeling her anger, which she managed to do effortlessly despite the fact that he continued to undermine her mother's trustworthiness. While Betty seldom agreed with the objectives and measures her mother took against defaming the South Side in the pieces she wrote, Betty's love and affection for her mother was fiercely protective of her. "So don't assume that simply because I'm from the North Side you already know all there is to know about me." Betty discovered that she was moving forward one inch at a time in defiance. "Even though serpents are related to us, that's still my mom," she said. Thus, pull back. Betty disregarded his warning and pushed past him with her shoulder in a violent manner in order to carry out the actions she had fully intended."Don't tell me what I'm going to do or what I'm not going to do..." Therefore love moderately; long love doth so; Too swift arrives as tardy as too slowToo swift arrives as tardy as too slow

I OWE  --David (s) 03|17|23Frances (r) 03|17|23THEY OWE --Molly (s) 03|14|23UPDATED ON 03|18|23

* DOB: APRIL 19 *ARIESMarch 20 - April 19   Symbol: Ram Element: Fire Planet: Mars Modality: Cardinal An Aries will commonly have no filter. They will get angry and then forget why they were angry. Typically they will do just about anything for a dare and are easily bored.An Aries will dive headfirst into the most challenging situations (fairly enough, the body part associated with Aries is the head). Aries is also a passionate, motivated, and confident leader who builds community with cheer and determination. Aries leads with blind optimism. They tend to think after they leap which results in lessons learned the hard way. They are seemingly very compatible with Sagittarius' with eIxceeding attractions. IS CHARLOTTE A TRUE ARIES? I believe the answer would be yes. There are many attributes to an Aries that Charlotte shares in her personality. For starters, the Aries is cardinal in mortality and Charlotte is nothing but a creative soul using dance as her medium of choice. Charlotte can also show get bored easily and have moments of rapid anger and frustrations. Her impulsive nature could stem from the "leap first then think" mentality that Aries possess. She give 100% to everything that she does with her passionate heart and motivated mind.  

List A1)10 stream comments 2)Last week's taskList B 1) Current task

https://imgur.com/a/cDncp0P

Playlist for the dark times...1) Three men hanging by Murder by death 🎶🎶2) Out with the crow by the haunted windchimes 🎶🎶3) The demon king by MCC 🎶🎶4) Smile like you mean it by Paranoid Dj 🎶🎶5) D*cke Titten by Rammstein🎶🎶6) Twenties by Ghost 🎶🎶7) In Hell I'll be in good company by the dead south 🎶🎶8) Halloween by JP achkar 🎶🎶9) People are strange by the dead south🎶🎶10) Coming home by Murder by death 🎶🎶

Her walnut hues scanned him. Trying to take in why he was here. Ser Jaime Lannister, Lord Commander of the King’s Guard. The one man in Westeros whom she hated the most. Granted he was the brother of Cersei and she had the Great Sept of Baelor destroyed by Wildfire that took her family from here, but Isabella still held him accountable for his sister's actions. ”I would like to see him. Please.” The lion spoke as his voice was soft. Daemon Targaryen was the one thing left from his daughter, Myrcella. Isabella did not want this man anywhere near Daemon. It was his own son that took from her the child she grew in her womb for one month. The child she was going to have with Aegon. Now, here stood the man who fathered that vile creature that took it all from her. She did not see what Aegon saw in this man that caused him to trust the Lion, but Isabella was not going to trust him as far as she could throw him. She already lost everyone she loved to the Lannister’s, and she was not about to lose her son to them as well. Yes, Jaime bent the knee in front of Aegon, Lancel, Jace, and her that night he arrived in Dragonstone with Tyrion, but Isabella wondered why he did this. His sister still had supporters in Westeros even though she was dead from the Sack.    She began to circle the Lion, sizing him up. As if the hunter was now the hunted. What was his motive? Tyrion Lannister served the Dragon Queen, Daenerys Targaryen, but now he had also bent the knee to Aegon as well that same night Jaime did with the other members that were in Daenerys’ council as they all recognized Aegon as the true King of Westeros. “Isabella….if I may.” Jaime began as she stopped in front of him. Her arms crossed in front of her chest as she stared down her nose at him. “I know you have hatred towards my sister for what pain she has put you through, but Isabella I did not help her orchestrate this plan nor did I know what her plans were. If I had known she planned to blow up the Sept with every member of House Tyrell in there I would have stopped her. ” He said as Isabella listened to him. All she heard was words. “Your sister was a sweet woman and I was saddened to hear of her untimely demise along with your father and brother. However, I can assure you that I mean no harm to you, Aegon or Daemon.” Jaime said as he looked at her. He stepped towards Isabella as she stepped backwards. Arms still crossed as she raised an eyebrow.    “I do not see what Aegon sees in you for you to have his trust. I know he does not trust easily, but I know that he has to see something worthy within you for him to trust you. I on the other hand hold a grudge against any Lannister. Your brother I do not consider a Lannister due to his Targaryen loyalty. If your sister and that usurper of a son you had did not take everything from me I might be a bit more inclined to trust you.” She snapped at him as he was a bit taken back by her words. “My son? How does Joffrey play into what my sister has done to you?” Jaime asked, wondering why she brought up his first born child. The one she wished she had poisoned. The one she wanted to have killed.    “What has your son done? Your son was the first Lannister to take from not only myself but from Aegon the one thing I wish I had today; our child.” She growled as she stepped towards him. “Nobody was to have known about this because I would have been the one your sister would have pointed the finger at for his death. The death that now I wish I had seen through, but I would not have used poison.” Isabella growled as she walked towards him as he walked backwards. “Your son first raped me the night before his wedding to Margaery. He had a few too many drinks at the pre wedding ceremony that night. Do you not remember? He tried to get handsy with Sansa Stark. Remember?” She asked Jaime as he nods his head. “Well, instead of going to his chambers he found his way into mine, Ser Jaime.” Isabella said as she shook her head. “I remember laying there in bed only to be awoken by the creak of the door. The next thing I remember is his naked frame above mine fighting to tear the only fabric I had on from my frame but he failed. So he ended up pulling it up from my body. Exposing every inch of my flesh to his eyes. I can still see that sadistic smile on his face when I close my eyes. I also can still see everything that he did that caused me agony. Every ounce of torture that I endured he considered it gratification. I screamed because it hurt and I wanted it to stop, but my screams apparently fueled his desires to keep going to cause more pain. I was pinned to the bed like a common whore! His hand was gripped around my throat at one point! I can still hear the sounds he made. The grunts and the groans that came from his throat as he enjoyed torturing me as I laid there bleeding! I can feel his breath on his neck as he had his head on my shoulder to rest it there as he was hovering over me because his arms were giving out from being on top! The struggle to breathe from his hand wrapped around my throat at one point was too much causing me to pass out.” Isabella said loudly as she walked towards him. “Do you think I wanted this to happen? Do you think for one second that I enjoyed the pain he inflicted upon me?! Because I didn’t. I tried to fight my way through it and get him off of me so I could escape! But, I could not escape until after. I had to suffer through it all. Everything he did fueled my desire to kill him, but I didn’t.”   Isabella turned walking over to the desk as she stood there. The anger built within her as she spoke of this. Her hands gripped the desk as the color drained from her knuckles. From a dark red to white from how hard she was gripping onto the desk to keep from attacking him. “I was finally able to get away once he had his fill of me. Once I had awakened from passing out to see his naked body on his side in my bed beside me. I saw this as an opportunity to escape my chambers to my guards chambers, and when I told him what had happened he wanted to kill Joffrey then, but he didn’t. He went to my grandmother. She was the one who poisoned your son. It was because of what he did that caused your son to be killed. But what happened after the wedding that a part of me wished he had lived to see another day because the last thing he would have seen was the smile on my face as I drove that Valyrian steel dagger through his chest. Over and over again until every ounce of blood that was in his body covered the stone floor.” Isabella turned on her heels looking at the Lion. His face washed of any trace of color he had to hear her speaking of his son in such a manner. Who would have thought that Joffrey was capable of such things? Jaime did not.  “That night after the wedding I had a sharp pain in my side radiating through my stomach. The blood began to hit the floor from between my legs. I was miscarrying my child. Mine and Aegon’s.” She began as her arms fell to her side as her hands clenched into two fists. “AEGON DID NOT KNOW UNTIL THE OTHER DAY AFTER YOUR ARRIVAL THAT I WAS WITH CHILD! I NEED HAD THE F***ING CHANCE TO TELL HIM HE WAS TO BE A FATHER! YOUR GOD FORSAKEN EXCUSE FOR A SON TOOK THAT JOY FROM US! THE EXCITEMENT I WISHED TO HAVE SEEN WHEN I TOLD AEGON WE WERE WITH CHILD WAS STRIPPED FROM ME!” Isabella’s voice rose as it sounded almost like a dragon screeching. The scream pierced throughout the room causing the doors behind Jaime to open as she saw two guards poke their heads in. “YOUR FAMILY HAS TAKEN EVERYTHING FROM ME!” She screamed at him. Jaime looked down as he did not know what to say in this moment to calm her down. She was right, his sister and now his son took her family and a child from her and Aegon. He was still appalled by his son's actions towards Isabella. Just the words alone of what happened caused a shiver to his core. He could not imagine what pain she endured. His eyes turned towards the floor as she looked at him. “Daemon is the one good thing out of all of this. I was given that chance to be a mother to a child that was taken from me by your son. Aegon was robbed of being told he was going to be a father by me. But he was blessed with the birth of his son with your daughter. If it was not for my decision in what happened you would not have your grandson nor your daughter. I was the one who chose to have the baby live. If it had not been for that choice they would have both been in the ground or burned in a pyre.” Her eyes narrowed in on him as he was getting uncomfortable. Isabella could sense this as she looked at him.  “Yes, Daemon may be of Myrcella’s blood, but he is my son. Mine and Aegon’s. Daemon will be raised to know that I am his mother and that I love him. Unconditionally. But he will also be raised to know who Myrcella was. That she was his mother and that she loved him as well. We want him to know that. We want him to know who she was.” Isabella said, looking at him. “If you even think that I will trust you now then you are wrong. I will only trust you for as far as I can throw you. Which right now is not even that far.” Isabella looked at him as she crossed her arms. “I will never trust a lion.” She said as she walked past him out of the room. Leaving him in his own thoughts of what just happened.