#(jace's first thought upon meeting her actually)

[circuslollipop]

sara sn0w is a Weird Girl TM (affectionate) in my head btw

[lady-pug]

Written Between the Lines

Chapter I - In Between These Lines

Summary: Aemond had been avoiding you all day, and you were determined to get some answers, and maybe comfort him when he needed you to.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Word count: 2,4k

Warnings: canon-typical incest (uncle-niece)

Notes: Hello hello! It's the day of the (official) release of the season 2 finale of HotD and I thought it was the perfect time to publish this. I have been meaning to write for this fandom for quite some time now, and this one had been on my mind for quite some time now and I decided to write it down and see where it went, and I’m quite proud of how it turned out.

Just to clear some things up: reader is Rhaenyra’s eldest child (yes, I went for that trope), being one or two years younger than Aemond and one or two years older than Jace (so she and Aemond are more or less the same age). This first chapter is set on the same day of the Pink Dread incident (season 1, episode 6), which means they are children. (Also, I don't understand anything of palm reading, but that's kinda the whole point)

I really hope you, dear reader, enjoy this and have fun while reading it. If you spot any mistakes, please feel free to warn me and I'll correct it right away, and feedback is always welcome and appreciated. I hope you truly enjoy this story.

Reader is female, but no physical descriptions provided

Next chapter | Masterlist | Read on AO3

He had been ignoring you all day. The only time you even managed to catch a glimpse of him was on the courtyard during his training lessons with Ser Criston, accompanied by both your brothers and his own. It was pretty boring, really, watching from afar as it would be considered ‘improper’ for you to join them, even though both your father and Ser Harwin had taken upon themselves to teach you the ways of the steel in secret (even though you had a strong suspicion your mother was well aware of it). At least you got some free entertainment for the day, watching Ser Harwin beat the absolute shit out of Cole.

Serves him right for being cunt to my brothers, you had thought.

You’d normally prefer to spend your afternoons with Helaena, truly enjoying the girl’s company, her fascination with bugs and beetles and her clever mind never failing to make you smile. However, you’d later have to apologize to your aunt for skipping on your daily meeting as you ventured around the keep in search of her brother. You were supposed to meet at the weirwood tree after he got back from going to the pit with the boys so you could work on your high valyrian lessons together, but as the minutes passed you began to worry and set out to find him. 

You thoroughly believed he wasn’t even going to show up at supper, his mother smiling softly albeit crookedly upon your questioning, claiming he was feeling indisposed, but to your surprise he did come in if only a little late. He wasn’t acting like himself, however, choosing to sit in the seat furthest away from you, where he would normally sit right by your side, leaving the seat vacant for Aegon to sit next to you, his abhorrent manners at the table almost making you physically recoil. He didn’t look at anyone, nor did he speak to anyone unless spoken to and he seemed way more interested in poking around his food than actually eating it. And once the meal was over and everyone was excused he practically vanished, rushing out of the hall before you could even rise to your feet.

Now, as night had fallen, you were determined to find him and get some answers. Goosebumps formed on your skin as you ventured deeper in the hidden passages of the Keep where your sword lessons were held, the chilly air of King’s Landing biting at your exposed arms. You walked with confidence, knowing for a fact both your chambers were connected through these halls. You just hoped to the Old Gods and the New that you did in fact know where you were going and that you didn’t accidentally walk in on Aegon doing something very morally questionable with one of the servants.

Please let it be this one, you prayed as your fingers pressed against a loose panel on the wall.

And it seemed you had to look no further. Aemond was half submerged in a bath arranged in the middle of the room (confirming these were, indeed, his chambers), the ends of his hair sticking to his skin as water clung to the strands. Upon hearing the wall moving he startled, his eyes widening as he desperately scrambled to try and cover some of his modesty, even though you could barely see anything below the waterline.

“B-by the Gods!” he squirmed, clearly not expecting visitors at this hour, and you felt an amused smirk building on your lips at his attempts at covering up.

“Worry not, uncle.” you jested walking closer to the tub after closing the secret door behind you “You seem to forget I have three younger brothers. It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”

His cheeks tinged with a bright shade of pink.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing here?!” he tried once again to cover up, trying to look anywhere but at you standing in the middle of his chambers in only your nightclothes.

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you asked, the smirk promptly slipping from your face.

He seemed momentarily taken aback by such a question, looking away almost… ashamed?

“I have done no such thing, I have just been busy?” he tried, though his words lacked any conviction and ended up sounding more like a question.

“You promised to meet me after going to the Dragonpit.” you spoke softly “But you never came.”

At this he didn’t have a rebuttal, not one that wouldn’t give too much away, so he simply shrugged, his gaze cast down into the water. But you could tell from the way he shrunk under your gaze that there was something more to it.

“Did something happen in the Dragonpit?” you asked, taking a couple of slow and careful steps closer to him. When he stayed silent, only scrunching his eyes as if it physically pained him to think about it, you tried again “Aemond… what happened at the Dragonpit?”

“Nothing happened!” he snapped, his eyes brimming with unshed tears, before his voice acquired a venomous tone “Now if you could excuse me, little niece, I find myself quite occupied at the moment and don’t have the time to entertain you right now. Go meddle on somebody else’s business.”

Had you been anybody else you’d have left by now, with your tail between your legs and tears dripping down your face over the lashing of his tongue. And although his words did sting and left you feeling slightly humiliated, you stood your ground. You’d like to think that after all these years, having grown up together in the Red Keep, you’d come to know your uncle, your friend, better than anyone by now. You knew he, very much like yourself, was more reserved in his feelings, keeping them to himself, but once they finally bubbled over they tended to burn everything in their path. Aemond, like you, was the blood of the dragon after all. And you had come to learn that when he was hurting he tended to lash out at anyone and everyone around him, intending to inflict the same hurt onto others so he wasn’t left alone in his misery.

So, taking a steadying breath, you closed the distance between the two of you, carefully climbing inside the tub with him. The water was lukewarm, and given the propensities of the members of the Targaryen family to enjoy their baths scalding hot, it told you that he’d probably been here for quite a while now, sulking alone.

As you lowered yourself into the water, he pressed himself further into the side of the wooden tub, trying to stay as further away from you as possible. 

“T-this is hardly appropriate, niece.” he stammered, trying not to let his eyes curiously wander down to your now soaked nightgown.

You stayed silent for a moment, contemplating the situation you found yourself in, but you’d gone too far now to back down without the answers you seek.

“So, are you going to tell me what the matter is?”

He didn’t answer, but even though he refused to look directly at you, you spotted a lone tear escaping down his cheek.

“Aemond-”

“They gave me a pig.” he whispered, his gaze once again cast down.

“What?”

He swallowed thickly, his eyes finally meeting yours, and you could see the weight of the anger and the shame he’d been caring throughout the entire day.

“After Jacaerys finished his training with Vermax, he, Aegon and Lucerys mentioned they had found a dragon for me.” his voice wavered slightly as he recounted the event “I should not have believed them, I was such a fool… they brought a pig, decorated with wings and all.” more tears escaped his eyes, your heart clenching in your chest at the sight “‘The Pink Dread’ they called it.”

“Oh, Aemond-”

“I don’t want your pity, niece!” he lashed out once again, and you had to remind yourself it wasn’t personal “If that is all you came here for you can see yourself out.”

You pursed your lips, a frown etched on your face. You knew how much it pained him to remain dragonless. He had shared his thoughts with you once in the library after your lessons in high valyrian, way past the time you should have retired to your respective chambers. How he thought himself a disgrace to the Targaryen name, ashamed at not having a dragon for himself when even your younger brother Luke already had Arrax. You tried to console him but he was having none of it, too caught up in his self-loathing to listen. So you knew nothing you said could comfort him how he deserved.

An idea struck you. It was a stupid one, and you didn’t even know if it would work, but you had to try even if it backfired spectacularly. So you scooted closer to him in the tub, fitting between his spread legs without touching him, and extended your palm out.

“What are you doing?” he asked, eyes wide and confused.

“Give me your hand.”

“What?”

“Just give me your hand.” you coaxed, making come-hither with your extended fingers.

Once he realized you weren’t going to give him any further explanation, he did as he was told, laying his hand over your own, his palm facing down, which you quickly turned around. You started tracing the lines on his palm gently with your other hand, so concentrated you barely noticed the goosebumps forming on his skin from your ministrations.

“What-?” he started but you were quick to cut him off with a gentle ‘shhh’, which promptly shut him up, only slightly offended.

“See here?” you pointed at one of the lines in his palm, tracing it with your finger “It is your line of life. See how long it is? It means you shall live a long and fulfilling life.”

He glanced at you, still not understanding a word you were saying, and you gave him a soft, encouraging smile. 

“And see this one?” you pointed to another line “This is your line of heart. It turns upwards, which means you will be wed to a nice lady one day, and that you will love eachother very deeply and rejoice in your happiness together.”

You don’t know why saying that made your heart ache only slightly, but the sight of a smile slowly but surely curling on his lips made it all worth it, as it meant your plan was working. 

“And here,” you curled your fingers, closing his hand inside your own, and pointing to the lines that formed on the outer side “two deep lines and one shallow, meaning you’ll have three children when you grow older, two daughters and a son. And from how deep these two lines are, the girls will be very beautiful, they will probably give you a headache from how many suitors they will have.”

To this he chuckled, his tears long forgotten, and you giggled along with him.

“And here…” you opened his hand once again, and pointed to a long vertical line that crossed almost the entirety of his palm “is your line of the dragon. Only those of Targaryen descent have this one on their palms, see?” you pointed to your own hand which showed a similar line, different only in length “It means you will have a dragon one day.”

At this his face fell and he tried to rip his hand from you, but you held onto it firmly.

“The lines don’t lie.” you rushed to explain, now focused on his eyes as they softened at your words “You can check for yourself. Your brother and sister both have it on their hands, my own brothers have it. Seven Hells, you can even check Princess Rhaenys hands, she has one as well.”

You searched his eyes for any trace of doubt and found none.

“You will have a dragon one day, Aemond.” you squeezed his hand to emphasize our point “I’m sure of it.”

His smile grew on his face, sheepish but sincere, only a flick of his lips away from becoming a smirk.

“You just came up with all that, didn’t you?” he asked, and you gasped in mock offense, pushing against his shoulder.

“You wound me, uncle!” you pressed your hand against your heart “Why would I do such a thing?”

A beat passed before both of you burst out laughing, not one bit concerned the guards stationed just outside his door could probably hear you. You were glad you could make him smile again and give him some comfort, knowing you had succeeded on your mission.

As you both calmed down you looked at him once again, truly looked at him. He was quite beautiful when he smiled, and oh, how you wished he would do it more often around you. In that moment only the two of you existed, together. When asked later you wouldn’t be able to tell what came over you in that very moment, but once you realized what you were doing you had surged forward, pressing your lips against his in the gentlest, softest of kisses.

No sooner had your lips come in contact with his own, you were pulling back, eyes widening in panic. His own were blown wide as well, surprised by your actions. You didn’t waste a second climbing out of the tub, almost toppling over the side in your rush, your drenched nightclothes making your task all the more difficult.

“Wait!” he tried to hold onto you but you were quicker “Please, don’t go, I-!”

But you were already making your way to the hidden passage on the wall and disappearing from his chambers. He would have thought he had fallen asleep in the bath and dreamed the whole thing had it not been for the dark trail left behind going from the tub all the way to the wall from where water had dripped from your body in your haste to get away. 

And if, come the next morrow, he forcefully grabbed his mother’s hand and flip it to look at her palms, much to her protests, and notice a line present on the exact place where you had pointed the so called ‘line of the dragon’ the night before, his smile gave away the gratitude he felt for you at that moment.

[morganas-pendragons]

All That Time We Were Silent | Aemond Targaryen

This idea will not leave me alone. Violet Hill by Coldplay remains one of my favorite songs and I loved writing this concept for my first Aemond fic. Not to mention that every single Paris Paloma song is House of the Dragon coded. I don’t know. It makes me want to write a series for this pair (particularly one where SPOILERS SPOILERS Aemond dies at The God's Eye and it's this reader who kills him instead of Daemon -> put to The Fruits by Paris Paloma, because I have no self control and will use the same song and multiple different lyrics as titles)

The reader in this is female, and she's about two years older than Aemond. Also Rhaenys and Corlys' youngest daughter.

Anyway. This is set pre and post Rooks Rest with Velaryon!Reader, but it is Rhaenys’ daughter with Corlys because I can’t handle moms who lose all their children (ahem I’m looking at you Carol Peletier) 😭

***

"My sweet little dragon," Your mother caught your face in her hands, dark eyes staring down into your own as you stopped pacing in the halls of The Red Keep. It had only been mere hours since Alicent had delivered the news that your betrothal to Aemond was broken off. You were still so confused about why it had happened at all. Just mere days ago, you were gathering the courage to actually confess to Aemond how you felt. "Do not let that fire go uncontained."

"Mother-"

Rhaenys shook her head. Of her three children, you had always had the most spirit: You were far more likely than Laena and Laenor both to get yourself into trouble. You were the fire she believed would never stop burning.

"Listen to me. You are blood of the dragon, salt of the sea. You are a perfect split of myself and your father." Rhaenys hummed as she pulled you into her side, fingers gently winding through your hair as you hid your face in her shoulder. It was easy to forget that you were barely ten and eight. You also fiercely loved your parents. They were all you had left.

"I loved him, and she took him! What was wrong with me? What did I do?"

"I know. You did nothing. It is all the crown who pushes this upon you." Rhaenys knew better. She knew exactly why Alicent had taken it upon herself to split your betrothal to Aemond. You were getting too close. She couldn't have that happen to her precious son. "Above all, remember this. Fire can consume. That's what its purpose is. Please, sweetheart, do not let it take away those precious parts of you that the Hightowers have tried so hard to steal."

You often thought about how hard your mother tried to maintain your innocence after your brother and sister died. How your mother and father had trained you up as both salt and sea, fire and blood, determined that they would not lose another child while being involved with Rhaenyra's ascension.

Your mother had tried so hard to temper that anger down. It had worked, for a while.

Then Rook's Rest happened.

***

You found yourself positioned between Corlys and Rhaenys as Jace continued in his questioning of his mother after her sudden departure. Rhaenyra's explanation is as sound as she can make it - attempting for peace before plunging the realm into war - and you cannot find fault in her for going to see Alicent. The pursuance of peace is far more important then a war between dragons.

You dare not think about the end. How many dragons would be left?

How many people at this table would still be breathing?

"Cole's victories have only emboldened him." Rhaenys remarked. "He marches on Rook's Rest."

"Why Rook's Rest?" Rhaenyra questioned. "After Duskendale? It's but a small coastal keep."

You're not paying much attention to the remarks of old men spread across the table. You're not a strategist, not by any means, but you are itching for the opportunity to meet Aemond in the field. You have the second largest claimed dragon besides your mother, and you have the most experience in flight. You are a dragon rider.

You are capable of this.

More than anything, you want to make him pay for what he did to you. For how he hurt you. You want him to remember the pain you endured and the way he'd abandoned you. Left alone to face the phantoms remaining inside a little cliffside house by the sea. You'd visited it far more times then you cared to admit after your betrothal had been broken off.

You want to turn his silence - which has spread across the years, as the Prince has not attempted to send ravens since just before Viserys died - into begging, into screams that echo across a scorched battlefield as you plunge your sword into his heart.

It's the least of what he deserves.

"Send me." Jacerys interjected. Your heart sank as you watched the Prince's attempts at negotiating with his mother, eager to serve and eager to fight.

Rhaenyra would never let the loss of another son stand.

"No." Rhaenyra snapped.

"I will burn Coles lines and withdraw before King's Landing can raise the alarm-"

"You lack the experience."

You cleared your throat and stepped out of your space between your mother and father. "I will go," You said firmly. "I have the second largest dragon here besides Meleys and have experience. Nightshade was actively in battle prior to me claiming her. I also am able to evade Vhagar and Aemond. It could be a potential opportunity to take Aemond out of the-"

"No." Rhaenys' voice is clear and sharp as she stepped into your space, firm hand resting on your shoulder as your father nodded his confirmation of your mother's statement. "You must send me, Your Grace. Meleys is your largest dragon and no stranger to battle. I will meet Cole."

Both Corlys and yourself watched Rhaenys meet Rhaenyra's eyes before she released you from her grasp and began her pace toward the Dragon Mont. You could tell Rhaenyra did not want her Hand to depart.

You did not wish your mother to go either. Not with such threat of death looming over her.

"Mother!"

Rhaenys turned to gaze at you over her shoulder. Donned in her ceremonial armor and crown, The Queen Who Never Was softened at the sight of her daughter as you stormed into the Dragon Mont. Meleys whined at the sight of you. She could always acutely feel her rider's fierce devotion to her children. "Do not argue with this," Rhaenys said. "I will not let you meet your end in battle when you are the future of our House. Stay here, defend Rhaenyra, attend to your duty as a Targaryen. Do you understand me?"

"But Aemond-" You interjected, pausing as she reached underneath her shoulders and unfastened her cloak, tightening it around you until the dragon clasped just beneath her neck. You shuddered and leaned forward to rest your head on her shoulder. You would've been lying if you said you weren't terrified. "Please, Mother. Please come back."

Rhaenys smiled and tilted your head forward to press a kiss upon the crown, tightening her cloak around your shoulders before turning to Meleys. "We're off to battle again, old girl." She whispered. Identical eyes met your own before she grabbed the side of her saddle. "My littlest dragon..."

It was only then she remembered how young you were. How alone you were.

"Mother?"

"Avy jorrāelan, my Princess."

Tears burned your eyes as Meleys roared and took off through the mouth of the Mont.

You never saw her again.

***

Rhaenys turned her back to gaze upon Vhagar as Sunfyre descended and fell into the woods. It would've been the perfect opportunity to turn back. To retrieve you from Dragonstone, to have two of Rhaenyra's largest dragons take flight against Vhagar would nearly guarantee a victory for the Black Queen.

She did not do either.

The Queen Who Never Was ordered her dragon to attack, tied herself into her saddle, and took off through the smoke that had settled over Rook's Rest.

She dare not dwell upon her own memories of this dragon she was about to face. About Laena claiming Vhagar, about your first ride upon both Vhagar and Meleys, about your own claiming of Nightshade... of Laenor and Laena.

The nights she'd spent upon the window waiting for Corlys to come home, all three of her children with her.

She dare not dream of home.

***

"Do you ever wish it for us?"

"Wish what?" You asked, twirling your fingers through the ends of Aemond's hair where his head rested upon your chest. "All I wish for us is to take our dragons to the ends of the earth and spend the rest of my life indulging in the finest chocolates and wine with the man I love. That is what I wish."

Aemond snorted and curled himself deeper into your side. "To be able to properly express our love. I don't think my mother will ever let it happen. This. Us. She won't let it continue. Not with the threat of Rhaenyra sitting the Iron Throne-"

"I don't want to think about Rhaenyra, Aemond." You murmured. "I want to think about you and me. That's a far happier memory then to dwell upon all the times The Stranger has descended upon my family. I will not let the Gods take what we have from me too."

Aemond tried not to think of you when Vhagar descended upon Meleys, teeth clamped firmly into her neck while the other dragon roared.

He tried not to think of all the times he'd seen you with this dragon himself, with Vhagar, all the times he'd had those precious words on the tip of his tongue when he watched your joy in the face of such terrifying beasts.

If you love me.. won't you let me know?

Aemond could not risk it. Admitting to his growing feelings, his growing adoration, gave his mother another weapon to use against him. You were far too good of a thing in his life for Aemond to be okay with Alicent weaponizing that.

That had been why she'd broken off the betrothal. It wasn't her idea.

It was his.

If you love me, why'd you let me go?

He tried not to think of you as the world was enveloped in fire, and he tried not to think of you as he watched the Red Queen descend into the castle at Rook's Rest. She did not get back up.

He was told The Queen Who Never Was died that very same day.

***

It was Baela who delivered the news to you.

"Auntie?"

You turned your head to acknowledge the Princess and smiled, beckoning her deeper into your chambers. "Enter, sweet girl." The peace that had fallen upon you in your time waiting for your mother to come home dissipated once you recognized the tears brimming in Baela's eyes. "What is it?"

You tightened your fingers in your mother's cloak as Baela broke the news. You expected to be much more upset. Devastated. What you felt instead was that same anger that your mother had spent years tempering in you begin creeping to the surface. You were most certainly not your father and mother's daughter.

Maybe that anger came from deeper in your family line. Maybe it was generational. Maybe all Targaryens harbored anger like this.

"She died a warrior." You murmured. You wanted to believe that. You did believe that. Your mother would have fought valiantly against whatever foe dare face her. "She died a true dragon rider. We can only wish the same for ourselves."

"What is to be done now?" Baela asked.

Your thoughts automatically went to your father. Your father, waiting for a wife who would never come home. Your father residing upon the Driftwood Throne in a castle that would resemble a tomb, for none of its occupants remained. They were all dead. All that remained of them was their memory.

"I need to go home. To see your grandsire," You said quietly. "The loss of my mother will devastate us both-"

"Has it not already?"

You had to consider her question thoroughly before being able to answer it. When your brother and sister had died, it had taken you a significantly longer period of time than your mother and father to adjust. To be able to properly allow yourself to grieve. How was there time for the luxury of grief when the obligation of being the Heir to the Driftwood Throne was being pressed down upon you?

"Not yet. My anger will get the better of me first." You sighed and squeezed the girl's shoulders before releasing her. "And then the grief will surely follow."

***

Rhaenyra called you into the room with the Painted Table some hours later. You were not ready to hear her. Just as you'd said, Baela watched Rhaenyra attempt to offer consolation and comfort in the face of your mother's loss.

This was, in your words, three people that Rhaenyra Targaryen had taken from you. You would not allow your father to be the next.

"Princess-"

"No!" You yelled. All the voices in the room died as Rhaenyra's head snapped upward, blue eyes meeting your own from across the painted table as you stormed forward. "I refuse participate in a war like this one. I don't care if your legitimacy has been contested. My mother was the only reason I allowed for myself and Nightshade to take part. I will not risk the future of my House or my dragon for the sake of the Iron Throne."

You knew you were being irrational. It was easier to be irrational and angry for the loss of your mother and direct it at Rhaenyra then come to your second most devastating realization: Despite how much you still loved Aemond, you were going to have to be the one to kill him. You were going to have to be the one to kill him because he was the one who took your mother from you.

Right now, you had one goal in mind. One that you fully intended to see it through.

"Princess, where are you going?"

"Home. I'm going back to Driftmark to deliver news to my Lord father of the passing of my mother. It needs to be me."

"And if the Queen has need of you?"

You flippantly waved your hand over your shoulder. "Don't! The only time you need to have me involved, Your Grace, is when you need someone who can successfully face Aemond and Vhagar. When that happens, I want to be the one to end it." You turned back around in the hallway to stare at the Black Queen's Council, your nieces and nephews, the Queen Who Had Yet To Be. "He killed my mother. I want retribution for that act."

You'd rather she be the Queen Who Never Was. If anyone deserved the right of being Queen, it was Rhaenys.

"When it's time to kill Aemond, it should be me. Call upon me then. Until that point comes? You are on your own."

[authors note: I'm seriously considering adding a second part just for the fact that I have GOT to write Seasmoke claiming Addam LOL]

[melrosing]

2.07 thoughts

liked the Rhaenyra and Jace convo but feel like they could’ve managed a better build to this + drawn it out a bit more. love that Jace needs to lean into targ supremacy more than anyone bc what else does he have etc, but there’s so much they could’ve done w that in earlier eps showing where he feels insufficient and self conscious of his heritage and the lowkey resentment towards Rhaenyra for it. would also like to have seen Rhaenyra defend herself, resulting in more tangible fracture between them. she’s so diplomatic on absolutely everything and we’re near the end of S2 now! PLEASE let d’arcy do more w this role

liked the saera mention!

liked aegon rehab and larys basically tormenting him into reclaiming his role, like instead of having it thrust upon him as per S1 (which I did think was a good place to start Aegon as a character) maybe he will seize it this time bc if he doesn’t have the power of the iron throne then what does he have etc, he will never know peace, his son is gone, and so on

Alicent lake scene sure did happen. but I felt nothing like it felt lazy sorry what exactly were they trying to convey. I like being able to read my own meaning into scenes but this was like they were actively relying on the audience to do so

hilarious watching a bunch of actors in bad wigs walking into dragonstone really enjoyed that

however I think it really speaks to how little they know what to do with Rhaenyra’s interiority that you have her watching on as Vermithor burns and demolishes all the poor people she herself stuck in front of him and like. what are we supposed to understand is going through her head. she’s just fucking staring lol. and then before she can even reflect Vermithor is successfully claimed so all’s well that ends well. like my god please can someone write Rhaenyra

Daemon and the riverlords ok I liked Oscar Tully fine. but I think they’re lacking the adventure w Daemon’s interiority that they seemed to promise in the first few eps. like if you want to compare to OG bad incest man redemption anti hero Jaime Lannister and his OWN riverlands adventure….. like im sorry but this doesn’t even compare lmao

liked the dragon keepers arguing w Rhaenyra and fucking off outta there. like the framing of the dragons as gods and smallfolk claiming them as blasphemy and the way they maybe feel like Jace in that if anyone can claim these beasts maybe they’re just glorified zookeepers

excited that we get to see Dreamfyre?

v excited to see what they do w Daeron

that’s it though I was really rooting for this series but I think you can really tell they were rushing to meet deadlines and had to make a bunch of last minute edits. It’s been a 6/10 on average for me so far w a 7/10 for the high points and a 4/10 for the low. and I can’t really believe that was the penultimate episode where it’s supposed to feel everything is really coming to ahead whereas actually it feels more like the midpoint of a few fumbled arcs

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Namesday

jacaerys velaryon x reader x aemond targaryen A/N: a very special smutty late birthday present for my beloved wifey @its-actually-minicika and favourite jacaerys defender 💪 happy birthday bestie! ily mwah i hope you like it ♡ pronouns: she/her warnings: smuttity smut smut divider: galacticgraffiti wordcount: 2,135

Jacaerys’ hands glide up the length of your waist as you rock yourself back and forth on his laps before settling on your hips. A gentle grunt drips from his mouth and his eyes flutter closed. Your smirk cheekily at him, pride oozing from your lips. Your betrothed opens his eyes again and cups your cheek. He bites his lip and dips his head to kiss up your soft neck, leaving wet blushing marks in their wake, a silent claim. Pink swollen lips press to your jawline as they line up behind you to your ear, unfamiliar ones. A gasp ripples past your own but your own sweet noises deepen as new fingers cup your breasts and flick the nipples. Your head turns to the side to find your unknown accompaniment. Your eyes widen and your breath hitches at the one eyed man grinning deviously at your reactions. You would jump if Jace’s hands weren’t firmly pressing you down. “I’ve seen how you look at him,” Your betrothed grins, pinching your side for attention. “I thought he would be more than willing to join us for one night…perhaps more. Happy namesday, my love.” He moves his hands to take your cheeks and pull a kiss from you, not for the first time this night. You preen into him but Aemond One-Eye Targaryen is not a man to be forgotten and pinches at your breasts to wrench another gasp before yanking you back to kiss you with bruising force but quickly soothing your abused lips with his warm tongue. He slides it along the slit of your mouth until demanding entry and slipping past the barrier. You can briefly hear Jacaerys chuckling before he jogs your hips up and down, having returned them back to their rightful place. It’s quick when Aemond turns you around with as much restraint as he can muster and presses your back into Jacaerys’ chest. His hand rises to the clasp of his eyepatch and snaps it off to cast aside on the floor before taking a hold of your jaw and roughly meeting lips again. “I want to give you all of me, tonight.” he breathes against your lips as you shiver at the feel of Jace’s gentle hand drifting to your exposed centre. His fingers drum against the bud that turns slick with his attention. He swears he knows your entrance better than he knows his own reflection. With slow strokes he tickles a long pace, letting your mewling whines echo into your new lover’s mouth. Aemond drinks them in with vigour and determination. Your hips grind against your betrothed’s pelvis with equal leisure. 

Frustration ebbs at you with hitched breaths and the low groans of men carrying heavy demanding desires. Aemond flits his fingers over the buttons of his shirt and jacket, your hurried hands meet with his breeches, tugging at them until they drop to the floor and he can kick away the offending thick fabrics. A grumbling growl reverberates against his throat as he lets his lips descend upon your breast, tongue creeping across and teasing your perked pearls. When another moan slips through your teeth, Jace bobs you against his clothed crotch again and chuckles at the hiss you make. “Worry not, my darling, we are here to take care of you not torture you, though I think you would like that, hm?” You are unused to Jacaerys witty foreplay but it is not unwelcome as your breath catches at an intruding finger deftly slithering into your waiting core. Aemond’s silk hair tickles your arms now that it has been unleashed. You throw your head back to rest on Jace’s shoulder. “That’s it, sweet thing.” He coos. “Let us show you just how pretty we can make you. He takes his free hand to cup your cheek and direct you toward him so that he can kiss across your face mindlessly. You would giggle if he wasn’t still sliding his finger inside you with such purposefully deep thrusts. His thumb rubs soft circles over your bud, delighting in the benefits of your pleasure. Aemond’s tongue flattens against the sensitive curve of your breast and his hands entangle your own into his long hair, encouraging all and any attention. He pulls back to let his hot breath fan against the wetness he pressed into your skin. Jace slithers another finger and quickens his teasing pace. “Do you know how long I have waited to hear your sweet sounds? The lengths I have gone to to keep this escapade private?” Aemond murmured thickly. His narrowed eye flicks up to look into your own, throat flexing at the unbecoming image. His lips thin into a firm line and he cocks his head. “And yet you are both hiding it from me. Do that again and I will take my own fantasies.” His snapping voice betrays his wanting but reinforces his warning. His stare is probing and sharp–dangerous. “Do you understand?” You swallow and nod but he isn’t satisfied. Jace curls his fingers to evoke a loud yelp, your eyes squeezing shut. “Do you understand?” Aemond repeats and you manage to croak out a ‘yes’ to which he eagerly hums and lowers his head between your thighs. Jacaerys moves his thumb so that it can be swiftly replaced with his uncle’s tongue which flicks steadily against it. “Please,” You whimper out and again your betrothed chuckles at your desperation. It seems they are enjoying your misery. 

Jace’s fingers stretch in your core, investigating every inch as Aemond’s tongue targets the most sensitive curves. He takes it further into his mouth and takes languid, squelching sucks. Jacaerys tilts your face down to look at the display with a cheeky smirk. “And we thought you were such a sweet girl, to be my darling wife and yet you need not only one prince but two to satisfy you, don’t you?” A moan dribbles as you babble hazy agreements. “You’re never going to be able to take my cock in this state.” He demeans teasingly. He tsks. Aemond and Jacaerys could not agree on much…but they could agree on claiming every inch of you and more. Your eyes stare wet and hazy as you watch the unholy sight. Aemond lets go, saliva connecting him to the mound even still. “A shame you have already taken her, Lord Strong.” Aemond hums. “I would have enjoyed her.” Jacaerys clenches his jaw and you feel his finger stiffen, thrusting even harder into you. “You might remember that she is to be my wife before you speak so brazenly, uncle.” He rivals. “A Queen one day in her own right.” He tightens his other hand onto your hip. Aemond hums again infuriatingly and smirks. “I might.” He agrees slowly but the storm is merely brewing. “Or I might remember the lewd noises I am drawing from her tongue.” Jace’s face flames and with resolute speed, he lifts you from his lap and takes away his fingers. Jacaerys turns you and slides his wet fingers into your warm mouth, eyes glinting and dark at the sight. It’s the first time you have seen such a possessive hold steal your prince so wantonly. Aemond chuckles as your rushing fingers untie your betrothed’s breeches–the only remnants of his clothing. Jacaerys groans into your mouth, one hand cupping your cheek again and another tugging you with him toward the large bed awaiting you. His fervent fingers curl around your rear and Aemond’ approaches slowly, standing tall and proud. He smiles wickedly as he lowers himself to kneel on the bed and then lay beside you. He runs ring-clad fingers along your cheek and gleams at the whimpers you let out at the cold steel. 

“Doña riña.” (sweet girl) He soothes as your hand drifts to wrap again in his hair. He tuts but you can see the spark in his eye. That sets off before a fight breaks out. “You remember our deal, nephew.” He taunts your prince who sighs but reluctantly pecks your lips once more and settles beside you as Aemond slips in his place. Jace raises his own hand to entangle with your fingers, squeezing reassurance into you. “I have to make up for lost time.” Aemond grunts and he takes one of your hands to wrap around his girth. He shudders as he works himself with your nimble digits. You feel it thicken to grow in your palm, pointing toward you as straight as an arrow and throbbing. The round head pleads with you while its wielder bites back his groans. Jacaerys coos at you with ever-darkening eyes. His tongue darts to wet his lips and he grunts as he entangles a hand in your soft hair, tugging it as though coaxing a kitten. “You can take him, can’t you, darling?” He speaks with a slick sweetness. “Make him know what he’s been missing all this time?” A strangled noise escapes your lips as Aemond leans forward to rub the sensitive extension of himself over the gentle nub of your sex. Jacaerys kisses up the apple of your cheek when the first dip is made, Aemond’s appendage slipping snug inside. The white haired man almost rolls his eyes into the back of his head as he slides your left leg up his hip. A lewd snap of his hips drives him deeper. Jacaerys snakes an arm around your waist and flicks his fingers back on your pink bud. He turns your face to join your lips and swallow down your mewls greedily. 

“Do you like that, Ñuhys qēlos?” (my star) Aemond teases with a growing smirk. His short groans lengthen the longer he warms himself in your sweet entrance. Jace’s tongue glides along the line of your lips and probes between them. His fingers work deftly on the height of your sensitivities. “Mm, I think you do.” He near mocks again but finds a light gasp leaving his lips when you wrap both legs around him and he almost loses his balance. With a quick motion you flip him onto the bed and change positions, landing your palms on his broad shoulders and legs planting on either side of his own. “You underestimate me.” Your quip and drive a large thrust to conjoin your bodies. Jacaerys chuckles and drops his head back on the bed as he does so before leaning his head on Aemond’s shoulder. “But that wasn’t the first mistake you made about my Queen.” He informs with pride rising up his throat and into his uncle’s ear who shudders. “You are forgetting who this is for, my princes.” Your voice turns firm and warning, eyes narrowing as your lips quirk up. It’s slowly that you lower and bob on the man beneath you. A shuddering groan drips from your mouth though he is not the largest you have taken. He may have claimed the largest named dragon but you like to think that your own may hold that title and not in the way one might assume. It is not Vermax that you think of, you think of his rider whom you seem to have claimed yourself…though you do much more than riding. “Then for that I send you my most earnest apologies.” Aemond borderline whines when you climb off of his, a clear string connecting you. His hands grapple at your waist but you’re much quicker than him and it doesn’t take you long to mount your familiar beloved dragon’s lap instead. His eyes glint mischievously as you grin down at him and glide onto his girth like you have done so many times before. From beside you, Aemond preens for attention, kissing up your shoulder and then your neck as your head tosses back, eyes sewing shut. He is lucky that you are merciful as you slide your fingers around to grip the cause of his pain and treat it to pleasures otherworldly unknown. Jacaerys’ familiar whimpers and moans fill your ears as you drop down onto his large girth. It is with swift bounces and grating hips that you roll through the waves of pleasure your soon-husband wreaks upon you. A choking moan slips past your teeth which you clamp down as you clamp around your lover’s cock. Your opening tightens and milks his worth from him, both of you growing weak in one another’s embrace. With the night almost spent, you release onto him as warm dribbles seep before shooting into you, Aemond’s own dripping onto the bed. “Have we pleased you, īlva dāria?” (Our Queen) Aemond hisses into your ear while your betrothed falls his back down on the soft mattress. Heavy breathing descends upon your sweet trio. “Not yet.” You snicker in response, wearing their need like a crown. It is going to be a long night… 

[comoestas-01]

War is Over (But what have we done)

Silence rang around the room as Daemon finished his spiel. The tension in the room hung thickly in the air as it became apparent to everyone that war was a real possibility. Jace and Luke looked at each other across the painted table with eyes wide in disbelief. Is this really how this would end? In war? Luke shuddered as he looked around the room, how many of them would survive if any of them at all?

Rhaenyra put a hand on her stomach as she too thought the same thing. Would this petty feud between her and Alicent kill her children? Would the machinations of Otto Hightower really destabilize the realm to such a degree?

Daemon’s chest continued to rise and fall heavily after his impassioned speech, he knew war was on the horizon but even after delivering such a plan his heart lurched. All it would take to end this very tentative peace was the death of his brother. His brother. Despite the tension that always existed between them, he did love his brother and the thought of losing him hurt to even consider. But it was necessary to make such plans no matter how unfortunate.

Before anyone could raise a voice to end the silence that permeated the room, the doors came crashing open as an out of breath knight practically ran in.

“Princess, pardon the intrusion but there’s a dragon approaching the keep and it doesn’t seem to be slowing.”

Rhaenyra gasped and moved her hand back to her stomach to protect the babe inside it. Daemon’s hand quickly fell to Dark Sister as he strode across the room as the tension rose even further. Like a caged animal, Daemon’s hackles were raised as he stalked out the room, Caraxes roaring overhead as he felt the anger of his rider grow with each step forward.

It was unusual for anyone to arrive at Dragonstone without prior notice sent by raven and all the talk of war made everyone in the room wonder if war was actually upon them.

Rhaenyra moved to follow Daemon as she cut a quick look to Jace.

“Take your brothers and the girls to your chambers Jace, wait until I send for you”, Rhaenyra called behind her as she crossed the threshold out of the room. “Look after them.”

“But Mo-“, Jace called out already moving to follow his mother.

But Rhaenyra cuts him off in a tone fit for court, one rarely heard leveled against her children, one that welcomed no arguments.

“Now Jacaerys.”

And without turning back she walked down the halls to meet whatever challenge the Greens planned to throw at her.

Note: I’m planning to write a Aegon x Jace fic and this is just a little blurb of the first chapter. This is a WIP but lmk what you think.

[lysenixdragon]

She paused upon hearing her aunt ask her what she thought. Honestly, she was a little shocked. Never once did anyone ever ask what she wanted. Myella was simply a bystander in her family, watching as they grew divided and bitter towards one another. Truly, she had no stance on the family feud. She knew bits and pieces, and could assume, but never understood why. From her perspective, it was all about power, something Myella accepted she would never have. So, now that she actually had some over her fate, she was unsure what to say at first.

She took a deep breath to collect her thoughts. "If you kill me, it would be a show of strength, but it shortsighted. We both know my father, even Rhaenyra wouldn't be able to stop him from coming here and burning everyone to ash. If not for his love for me, then his pride. And, I'd like to think that while you do not particularly like me, you aren't cruel enough to have me beheaded," Myella couldn't help her slight jest at the end, "I don't know about you, but I'd rather not see the end of our family. All of our family. Aegon, Rhaenyra, Aemond, Jace, and Helaena...I have love in my heart for each and everyone of them. The last thing I want to see if them rip each other to pieces. Maybe I'm being naive, but if I can get a raven to Dragonstone, then maybe I can at least convince my father to consider peace, or a meeting between us. Or if he wishes to have me returned to him, then find it in your heart to have some mercy on me and let me go."

Myella paused another moment and weighed out her options before speaking again, "If none of that happens then-...I'll go quietly with whoever you need support from."

those were both solutions that had been floated, but nothing had been done about either yet. "is that what you want me to do with you?" alicent asked after she'd processed the outburst. actually asking hadn't crossed her mind. she was so caught up in the lives of of her own children and the war they waged to defend aegon's crown that the thought of consulting myella on how she felt about being left here had completely abandoned her. thoughts of myella hadn't been completely ignored, one of the few reasons she was still here according to aemond was as a bargaining chip. after all this time though, alicent wasn't so sure how much love the prince had for his daughter seeing as he'd abandoned her here. she would never do that to her own children, but daemon didn't seem to have that kind of paternal instinct for her.

"go on, you've had no problem speaking your mind today, what is your solution to our mutual problem?" she reached up the the necklace at her throat, running her fingers absentmindedly over the gems as she waited for the young woman to speak again.

[baelonthebrave]

'til queendom come, ch. 5

[masterlist] [Ao3] [playlist]

aemond targaryen x targaryen oc

wordcount: 12,063

summary: the prince and the lady had loved each other since childhood, and it was plain for all to see. But what had drawn them to each other in the first place - their valour and virtue - threatened to tear them apart as they found themselves on opposing sides of a cruel war.

warnings: canon-typical violence, canon-typical incest, abusive parent/child relationship, nsfw/18+ in later chapters, mentions of canon sexual violence & abuse, including against minors

a/n: gah I'm excited about posting this one! All the love I've been getting is amazing, guys. Hope you enjoy! Ch6 will be up next weekend <3

content warning: mentions of canon sexual violence & abuse, including against minors. it's no more than what is already in the show and there is no descriptions but please proceed with caution if that is something that could be triggering to you. Stay safe, friends <3

Even being kept away from King’s Landing by her father for long years could not keep Sena from thinking of Aemond day and night. Their letters only grew in frequency and volume, though Sena had well-warned the Prince that nothing came to her without meeting Maester Gerardys’ eye first. So the content remained their usual conversations of court, training, studies, but Sena still devoured each one hungrily and replied with as much haste as she dared.

…You had best train hard in these coming weeks, as my father has acquiesced to my joining the family at court to defend Lucerys against Ser Vaemond Velaryon’s overreaching for power. That we should have to dignify such calumnies with a response is unthinkable to me, but I shall gladly take the opportunity to visit with Helaena and the children, the King and Queen… and you, of course. I plan on finding out if Ser Criston has taught you anything worth knowing.

The teasing letter to Aemond had been met with an equally taunting reply.

…I pride myself on knowing many things worth knowing, my lady, but few of them are Cole’s wisdom. Regardless, you shall be on the receiving end of my knowledge upon your next visit, should that be your desire. My only request is that you be mindful of what you wish for.

It had raised a violent blush in Sena’s cheeks, and her only thought was that Maester Gerardys must be a fool if he truly did not suspect anything. But then, what did a Maester of the Citadel, hunchbacked from long years spent in libraries and rookeries know of matters of love?

Sena came to a sudden halt as she thought it, actually stopping dead in her pacing of her bedroom. Love… was that what this was? She loved Aemond as family and as a friend, she always had since they were six years old. But as more than that? I think I might love you, that was what she had told him, in Vhagar’s cavern. She desired him, of that there was no doubt. She had found herself growing hot and flushed at the thought of his kisses, on her lips and neck, the way he had pulled their hips flush together.

There was desire, and then there was love. The men of her family had always made quite clear what it was to desire a woman without loving her - they never made any secret of their habits on the Street of Silk, spoke of it quite openly in fact. And love without desire… Ser Laenor and Princess Rhaenyra had loved each other, of that there was no doubt, but they had never looked at each other with that hunger that she often saw in men’s eyes.

When they worked as one together, love and desire… when Aemond had opened her eyes to the true machinations of her family, Sena had seen it in the glances that the Princess and Ser Harwin Strong shared with each other. The looks that the Princess and her father shared now. The pink tinge in Jace’s cheeks when Baela caught him watching her from across the training yard.

Trying to set the matter from her head for now, Sena resolved to simply talk to the Prince about it when she got to King’s Landing. What use would turning it over and over in her head do, far away from King’s Landing and with no means of speaking privately? No, it was of no use, she thought, shaking her head vehemently and going back to her packing.

The journey of the Princess’s household to King’s Landing was made by ship, to accommodate the staff, the small children and the Princess’ swelling belly - her third child with Sena’s father. The pace of the sea journey only unsettled Sena further, who was itching to get back to the city. She only felt herself grow calmer once she was passing through the gates of the Red Keep. She was, however, a little taken aback at the absence of any reception for their arrival. So it was going to be that sort of visit, she thought grimly, watching as the Princess and her father set foot in King’s Landing for the first time in many years.

The Princess was affronted and Sena’s father looked downright malevolent, so their children were more than happy to escape at the earliest opportunity. Rhaena went in immediate search of Baela, who had been ward to Princess Rhaenys these last few years, and the boys slipped off to follow the servants with their baggage to their rooms and get settled in. Sena followed a few paces behind Jace and Luke, her brow further furrowing with each seven-pointed star she laid eyes on where once had been the heraldry of her house. Dragon banners, dragon skulls, mosaics of flame and battle, all gone, replaced with holy imagery. Sena had little time for the faith the Conquerors had dutifully adopted when they came to Westeros - she was half Valyrian and half the blood of the First Men, after all. And if there were truly Gods up there watching her, she had never heard them. She chewed her lip and kept walking.

In her room, the servants were already unpacking her things and her own maidservant, Sophey had made sure that her training gear was laid out first for her. A long few days spent sitting around on a boat and a morning confined to a carriage had put an itch into her, and it was about time she scratched it. She stepped behind the changing screen and unceremoniously pulled her dress off over her head, swapping silk for leather. She laced her boots in a hurry and got her sword belt on just in time to catch up with Jacaerys and Lucerys on their own way to the yard. “Look at us, going to train without even being commanded! My father would be proud of us,” she said, and Jace smirked as if to say how unlikely that was. Luke had been wearing a solemn expression for days now, and it made Sena’s heart ache to see. She threw an arm around the shoulders of the young boy who was now at her chin. When had he gotten so tall? “You should be careful, sweet boy. If you keep frowning like that the wind will change and your face will be stuck that way,” she said, mimicking the grumpy look on his face to make him smile.

He turned up the corner of his mouth and leaned into her. “Sorry, just… nervous, I guess.”

“Don’t say sorry, it’s understandable,” Jace said from his brother’s other side, giving him a reassuring smile.

“It is. But you won’t be alone tomorrow. Your mother will speak for you, and we will all be by your side. You just have to stand there and look pretty,” Sena said and squeezed the young boy’s shoulders.

“Gods, that will be an impossible task then!” Jace said. Luke balked and gave him a shove, but it did the job, because he was laughing now rather than frowning. They laughed all the way down to the yard.

As Jace and Luke made their way over to the weapons racks, Sena took a moment to stand still in the buzz of the yard and take it in. The full rainbow of different heraldry passed before her eyes as lords and lordlings, knights and squires went about their drills. White cloaks of the Kingsguard whipped in motion as the finest knights in the realm refined their skills. And here she was, stood in the middle of it, and nobody could make her leave. The daughter of the King’s brother, the step-daughter of the Princess of Dragonstone and Heir to the Throne, a woman grown. No-one could tell her to go now, even if they wanted to.

And they did want to, she thought, watching different sets of eyes flit away from her as she turned to meet their disapproving glares. She ignored them and gripped the ruby-studded hilt of her sword in her hand and looked around for a worthy - and willing - opponent.

That was when her eyes caught on the telltale shock of silver blonde hair.

The last couple of years had been good to Aemond, shaving away the last of the childish roundness in his features and leaving him tall and lean. Better than that, he stood strong, wearing the eyepatch over his left eye without a hint of self-consciousness. She hoped she might have played some small part in that, desiring him and loving him despite what he thought of as his flaws.

Prince Aemond twisted out of Ser Criston Cole’s reach with all the fluidity of water, then brought himself back down on his opponent with deadly speed. Sena’s heart surged in her chest, and she pushed her way through the growing crowd of spectators. It seemed all the men on the yard wanted to watch the Prince and the Queen’s sworn shield dance, she thought with a surge of satisfaction as Aemond held his own against one of the finest knights in the realm.

She gritted her teeth as Ser Criston’s favoured Morningstar splintered Aemond’s shield on his arm. He looked utterly nonplussed though, keeping a calm focus on his opponent as he discarded the ruined shield. Then, Sir Criston was launching a barrage of attacks, and Sena gripped her arms tightly against her chest as she watched Aemond feint left, right, back. His clever eye spotted his opening and he threw Ser Criston’s next strike wide with his own sword, spinning around the Kingsguard to end with his blade at Ser Criston’s neck.

Ser Criston grinned with pride as the spectators broke into applause. Sena watched Aemond’s back with her heart in her throat. She had not seen him fight in years, since they were children, and he had grown into an incredible swordsman. Like her own style in a lot of ways - fluid, dynamic, conserving stamina and exploiting mistakes where they were made. “Well done, my Prince. You’ll be winning tourneys in no time,” Ser Criston said, Aemond’s sword still at his neck.

“I don’t give a shit about tourneys,” the Prince replied. His voice sounded colder and harder than it had when she had last seen him. “Nephews?” Sena spotted Jace and Luke across the way from her, holding Aemond’s gaze with an iciness that set her on edge. “Have you come to train?”

Jace bristled and Luke swayed on the spot, discomfited. Sena gritted her teeth. Must he tease them so? “Or you could try picking on someone your own size,” the words were coming out before she’d even decided to speak them. Aemond, Ser Criston, Jace, Luke and all the other spectators turned to look at her. Her jaw tightened as a wave of titters spread through the crowd.

All of that melted away when Aemond smiled at her, though. He inclined his head to her. “My lady.”

“My prince,” she said, willing the sudden thrum of her heart to slow.

Her stepbrothers and the assembled knights and lords were distracted by the arrival of Ser Vaemond Velaryon’s procession into the lower yard, leaving Sena and Aemond free to take their fill of each other. He was only six feet away and it was still too far. “How have you been?” She asked him, in lieu of all of the things she actually wanted to say.

“Lonely,” he said, low enough so that it was only for her ears, “and you?”

“Forlorn,” she countered, and his lips twitched, “though I’ll feel better once I’ve beaten you.”

He had that maddening smirk on his face that she longed to kiss away. The people around them were starting to disperse now, going back to their sparring matches or following the Velaryons into the keep so they might ready themselves for supper. “Alright. If it’s a duel you desire, you shall have one,” Aemond said, turning and walking in an arc to clear some space around them, “though, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Sena barely had time to draw before Aemond was on her, and the clash of steel rung out across the yard. She shifted back and let him come at her again, knocking his blow aside and swinging around him in a replication of his earlier move. He knew his own tactics, though, and ducked out of her way with fluid haste.

It was less a fight and more a dance, Aemond taking every opportunity to drag her close and get in her space. At one point, she was too slow to duck away from him and he threw his sword arm around her, pulling her to his chest. Disguised in the tussle, he ducked his head and pressed a kiss to her neck, and Sena shivered even as she sharply elbowed him in the gut.

He doubled over, looking betrayed but amused, and met her sword again with his own as she went back on the attack.

Much later, when they were just about the last two left in the yard, exhausted and sweating, Aemond threw his sword down in the dirt. “I yield,” he said, raising his hands. “My mother hates me being late to dinner.”

Sena laughed. “You’re such a mummy’s boy.”

He made a face at her but did not deny it. “Guilty as charged.”

Sena sheathed her sword and kicked his own one back towards him. She cast a furtive glance around at the lingering knights on the yard and servants on the walkways. This bloody place, she feared they would get no time alone her entire visit. “You have become a fine swordsman, my prince,” she said.

He nodded. “And you, my lady. It seems your father did something right by you, at long last.”

She cast a sharp glance around, shocked at his being so brazen. “Aemond,” she hissed. When did he and his family become so bold? Removing the heraldry of House Targaryen, flouting her father where they could be heard. She knew the King was not well, but things had truly changed.

He gave her a look. “It’s alright. He doesn’t have any friends at my mother’s court.” His mother’s court.

“Still-“

“Sena,” he said, and hearing her name from his lips was like a salve on a burn, sweet relief and tingling sensation. He drew close enough to touch. “Stop worrying. You’re safe with me.”

She sighed, and knocked their arms together as she turned. “Walk me to my room?” There was no chance of her father letting her dine with the Queen tonight, so she knew she would not see Aemond again until the morrow, and she was reticent to leave him.

Their elbows knocked and the backs of their hands grazed together as Aemond took her the long way up through the stairs and hallways of the Red Keep. “Hard to believe this is all I get of you,” he said lowly, his lips barely moving, “snatched moments when your father deigns to let you out of his sight.”

She brushed two fingers over the back of his hand and he pressed into her touch. “And it shan’t even last long. I doubt they’ll want to hang around after they have reaffirmed Lucerys’s claim.”

“I wouldn’t be too confident, my love,” he said, coming into the quiet corridor that led to her room. “Things are different around here. The winds are changing. My father is- he is not well. Or so the maesters say. I haven’t seen him for myself in a moon’s turn.”

Something ached inside of her at the thought of her ailing uncle suffering through the days. “A moon?”

His lips were pursed. “Don’t look surprised. He had more interest in you than he had in me growing up, so I don’t plan on running to his bedside and playing the grieving son now.”

Sena frowned. She hadn’t meant it like that, not truly. “I wouldn’t expect you to.”

He bit his lip and leaned back against the wall opposite her door. She made no move to leave him just yet, but she kept a careful distance. She had learned they needed to be careful who they were seen by, but he also seemed different since the last time she’d seen him. Less boyish and moody, more measured and tightly wound. Like he was lying in wait.

He seemed to be arguing with himself about something, an argument that he eventually lost, as he opened his mouth to speak. “Is it true about your sisters?” He asked. She frowned at the set of his brow. “The Clubfoot has passed us whispers of them being betrothed to my nephews so that Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys will align themselves with my half-sister.”

Sena set her jaw in irritation. “You don’t align yourself with the crowned heir, Aemond, it’s called loyalty-“

He glared at her. “I am loyal to my family,” he said, pushing off of the wall to draw closer to her, like a stalking wildcat. “My true family. Meaning my mother, my sister, my brothers…” he cast a look down either side of the hall to check they were alone, then pressed his hand into her own, “and you.”

Her breath hitched in her throat. “Aemond-“

He shook his head to stop her. “Don’t you see, Sena? This could be our chance, you and I,” his voice dropped to a whisper, drawing closer to her still. He held her gaze and he had mastered that serious look of his when they were six years old. “Your sisters are marrying. My father still lives. We are both of age. This could be our chance, Sena, our last chance, before they force other arrangements on us when everything goes to shit.”

She took a sharp breath, unsure if she was understanding him correctly. “Do you mean-“

There was unshakeable certainty in his eye. “Marry me.”

Sena’s vision swam a little unevenly, looking down at their joined hands. Like two interlocking puzzle pieces, made for each other. “I wish it were that simple,” she said, her voice sounding shaky. “My father-“

“It is that simple,” he interrupted, his jaw set. “I do not wish for a penny of a dowry from my uncle so he can have no objections. Do not ask him, Sena, tell him.”

She shook her head in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind? Do you know my father?” 

But he was not listening to her though, lost in a fantasy of his own creation. “Marry me,” he said, bringing up a hand to cup her cheek. His hands were warm and rough and Sena could not help but lean into his touch. “Marry me and I will give you all that is mine to give you, Sena. You will be a Princess, you will live in luxury, your rooms will be down the hall from Helaena. All for the small price of having to wake up next to me each and every morning for the rest of your life.”

She laughed and pressed their hands to the space over her heart. She could imagine nothing sweeter. “What an arduous task that would be.”

“I know. Cruel, isn’t it?” He japed, tucking her hair behind her ear.

It was the only thing in the world she had ever truly desired, and yet a single doubt swirled in her mind. Her mouth went dry, but she forced it out. “Do you love me, Aemond?”

He went still and the smile evaporated from his features. “You have to ask?” He was stunned. He clenched his jaw and anger clouded his handsome features, turning his head to look down the hall to where her father and Princess Rhaenyra were quartered. He was like a tempest, she thought, unpredictable and ferocious. “That brute will pay for every time he’s ever made you feel unloveable, Sena-“

“Forget about him. It’s not about him. This is about us,” she gritted out, pulling his gaze back to hers with a hand under his chin. She was so sick of everything in her life being about Prince Daemon. She just wanted Aemond to say it, so she could hear it and know it was true. “Do you love me?”

He looked at her, truly looked at her and the anger dissipated from his features. Their gazes held each other and he leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. She could feel his breath on her lips, smell the rosemary oil in his hair. “I have loved you half a lifetime, Sena.”

“Aemond-”

“No, I mean it,” he said with a soft smile. “Ever since that day in the Dragonpit, I have been blissfully happy every day I have had you, savagely lonely every day I have not. And every second of every hour, I have loved you.”

She couldn’t take it any longer, the swell of her chest and the burning in her soul. She surged forwards, taking his face in both her hands and kissing him desperately, not giving a damn who could interrupt at any moment. He was surprised at first, then pushed back against her, and she felt her back hit the wall, felt his hands cushion the back of her head and tangle in her hair as he kissed her back mercilessly, a dam breaking inside of him. Tears sprang free from the corners of her eyes and a whimper ripped from her throat as she clawed at him, needing him closer, needing him never to leave her side again, not even for a moment. Everything in her world started and ended with him.

He pushed in closer and they were joined from thigh to rib to shoulder. His hips did a queer roll against hers. Friction sparked in some secret place and she gasped, stars bursting behind her eyes. She fisted her hands into his hair, then moved them down to his back, pressing him closer as he mouthed lasciviously at her neck. His lower back curved inwards, his hips moved again and her hands flew to the swell of his backside, urging him to keep doing whatever he was doing.

All of a sudden, she was left cold as he broke away from her with a strangled sound, panting into the space between them. She was overcome with a desire to make him want her, to use every inch of herself to take him apart. She grabbed his hands and pulled them to her waist, her hips. His eye was dark with hunger. “Come inside,” she said in a bare whisper, “forget about the rest of them, we can make something up, just come inside. Come inside.”

He gritted his teeth together. “No,” he whispered, “no.” He was struggling, she could tell, his hands trembling as he drew them back from her body.

“Aemond.”

“No. I won’t ruin you.”

She would not hear it. It was madness. She was twenty years of age and she could not choose when she would know another’s touch. She was not one of Helaena’s fragile insects to be pinned behind glass, preserved and possessed. “Ruin?” She asked softly. “How could something so beautiful ever be ruin?”

He sighed and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “We would be beautiful, wouldn’t we? You and I, together as one?” 

She shivered against him at the thought. How was he so controlled? “Show me,” she whispered. “Show me,” she begged.

He pulled back and shook his head. “I would never do anything to endanger you, Sena,” he said and squeezed her hands in his once more before letting go. “Talk to your father.”

His absence against her was like a winter wind. “Aemond,” she pleaded.

“Talk to your father.”

Then he was gone, stalking up the hall before he could lose his composure and change his mind.

She let out a breath and leaned back against her door like a marionette with cut strings.

It took Sena an inordinate amount of time to ready herself for supper as she found herself becoming distracted, brushing her fingers over her lips, her neck, her hips, her waist, everywhere he had touched. The tangles in her hair that he had put there, raking his long fingers through her curls. She sighed and stared wistfully in the looking glass, seeing how they had looked together in the reflection the morning of Helaena’s wedding.

It was only when her maidservant knocked and entered that she dragged herself out of her thoughts. “The Queen and the Princess will be in the Princess’s rooms after supper, m’lady. They will be expecting you,” she said as she helped Sena pin back her hair.

“Thank you, Sophey,” Sena said with a distant smile.

Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon looked particularly perturbed at supper, Sena thought, but she did not have the time nor the inclination to find out why. She ate her supper, clicked her nails off of her glass with impatience and excused herself as quickly as she could without being rude - or terribly rude, anyway. Speaking to her father would have to wait until after the proceedings tomorrow, not that she was overly upset at the idea of putting off that task for as long as possible.

No sooner was she admitted to the Princess’s sitting room than she was being gathered into Helaena’s arms in a crushing hug. “Princess,” she murmured, combing her fingers through blonde tresses.

“Oh Sena, it’s so good to see you,” Helaena said, pulling back and planting a kiss on both of Sena’s cheeks. Sena blushed and brought her in for one more hug.

“Lady Visenya,” the Queen greeted, and Sena stepped away from her daughter.

She curtseyed before the Queen. “Queen Alicent,” she said. The Queen’s sober expression melted into a smile and she was being pulled into another hug. 

“It’s good to see you.”

“Mama!” Came a small squawk, and Sena turned around to see a blonde-haired girl tugging at Helaena’s skirts with a wooden knight in hand. The girl’s twin was behind her, sitting on the rug before the fire and staring at the stranger in his midst.

“Oh,” Sena breathed at the sight of the two perfect little souls.

Helaena beamed and crouched down next to the girl. “Jaehaera, I have told you about Aunt Sena, haven’t I? Mummy’s friend?”

The little girl turned wide lilac eyes upwards at Sena and leaned into her mother, trying to hide in the folds of her dress. She nodded shyly.

“Aunt Sena?” Sena asked Helaena, surprised by the emotion thick in her voice.

Helaena smiled. “It felt right.”

Sena nodded, not trusting herself to speak without her voice wobbling. The Queen laid a hand on her shoulder. She drew a breath to steady herself. “And the babe?”

“Maelor is with his wet nurse in the nursery,” the Queen said. “He still sleeps most of the day, but he’s a delightful little boy when he wakes, all smiles. The Princess has done so well.”

“I see that,” Sena said with a watery smile as Helaena ducked her head, blushing at the praise.

Sena knew it was improper to sit down on the carpet next to the twins in the fine dress she had worn to dinner, especially in the presence of the Queen. But Helaena’s children were too sweet to resist, she was sure their grandmother could understand that. They were precocious too, examining this new intruder to their little world with curiosity. Jaehaera toddled over to her and tugged at her hair with a small, pudgy fist, causing the ladies to chuckle at her. The boy brought her a small toy horse, complete with a mane and tail. “Hello, my Prince, what is your name?” Sena asked. Jaehaera seemed to trust her quick enough, clambering into her lap, but Jaehaerys remained a little unsure, standing back from her.

Lilac eyes dipped low out of shyness and he mumbled, “Jery…”

“They have not quite mastered their names yet,” Helaena said with a doting smile from her seat on the settee. Her body was still recovering from the birth of her younger son, but Sena’s heart surged to see her practically glowing. Motherhood suited her kind and gentle friend well.

“You have made a good start, though, Jaehaerys,” Sena told the little boy, holding the pony toy in one hand and Jaehaera in the other. “I have never mastered mine yet, everyone still calls me Sena. They give us frightfully difficult names to say, don’t they?” She said, sending a playful smirk at the Queen.

Queen Alicent raised an eyebrow. “Do not point such an accusation at me, my lady. If it had been up to me, my boys would have been Addams and Gwaynes,” she said with good humour.

Sena laughed. “Helaena remains a pretty name, though, for a pretty girl.” Her best friend went a little pink in the cheeks at that. Sena looked down at the sweet little horse in her hand. “Is this your favourite toy?” She asked the little boy.

His white-blonde hair was smooth, sleek and fell about his shoulders. He brushed it out of his eyes with the back of his hand and nodded.

“It was a name day gift, wasn’t it, Jaehaerys? Tell Aunt Sena who it was from,” Helaena said, and sent a secretive smile at her friend.

Jaehaerys chewed his lip. “Uncle ‘Emon.”

Sena broke into a grin and turned the little horse over in her hands, looking at the matching knight that Jaehaera had left on the carpet. It was a sweet thing, lovingly painted and carved. She was sure he’d maybe gone out into the city and bought it from a merchant, but she also wouldn’t put it past the Prince to be hiding some great carpentry skill from her. He was a man of mystery after all. “Is Uncle Aemond good to you?”

Jaehaerys nodded and Jaehaera chimed in from Sena’s lap. “He says when I’m big, I can go on Vhagar with him!” She said excitedly.

The Queen stiffened in her chair, looking alarmed, but Helaena was smiling widely and Sena’s heart was melting at the thought of Aemond bringing toys and planning adventures with his niece and nephew. “Well, Prince Jaehaerys will just have to come with me on Grey Ghost, then, and we can have a race,” she said, giving the little boy a smile. That seemed to finally win him over and he nodded vigorously, plopping himself down on the carpet before Sena and his sister.

The twins played with their sweet little toys and Sena joined in with a small dragon, painted blue and sent all the way from Oldtown by their Uncle Daeron. “Are we like to see Prince Daeron back at court soon, my Queen?” Sena asked. “I haven’t seen that sweet boy’s smile in far too long.”

The Queen looked wistful. “I hope so, Sena. Believe me, no one misses him more than I. But he is no longer a boy, or so he tells me! It seems he has grown much and learned more as ward to my cousin, Lord Ormund.”

“He must come back soon,” Helaena said, and looked at Sena. “And you must stay. I so wish we could all be together again, like the old days. Imagine, Sena, we could raise our babes together and they could grow up as close as we did!”

It was a beautiful dream, and it made Sena’s heart ache just to think about it. Their children being as mischievous and unruly as they had been, driving Helaena and herself mad. Taking suppers with Helaena and walking with her in the godswood. Kissing Aemond awake in the morning. She would fix his eyepatch and he would lace her dresses, just so they could have as much alone time together as they could before they began their respective days. 

Gods, what a sweet dream it was.

Sena caught the Queen staring at her curiously, like she was trying to divine her thoughts. She felt her cheeks go pink as she wondered how long she had been sitting there silent, thinking of the life she could lead if she was Aemond’s wife. Jaehaera saved her though, by letting off a gigantic yawn. “Gosh, how does such a big sound come out of someone so little?” Sena said, and the little girl giggled and squirmed as Sena tickled her sides.

Helaena sighed happily. “Come, then, bedtime. Say goodnight to Aunt Sena.”

“Night!” Jaehaera said, pushing herself up and wobbling a little as she clambered out of Sena’s lap. 

Sena laughed and ducked her head to press a kiss to the girl’s hair. “Good night, Princess.”

Jaehaerys pushed himself up from the rug as well, and leaned over a little uncertainly to wrap his little arms around Sena’s neck. “Night,” he said quietly.

Sena rubbed his back. “Good night, my Prince,” she said. “And don’t forget, we’ll have our race with Uncle Aemond and Vhagar before long.”

The boy gave her a shy smile and gave his hand to his mother. “I’ll be back once the wet nurse and I have gotten them down to sleep, Sena. Shouldn’t be too long,” Helaena said and went to lead the twins down the hall to the nursery.

Sena pushed herself up off the rug and came to sit opposite the Queen, before the fire. She looked at Queen Alicent, bathed in the warm glow of the fire, and thought distantly that she was so beautiful. A graceful woman who had raised four children and now got to watch her grandchildren grow, she was regal, composed, demure. “They are wonderful. You must be so proud, my Queen.”

Alicent regarded her happily. “Endlessly,” she said simply.

Sena drew a bracing breath. She was regretful to spoil the Queen’s good mood, but the question had been preying on her mind since she arrived. “And Prince Aegon? Is he a… proud father?”

The smile on the Queen’s face regretfully evaporated at that, just as Sena had feared it would. “Aegon is… Aegon,” she said with a sigh. “You know how he is. Neither I nor Helaena nor his brother could tell you where he is right now, and that’s how he likes it. Perhaps the less that is said about him, the better.”

Sena frowned, her grip on her skirts tightening. “Is he at least good to Helaena?” She asked. “I try to glean what I can from her letters but she is hesitant to speak ill of him. Or speak of him at all, really.”

Alicent gave her a forced smile. “Truly, it is because she has little to report of him,” she said. “He leaves her and the children alone for the most part. He terrorises the serving girls but… Gods forgive me, I rather prefer that to him terrorising Helaena.”

Sena frowned. Prince Aegon had always been odious in their childhood but easy enough to ignore. Had he truly worsened so much? “He is not truly that bad, is he? There’s the drinking and the bad behaviour, yes. But underneath all that, he is still a good soul-“

“Did Aemond tell you?” The Queen interrupted suddenly. “I know he tells you almost everything, but I don’t know if he would wish to…” Her expression was grave.

Sena swallowed hard around a lump that had risen in her throat. “Did Aemond tell me what, my Queen?”

“How he… lost his innocence?” The Queen asked, a little red in the face.

“Oh,” Sena said dumbly, her own face flushing with colour. She’d always assumed Aemond would have sated his curiosity with serving girls or ladies on the Street of Silk by now. For a noble girl, her maidenhead was something to be guarded with her life. Despoilment could mean disowning, being married off to the first penniless hedge knight who would have her, or worse. But noble boys seemed to shrug off their virginity as young as they could with whoever they could. She’d never really wanted to think about how Aemond might have lost his, though. And she was not sure if she wanted to know how Aegon could be involved. “No, your Grace. He did not.”

“He was thirteen,” the Queen whispered between gritted teeth. “His scar had not even healed yet, he missed you desperately and he could not stand to look at himself in a looking glass, but Aegon brought him to the Street of Silk and bought him a whore.”

Sena’s insides churned. She gripped her skirts hard, her knuckles going white. She did not know what to say.

“The boys think I don’t know,” Alicent swiped a tear from her cheek with her thumb and shook her head to dispel the cloud of anger and grief about her. “Aegon… I don’t know how I made him so wrong.”

“It’s not your fault,” Sena said, partly because she believed it but also partly because she did not know what else to say. “Helaena and Aemond and Daeron are wonderful children that any mother would be proud to have raised.” She reached across the space between them and gently brushed the tears from the Queen’s cheeks with the backs of her fingers. Alicent caught Sena’s hands in her own and held them in her lap.

“Yes,” she said wetly. “They are, aren’t they? Let us speak of them. Let us not be sad when the Princess comes back.”

Sena felt it was not right to shrug off what the Queen was telling her, that it was clear that Alicent needed to speak about this. But she nodded. “If that is your wish, my Queen.”

She squeezed Sena’s hands. “It is,” she said, and let out a shaky sigh. “Tell me something good.”

Sena floundered for a second, opening and closing her mouth. “Erm… Prince Aemond and I duelled on the training yard today.”

The Queen nodded and smiled. “Yes. He told me at supper.”

Sena blushed. Of course he did. She wished he was here, he would know what to say, and she could speak to him about what she had just learned. But with his father so ill and his brother so… Aegon-like, she knew Aemond was currently shouldering what responsibilities of running the realm he could to take some of the weight off of his mother and grandfather. “Did he tell you I won?” By forfeit, perhaps, but she would take it.

That got the Queen to laugh, and Sena laughed with her, glad to banish a little of Alicent’s sadness. The Queen sniffed and shook her head free of the last of the darkness in her mind. Then, she turned her gaze back to Sena and gave her a serious look she was so used to seeing in her son. “Can I ask you a question, my dear?”

Sena nodded.

“Know you do not have to answer if you do not wish to,” Queen Alicent said.

The fire was crackling low in the grate, the warmth enveloping the Queen and her niece. Her words caused Sena to prickle with nerves, but she said, “If it is within my power to answer it, I will.”

The Queen nodded, then drew a breath. “Do you… love my son, Sena? Do you love Aemond?”

The question caught her unawares, and her heart seized in her chest. She looked down at her hands in the Queen’s lap. Thought of Aemond’s sharp mind, handsome face. His prowess with a sword, his glee on dragonback, his boyish laugh. His smile. How he fit their hands together like they were made for each other.

Maybe they were made for each other.

“Yes,” Sena breathed. “I do.”

The Queen nodded, like she already knew the answer, and sniffed. “Good,” she said simply.

Alicent turned back to the fire and watched the embers die.

-----

The next day was… unfortunately typical for Sena’s family. Luke had been restless at the table while they broke fast, merely pushing food around his plate. Jace looked uneasy too, and even Princess Rhaenyra appeared to be hiding her discomfort by fussing over Luke. That had left Sena and Rhaena to force down what they could, avoiding the eye of their father. Every time Sena caught Prince Daemon looking at her, it was like a fresh shock of ice water down her spine.

When it came time to convene in the throne room, Sena stood dutifully by Rhaena, behind Princess Rhaenyra and her boys and tried not to send too many glances at the other half of the royal family. Ser Otto presided over the proceedings from the foot of the throne and Sena oft caught the Queen and the Princess staring at one another. Aegon was swaying a little on his feet and looked as though he hadn’t been to bed in days, and his wife kept a distance from him, sticking to the Queen’s side and sending Sena smiles when she could. Aemond stood tall between Aegon and Helaena, dutifully not paying Sena much mind at all with her father close by. 

Prince Daemon was standing still. He was unnerving when he was barely containing his emotions, pacing like a caged lion. But it was when he reached stillness that he was truly scary.

The proceedings were more or less exactly as shameful as she’d expected, Ser Vaemond being given a place in open court to spew his thinly veiled accusations and shame the young boy before her. Sena tightened her jaw with the effort of restraining herself. It was only when the heavy doors of the throne room swung inward that Sena was caught off guard.

It was the King. He made the heroic struggle up the length of the throne room and Sena watched with her heart in her throat. Even the Queen and her children seemed a little shocked at his haggard appearance. Her poor uncle. Suddenly, the way the Queen and her family had been acting made sense. They were bracing themselves for impact. Her poor uncle did not have long left. 

He made his way up the steps of the throne with the aid of his brother, and Sena was always shocked to see the warmth her father was capable of when he desired it so, placing the King’s crown upon his brow with all the deference and love of a little brother. 

And that was when things started to truly unravel.

The King passed down his firm judgement in favour of his grandson, just as Sena had wished he would, but it was not enough to stop the mummer’s show that was unfolding before her. Vaemond was screaming vile taunts - bastards this and whore that - and even though Sena watched her father move forward on silent feet and draw Dark Sister, she did not understand what was happening until Ser Vaemond’s head fell from his shoulders.

There was screaming and an audible thud as the head hit the floor. Sena’s hand flew out and gripped Rhaena by the arm. “He can keep his tongue,” Daemon said with acid wit as the offending appendage lolled from where it was still anchored to Ser Vaemond’s mandible.

Sena stared at her father with wide eyes. This was the man she was supposed to broker her marriage with?

She tried to catch Aemond’s eye, but he was too busy watching her father with something indiscernible on his face.

Later, Sena paced the cool stone floor of her guest room on stockinged feet. Her gown, a deep blue, swished around her ankles as her stomach tied itself in knots and she tried to figure out what to say. She wished she could say she hadn’t spoken to her father yet because she was waiting for him to calm down after all that had happened. However, the truth was that Sena was scared, and that had been her father calm. Prince Daemon was at his calmest when he had a plan of action and murderous intent. She had no idea how he might react to what she had to tell him.

“This is pathetic,” she hissed to herself, and slipped her feet into her satin shoes. “You’re a woman grown, practically an old maid.” She eyed her sword from where it leaned against the wall by the door and wondered for a second, but no, it would not do to bring a weapon to the negotiating table. Even if it would give her courage.

Every step down the hall towards Prince Daemon and Princess Rhaenyra’s shared rooms was like a step closer to the gates of hell, and Sena’s stomach was roiling. She knew the Princess would be readying herself for their family dinner by now, so she would be able to get her father to speak with her privately in the solar. She tugged her sleeves down over her hands. How she wished she had her sword.

Her knock echoed on the door, and her father’s manservant let her in. “Lady Visenya,” he announced her to the room. The Princess smiled at her from her dressing table, where she and a maidservant were fixing her hair, and her father looked up from where he was reading letters at his desk.

“Sena,” he greeted her mildly.

Sena curtseyed first to the Princess, then to the Prince. “Father,” she greeted him back.

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

“I-“ the words caught in her throat like cobwebs as soon as she tried to speak them. “I was hoping we could talk, father. In private.”

Prince Daemon arched a brow at her, but got up from his seat anyway. “We’ve got some time before supper. Come.”

Maybe it was a mistake to not do this in front of the Princess? Rhaenyra calmed her father’s worst moods and had always been a calming influence in their turbulent relationship. But that pricked Sena’s pride too. Rhaenyra was not her mother and should not have any say in who she wed. Truthfully, neither should the man who had only deigned to clothe and feed her about half of the time while she grew up, but there was nothing to be done about that. She was still a woman and not a crowned one. She couldn’t very well make her own decisions regarding her marriage anymore than she could sprout wings and fly away, as tempting as either idea might be right now.

The door of the solar banged shut behind them, and her father lounged lazily against the desk. Sena planted her feet firmly on the carpet before him, the heat of the fire crackling in the hearth causing a sweat to break out over her skin.

Daemon shrugged his shoulders. “Come on then, out with it.”

“I- I’ve been thinking,” Sena said, drawing a steadying breath and clasping her hands before her to keep from fidgeting. “I am the eldest of your daughters and still unmarried. With Baela and Rhaena being betrothed to our stepbrothers, I thought it might be time… to broach the subject of my own marriage.”

Daemon seemed surprised. She could tell he had been beginning to think she might be something of a lost cause on that front, as he never brought it up with her or pestered her with insulting suggestions anymore. “Truly? What a happy day, daughter,” he said, without much emotion in his voice. Then, “Who is the lucky lad to have caught your eye? Who will you be making my goodson?” And oh, he knew, of that there was no mystery.

Cold dread washed over Sena. But she would not turn back now. “Father…” she said, “it is time, high time I was wed to Prince Aemond.”

Her father laughed, actually laughed, as though it were some amusing jape. “And why would I allow that?”

Sena set her jaw. She had been expecting this, though, and she was ready. “Because I will not wed another,” she said, clasping her hands tightly behind her back, standing strong, projecting her voice like she had seen Princess Rhaenyra, Princess Rhaenys, the Queen do countless times. “You gave me my sword, father, and I shall use it on any man who would have me without my permission, be it a great lord or a stablehand. The only man I will wed, the only man I will have is Aemond.” 

Daemon smirked at her, his head tilted to the side. “You know, I have always been begrudgingly fond of you, my girl, despite your being a constant thorn in my side. You have the fire and courage in your veins of our house, and you’re a stubborn bitch, like your mother. That was always her most redeeming feature to me,” he said, and it caught Sena off guard. It was strange enough to hear him confess to being fond of her, let alone even mentioning her mother. And stranger still to hear him do it with something approaching a compliment. 

She opened her mouth, and stuttered for a second, in disbelief. “Does this- is that a yes?”

Daemon’s grin was more like a leer as he closed the space between them. “Oh my sweet girl, no. I would rather feed you to Caraxes than hand you and your dragon over to the Queen like a name day gift,” he said, cupping her cheek with a large, calloused hand.

The brief glimpse of hope she had felt was smothered and she repressed a shudder at his touch. “You misunderstand me,” she bit out, standing her ground. “I am not asking your permission. I will wed Prince Aemond."

Her stomach lurched as she saw that only made him angry, however. Daemon sneered at her and tightened his grip, grabbing her jaw between his thumb and fingers, forcing her to meet his eyes. “And you misunderstand me,” he said in a dark tone. She was trembling under his grip. “So long as I live and draw breath, that boy will not touch you.” 

Rage flared in Sena and she knocked his hand sharply away from her face in a move that seemed to shock the both of them. Outside the training yard, they never struck each other, but she was livid. Impossible visions of her and Aemond waking up abed together, husband and wife drifted further out of her grasp. “And what if he already has?” She snapped. She did not know what possessed her. Anger lit up every part of her, it had her not in her right mind. She knew that was a dangerous thing to insinuate, for her and for Aemond, but she could not bring herself to care, so hot was the fire burning inside of her.

Her father seemed to find it amusing, however, his lips drawing into a smirk that made her blood boil. “Prove it,” he said. He laid a hand on her belly, over her skirts. “Get yourself with child. Give me an excuse to wield Dark Sister and take off my nephew’s pretty little head.” He lowered himself, looming over her. “Even your beloved uncle could not save him once he had despoiled my daughter.” 

Sena heard the thud of Ser Vaemond’s disembodied head hitting the flagstones of the throne room again. She saw his dark lifeblood spilling out into a puddle behind her eyelids. “I’d like to see you try,” she bit out, her teeth gritted together, but even she could tell it came out weak.

Daemon laughed his high-pitched, malignant laugh. “You think your beloved Prince, a green boy of twenty who has never seen battle, would stand a chance against me?” Her innards twisted at the thought of it, Aemond meeting Daemon’s steel with his own. “Come now, Sena. I had hoped what everyone says about you wasn’t true. I had hoped there was more to you than that… but it seems you are just some pretty little fool, are you not?” He smoothed down her dark curls and she didn’t realise she was crying with rage until he wiped a tear from the corner of her eye. He bent down and kissed her on the cheek. She wanted to tear her own skin off. “Come, my girl. Before supper is cold.”

He left her like that, standing in the middle of the floor and glaring at the spot where he had stood, salt water tracking down her cheeks. She wanted to scream. She wanted to lose control, break his belongings, go after him and cause a scene. But what would it do? What could it possibly accomplish, beyond making him even more resolved to deny her whatever happiness he could? It hadn’t been a shock to her, of course. But she had thought- she had thought once he saw how resolved on this she was, how she would not be budged, he would relent. But she had been the one to budge, not him, and it made her burn with shame. How could she face Aemond now?

She trailed behind the Princess and her father on the way to supper. Rhaenyra kept throwing worried glances over her shoulder at Sena, trying to ascertain why her husband was in such a sour mood, but Sena did not want a scene in the halls of the Red Keep, where all her family could see and hear. It had been degrading enough for her father to treat her like property in private, like livestock in his ownership until he could sell her off for a sufficient price. She would not let him do it before their entire family.

She heard steps to her right as she walked and turned to see Aemond alongside her, his hair smoothly combed and his fine clothing flattering his lean figure. Her stomach dropped. She was still wiping at her eyes, she was not ready for this. He could see in an instant that it was not good news, though.

“What did he say?” He murmured under his breath, his expression impassable.

“That he’d rather feed me to Caraxes than make me your wife,” Sena replied dully, willing herself not to cry.

Aemond gritted his teeth and the line of his shoulders hardened. “We don’t need his permission. My father will give his-”

“Your father is dying,” Sena reminded him. 

He threw up his hands. “A drunken septon, then.” Whatever it took, he was saying. It should have made her heart surge, to see him so impassioned about wedding her, but she knew it wasn’t enough.

“And when my father comes for your head?” She asked.

“Then I’ll kill him.”

Sena scoffed. “Of course,” she said coldly. “That’s the answer to everything in this Gods-damned family. We’d all rather draw our swords and fight to the death than have a fucking honest conversation.”

Aemond cast her a concerned glance, unused to seeing her so low. But they were reaching the King’s private dining room now, and Prince Daemon was standing at the door, watching them. Aemond left her side and went to push past her father, but Daemon caught him by the shoulder. “Careful, boy,” he said in an acrid tone. Aemond pulled free of his grasp and went inside. Sena gave her father a cold look and followed.

Dinner was about as disastrous as she would have expected, but for once it was not her father’s fault, or Princess Rhaenyra’s, or the Queen’s, or even Aegon’s. The King’s presence had them all speaking to each other with civility for the longest stretch of time in Sena’s memory, even if it was by baring his withered face and pleading with them to lay down their animosity for one night. But King Viserys’s middle son remained unmoved, watching the proceedings with a stillness that verged on eerie, his only movement the occasional tick of his jaw. Sena could not stop watching him from across the table, and knew her father was looking between the two of them with a sick sense of self-satisfaction. Rage coiled inside of her.

It was only when the King was removed to return to his bed that the mood truly started to sour. Sena ate what she could, but her stomach was churning with acid, everything tasted like ash and the servants were still bringing in more food, setting a whole roast pig down before Aemond.

To Sena’s right, Luke could not repress a snigger, eyeing his uncle across the table.

And she could see the young boy she had first fallen in love with, all those years ago in the Pit, red eyed and lonely, tormented by his brother and nephews. She watched the man he had grown into make his choice as the last threads of his restraint snapped.

Aemond’s fist crashed to the table, causing his empty plate to jump with a clatter. He raised himself to his feet, his chair giving a high-pitched shriek as it was forced back over the floor. Sena’s grip tightened around her dinner knife as Aemond raised his glass. “Final tribute,” his voice was commanding and powerful when he rose it above his usual rasp. “To the health of my nephews: Jace, Luke and Joffrey."

Aegon, always quick to delight in someone other than himself being the troublemaker, joined his little brother in the toast. Jace and Helaena had stopped dancing, Ser Otto stared down into his lap with a sense of foreboding and the Queen was giving her son a pleading look. “Aemond,” Sena mouthed, but he was not looking at her, his eye locked on her little brother.

“Each of them handsome, wise…” Sena grip on her dinner knife had turned her knuckles white. To her right, Luke was still as a statue. “Strong.”

“Aemond,” the Queen began.

“Come! Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

Sena’s heart lurched as the Queen’s face turned ashen and Aegon drank heartily. Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon had gone still. The smile vanished from Helaena’s face as Jace spoke up. “I dare you to say that again,” he spat.

Aemond had the gall to look affronted as he approached his nephew, wine in hand. “Why? It was only a complement. Do you not think yourself strong?”

All the seven hells seemed to break loose in that moment. Jace cracked Aemond across the jaw with his fist, and Sena lurched to her feet but Aemond barely flinched. “Jace!” Princess Rhaenyra snapped. Before Luke could make it halfway across the room to Aemond, Aegon was up and slamming him down into the dinner table.

“That is enough!” The Queen demanded, but the boys were as untameable as their dragons. Aemond turned his smirk back on his nephew and shoved him to the ground without spilling a drop of wine.

Sena did the only thing she could think of and rushed forward, pulling Aegon off of Luke. “Have you no shame? He’s just a boy,” she snapped.

Aegon turned on her and shook his head in disbelief. “My dear goodsister, when are you going to pick a side?” He hissed.

Sena blanched to hear herself addressed as Aegon’s sister-by-marriage before their entire family. She knew there were few secrets between the brothers, but by the Gods, Aegon had some nerve.

The guards were rushing forward to restrain Jace and Luke now, and Rhaena was even holding back Baela from taking a swing at the Prince. The Queen had flown to Aemond’s side, belligerent. “Why would you say such a thing before these people?’

“I was merely expressing how proud I am of my family, mother,” Aemond said, addressing the Queen with impudence. He dragged his arm out of her grasp. “Mm, though it seems my nephews aren’t quite as proud of theirs.”

“Aemond-“ Sena snapped as Jace rounded on the Prince again.

She never thought she’d be glad to see her father wade in.

“Go to your quarters. All of you go, now,” Rhaenyra addressed her sons and step-daughters sharply, but even as the younger ones begrudgingly listened, Sena stayed put. She was not to be ordered around anymore and she would not have it from Rhaenyra in the same day as her father. She stayed where she was, glaring at Aemond.

Her father looked like he was sizing up his next meal.

The two Princes regarded each other, and Aemond held his ground. 

Sena looked between the two of them and felt a terrible dread.

Aemond was first to break the silence, humming to himself with a note of satisfaction and stalking from the room.

Sena shoved past her father even as he tried to stop her. She followed Aemond down the hall, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. “Aemond,” she hissed, and when he did not slow or look back, she snapped “Aemond!”

He swung around on her on the landing of one of the Red Keep’s staircases, their steps and voices echoing around them, and he was livid.

“What the fuck was that?” She snapped at him, drawing close.

“Me?” He asked, bewildered, towering over her. “What do you think you’re doing, Sena? They mock me, they mock our house with the stain of their bastardy, they take my eye, and yet you still defend them?”

She knew they must still be well within the earshot of the rest of the family, but it did not stop him. He remained fixed on her, all of his pent-up rage bubbling to the surface, and he glared at her unblinking. “Don’t make this about our childhood, you started that-“ she said.

“Because I won’t be laughed at at my own dinner table. Did you see the way your beloved brother mocked me?” He said. “Why are you so quick to jump to his aid and not mine?”

She shook her head in disbelief. “You don’t need my aid,” she said, taking his hand in hers in an attempt to placate him. “You’re a man grown, you can handle yourself, he’s just a boy and you humiliated him.”

“Oh, I humiliated him? How shocking of me,” he said icily. “I should go and apologise, he made such a good apology to me when he took out my eye.”

Gods, her heart throbbed in her chest. She knew, she knew she had no hope of ever understanding what it was like, how it had changed him and his path. But she so wished he could see that it did not make a single bit of difference to the people who loved him. “Aemond, there’s nothing wrong with you-“

“There is,” he snapped, pulling his hand from her grasp, and she realised it had been the totally wrong thing to say. “I am missing an eye, and your precious Luke took it. He disfigured me and his brother would steal my brother’s throne. Our family’s throne, Visenya.”

Not this, she wanted to beg him, do not start with this. “They are as much Targaryen as we are, Aemond,” she was losing her patience now, her voice rising. “I am half Royce, you are half Hightower, they are half Strong - what difference does it make?”

“They are bastards,” he ground out as she threw up her hands in frustration. “And their mother is a liar and a manipulator.”

Sena scoffed. “Like your brother is some bastion of virtue. Do not make me laugh, Aemond. He humiliates Helaena, terrorises the servants, brings shame on the entire family. He brought you to a whorehouse on your thirteenth name day-“ it slipped out, and Aemond went pale.

“Who told you that?” His jaw had gone slack. He looked far away. “I- it doesn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything, Sena, it was just- you are the only woman I’ve ever wanted.”

That was not the point, she thought. The point was that his brother hurt everyone around him. The point was that Aemond had been brought, young and vulnerable and innocent, to be taken advantage of for his brother’s sick and twisted vision of masculinity. “I’m not jealous, Aemond-“

Again, it was the completely wrong thing to say. She knew it as soon as she saw the flicker of rage in his eye.

“No, of course you’re not! Why would you be jealous, thinking about me fucking someone else?” He was furious, looming over her. “Everything in the world seems to matter more to you than I do. Your stepbrothers, your Princess, being a good daughter to your evil bastard of a father, following orders, doing what you’re told. You care more about them than you care about us, the people you grew up with! And for what? Do you truly think Rhaenyra gives a shit about getting you your birthright?”

All of the fury that had been roiling inside of her all day came to the surface in that instant. She laughed coldly. “You think this is about Runestone? You think I’m tearing out my heart and watching my family flay itself for Runestone? You’re standing in front of me questioning how much I love you, how much I have always loved you and you think I care about fucking Runestone!”

“What is it about, Sena? I must admit, I don’t even remember anymore!”

“This is about you hurting the people I care about and still claiming you love me, Aemond.”

He shook his head. “What do you want from a husband, Sena? A man who lets mockery and slights wash over him, who is too weak to defend himself?”

“I want a man who is strong enough to know not every prick at his pride needs answering with force!” She hurled back at him, hating how her eyes swam with unshed tears. It was shameful, to let him reduce her to such a state.

“Pride?” He smirked at her in that menacing way he usually reserved for others. Everyone but her. “You talk of pride and defending oneself, yet I never see you practicing what you preach. How long are you going to cower in your father’s shadow, using him as an excuse for your own inaction and cravenness? The girl who mounted Grey Ghost, the girl I fell in love with - she wouldn’t need her father’s leave to do fucking anything. You’re a coward, Sena.”

Sena went still, in shock at the harshness of his words. Her blood seemed to freeze in her veins. Gods, what had they come to? What was this family, this kingdom turning them in to? She held her hand over her mouth to stop Aemond seeing the way her lip wobbled. He was watching her, and the rage seemed to be dissipating from his features as he heard his own words in his ears.

Aemond’s eye darted over the blank expression on Sena’s face. His own countenance went pale. “I think it better if we do not say anymore tonight,” he said stiffly.

Sena looked past him, tried to still the trembling in her hands. “I think so too.”

She turned to leave him, but stopped when she saw the Queen standing there, staring at her son with wide eyes. Aemond seemed to notice her for the first time too. His throat bobbed as he swallowed. Deep shame rolled over Sena.

“They are leaving,” Queen Alicent breathed. “After your… outburst, Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon are leaving immediately.”

Sena turned back to the Prince. His gaze flicked back to hers. She did not know what to say.

“Sena,” he said, and the regret was clear on his face. He looked like there was a million things he wished to say but he did not know how to even begin to put words to them. “Write me when you get back, so I know you are safe,” he muttered, tone heavy with shame. “Please.”

Sena did not reply, did not even look at him again. She turned, made her way past the Queen without meeting her eye for the fear she might collapse under the shame of what Alicent had just witnessed.

She did not know how long Aemond stood there, watching her retreat. She only knew that by the time she was back in her rooms and Sophey was helping her pack, she felt entirely numb.

The letters to and from Aemond never came, however, as not long after their ship had left its berth in the harbour, the King slipped away in his sleep.

The Targaryens on Dragonstone did not know that for some days, though. It was only when Sena, Baela, Jace and Luke had to rush out of the way in the training yard as Meleys descended that they realised something was dreadfully wrong.

This is it, Sena thought numbly as she listened to the news in the great hall. The King was dead, and Queen Alicent had crowned Aegon in his place before all of King’s Landing. He was not mentioned, but Sena knew in her bones that Aemond had stood there in the Dragonpit and watched it happen. This was what they had all been dreading for years.

The Princess - no, the Queen - went into labour prematurely, and Sena wished she could have been there for her while she bled and screamed. She wished she could have marched down to the hall that her father was turning into his war room and demand he go be with his wife so she was not alone in this. But she did not. She retreated to the yard, whacking away at a training dummy until she could no longer lift her sword.

Maybe Aemond was right. Maybe she was a coward.

The baby had been a girl. The Queen carried her tiny, broken body to the funeral pyre alone.

As her sister burned and her Queen was crowned, Sena bent her knee.

taglist (dm/ask/reply to be added): @stargaryenx @trap-house-homiecide

[charlottedabookworm]

I love your And I Didn't Like The Ending verse, it's such perfect karma for the Hightowers. The tools of their ambition stepping back to say "not my circus, not my monkeys". I would love to see Rhaenyra's reaction when she realizes that her rival for the throne is actually loyal to her.

this did not go where i thought it would go, lol

(according to the valyrian dictionary i found:

muña means mother/mother's sister/maternal aunt

Qȳbor means mother's younger brother/maternal uncle younger than mother)

"Aegon!"

Her half-brother rolls his eyes from where it is he sits, making faces at Jacaerys and Lucerys in an attempt to make them laugh. "Yes, mother?"

The queen frowns at her son from the head of the table. "Ser Cole has reported that you have been ignoring your lessons yet again in favour of entertaining Jacaerys and Lucerys-"

Rhaenyra stills, feeling Laenor doing the same beside her as her gaze falls upon her half-brother. If he has dared to-

"Perhaps, then," Aegon says, baring his teeth in a smile as he stares his mother down. With his head resting upon his palm, dressed in the reds and blacks of their shared house, he looks every inch a Dragon and not the half-Tower he is. "Ser Cole should keep better track of his students."

Luke giggles quietly at her side, his brother hushing him - Jacaerys ever the watcher compared to either of his brothers.

Aegon's smile widens, spreading slowly across his lips, his gaze utterly focused on his mother. "Jace is second in line, mother, I will not leave him untaught simply because Ser Cole is afraid to teach him." He spits the word, daring Alicent to speak up. Daring her to say what they all know.

Her sons are not ignored by the Kingsguard because Criston Cole is afraid.

"It's okay, muña," Lucerys chirps from her side, drawing her gaze to him. Her son is smiling brightly but there is a sharpness in his eyes. "Qȳbor Egg is a really good teacher!"

"Is he," she hums, smiling at her son. He nods vigorously, launching into their lessons with his uncle, which have apparently been happening for more than a turn.

Rhaenyra's gaze falls once more upon her half-brother.

Aegon meets her eyes evenly, sitting properly in his chair for the first time this night. He holds her gaze for a heartbeat, allowing her to take a measure of him, before his eyes drop to the table, his head dipping in a bow.

It is, unmistakably, the bow of a Prince to his King.

The bow of a Prince to his Queen.

A fork clatters to the floor.

(Three days later, Aegon kneels before her in front of the entire court and rests his sword at her feet)

[wizardofahz]

All in the Family

A/N: I have now watched about a season and a half of Black Lightning, which means it’s fanfic crossover with Supergirl time. This is set during the first halves of Supergirl season 4 and Black Lightning season 2.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Lynn follows Colonel Haley deeper into DEO headquarters.

She fights back a grimace thinking about the reason why she’s here: the autopsy of an alien empath with mind control powers. The ASA had gotten wind of the DEO's impending autopsy, and with a shared interest in controlling aliens and metahumans, the two agencies had agreed upon having Lynn and a DEO counterpart perform it together.

No one asked Lynn if she is willing or not. As their neurology expert, the ASA simply sent her across the country with orders. But then again, it seems she agrees with very little that her work demands of her these days.

“Director Danvers,” Colonel Haley calls out.

Lynn braces herself to meet this DEO director, imagining someone as unsettling as Agent Odell. Instead, she encounters a familiar face. “Alex?”

When Director Danvers had been mentioned to her, Lynn never imagined it would be one of the Danvers family she knows. She thought Alex worked for the FBI. 

Alex looks equally surprised to see her. “Lynn?” Her gaze flits to Colonel Haley then back. “Oh, you’re the ASA neurologist?”

“I-- You’re DEO. Does Liz know about this?” Lynn asks.

Alex is an adult of course, free to pursue any line of work she chooses, but Lynn is still newly grappling with being blindsided by the fact that her own daughter discovered she has superpowers and started using them in secret. She wonders if Eliza is in for a similar rude awakening.

“Mom knows.”

“Why does your mother know about a clandestine organization?” Haley cuts in, clearly unhappy with this potential security breach.

Alex shrugs off her concern. “My mom knew about it before I did. My dad used to work here.” 

And the surprises just keep on coming. “Jeremiah worked here?”

Concerns allayed, Colonel Haley steers the conversation to the reason Lynn is here. Alex confirms that the DEO coroner is already making the appropriate preparations and that Alex herself will go over the results with them personally when they’re done.

“Alex,” a new voice says.

No. Not a new voice. A familiar voice, one that means Kara works here too.

But not how Lynn anticipates.

Because Kara is not walking in clad entirely in black. Oh, no. Her outfit is blue, red, and yellow because she’s not a DEO agent. She’s Supergirl.

Both Danvers sisters’ eyes widen at the recognition dawning on Lynn’s face. Alex shakes her head subtly, mouthing, “Don’t.”

Lynn physically has to swallow her surprise. Luckily Haley’s disapproving attention is focused on Supergirl. 

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve met. I’m Supergirl,” Kara says, sticking out a hand. As if Supergirl needs an introduction.

Lynn reciprocates and is relieved her steady voice gives nothing away.

They have so much to talk about.

...

Lynn hands Eliza a cup of tea.

Eliza looks up from her laptop with a smile. “Thank you.”

The cup of tea is the least Lynn can do.

The two of them are in Lynn’s kitchen, away from her family that she doesn’t want to worry. Lynn hasn’t told them about Dr. Jace. Dr. Jace who claims she is always doing science. Dr. Jace with her disregard for human life. The morbid curiosity with which she regarded this potential family of metahumans.

No. Not a potential family. An actual family. Lynn’s family.

To dispel any possible leads back to her family, Lynn would need more than Genetics 101 as Dr. Jace had called it. But Lynn’s specialty is neuroscience, not genetics, so she called Eliza Danvers for help.

Eliza’s reaction to learning about Lynn’s family of metahumans had been little more than a sympathetic but dry and amused, “You too, huh?” before saying of course she’d come help. Perhaps, she--more than anyone else--knows the necessity of secrets.

Knowing now what she does about Jeremiah, Lynn wonders if Eliza will say something about working for the ASA, a warning perhaps. At least with Alex and her former mentor at the helm, the DEO seems to be evolving for the better. She can’t say the same about the ASA.

Instead Eliza asks, “How are your girls adapting to their powers?”

Lynn appreciates the much easier topic. She responds, “Anissa took to them like a fish to water. She was already trying to use her powers to fight crime before I even knew she had them. Jen is kind of the opposite, but she’s more powerful than Jeff and Anissa. She’s been having trouble controlling her powers. Anissa even found her floating in her sleep.”

“Oh, I know that feeling,” Eliza says with a chuckle. “When Kara first arrived on Earth, Jeremiah and I figured we should power-proof the house somehow, but what could we do? Things like covering the outlets seemed pointless when Kara can fly right through them.” She chuckles again. “And we thought baby-proofing for Alex was hard.”

Lynn laughs along with her. “Well if you have any tips, I’m all ears.” Then she sobers. “I can’t tell you what a relief this is, talking to someone who understands.”

Eliza reaches out, laying a comforting hand on her own. “Me too.”

Then Eliza takes another look at her laptop and says the magic words, “I think I know how to fix this.”

[butterflies-dragons]

You may be as different as the sun and the moon, but the same blood flows through both your hearts. 

I always thought that both, Sansa and Arya have sun and moon imagery around them. But if I have to choose then I would say that Sansa is the sun and Arya is the moon; and after my last re-read of Fire & Blood, I just confirmed it. 

As I said before, several Targaryen sisters duos described in Fire and Blood are very similar to Sansa and Arya, as if George wanted for us to have the Stark sisters in mind while discovering all these Targaryen ladies:

Visenya and Rhaenys

Rhaena and Alysanne

Aerea and Rhaella

Baela and Rhaena

Let’s talk about the last ones, the twin daughters of Daemon Targaryen and his second wife Lady Laena Velaryon: Baela and Rhaena.

In 116 AC, in the Free City of Pentos, Lady Laena gave birth to twin daughters, Prince Daemon’s first trueborn children. Prince Daemon named the girls Baela (after his father) and Rhaena (after her mother). 

—Fire & Blood

Baela’s description matches Arya Stark 

At ten-and-four, Baela was a wild and willful young maiden, more boyish than ladylike, and very much her father’s daughter. Though slim and short of stature, she knew naught of fear, and lived to dance and hawk and ride. As a younger girl she had oft been chastised for wrestling with squires in the yard, but of late she had taken to playing kissing games with them instead. Not long after the queen’s court removed to King’s Landing (whilst leaving Lady Baela on Dragonstone), Baela had been caught allowing a kitchen scullion to slip his hand inside her jerkin. Ser Robert, outraged, had sent the boy to the block to have the offending hand removed. Only the girl’s tearful intercession had saved him.

(...)

Baela’s time on Dragonstone had been more troubled, ending with fire and blood. By the time she came to court, she was as wild and willful a young woman as any in the realm. (...) Baela lived to ride…and to fly, though that had been taken from her when her dragon died. She kept her silver hair cropped as short as a boy’s, so it would not whip about her face when she was riding. Time and time again she would escape her ladies to seek adventure in the streets. She took part in drunken horse races along the Street of the Sisters, engaged in moonlight swims across the Blackwater Rush (whose powerful currents had been known to drown many a strong swimmer), drank with the gold cloaks in their barracks, wagered coin and sometimes clothing in the rat pits of Flea Bottom. Once she vanished for three days and refused to say where she had been when she returned.

Even more gravely, Baela had a taste for unsuitable companions. Like stray dogs, she brought them home with her to the Red Keep, insisting that they be given positions in the castle, or be made part of her own retinue. These pets of hers included a comely young juggler, a blacksmith’s apprentice whose muscles she admired, a legless beggar she took pity on, a conjurer of cheap tricks she took for an actual sorcerer, a hedge knight’s homely squire, even a pair of young girls from a brothel, twins, “like us, Rhae.” Once she turned up with an entire troupe of mummers. Septa Amarys, who had been given charge of her religious and moral instruction, despaired of her, and even Septon Eustace could not seem to curb her wild ways. “The girl must be wed, and soon,” he told the King’s Hand, “else I fear that she may bring dishonor down upon House Targaryen, and shame His Grace, her brother.

—Fire & Blood

As you can see Baela and Arya shared a lot of similarities, both are wild and willful, both short of stature, both wear short hair, both like riding, both prefer the company of the common folk instead of the courtly life, both admire the muscles of a young blacksmith’s apprentice, both seek adventures, both make their Septa’s despair, etc.  

Later Rhaena will marry her cousin Alyn Velaryon, born Alyn of Hull, a legitimized bastard, but the marriage was��stormy.

Rhaena description matches Sansa Stark

As young girls, the twins had been inseparable, and impossible to tell apart, but once parted, their experiences had shaped them in very different ways. In the Vale, Rhaena had enjoyed a life of comfort and privilege as Lady Jeyne’s ward. Maids had brushed her hair and drawn her baths, whilst singers composed odes to her beauty and knights jousted for her favor. The same was true at King’s Landing, where dozens of gallant young lords competed for her smiles, artists begged leave to draw or paint her, and the city’s finest dressmakers sought the honor of making her gowns. 

(...)

It was Jace who came to the fore now, late in the year 129 AC. Mindful of the promise he had made to the Maiden of the Vale, he ordered Prince Joffrey to fly to Gulltown with Tyraxes. Munkun suggests that Jace’s desire to keep his brother far from the fighting was paramount in this decision. This did not sit well with Joffrey, who was determined to prove himself in battle. Only when told that he was being sent to defend the Vale against King Aegon’s dragons did his brother grudgingly consent to go. Rhaena, the thirteen-year-old daughter of Prince Daemon by Laena Velaryon, was chosen to accompany him.

(...)

She would of course wed whomever the king and council wished, she allowed, though “it would please me if he was not so old he could not give me children, nor so fat that he would crush me when we are abed. So long as he is kind and gentle and noble, I know that I shall love him.” When the Hand asked if she had any favorites amongst the lords and knights who had paid her suit, she confessed that she was “especially fond” of Ser Corwyn Corbray, whom she had first met in the Vale whilst a ward of Lady Arryn. Ser Corwyn was far from an ideal choice. A second son, he had two daughters from a previous marriage. At thirty-two, he was a man, not a green boy.

—Fire & Blood

As you can see Rhaena and Sansa shared a lot of similarities, both are ladylike, both love the courtly life, both are linked with a (bastard) Joffrey, both lived at the Vale, both are linked with singers, both are linked with Knights and Tourneys, both are dutiful, both are betrothed with a Knight of the Vale, that already had two daughters, etc. 

As Ned promised Sansa a betrothal with a high lord, kind, gentle and strong, Rhaena asked for a not too old, not too fat, kind, gentle and noble husband. She married Ser Corwyn Corbray, who had a great reputation as a warrior, so much so that his father gave him the ancient Valyrian steel longsword of House Corbray, Lady Forlorn.

Later Rhaena will lost her husband, Ser Corwyn Corbray. He would be killed during some succession war at the Vale, which is kind of similar to the events developing at the Vale with Alayne Stone, Harrold Hardynd and Robert Arryn.  

Much later Rhaena will marry Garmund Hightower, the younger brother of Lord Lyonel Hightower, by whom she will have six daughters.

The Sun and The Moon: The Contrasts between Baela and Rhaena  

The contrasts between Baela and Rhaena are very similar to the contrasts between Sansa and Arya:

Rhaena was slender and graceful; Baela was lean and quick. 

Rhaena loved to dance; Baela lived to ride…and to fly, though that had been taken from her when her dragon died.

Yet even here, the council encountered difficulty and division. When Leowyn Corbray said, “Lady Rhaena would make a splendid queen,” Ser Tyland pointed out that Baela had been the first from her mother’s womb. 

“Baela is too wild,” countered Ser Torrhen Manderly. “How can she rule the realm when she cannot rule herself?” Ser Willis Fell agreed. “It must be Rhaena. She has a dragon, her sister does not.” 

When Lord Corbray answered, “Baela flew a dragon, Rhaena only has the hatchling,” Roland Westerling replied, “Baela’s dragon brought down our late king. There are many in the realm who will not have forgotten that. Crown her and we will rip all the old wounds open once again.

The sisters reacted to these lickspittles in vastly different ways. Where Rhaena delighted in being the center of court life, Baela bristled at praise, and seemed to take pleasure in mocking and tormenting the suitors who fluttered around her like moths.

Lady Rhaena proved to be as tractable as her sister had been willful. 

But despite their differences and living separated for years, the twins never had a bad relationships, it seems they were good friends, worked together and comforted each other. 

The good relationship between Baela and Rhaena also gives me hope about a reconciliation and the development of a better and close relationship between Sansa and Arya.

Baela’s Dragon

Baela’s dragon, the slender pale green Moondancer, would soon be large enough to bear the girl upon her back…

(...)

Even more than boys, however, Lady Baela loved to fly. Since first riding her dragon Moondancer into the sky not half a year past, she had flown every day, ranging freely to every part of Dragonstone and even across the sea to Driftmark.

(...)

So it came to pass that when King Aegon II flew Sunfyre over Dragonmont’s smoking peak and made his descent, expecting to make a triumphant entrance into a castle safely in the hands of his own men, with the queen’s loyalists slain or captured, up to meet him rose Baela Targaryen, Prince Daemon’s daughter by the Lady Laena, as fearless as her father.

Moondancer was a young dragon, pale green, with horns and crest and wingbones of pearl. Aside from her great wings, she was no larger than a warhorse, and weighed less. She was very quick, however, and Sunfyre, though much larger, still struggled with a malformed wing and had taken fresh wounds from Grey Ghost.

—Fire & Blood

Baela’s dragon Moondancer “danced” with Aegon II’s dragon Sunfyre. Despite Aegon II’s win against Baela, before dying and being eaten by Sunfyre, Moondancer wounded Aegon II’s dragon so much that it never flew again and died not far later.  Moondancer sounds as fierce as Nymeria, Arya’s direwolf has no fear of other wolves and men and became a savage killer. 

So, Baela Targaryen being so similar to Arya Stark and having a dragon named Moondancer, and Arya being a water dancer, convinced me that Arya is the Moon. 

Rhaena’s Dragon

Rhaena’s egg had hatched a broken thing that died within hours of emerging from the egg, Syrax had recently produced another clutch. One of her eggs had been given to Rhaena, and it was said that the girl slept with it every night, and prayed for a dragon to match her sister’s.

(...)

Known as Rhaena of Pentos, for the city of her birth, she was no dragonrider, her hatchling having died some years before, but she brought three dragon’s eggs with her to the Vale, where she prayed nightly for their hatching.

(...)

Even more grave were the tidings from the Vale, where Lady Jeyne Arryn had assembled fifteen hundred knights and eight thousand men-at-arms, and sent envoys to the Braavosi to arrange for ships to bring them down upon King’s Landing. With them would come a dragon. Lady Rhaena of House Targaryen, brave Baela’s twin, had brought a dragon’s egg with her to the Vale…an egg that had proved fertile, bringing forth a pale pink hatchling with black horns and crest. Rhaena named her Morning.

(...)

And everywhere that Rhaena went came Morning, her young dragon, oft as not coiled about her shoulders like a stole.

(...)

During the first quarter of 135 AC, two momentous events were the occasion of great joy throughout the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. On the third day of the third moon of that year, the people of King’s Landing woke to a sight that had not been seen since the dark days of the Dance: a dragon in the skies above the city. Lady Rhaena, at the age of nineteen, was flying her dragon, Morning, for the first time. That first day she circled once around the city before returning to the Dragonpit, but every day thereafter she grew bolder and flew farther.

—Fire & Blood

Rhaena lost her first dragon the same way Sansa lost her direwolf Lady, but later Rhaena got another dragon that she named “Morning”.

Sansa is heavily associated with Dawn, the moment immediately before the Sun comes. I wrote about it here.   

So, Rhaena Targaryen being so similar to Sansa Stark, having lost her first dragon but getting another one that she named Morning, and Sansa being heavily associated with the Dawn, convinced me that Sansa is the Sun. This lovely parallel also gives me hope that Sansa will have another direwolf in the future, that maybe she will name Dawn.

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 12

A/N: Thank you all so much for the positive feedback on the last chapter despite very minimal Willy/Aberdeen interaction.  This chapter and the ones coming will definitely make up for it.

December 15th, 2019

Aberdeen Bloom was trying to get into the biggest gated house she’d ever seen in her life.  

She’d taken an Uber up to the Bridle Path, the exclusive street in Toronto filled with massive mansions the size of her high school with their own private gates and tennis courts and and pools and indoor pools and indoor basketball courts and bowling alleys and wine cellars and all the other frivolous things rich people could build in their houses.  She bet each one even had a heated driveway so that nobody in the house had to wake up at the crack of dawn to shovel.  The Uber driver had already driven away, not even bothering to wait to see if she got in safely, so she hoped to be let in soon.  

“Name, please?” a loud voice asked through the intercom-or-whatever-it-was system these rich people had for their house.  She bet they probably had cameras too and saw her impatiently waiting outside.  

“Aberdeen Bloom.”

“Abba-what?”

She rolled her eyes.  “Aberdeen Bloom,” she enunciated more clearly.  “Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant.”  She was starting to get annoyed that she had to attach that caveat for anybody in the hockey world or the rich people world to take her seriously.  

The gate buzzed open, and Aberdeen walked quickly towards the front entrance, about the ring the doorbell before it opened magically for her.  A butler.  A butler opened the door for her and greeted her, offering to take her coat and letting her know she could keep her shoes on.  There were waiters and waitresses carrying around plates of expensive looking hors d’oeuvres and others carrying around flutes of champagne.  There was a giant, giant Christmas tree in the – the foyer?  The reception hall?  What did rich people call these things? – decorated with expensive looking ornaments, ribbons, and what Aberdeen thought had to be Swarovski crystals.  It had to be at least 15 or 20 feet high.  It was a far cry from her family’s Christmas tree, which was decorated with all the homemade ornaments she, Siena, and Camden had made throughout their years in school.  She almost felt like she was in the Eaton Centre.  There were even boxes upon boxes of presents underneath it, all wrapped with the same wrapping paper and with giant nametags.  Jolly Christmas carols were being played through some sort of speaker.  

She couldn’t believe rich people lived like this.  She couldn’t believe she was in a house on the Bridle Path with these rich people.  What had her life become?

“Aberdeen!” she heard her name being called.  She looked to her side to see Brendan approaching her, leaving his wife speaking to whoever they were speaking to for a quick second.  “So nice to see you!  You look lovely as always.”

“Oh, thanks Brendan.”

“Come with me,” he said, guiding her towards the people he was speaking to.  “Aberdeen, I want you to meet Dani Reiss, whose house we’re in.  Dani’s the CEO of Canada Goose.  Dani, this is my executive assistant, Aberdeen Bloom.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Aberdeen,” he said as they shook hands.  Aberdeen was hyperaware of his handshake and the fact that she was shaking hands with yet another billionaire.  She truly, truly couldn’t understand what her life had become.  She wished Siena or Kasha were here to do all the talking.  They were much better at it than she was, she thought.  “How are you enjoying working for the Toronto Maple Leafs?”

Aberdeen chuckled nervously.  She wondered if he really cared, but then remembered that they were having their Christmas party at his house, and he’d gone through all this trouble to keep them entertained, so he probably did.  “Oh, it’s amazing!  A bit hectic at times, but overall it’s been a great experience so far.  Everyone’s just been so great and welcoming – you wouldn’t even know that I didn’t watch hockey before I got the job.”

That led to a chuckle amongst Brendan, Catherine, and Dani.  “I bet a million people would kill for your job,” Dani commented through his laugh.

There it was again.  That thing everybody said to her when they learned what her job was.  She’d heard it for months now, since her first day on the job, and it was becoming abundantly clear with each passing day that it was something many people coveted.  “I know, sir.  I’m very lucky to have it and to work with such an incredible team.”

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Brendan smile.  Dani was already smiling at her.  “Well Aberdeen, mi casa es su casa!  Feel free to take a wander, grab some drinks, and enjoy the food!”

She thanked them as they left her there, walking towards another group with Leanne Hederson.  Aberdeen walked further into the foyer where the giant Christmas tree was, admiring it for a moment before looking around to see if she could see anybody she recognized.  She knew that, at this point, she could walk up to any member of the team or the administration and join in on their conversation, but the setting was slightly different than what she was used to (at the offices, of course) and it made her a bit nervous.  

“Brendan girl?”

Aberdeen visibly cringed.  She looked to her side to see her absolute favourite person in the whole entire world, Ethan Baker, walking over to her with a drink in his hands.  “Why are you here?”

She rolled her eyes at him.  He did this at every event they attended, as if she wasn’t allowed to be there.  “You constantly forget we work for the same team,” she said.

“Yeah, except one of our jobs is more important than the other,” he quipped.  She felt like punching him right then and there until she remembered this was a Christmas party at a billionaire’s mansion and it was socially frowned upon to start fights at parties.  “I didn’t know assistants were allowed to these things.”

“Peter’s here.”

“Doesn’t that mean you two should be helping the waiters?”

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped.  “What is your problem?” she demanded.  

“Aw, come on, I’m just ribbing you.”

“You know, just because I got the job over you—”

“—Cause you look really hot in those pants, Brendan girl.”

She stopped.  She was shocked at what he’d just said.  It had to be because he was already drunk.  She couldn’t think of another plausible expectation.  She couldn’t believe how hot and cold he was at these sorts of events, remembering what he was like at the Major Donor Gala.  “Besides,” she said through gritted teeth, “being a waiter isn’t something to be frowned upon.  A lot of my friends waited their way through university.”

“And you didn’t be a waitress or hostess?  With the way you look, you would have gotten really good tips.”

She felt like spiders were crawling underneath her skin.  She thought back to that day where she let him get in her head – when he’d called her a piggy for warming up a burrito.  “Are you trying to flirt with me?  Because you’re failing miserably.”

“I’m trying to—”

“Aberdeen!”

She looked to her side to see an excited looking Bee McTavish making a beeline towards her.  Bee somewhat-stared, somewhat-glared at Ethan as she hooked her arm with Aberdeen’s.  “You don’t mind if I steal her, do you?  A bunch of her friends are just over there,” she nodded her head towards a group that included Jason and Jennifer Spezza, Morgan, and John and Aryne Tavares. 

“I’m her friend,” Ethan quipped, smiling.

“I’m sure,” Bee nodded her head, grimacing every so slightly.  “Have a good night,” she dismissed him before tugging on Aberdeen’s arm and leading her in the opposite direction.  “God, that guy is such a skeeze,” she whispered to Aberdeen.

“Yeah.”

“Does he work here?”

“Tech and video playback,” Aberdeen informed her.

“Well, you’re with us now,” Bee smiled as she brought Aberdeen into the fold of the group.  

Aberdeen greeted and hugged everyone before noticing Will at the tail end.  She gave him a quick hug and a – God he smelled impeccable – and a cordial ‘Nice to see you!’ before he settled into his usual William behaviour.  “What do you think?” he asked.

She knew he was waiting for one of her famous retorts.  She took another look at his look: blonde hair, navy blue up top and an actual pair of burnt orange pants.  She wondered if his fashionable status edged on the side of completely insane.  Everything was tailored to perfection, and nothing was wrinkled or anything like that, but she couldn’t get over the orange pants.  “You look like Sailor Venus.”

Everybody burst out into laughter.  Even William smiled from ear to ear.  “Alright alright, very funny Aberdeen.”

“You know I’m right.”

The group talked about their Christmas plans.  This was Aryne and John’s first Christmas with baby Jace, so it was going to be extremely special for them.  Morgan’s parents and brother were flying in from Vancouver to spend time with him and Bee.  It was also Jason and Jennifer’s first Christmas in Toronto with their four girls – even though Jason was from here – so that was another special event that they’d be hosting at their house.  William would probably be Skyping with his family in Sweden, having his own version of a family Christmas.  It was unfortunate that whatever plans the boys had with their families would have to be cut short slightly because they had a game in New Jersey on the 27th, and it was even more unfortunate that because of a game in Minnesota, they’d all be away from their families on New Year’s – Aberdeen included.  It was the first time she would be out of Toronto for New Year’s, and not spending the night with her family or out with her friends.  

Jason and Jennifer ended up giving Aberdeen a tour of the parts of the house they’d already explored, with William following behind them somewhat lazily.  She saw Ethan at one point and could feel him staring at her.  There were a couple of different food stations, and she picked up some sushi and other appetizers on the way around.  The house was expansive, and again, she couldn’t believe rich people lived like this.  She could only imagine what the bedrooms looked like, or the basement, where she was sure there were ridiculous things like a bowling alley, or a 10,000 bottle wine cellar, or a home theatre.  

Dani Reiss ended up calling Jason and Jennifer over, so Aberdeen found herself alone with William.  William seemed to enjoy the situation, as he always did – the smirk on his face revealing all – but when Aberdeen looked past him, she saw Ethan staring at her again, pretending to talk to his colleague who worked in tech and video playback.  She bit her lip nervously.  She knew she couldn’t let him get to her, but he already had once before and it almost cost her the job she had – the one he so desperately wanted.  She couldn’t let him keep doing this to her.  She needed to be strong.  She needed to be—  

“Aberdeen.”

William’s stern voice broke her out of her trance.  “What?”

“Did you hear anything I just said about how nice you look?”

“N—N—Yeah…yeah yeah, thanks,” she said absent-mindedly.  

That wasn’t a normal reaction from her at all whenever he complimented her looks.  Usually it was an eye-roll and a ‘stop it!’.  William discreetly looked over his shoulder to where she was looking.  He saw Ethan look away once he caught him.  He whipped his head back towards her.  “Is he messing with you?” William asked, his voice low.

“What?  No no,” Aberdeen shook her head quickly.  “Don’t worry about it—”

“Aberdeen, if he’s messing with you, I’ll fucking kill him—”

“Will, no,” she stressed.  “Just leave it alone.”

“Is he bothering you?”

“No.”

“What was he saying to you earlier?”

“Nothing,” she said.  There was no way she was going to tell him.  “Just…just stupid stuff.  Work stuff.  It was honestly nothing.”

“You’d tell me, right?” William said.  He’d asked that question before.  She couldn’t discern his tone of voice but by the way he was looking at her she knew he was dead serious and knew there was at least a hint of worry.  “You’d tell me if he said something, right?  If he made you feel uncomfortable?  Because I’ve already tried to talk to Babs about it, and I know he’s gone now but I have no problem speaking to someone on your behalf if you’re too scared to.”

She felt like telling him.  She really did.  But she couldn’t – not now, at the Christmas party, and not ever, because it was something she needed to deal with on her own.  Somehow, at least.  She didn’t know how she was going to deal with it, only that she had to.  So instead, Aberdeen shook her head.  “It’s fine, Will.  Don’t worry.  And yes.  I’d tell you.”

So it was a little white lie.  Who hadn’t told a little white lie in their life?

William visibly relaxed at her words.  He finished his drink and placed it on the tray of a passing server.  “You ready to go outside?”

“Outside?” Aberdeen looked at Will strangely.  “It’s the middle of December.  We’re staying inside, thank you very much.”

“Nooooo no no no no,” he chuckled and shook his head.  He went to grab her hand but then remembered where he was, pulling it back towards his body.  “Come on.  Come with me.  You’re in for the surprise of your life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Hey Aberdeen!  Willy!  You coming or what?” Jennifer Spezza called out as she waved them down from the sliding doors leading to the backyard.  “Come on!  It’s time to skate!”

Aberdeen threw William a confused look.  “Skate?”

They made their way towards the door, and when Aberdeen stepped through the threshold, she couldn’t believe what she saw: an entire skating rink – boards and everything – where she presumed Dani’s tennis court was, where some people were already skating.  There were lights, people were laughing, and there was even a whole skate rental helping out.  There were even fucking portable heaters.  Again, she couldn’t believe rich people lived like this.  She couldn’t believe that Dani would offer up his house, hire all the waiting staff, hire the catering staff, buy all those gifts, flood an entire portion of his backyard, and put up a skating rink so he could give the Maple Leafs a Christmas party.  Those closer she walked to the rink with William, Jason, and Jennifer, the more she couldn’t believe it.  

“What size are you, miss?”

“Uh, I’m a seven in regular shoes…” she said, not knowing if that made a difference.  The person turned around to look for skates, and Aberdeen turned towards William.  “I’m…I’m not good at skating at all.”

“You don’t have to be,” he smiled.  “You’ve got a team full of hockey players to help you along, minskatt.”

“No no.  I’m not just, like, saying that to be cute or whatever,” she said.  She needed to make that abundantly clear because she was sure she was going to make a complete ass of herself.  “I’m not good at skating.  I don’t even know how to tie them up properly.”

“Again, you have a whole hockey team at your disposal,” William said with a giggle in his voice.  When the skates were handed over, Jason took them before Aberdeen could.  “You gonna lace her up?” William asked him.

“I’ve got it,” Jason nodded his head.  “Aberdeen, go sit on the bench.  And give me your right foot.”

Aberdeen felt powerless as she did as she was told.  Jason shoved the skate onto her foot and kept it between his legs to tighten them and lace them up.  Jennifer put on her own skates right beside her, and William was on her other side doing the same.  “I feel like one of your children,” Aberdeen joked to them.

Jason smiled.  “You’re practically the same age as Sophia.”

“Am not!” Aberdeen protested.  “Sophia was born in 2010!”

“Yeah, and you’re born in 98.  I’m born in 83.  There’s fifteen years between you and I, but only twelve between you and Sophia,” Jason said.

“It’s practically the same thing!”

“No.  You’re a baby,” Jason chuckled.  “The both of you,” he nodded his head towards William, “are babies.”

Once her skates and helmet were fully on, and tight enough so her ankles weren’t moving so they wouldn’t snap in half, Aberdeen wobbled her way over towards the ice rink.  She looked out onto the ice and saw Bee skating, screaming as she slipped and fell right into Frederik Andersen’s arms.  The both of them laughed heartily as he held on to her like a knight in shining armour would catch his princess.  Morgan called out to them in a joking manner, feigning disgust and annoyance.

“Aberdeen?” she heard William’s soft voice.  Jason and Jennifer were already on the ice.  She hadn’t even seen them get on.  She had taken a while to psych herself up, apparently.  “You okay?”

“I’m just being an idiot,” she shook her head, embarrassed.

“You’re not being an idiot, minskatt.”

“Says the guy who was in skates before he was in shoes with soles,” she tried to joke.  “I work for a hockey team and I don’t even know how to skate well.”

Aberdeen watched as William extended his head.  “Come on,” he said.  “I’ll teach you.”

“Will—”

“Think of it this way,” he began.  “If you fall and crack your head open, you’ll probably suffer memory loss and forget who I am.”

Aberdeen snorted and laughed out loud.  She needed to hand it to William – he knew how to calm her down and diffuse any stress.  “You’re the worst, Will,” she chuckled out.

“I know I am.  Now come on.”

Aberdeen took his hand and stepped onto the ice gingerly.  William pulled her away from the edge of the rink slowly.  “Okay, bend your knees,” he began.  “You can’t skate with tight legs.”

For an almost embarrassingly long time, William taught Aberdeen the basic ins and outs of skating.  He was patient with her as he skated back and forth with her, pushing and pulling her along.  He’d grab her if she tripped, wrapped his arms around her if she almost slipped and fell, and tried to make her laugh as much as possible.  Jason would join in sometimes, holding her other hand as he and William pulled her along.  Jennifer and Bee acted like her own personal cheerleaders.  Eventually, she got the hang of it, able to skate around without having her hands out to balance her and with the ability to turn along the edges.  Morgan skated by and joked she was going to replace William on the line with John.  The smile on her face and giggle in her voice could light up the night sky.

For William, it was the best part of the night by far.

***

Brendan was so happy that everybody was having fun; so happy to see the smiles on people’s faces as they skated around the rink, running into each other like bumper cars and taking group pictures.  He loved seeing the comradery of his team outside the rink – the comradery of his entire organization outside of the offices.  The Christmas party was a huge success, and he couldn’t be happier.  

As he leaned his forearms down against the boards outside the rink, he watched everybody having a good time.  A few of the players skated by to have a quick chat.  Auston came first, then Jason and Freddie Gauthier together.  

“What a great party!” William smiled as he skated up to him, looking out at everyone having fun on the ice.  

Brendan nodded his head.  “We’re lucky Dani invited us and did all this for us.  Much better than some stuffy dinner, I think.”

“Definitely,” William agreed, nodding his head.  

Brendan nodded his head too, following William’s line of sight.  Aberdeen was posing with Bee McTavish, Aryne Tavares, and Courtney Muzzin.  Brendan smiled.  “Be careful, William.”

William’s brows furrowed at his words as he turned to look at him.  “Sir?”

“She can’t do anything with you until she leaves,” Brendan said, standing upright.  “And you can’t do anything with her.”

[ladyhindsight]

Peniel means “Face of God”. 

Peniel (also spelled Penuel) means “face of God.” In Genesis 32, Jacob is on his way to meet Esau and is dreading the encounter, thinking that Esau is going to kill him. (Esau had vowed to do just that in Genesis 27:41 because Jacob had cheated him out of receiving his father’s blessing.) Now, over two decades have passed, but Jacob is still fearful when he hears that Esau is coming to meet him with 400 men (Genesis 32:6). Jacob starts sending gifts on ahead of him to meet Esau first in hopes of winning his favor. Now, the night before the meeting seems inevitable and still not knowing Esau’s disposition toward him, Jacob sends his entire caravan of wives, children, flocks, and servants across the stream so that they would have a buffer between them and Esau’s entourage (verse 22). Then Jacob spends the night alone, and there, in a place later known as Peniel, he has a mysterious encounter.

And it is the encounter in Genesis 32:24–30:

24 And Jacob was left alone. And a man wrestled with him until the breaking of the day. 25 When the man saw that he did not prevail against Jacob, he touched his hip socket, and Jacob’s hip was put out of joint as he wrestled with him. 26 Then he said, “Let me go, for the day has broken.” But Jacob said, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.” 27 And he said to him, “What is your name?” And he said, “Jacob.” 28 Then he said, “Your name shall no longer be called Jacob, but Israel, for you have striven with God and with men, and have prevailed.” 29 Then Jacob asked him, “Please tell me your name.” But he said, “Why is it that you ask my name?” And there he blessed him. 30 So Jacob called the name of the place Peniel, saying, “For I have seen God face to face, and yet my life has been delivered.”

Sebastian and Jace really go at it in this chapter and Jace is finally revealed he is not Valentine’s son nor a Morgenstern, so I guess the title alludes to it. Then there’s the conversation between Raphael and Simon about the Mark of Cain. 

So much Genesis in this chapter. So deep.

I assure you, your reasons are baseless. Why is Simon dangerous because he is able to walk in the sun? Why is he a danger to the vampire kind? Raphael does very little, or actually, nothing to justify his claims and need to kill Simon.

So a god of some kind does exist, the kind of god that created angels. From where else did the Marks not in the Gray Book come from?

This was such a power move from Simon. It also connects to later events. I’ve said before, but Simon’s journey is the very one that seems thought out. Each of the things he goes through serves a following event. Here the Mark of Cain seemingly is just there to protect his life but eventually helps him and the gang with Raziel and gaining a powerful weapon.

Like [here], it feels rather pointless to focus on some random werewolf. Whether she has green hair or is Icelandic, it doesn’t really matter and takes away the focus away from the intensity of the scene.

In the part above this Simon quotes Genesis 4:15. The meaning behind it is that God is about to banish Cain for murdering his brother Abel. Cain fears people will try to kill him after what he did, and God shows Cain mercy by putting the mark of Cain, so that anyone trying to kill Cain will be taken vengeance upon sevenfold. This is to stop other seeking revenge on Cain and ending the cycle of vengeance.

But then Raphael quotes Genesis 4:11, an earlier verse. 

“And now art thou cursed from the earth, which hath opened her mouth to receive thy brother's blood from thy hand; (King James Version)

Cain had murdered his brother and the ground had received Abel’s blood. Cain could no longer make living working the ground as the ground would no longer give Cain any crops. And then Genesis 4:12:

“When thou tillest the ground, it shall not henceforth yield unto thee its strength; a fugitive and a wanderer shalt thou be in the earth.” (American Standard Version)

In addition to losing his livelihood, Cain is forced to become a fugitive and a wanderer, to leave his family to seek other places to find food and survive. Raphael cites two different versions.

There’s parallels that can be drawn between Cain and Simon, but Simon having the Mark of Cain for his own protection is nothing as drastic as Cain’s punishment for killing Abel. They both bore the mark for completely different reasons, so it’s a bit over-dramatic.

This is just as nice little bow as the ending to The Red Scrolls of Magic was. It won’t happen again. Let’s never talk about this again. And everyone goes, okay! It’s ridiculous how easily Simon is believed, especially since isn’t Jace and Clary’s extra angel blood a common knowledge later? 

And if the cause was Valentine having done experiments on Simon, surely it would be replicable. No one questions convenient lies ever in this series.

I’m sure there isn’t that many descriptions of Sebastian’s resemblance to Valentine but good god I am already tired. Jace, focus!

In the previous chapter when this sword was described, it said:

He wore gear as well, and a long silver-hilted sword strapped at his waist,

It was already told to be silver-hilted. There was no further mention before this, neither of its blade nor it being black, so how can it be “the black blade” when it was never mentioned before?

→ “A patter of stars was etched into the surface of its black blade;”

→ “He said a word in a harsh-sounding demon language and brought the...”

Nay, em dashes away. It isn’t noteworthy to pause the sentence for this.

Don’t tell beforehand what is about to happen. It takes away the suddenness away from the following when you’re spoiling it with these kind of lines.

*watering. Streaming eyes creates an image of liquid eyeballs. 

The first paragraph is actually hilarious. It’s just that now this who is whose parents kind of language is seen as a problem. Not before when my parents, my mother, my father was sown around about the Lightwoods who are Jace’s actual family.

Also, little angel boy? Cringe. Stop it.

Oh, I got tired too early. This explaining about their looks continues. Also no comma, same subject.

It’s hard to imagine anything sharp denting anything as soft as soft tissue. It just cuts through.

Last time it was “her stele” when in fact it’s Patrick’s, but now it has been unmentioned for so long it really should be “Patrick’s stele.” Not that it really matters, Patrick doesn’t ask it back anyway.

Finally there is no “suddenly”, no sky SUDDENLY exploding overhead. Yet there are sentences like this that flatten the suspense with a pedantic tone. Well, actually... ↓

“The sky overhead exploded.

Clary threw her head back and stared upward...”

“At last” sounds like you are waiting for the sound like a gunshot.

→ “There was a sound like a gunshot, and a huge crack appeared...”

There’s tons of glass shards raining down. It’s insufficient to compare them to tears that are slower and far fewer. “like tears” is also pushing towards the kind of ridiculous purple prose that City of Bones was FILLED with. Piano chairs gaping like open wounds and the like.

Or

→ “Sebastian erupted off the ground. He flew into the air, flipped back, and landed gracefully on the grass barely a foot away. He kicked out and struck Jace’s hand.”

It just feels like Sebastian is taking forever making this incredibly fast maneuver. “Erupted” is also kind of unfortunately funny word choice.

→ “The Malachi Configuration the Inquisitor had trapped him in flashed in his mind.”

And again, that is not worth an em dash.

1. We’d think Sebastian is still on the ground since it was only Jace who jumped upward. 

2. The action is sudden without using urgency signals. The em dash is there to indicate breathless pause and change to the status quo (Jace being on the branch alone)

3. Nay, adverbs away. You’re just showing he is flushed. Add a clenched jaw or bared teeth and voilà! And then later just “For the first time Sebastian looked angry”

4. No, not evidently. Shoo! He just dropped it in the grass, and that’s okay.

5. Also no any amount of satisfaction seeing something ever.

Participle phrases indicate concurrency. Sebastian can’t do all that at once.

→ “He flung himself at Jace, caught him around the waist, and knocked him off the branch.”

Also, just “and”

→ “He felt a shock of icy cold;” 

Shock by definition doesn’t come out of a sudden.

Yes. Yes, he must have. Well deduced, Mr. Watson.

Sebastian, you just kept calling Jace your “little brother”, don’t be snide about it now. 

*Jocelyn Fray’s voice

You have addressed incest as long as it’s the villain that calls your characters out because it is actually meant to make readers defend Jace and Clary’s love against this evil bastard because tHeY wErEn’T rEaLlY rElAtEd.

Also, I am not sad for Jace and Clary’s mutual stupidity. They had almost two books to call out Valentine’s bullshit but instead they just went with it because it was more convenient for the incest plot rather than trying to find arguments to actually justify it.

How many of these has there been already? I’m banning the word “suddenly”.

→ “Then there was no pain at all.” Now that is more sudden.

Isabelle must be further away from Jace and Sebastian. Jace taking Isabelle in like he’s laying right at her feet makes Isabelle look inanimate.

→ “Jace stared wonderingly as Sebastian’s severed hand bounced and came to rest against a pair of high black boots. Isabelle stood there, face capped with a waterfall of black hair, her whip soaked with blood, and her yes fastened on Sebastian who was staring at the bloody stump of his wrist....”

I could also come up with more gruesome stuff to do to Sebastian after Max’s murder than just severing his hand. Also, again just “and”.

And yes. Yes he, must have. Well deduced once again, Mr. Watson. Sebastian is really keen on just running off once he gets hurt. He has done it twice now, both times conveniently enough.

Rookie mistake.

Another fucking suddenly. Peaceful  → Clary asleep, best moment ever, yes. It doesn’t need suddenly, the through flows naturally without it. Especially with the following:

I also kind of despise that it was the thought of Clary that kept Jace going, not that Sebastian was currently attacking Isabelle who appears to be rather close to dying.

→ “Pain jarred up his spine, and somehow, without any volition of his own, his legs moved him forward...”

Now, this is what I don’t get. Here it sounds like Sebastian intended to kill both Max and Isabelle, because here he says he should’ve made sure Isabelle was really dead. But when Sebastian attacks Alec at the Gard, he says that he has already taken care of one Lightwood that night, meaning he knew he didn’t kill Isabelle but knew Max was definitely dead. What sense does that make? None.

This is from the 2015 paperback edition. The original was:

“You little Lightwood bitch,” Sebastian was saying. “I should have smashed your face in with that hammer when I had the chance—”

Which made more sense and didn’t give an impression of Sebastian thinking he had killed Isabelle. This is also most likely why Sebastian words earlier at the Gard didn’t make any sense either.

But Simon, this was also you wanting it:

Though I get it’s not necessarily mutually exclusive. It’s just funny.

I like that Clary and Simon are both finally taking part and some responsibility. I’d also argue that knowing it and feeling it are completely separate things. You can rationalize things but feel differently because feelings aren’t always rational.

Besides, even if Simon knew he was dead, accepted it, and still felt alive, what of it? Who the heck cares whether Simon is, as this snob says, a true vampire.

COOL AND CULTURED RETURNS! My god.

My lord, my liege, my anything but My Valentine. Ew.

No comma after “the Mirror”.

Clary was further away from Malachi, hiding behind a pillar. What the hell did Malachi do to Hugo that it went from all the way from Clary back to slumping at Malachi’s feet?

Clary’s words, them being fine, and her “betrayal” have nothing to do with each other. She’s just given the reason why she does not side with Valentine, has never sided with Valentine, so Clary’s words have fuck all to do with betrayal. 

It would be completely fitting if Clary talked about loyalty after siding with Valentine, pledging fidelity just for the sake of them being related by blood, and still betraying him. Malachi’s words imply hypocrisy that is nonexistent.

You just thought you wrote a cool line.

Meaning it’s been an hour since this thingamabob called the climax has begun. And I have issues with it. As usual.

[bi-robins-club]

jason had just settled onto his couch with a jane austen novel and his favourite peach iced tea when damian crept in through his window. he sighed internally and decided to simply ignore him. he had told damian to use the front door (nevermind the fact that jason rarely used the door) and more importantly? he was freaking comfortable. after a few minutes as jason flipped idly through the book, damian cleared his throat. jason sighed again, outwardly this time and reluctantly dragged his eyes up to his youngest brother. baby bat was shivering slightly from the rain outside and jason simply rasied an eyebrow as he sipped at his tea. scowling, dami stomped over to jasons bathroom to dry off. he rolled his eyes. how dramatic. damian was acting like he sentenced titus and alfred the cat to their deaths instead of how he was actually saving jason from deep cleaning his rain soaked carpet. (he was still going to deep clean the carpet the next time he tidied up but still)

when damian stalked back into the room, looking less like a wet, angry kitten and more like a dry, angry kitten, jason titled his head back and established eye contact.

"so what brings you over to my neck of the woods, demon spawn?"

instead of snapping back like jason expected, damian simply stood there looking extremely uncomfortable. he shuffled his feet, opened his mouth then closed it and sat next to jason on the couch he splurged way too much on.

"i don't know how to tell you this" dami began, hesitant "but i believe harper is experiencing thoughts of suicide"

jason jerked up, almost knocking over his tea (and what a damn waste that would be) before fixing damian with a look. he hadnt noticed anything different in roy lately but he knew more than anyone that depression acted strangely and was hard to pinpoint. his mind raced with thoughts of why roy might be suddenly suicidal, from a sudden relapse to not getting a happy meal toy included in his 3.99 box of clogged arteries. "why do you say that, damian?"

"i have been keeping an eye on his health since he became a close confidant to you and last night he said something worrying that i am still not able to parse the meaning of" jason smiled lightly at that, in damian speak he was basically declaring that he cared for roy- if for nothing else than for how happy he made jason. still he shook it off and asked what roy had said that was worrying dami.

"he was patrolling last night" jason knew that. roy had been picking up his patrols since jason had a nasty leg wound. it was the reason he wasn't out tonight. "and he was on the phone with an unknown person, though i am inclined to believe it was either Starfire or Canary" okay, still not surprising "and then he said that the only place he could die happy was between your thighs" oh hello blue screen. yes jasons mind was in the middle of rebooting but could you hurry it along? he almost missed what damian said next. "not only does he wish for death upon himself, he wishes for you to give it to him!"

"damian" jason managed, frantically trying to figure out a way to explain to his baby brother without including his sex life. "uhh its just an expression"

damians face brightened up slightly. "really? he does not wish to smother himself between your thighs?"

"yeah, its like...like just a way to say... mind your business? mmhmm" he struggled to get out, pulling an explanation out of his ass.

"you have told father to mind his business a thousand times but i dont recal you ever using that one. is it new?"

oh god. jason would rather die again than continue this conversation.

"uhh its only used if you're close to someone" jason didnt know what he didnt wrong but dami's eyes widened in clear worry. "i thought you and father were reconnecting? has something happened? are you fighting again?"

well shit. jason had not thought this one through. fuck roy and fuck his mile wide kink that centered around jasons thighs. he was going to kill him. and he wouldnt even use his thighs. "oh nonono dami we're fine, just not as close as me and roy" he hedged, pleading to gods he didnt believe in to stop this conversation with whatever means necessary. strike him dead if need be but *please*. damians eyes narrowed "and exactly how close are you with harper, jason?" jason stared in disbelief. how had his nice relaxing evening turned into such a shitshow? damian was fine with roy when he and jason were just friends but now that he was (correctly) assuming a relationship, his over protective instincts were kicking in? christ. he remembered how when dick and babs finally started dating (again), damian seemingly lost all respect for her and called her an evil harlot more than once.

thankfully he was saved by answering in the form of the best person jason had ever met aka duke thomas. he announced his presence by awkwardly coughing. jason met his dark eyes and mouthed 'help me' over damians head. duke smiled as if it was getting pulled out of him by torture but nodded.

"hey dames, dick wanted you to join him by the docks when you finished up here" damian scowled "cant you see i am clearly not finished yet"

"hah, well dick was facing up against scarecrow and i think he needed some back up but you know him"

"yes, he wont admit he needs help when he very clearly does" damian sighed "very well, ill go check on dick. you stay and question jason. " and with that damian clambered out the window and after he disappeared from sight, jason threw his head back to stare at his ceiling and groaned. duke laughed at him.

"hey daisy duke?" duke grumbled at the nickname and jason cracked a smile "how did you know i needed back up?" duke winced and ran a hand over his dreads. he made a face and jasons soul was slowly draining out of his body. "oh haha funny story" duke rocked back on his feet and faked laughed "damians com was still connected to the channel" jason froze.

"who was on the channel oh my god" duke smiled thinly and his hand paused on his head. "other than me? everyone." jason buried his head in his hands and let out a high pitched whine. duke consolingly rubbed his shoulder. this is why jason loved him. he hadn't even laughed at jason like tim, dick or steph would or started plotting death like damian started to. he and cass would just offer support. jasons favorite brother and sister right here folks. duke sat down beside him

"listen. i know what it's like to be outed when youre not ready and when i heard damian grilling you about roy, i thought i would help" jason turned and stared at his brother. duke was staring at his hands and avoiding eye contact. "i got caught with a boy when i was 15 in high school. its pretty shitty to be gay and poor in a homophobic neighbourhood but its worse to be gay, poor and black." jason knocked shoulders with him. "if you tell me the name of whatever asshat outed you, I'll shoot him for you." duke let out a waterly laugh. "they kept bullying me for being gay but if they even listened, they would have realised that im pan" he joked "its a completely different thing after all". jason snorted

"that was horrible"

duke winced "yeah, it was wasnt it. im bad at this" it was jasons turn to avoid eye contact now.

"talia once caught me with a league operative. a male operative. i was so paranoid for days until i caught shiva leaving her rooms. i got the courage to tell her i was bi and she just patted my cheek and asked how my training was going."

duke huffed out a laugh. "bruce gives you shit but i for one think your lesbians moms are cool"

jason laughed with him "just wait until you meet Ducra. shes a badass"

"ducra?" he questioned with a weird look. "how many moms do you actually have? i knew about diana and your assassin moms but thats a new name" jason burst into laughter at the expression on dukes face. "its not fair man. steph is the only other one with a mom and you have four! you need to share" jason choked on his laughter and shoved duke.

"first of all, its only *three*. ducra is like my badass abuela"

"dont you already have a badass grandma? have you forgotten about Ma Gunn? she threatened to shoot bruce in the dick last week!"

"yes well excuse you i need strong female role models in my life, fuck you" the two of them continued to joke around for a little while longer before jason caught a flash of black kelvar outside his window and sighed. duke followed his eyes and smiled before patting jasons shoulder and pushing off. "have fun with the one strong male role model in your life. im going to see if cass needs help" both of them knew that cass wouldn't need help but jason accepted the excuse for what it was. "me and steph are still coming over to study tomorrow. college is kicking my ass and i need you to explain this English assignment to me"

jason scoffed "im not writing your essay for you"

"eh worth a try. bye jace" duke gave a two fingered salute and slipped out the window. jason took the brief reprieve to sip his tea and mourned when he discovered the ice had melted and watered down the peach taste. for the third time that night, someone crept into his window. oh well. third times the charm right? jason wasn't going to acknowledge bruce until he said something himself. it was a repeat of damian. jasom read his book as it got increasingly uncomfortable.

"jason."

"bruce" jason drawled, not lifting his eyes from his book. bruce grunted like the neanderthal he was and jason finally huffed out a heaving breath before marking his page and looking up. bruce looked supremely uncomfortable. actually his face looked exceedingly neutral but jason knew how to read bruce and that was the brow furrow of how do i deal with jason without fucking it up? jason was well famailairsed with that one.

"you know i love you" jasons own eyebrows rose. bruce only said 'i love you' like four times a year tops. and he usually never wasted it on jason. bruce deflated at whatever face jason must have made. goddamn it. this was why jason always fought with bruce with his helmet on, he couldnt control his facial expressions for shit. "no you dont know that." bruce smiled thinly and to jasons suprise, quickly crossed the room and knelt, placing his hands on jasons shoulders.

"even if you dont believe it, and its my own fault that you do and i hate that i ever caused you to even doubt my love for you, i swear that i do, jay lad" jason was completely frozen. he had expected bruce to yell at him for letting roy go unchecked on patrol last night and how irresponsible he was yada yada, not this declaration of feelings that he had no clue how to deal with. he couldnt remember the last time bruce called him that. it had to have been when he was still in those scaly green panties and pixie boots. and not the adult verison that jason picked up from a halloween store on a whim just to see roys eyes.

bruce sighed and drew jason into a hug. when bruces shoulder started getting wet, jason was horrified to realise he was crying. "i wanted you to know that i wouldnt love you any less for loving a man. but you have to know that i love you in the first place for that to happen" bruce said self deprecating.

"shut the fuck up" jason said sniffling and gripping his dads back. "i hate you"

bruce laughed softly at him before pressing a kiss to the side of jasons head. "i want you to know that i expect roy-and you- over at dinner on sunday. i need to meet the man that stole my babys heart" he murmured. jason laughed wetly "youve already met roy, you just want to con me into actually coming to family dinner"

bruce smiled "that was before i knew you two were dating. roy needs to know what hes getting into" jason leaned back enough to stare into bruces eyes and weakly punched him in the chest "dont threaten my boyfriend. he refused to look at me for two weeks after t was done with him" bruce sighed longingly "its times like this when i remember what caused me to love talia in the first place."

"bruce!" the aforementioned man laughed and hugged jason tightly before stepping back a few steps. "Sunday dinner. you and roy. 8 pm." on a whim jason reached out and snagged bruces hand. "hey" he started, swallowing "you wanna stay for a while? we could watch a movie or something" bruces eyes softened and he nodded. "let me change out of the suit."

and if roy had crept in after patrol only to see jason napping on his dads chest to a shitty action movie playing in the background and took several pictures, well that bruces fault for not waking up when roy stumbled it. (nevermind the fact that bruce had every single one of those pictures saved on his phone) (nevermind the fact that after roy put his phone away, he was greeted to the sight of batman glaring at him as he twisted a batarang around his fingers. it was sorta ruined by the fact that jasons curls was hiding the lower half of his face but roy was still adequately terrified)

[bytheangell]

Had to Go Too Far to Know How Far to Go

( @shadowhunterbingo Square: Enemies to Lovers) (Read on AO3)

Jace is seething, sitting across from Maryse in her office as the Head of the Institute. Jace isn’t sure if he’s relieved it’s Maryse and not Robert - sometimes he thinks he can play Robert a little better than he can Maryse, but he isn’t sure it matters this time around. He knows he’s in actual trouble when he’s called into the office instead of just reprimanded wherever she happens to find him around the Institute.

And he’s definitely in trouble. Apparently, someone saw him sneaking out after curfew and turned him in. He barely made it two blocks away from the Institute before he felt a tap on his shoulder and was instructed to return back immediately, then escorted directly here.

Jace isn’t sure who told on him - he knows he mentioned the party he was trying to go to around a few of the other Shadowhunters during training that morning, mostly to brag about the pretty Seelie girl who invited him. Any one of them could’ve gotten jealous and decided to be petty about it.

So instead of drinking Seelie wine and forgetting about his responsibilities for a night, he’s getting a lecture on representing not only the New York Institute and the Nephilim stationed here, but the Lightwood name. Jace grits his teeth and manages to “Yes, Ma’am” and “sorry, Ma’am” his way through the lecture.

No matter how many times he asks, she refuses to tell him who turned him in.

The next morning at training he eyes the others with a steely gaze. “I’m not sure which one of you ratted me out,” he says. “But if I find out-” Jace pauses there, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Scratch that, when I find out, I’ll make sure you never have a single fun night in your entire life. Don’t pull that shit again.”

Jace eyes them all one-by-one, catching Alec’s eye-roll before noticing the confused expressions of a few others who don’t seem to know what he’s even talking about, let alone be the ones responsible for it. Either they’re surprisingly good at playing dumb, or none of them went to Maryse.

But if it wasn’t any of them, who else could it be?

---

The next time Jace gets in trouble for trying to sneak out of the Sanctuary to avoid getting caught, this time to test out using the morning star flail that Robert keeps insisting Jace can’t take in the field, he gets assigned weapon and combat gear cleaning duty for the next two weeks.

To his surprise, Andrew Underhill is waiting outside the training room as he leaves Maryse’s office. He tries to look like he’s just passing by but Jace is positive he was listening in.

“Who knew wanting to practice a new weapon would be frowned upon,” Jace comments, covering his frustration with the whole situation with his usual bravado, forcing a smirk on his face. “Guess cleaning all the weapons is one way to familiarize myself with them better.”

“Pretty sure it’s less the wanting to practice and more the going on patrol alone with a weapon you’re not proficient in,” Andrew doesn’t look amused. “Seems like a good way to get yourself killed.”

Jace rolls his eyes. “I would’ve been fine.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Andrew agrees easily enough, though Jace notes with a moment of annoyance that he doesn’t sound genuine. Does he think Jace is that incompetent, too? “Sorry about the cleaning detail,” Andrew adds, which shifts the subject slightly.

“Don’t be,” Jace shrugs. “Isn’t like it’s your fault.”

A strange look crosses Andrew’s face at that, a flicker of hesitation as if he might say something, then changes his mind. Jace almost comments on it but Andrew speaks again, his words quick and dismissive.

“Yeah, no, of course not. Just trying to be sympathetic.” That’s what Andrew says, though Jace can’t help but notice he still looks guilty, but maybe that’s just for the eavesdropping.

Jace arches an eyebrow. “Right,” he says slowly, not sure why Andrew’s being so weird all of a sudden. “Anyway, guess I should go get some rest if I’m going to be up at the crack of dawn wiping down weapons.” Jace turns and leaves Andrew still lingering outside of Maryse’s office, not thinking twice about it.

The following morning Jace shows up to the weapons room prepared for several hours of solitary cleaning. He definitely doesn’t expect Andrew to show up about half an hour in with an offer to help.

“Want a hand?” Andrew asks, eyeing the still very large pile of unpolished weapons.

“...why would you want to do that?” Jace asks suspiciously. This is a punishment after all, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be here if he didn’t have to be. No one in their right mind would willingly subject themselves to this.

Andrew shrugs. “Couldn’t sleep. Sometimes the repetitiveness of these sorts of tasks helps clear my head. Plus, I figured you could use the company. If you’d rather be alone, though, I could go…”

Jace considers the offer. It’s way too quiet in here - Jace always preferred to be around people, to have conversation and distractions so he isn’t left alone with his thoughts for too long. If nothing else, Jace would definitely appreciate the company even if Andrew just hangs out and doesn’t do any actual cleaning.

“Alright, have at it,” Jace finally agrees.

The two of them spend the next two hours talking and joking as they polish the weapons, and Jace realizes that this is probably the first significant amount of time he’s spent alone with Andrew. They get along surprisingly well, and Jace would be lying to himself if he didn’t admit how much he appreciates the way Andrew seems to look at him with an almost reverent admiration, despite being older than Jace. He can’t help it - when you spend the better part of your life trying to impress others, it’s the best feeling in the world when it pays off.

Andrew shows up to help Jace a few more times that week, until Jace begins to expect him rather than wonder if he’ll show. Outside of a few misguided attempts to rein in Jace’s reckless side, which Jace chalks up to pretty standard interactions for a friendship with him, the two of them only grow closer. Andrew is smart, the properly clever sort of smart that Jace loves, but he’s also kind. Much more kind than many raised in the life of Nephilim are. And it’s that kindness, that warmth, that Jace is drawn to the most.

When Jace’s punishment ends he feels a pang of unexpected loss at the idea of not seeing Andrew every day. He goes out on a limb and asks if Andrew would want to have a standing offer to meet up for breakfast in the mornings in the cafeteria, so they still have time outside of training and patrols to just hang out.

There’s a little flutter in Jace’s stomach when Andrew eagerly agrees with a huge smile, and Jace realizes with sudden certainty that somewhere over the past two weeks his feelings for Andrew may have shifted to something more than just a desire for friendship.

He ignores that for now, content with breakfast, daily talks, and getting to know Andrew a little better.

---

“Why don’t you wash up and meet me down in the cafeteria? I’ll see if I can get us some breakfast food cooked up,” Andrew offers. He sounds… hesitant. Maybe even a little scared. Jace doesn’t blame him - Jace knows he must look about two seconds away from self-destructing because he feels like he is.

Jace messed up. He knows he messed up, and he’s going to do something to fix it. He has to.

“No, I just want to sleep,” Jace says, his tone uncharacteristically cold toward Andrew who has recently become the only person to see the best sides of him nearly constantly. He can’t help it when the very sight of Andrew brings a small smile to his face no matter how bad of a mood he’s in… or at least, it usually does. “See you tomorrow.”

They just got back from a failed mission, one that Jace was in charge of. Jace kept most of his control during the debriefing, and now the rest of the team heads off to shower and rest.

Not Jace.

Jace waits until Andrew is out of sight before he slips away unnoticed to the weapons room. Grabbing two extra daggers and a seraph blade, he heads back to where his team lost track of the demons they were after before. He’s only back on the trail for a few minutes before Alec finds him, saying that Hodge sent him to track Jace and bring him back. The look of pure regret on Alec’s face says everything Jace needs to know about how in trouble he is.

“Sorry,” Alec says for the tenth time on their way back to the Institute. “I could always say I didn’t find you,” he offers, sounding unconvinced that would be any better.

Jace shakes his head. “No, then they’ll just punish you, too,” he sighs. “How did he even know I was gone?! I swear no one saw me leave.”

Alec shrugs. “I dunno.” They continue to walk in silence until Alec drops Jace off in the training room where Hodge is waiting, arms crossed over his chest.

Jace thinks that the worst news he’ll hear that night is the clearly stated warning that if he ever tries to go on an unsanctioned mission alone again he’ll be pulled from active duty entirely.

Instead, it’s the revelation of who told Hodge what he was doing that fills Jace’s veins with ice and makes him feel like he’s about to throw up.

“If Underhill hadn’t seen the cameras and warned us as fast as he did…”

Jace doesn’t hear anything after that, the words a buzzing noise in his brain. Underhill. Andrew. The fact that Andrew is the one who betrayed him makes this a million times worse. He trusted him. He liked him. He still does, which makes this hurt so much more. If it’d be anyone else…

Jace wastes no time going directly to Andrew’s room after Hodge releases him.

“What the fuck, Andrew?!” Jace demands before the door is even fully open.

Andrew looks as sick to his stomach as Jace felt only minutes prior.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew manages. “But you-”

“You’re not my goddamn keeper. You nearly got me pulled from active duty!” Jace seethes.

Andrew pales. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

“Yeah, you keep saying that,” Jace points out, nothing but heat in his eyes and venom in his tone. He’s pissed. He doesn’t want to be pissed at Andrew, but he is, and he needs to get this out.

Andrew, to Jace’s surprise, grows defensive. “Maybe if you stopped trying to show off on your own all the time I wouldn’t have to keep turning you in just to--”

Jace’s jaw drops open and Andrew’s words cut off abruptly with the realization of what he just admitted.

“Keep turning me in?” Jace repeats, shaking his head. “It was you before, too, wasn’t it? By the Angel, Andrew, I thought we were friends! I thought-” but now it’s Jace’s turn to cut his words off abruptly because now is not the time for that, no matter how hurt he feels right now. “You know what, never mind. It doesn’t matter, because we clearly aren’t. I don’t want you to speak to me again, Underhill.”

Jace doesn’t stay for a response, allowing the abrupt shift from calling him Andrew to spitting out Underhill like it’s poison to do all the talking for him.

---

Things continue on in this way for a while - it seems like every time Jace goes off to make a potentially reckless decision Andrew is right there to drag him back. At first, Jace thought he was being too obvious, but no matter how many precautions he takes, Andrew always finds out, and Jace suffers for it. He knows the punishments are meant to be a deterrent but he mostly ignores them - in fact, they have the opposite effect. If everyone is going to assume he’s always out to cause trouble, then he might as well actually be out to cause trouble and have some fun in the process, live up to the reputation and all, right?

The times he manages to elude punishment only fuel more attempts, more risks to see how far he can push whatever fates are working against him here. When he gets away with it he’s rewarded with lavish nights out and thrilling solo missions far beyond anything he’d get cleared for through official channels, as well as any other number of adventures. More importantly, every time he manages to sneak out under Andrew’s seemingly constant watch (because of course Andrew works security at the Institute) it feels like a bigger victory, a louder ‘fuck you!’ to the person who, for reasons Jace still doesn’t understand because he refuses to speak with him, seems determined to ruin his life.

The only time they talk is on missions, and even then Jace shuts down any attempt at conversation outside of tactics and relevant information on whatever they’re tracking or fighting or protecting. He can tell that it hurts Andrew, but he pretends not to care just as intently as he pretends it doesn’t hurt him just as much. Jace reminds himself that Andrew is the one who betrayed him and his trust, after all.

They go on like this for quite some time. For half a year, in fact. Six straight months of Jace glaring daggers at Andrew every time he gets pulled in for breaking some rule or another. Six months of ignoring Andrew every time he practically begs Jace to just stop doing things that’ll get him in trouble in the first place.

Six months until Jace’s curiosity gets the better of him, finally overriding his anger enough for him to spin around after starting to walk away from Andrew in the middle of yet another attempted-conversation-turned-fight.

“I have to know,” Jace says. “What did I ever do to make you hate me so much?”

“I don’t hate you!” Andrew says. “I never hated you! Which you’d know if you ever just listened to me.”

“The thing is, I find that really hard to believe because I can’t imagine spending every waking moment trying to ruin the life of someone I liked.” Jace huffs. “Was it something I said? Were you jealous that the Lightwoods let me head missions-”

“Stop it,” Andrew pleads. “Stop being an ass just to push people away. I’m not your enemy, Jace!” Andrew snaps. “I’m trying to keep you alive, since you have no inclination of doing that on your own. I’m…” Underhill’s words stall out in his frustration as if he’s suddenly wondering if he should be saying anything at all. “I’m looking out for you, you self-sacrificing asshole,” he finishes, then seems to forcibly shut his mouth to not say anything more.

The words sound like they should be insults, but there isn’t anger behind them. Or, at least, there isn’t just anger - Jace can hear the concern behind them, too.

“I can look out for myself,” Jace points out, still defensive but much less angry.

“Sure you can,” Andrew says. “But you don’t. And I couldn’t convince you to, so…”

So Andrew wasn’t trying to ruin Jace’s life, he’s trying to protect it. And if Jace believes him, then he’s been doing it since before they were friends, and while they were friends, and even after, while Jace treated him like absolute shit for it.

“Why?” Jace asks. He’s pretty sure he knows, but he needs to hear Andrew say it. He needs to know and not just assume.

Andrew looks momentarily mortified by the question. “I can’t believe you’re going to make me say it…” Andrew mumbles.

“You wanted me to listen,” Jace reminds him. “Here’s your chance. I’m listening.”

Andrew seems to have lost the drive he had at the start of the conversation when the words were spilling out of him. Now it looks as if he has to force himself to say what comes next, but he does.

“Because I care about you, Jace. Because I like you. A lot. And the idea of something happening to you…” Andrew trails off, looking down at his feet for a moment before lifting his head to meet Jace’s eyes again. “I couldn’t stand it, not if there was something I could do to try and keep you safe. And maybe it wasn’t my place. Maybe I shouldn’t have, but I just… even if you hated me for it, I couldn’t just stand back and wait for the night you went off to do something reckless and didn’t make it back.”

A heavy silence falls between them, Andrew done speaking his truth and Jace taking a moment to process it all.

“It wasn’t your place,” Jace agrees. “But as far as reasonings go, not wanting me to get hurt isn’t the sort of thing I can hate you for, is it?”

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Andrew says, looking anxious again.

Jace sighs. “Listen, before all of this,” Jace says, making a vague hand motion between the two of them to symbolize the past six months and everything that went wrong. “Before I ruined everything, I thought there might be something between us. And I get it, if I fucked things up too much to go back now, I understand, but-”

A second later Jace’s words are cut short by the press of Andrew’s lips to his in a kiss he returns eagerly once he recovers from the momentary surprise of it. It only breaks when Jace absolutely needs to take a breath, and honestly, Jace might’ve just gone right back in for more if Andrew didn’t take a small step back.

“You didn’t ruin everything,” Andrew says, unable to keep the small smile from his face now. “I meant what I said. I care about you. I like you. Present tense, here and now, even after everything. I’m not saying we should just pretend the last few months never happened, but… I don’t think it isn’t anything we can’t come back from. Do you?”

“Listen, I know we need to talk about this, and we will, but right now I really just want to kiss you again,” Jace confesses.

Andrew laughs. “We do need to talk. We should also maybe take the night to think things through before we jump into anything we’ll regret, verbally or physically.”

“I hate it when you’re rational,” Jace mutters. “But you’re right.”

“Maybe we can meet tomorrow? Over breakfast?” Andrew suggests.

The idea of having Andrew back, as a friend or something more, feels too good to be true. But here it is - here Andrew is - beaming like the goddamn sun.

“Breakfast sounds perfect,” Jace agrees, his smile genuine and hopeful for the first time in months.

[tvandenneagram]

The Mortal Instruments Enneagram Types - Type Descriptions and Tri-types under the cut

Clary Fray: 4w5 - 6w5 - 1w2

Clary is brave, creative and stubborn. She will always try to do what she believes is right and will follow her heart when she makes decisions.

Clary is very artistic and has a talent for creating runes. She expresses herself through her art and and carries her sketchbook with her everywhere she goes, using it like a diary.

Clary will fight for what she believes in and will often put herself in danger if it means protecting those she cares about. She is stubborn and it is difficult to change her mind once she has made a decision

Clary is very romantic and is preoccupied with her relationship with Jace. She has extremely strong feelings for Jace and somewhat idealises their relationship. Type 4s are often very attached to their romantic partners and search for an ideal partner, which I think is what we see Clary doing with Jace.

I considered typing Clary as a 6 because she is very loyal, however I think that she is more preoccupied with finding out who she is in the world than her safety. I also think she does not make her decisions based on fear and that she doesn’t really plan out her actions very much. While this could indicate that she is counterphobic I think it is more likely that she is a type 4.

Clary has a wing 5 because she is more introverted and withdrawn than a wing 3 would be.

Jace Herondale/Wayland/Morgenstern/Lightwood/whatever name he has this week: - 6w7 (cp) - 8w7 - 3w4

Jace is independent, headstrong and sarcastic. He presents himself as haughty and arrogant, but uses this attitude as a defense mechanism for his insecurites.

Despite Jace’s flippant attitude he has a strong moral core and is very dutiful. He is a very skilled fighter and takes his training seriously. Underneath his pompus exterior, Jace is hiding distinct feelings of inferiority. He is extremely self-loathing in the original trilogy and often purports things to be his fault when they are not. Jace believes that he has been fed demon blood and attributes his conflicts with this. He hates the feelings he has for Clary and blames it on being part demon. Even when all this is disproven, Jace still carries his mistakes like a burden and believes that he is defective. Some type 6s (especially counterphobic 6s, like Jace) feel like the world is ‘against’ them and I think this attitude comes across from Jace, especially earlier in the series.

Jace has very complicated feelings towards Valentine. While Valentine was abusive and is known to be evil, he is also the man who raised Jace. Jace holds onto his positive memories of Valentine, despite all the lies and abuse he suffered upon him. 6s often have complex relationships with their parental figures and they seek their support. 

Jace will fight for his issues head on and often runs straight into battle to protect the people he cares about. I think Jace is the counterphobic variant of 6, as he is more likely to show his aggression and put themselves in dangerous situations. Counterphobic 6s are also often rebellious and defiant to authority (because they don’t trust it), which is something we see in Jace. 

I considered typing Jace as an 8 because he is very assertive and values strength. However I believe that Jace is assertive and acerbic because he doesn’t trust easily. He puts walls up because he is scared of letting people in because he doesn’t want his trust to be broken. When Jace lets someone in he is very loyal and will do anything for them. 

Jace has a wing 7 becomes he is more emotionally expressive and more likely to react than a wing 5 would be.

Alec Lightwood: 1w9 - 2w1 - 6w5

Alec is principled, caring and brave. He is straightforward and doesn’t care much for pretenses.

Alec is serious and responsible. As the oldest member of his family, Alec put it upon himself to be the protector of his family. He felt that he had to be the most responsible and as a result became very dependable. Alec is extremely compliant and concerned with the rules of the Clave. 

Alec is very concerned with what others think of him. He is so scared of what his parents and friends would think of him if they found out he were gay so he kept it secret from everyone except Izzy. Alec knew since a young age he was gay, but bottled his feelings up, because the Clave said it was wrong. He was scared to go against the Clave’s laws and was worried of losing his family’s respect. 

Alec can sometimes come across as judgmental, rigid and condescending, which are common flaws of Type 1s. Underneath all that, Alec is the harshest critic on himself and he holds himself to impossible standards. Despite being very accomplished, he never thought he was good enough and would discount his successes. Alec is often afraid to make a mistake, which results in him being very careful and practical when making his decisions. 

Alec initially had a snobbish attitude and prejudice towards Downworlders, but opens up more as he interacts with them. In his relationship with Magnus, Alec becomes more carefree and loosens up a bit. He still shows insecurities within this relationship, but is able to overcome them. 

Alec has a wing 9 as he is more guarded with his emotions than a wing 2 would be. 

Magnus Bane: 7w6 - 4w3 - 9w8

Magnus is eccentric, worldly and kind. He really wants to find love and acceptance in the world.

Magnus is very flamboyant and whimsical. His personality contrasts quite distinctly with Alec’s more serious and reserved demeanour. Magnus is very open and does not compromise himself for anyone. He is inclusive and accepting of all people, having friends of all different walks of life.

Magnus enjoys a good party and seeks out experiences. As an immortal, he has had quite a storied life and has been all over the world. At times, it can seem like he doesn’t take situations very seriously and will make snarky jokes about them.

Deep down, Magnus yearns for the love and acceptance he never got from his parents. He had a difficult childhood and was not accepted by his family because he was a Downworlder. Due to this trauma, Magnus tries to repress his negative feelings and numb them with more ‘fun’ experiences. While he appears to be very open, he is actually deceptively guarded and is very hesitant to share deep and honest experiences with others. Magnus appears lively and jovial but is hiding a jaded and cynical worldview.

In his relationship with Alec, Magnus is initally the much more active party. 7s are assertive types and if they want to do something they will do it. We often see Magnus being the one to act first whereas Alec was too scared to act on his feelings for a long time. However, as time passes and their relationship becomes more public we see issues begin to form and Magnus is the one to pull away. When Magnus hears about Alec’s idea to turn him mortal, Magnus feels betrayed and breaks up with him. After their break up, Magnus is very avoidant of Alec and ignores him. This is quite typical of 7s, who hate to confront feelings. 

Magnus has a wing 6 as he is more relationship focused and personable than a 7w8.

Isabelle Lightwood: 3w2 - 6w7 - 1w2

Izzy is fierce, passionate and confident. She can come across as vain or narcissistic, but is actually very insecure and vulnerable.

Izzy is charming and magnetic. She has a quality about her which draws people in. Izzy is comfortable with her looks and will often use them as a means to get what she wants. Despite her outgoing demeanour, she is actually very distrustful and fragile. Izzy is guarded with her true feelings and is hesitant to let people know the real her. 

Izzy has a bit of an image that she has crafted of being rebellious and promiscuous to protect herself. She dated a lot and many of these dates were people her parents wouldn’t approve of. Izzy would form meaningless relationships so that she wouldn’t have to worry about forming real feelings or being hurt. She also did this in part to detract attention from Alec so her parents wouldn’t be suspicious of him.

Izzy is very protective and loyal to her friends. She loves them very deeply and is devastated whenever something bad happens to them. Izzy always tries to be there for her family and defends them with everything she has. She is particularly depressed when her brother Max dies as she blames herself for the death. She thinks that she failed him because she didn’t listen to him when he tried to tell her something was wrong. Izzy holds onto this guilt and even skipped the funeral because she felt she did not deserve to be there.

Izzy desperately wants love, but is hesitant to trust any man. Her mother confided in her when she was younger about her father’s infidelities and told her never to trust a man. As a result, Izzy is the character who takes the longest to open herself up to love. She is passionate about Simon, but is scared to love him because she thinks it will only bring her pain. 

Izzy has a wing 2 because she is more grandiose and showy than a wing 4 would be. 3w2s are generally more concerned with their outward appearances and appearing desirable compared to 3w4s.

Simon Lewis: 9w1 - 4w5 - 6w5

Simon is calm, nerdy and accepting. He is a great friend and is courageous when he needs to be.

Type 9s look for normalcy and struggle with change, which is something we see in spades with Simon. When we first meet Simon he is the only mundane character. He is the ‘normal’ one surrounded by all the magical creatures in the TMI universe. Later on, Simon is transformed into a vampire (well first he’s a rat, then he’s a Daylighter and then he’s a Shadowhunter) and longs to be normal. He resists his vampiric urges and refuses to drink from humans for an extremely long time. Simon struggled for a long time to accept this change and was worried about how it would affect his relationships with his loved ones. He desperately craved a normal life and once he became a Daylighter he tried as best as he could to lead as normal a life as possible.

Simon is non-confrontational and is afraid to share his true feelings for the fear that it might change his relationships. At the beginning of the series, he had been in love with Clary for years but never mustered up the courage to say so. He is initially very jealous of Jace and tries to get Clary not to like him. When he is dating Clary he realises her true feelings lie with Jace and ends the relationship. At his core, Simon truly cares for his friends and just wants them to be happy.

Simon is a great listener and genuinely cares about his friends feelings. He is something of a sounding board and both Clary and Izzy with both feeling very comfortable talking about their problems with him. When Max died, Izzy was able to find comfort in Simon. He listened to her and was able to give her solace and understanding. 

Simon is a people pleaser and is scared to hurt other’s feelings. Sometimes, this can lead to him making some mistakes. 9s fear conflict and will try to avoid it at all costs. They avoid saying negative things because they don’t want people to react badly or hurt their feelings. We see this in the whole mess with Maia and Izzy. I actually hate this storyline but I feel it is a good example of Simon’s general 9-ness. When Simon was dating both girls he showed the 9s indecisiveness, people-pleasing and fear of conflict. I feel that Simon wasn’t honest with either girl because he was scared of their reaction and scared of hurting their feelings. I also feel like Simon was confused in his feelings and couldn’t decide which girl was actually the one for him. 

Simon has a wing 1 because he is more repressed and uptight than a 9w8 would be. His 1 wing also influences him to want to be a ‘good’ person, which is part of why he is so upset when he becomes a vampire (which he feels is turning him into a ‘monster’). 

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Images adapted from Google

The Infernal Devices Types (x)