#A pride dragon's guilt; pain within her heart

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||A Pride dragon's guilt; pain within her heart||

Hi everyone, time for a drabble today. I hope you all are doing alright today and being safe out there and warm. I got another one for you but lets see where this one turns out.

||Drabble Summary||

After the rescue of Ink, the six claws were recovering to themselves for a while. However, thanks to that kidnapping, Ren had given up his human life to become a new born demon. Now, he was in recover in the hospital with the other six claws. They were happy to have found and saved Ink. However, How did Ink feel about this? Even when Ren gave up his human life for her? If you wanna know, read to find out.

||Warning||

~A sad dragon is present in this

~slight sight of injury is present

||Guests in the drabble||

Ren Amamiya is from and belongs to the game persona 5 serious but also me due to rping him as a muse. Same with Davion as well.

Van Ink the dragon with some in the DBT, Kali belongs to my rp partner and wonderful friend @demon-blood-youths

((This drabble will have grammar errors and mistakes but this is written for fun so i hope you understand. With this said, please enjoy))

It's been a few days after the sudden fight with the six claws and Sukuna. Thanks to Ren, they were able to get away from Sukuna and save Ink from him. However, the six claws were badly hurt that they had to be sent to the hospital.

The healers, Opheila, Swan, and Hex were there to help them all even Ink as well. She was looked over but not in seriously danger after the shock. She was quiet, looking at her hands already feeling upset thanks to it. Sukuna was still an asshole but even more worrying for her was Ren.

He was no longer a human but a demon. Or his persona's devil Arsene. She remembers that when they got away, she saw how beat up her six claws was even with her crying trying to wake Ren up.

~~~~~~

"REN! Ren wake up please!!! Please wake up!!" tears hits his bloody face but the other claws were too tired to move before the other fractions found Ink but gasped at the scene even her cousin was shocked.

"Ink!? What happened!" Davion said but he saw his cousin crying still trying to wake Ren up.

"It has to be Sukuna. He must have kidnapped her to get them. And a fight must have happened but what happened to-"

"Theirs no time! We need to get them to the hospital!" Navarro said seeing everyone quickly working fast to do that. Even with Ink still crying to the hoodie covering her face. Tears still didn't stop running down her cheeks.

'It's all my fault..it's all my fault...'

~~~~~~~

Right now, she already visited the other claws who was resting and being visited by the others. However, she was now going to visit Ren who was resting up after his team the Phantom thieves came to see him. However, they were informed of what happened to him. He wasn't a human anymore but a demon like Ink and the others here in New york. She was waiting to see him but that's when someone walks by to notice.

"Ink?"

She blinks to look up seeing Kali here with some flowers. Rex was with her but the two saw that Ink looks down as she was holding some flowers.

"H..Hey Kali..Hey Rex. What are you two doing here?" she asked but the other two look at one another then at her.

"We were coming to see the others but we figured you would be here too. Are you alright?" Rex asked but he saw she said not one word. Sounds like that is a no. For now, the two wonder if she was okay to go sit down by her.

"Ink....."

Kali saw her hands shaking, trying her best not to cry again but her rival was still pretty hurt and upset. Though she knew Ink was really upset that the six claws were injured even if they stood their ground against you know who.

"Ink, if your going to think this is your fault. It's not. You know how they are when it comes to you. They went to save you away from that asshole...." she said.

"I know but..they got hurt badly because of me. Like how badly I got hurt during that party but now..it's reversed. They got badly hurt and Ren he...he's.."

"We know. We heard from our devils he's no longer human. He gave up his human life to become stronger so he could keep you safe." he said.

"......"

"Ink-"

"He gave that up...just for me. He wanted to keep me safe but it cost him his human life. He's a demon now..like me and the others. But it's my fault though. If I was more careful then he wouldn't have taken me and almost killed them!" she said.

"You know Sukuna is an asshole Ink and he wouldn't care. He heard they were strong and he wanted to see it. Second, you were not expecting Ren to do that for you but it proves a lot. Besides he did it because he cares about you and loves you. They all do remember?" she said but Ink was still quiet.

"Besides, they were like that at the party when you got hurt and shot you know. When seeing how badly hurt you were, bleeding out from the bullets, and your wings shredded..they lost it. They hated to see the one person they love hurt like that..and let me tell you, I've never felt such rage from anyone.." Kali mutters with arms crossed but she looks ahead before looking to Ink.

"I....wait, really?" she asked seeing Kali nod.

"But it tells a lot. They care and love you so Ren did what he had to. To insure you were safe....and alive too. We may be demons to heal but their are some injuries that could be fatal and could kill us. Just....just think about how he would have felt if anything else worse like that night happened to you, dummy." she grumbled and Ink looks to Kali as the two saw tears.

"........"

"Now, stop being upset and go see Ren. I bet he's expecting you. Me and Rex were going to go and do something after seeing the others okay. Just go see him." she said before standing up and Rex did too. Both of them leave and Ink was by herself. With a sigh, she goes to find Ren.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ren of course was in his room but he was awake after what happened. True, he was indeed no longer human feeling some of his smaller injuries were gone but he still felt sore. However, he heard the other boys were okay and healing pretty well. However, he wonders about Ink. Was she alright? Was she okay?

'Ink......'

As he was thinking, a knock was heard to have him look. "Come in..." he saw the door open to show someone holding flowers. He saw it was Ink. She said nothing to walk in but closes the door behind her.

"Ink?"

"..H..Hi Ren...I hope it's alright for you to have visitors still....I..brought you flowers.." she mutters walking in but he saw her looking upset.

"I still can...please have a seat." He sees her walking over but sets the flowers in a vase before sitting down in the chair. Both her and him were quiet for a while not sure on what to say right now. He wasn't sure if she was upset and she didn't know if he was with her. In a bit, Ink speaks.

"I'm sorry..."

"Hmm? Sorry? Sorry for what Ink?" He asked as she looks to her lap trying not to cry but remains calm.

"F..for what Sukuna did. For what he did to you and the others. I should have been more careful so he wouldn't have kidnapped me. And yet he did...." she mutters with Ren listening. "But now thanks to me not being careful, you guys came to save me but ended up badly hurt..including you w..when you..."

"....When I gave up my human life to be a demon....." he saw her not respond but he sighed to look at her.

"Ink, It's not your fault for that. It was my choice because I didn't want to see you hurt. None of the guys wanted to see you hurt."

"I know but you...all of you went all out just to save me. You stood up against him but still got hurt at the end. Even you." She looks down but her hands grips her pants feeling them shaking. "You gave up being a human....for me? A idiot like me to see me safe. Your a demon now because of me.......all because I wasn't careful......" she said this in a sad tone to think it's her fault and yet Ren grew worried.

Was she really blaming herself for this? She didn't know Sukuna was going to kidnap her. She didn't know he was going to get the six claws to find her.

"....."

"All because I wasn't careful, you all were hurt because of me. You could have been killed Ren. and you.....I just...." that's when he noticed her starting to cry now. Tears hitting her hand as she shakes in her seat.

"...I never wanted anything bad to happen to you guys because of me! I'm so sorry for it! I'm sorry you did that for me because I wasn't careful.." she said sobbing and yet, Ren looks to her more worried but gently reaches to touch her hands.

"Ink, please don't cry It's not your fault-"

"But it is! Look where you and the guys ended up!" She said gripping the hospital bed but was sobbing softly now. "I should have done better and tried getting away from Sukuna! But I didn't! And I...I...." She was heavily crying now rubbing her tears with her hands, however, he only looks to her then carefully held her hands.

"It hurts Ren. It hurts seeing you and the guys hurt like this...it hurts.." she whispered.

"Ink......"

"*Sobbing softly*"

"Ink, please look at me."

She said nothing right now but only lifts her head up showing her grey eyes but warm tears were running down her cheeks. She really was upset about this and yet, it made her worry even more.

"It's not your fault. I'm never going to blame you for anything. Not even this." He said to lift up one hand holding her cheek, using his thumb to clean the tears away. "I made my choice to be a demon because I knew I wanted to keep you safe. Even staying with you no matter what. This was my choice to make and I don't regret my choice."

She sniffles to look at him. "Y..Your not blaming me? Your not angry?"

"Of course I'm not angry with you. I'm more happy to see you alive and safe. We all are. You being safe means a lot more. We would keep you safe but if you were hurt or if Sukuna did worse, we wouldn't forgive ourselves. And I know your father wouldn't be happy with us if anything was to happen.." he knew that but he saw her sniffing now.

"But you...your alright with your new life? Your a demon now..b..but..don't worry! I can help you get used to what it's life. Help you know all about it. I know the others can help. Shdwkyz can too and he-"

"Easy now. I know you will and I appreciate the help you and the others will give. This whole demon thing is..new to me. But I'm willing to learn more about it.." he said to look at her, showing his red eyes as Ink looks to him. Seeing her gaze at him got Ren to gently kiss her forehead softly.

"Now no more tears, Ink. What matters more to me is that your alright and safe. I'm willing to do what I have to in order to see that you are...." he said softly but she only looks down with more tears still hitting the sheets but she carefully hugs Ren as he held her back petting her head.

"I'm still sorry Ren. I'm still so sorry.." she whispered.

"I know..but I forgive you Ink.."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that evening, Shdwkyz was coming to pick Ink up as everyone was ready to leave but as he did, he saw Ren still awake but petting a sleeping Ink's head. He saw she was tired but still upset.

".....She was upset pretty bad wasn't she?" Ren heard Shdwkyz speak looking to him.

"..She was. I already told her it's not her fault. She shouldn't feel guilty for what happened but I'm just more happy she's alright safe. I hope she knows that." he keeps seeing her sleeping but Shdwkyz did notice the dried up tear marks on her cheeks.

"......I take it your going to take her home? Visiting hours is almost up." he said as the snake nods.

"I am but she'll be back again to see you guys. We all told her it's not her fault for what happened. We all wanted to keep her safe. Even with me making my choice of being a demon now." he saw Shdwkyz shocked now.

"Wait, your a demon now?" he asked to see Ren's eyes no longer black but blood red like his persona's own. It seems like it was true. He did have the yellow eyes from his shadow but now he was a demon.

"Yeah..."

"Hmmm..I see. Well, then you will be alright with-"

"She already told me she would help me understand more about being a demon. I have a lot to learn but who knows? It might also help me during my heists in the other world. I'm just hoping to learn what I can.." he said.

"Believe me, We will help even myself. We all went through the same thing Ren so I know we can offer some help to teach you what we know." he said but Ren was alright with it.

"...Thank you. I'm looking forward to it."

"Of course but for now, focus on healing. We will hope to see you out of here soon." he said but goes to carefully pick Ink up to give her a piggy back ride. She didn't wake up but just held onto him as she sleeps.

"Have a good night Ren. She'll see you and the others tomorrow.." he said.

"Alright. Have a good evening Shdwkyz. And tell Ink I'll see her again soon." Wit ha nod, he goes ahead to turn and leave back home. The others were waiting for him. This leaves Ren alone in the hospital room but he lays back resting again but he looks to the window. The others could be sleeping which they were but he closed his eyes to relax.

He was alright with his choice, he was alright with that. Ren already told her and still will say; she means the world to him as the other six claws. Keeping Ink safe and happy was better. Even if he gave up his human life for her, he was happy of it. For now, he rests up to get some sleep but he knew Arsene was watching over him knowing of his choice. From here on out, Ren's life starts anew.

[gtgbabie0]

✧My precious boy✧

{Your son is an ugly reminder of the boy Aemond used to be}

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Aenys wasn’t like his brothers, he was more reserved preferring to sit by himself in the library reading about dragons and old Valyria, the boy was only seven yet he knew more about the histories of Westeros then than his siblings.

He had an impeccable talent with the brush, painting beautiful pictures of whatever was on his mind, he often spoke through them more than actual words you found.

Aenys however was dragon-less and often missed out on sword practice much to Aemond’s dismay, “He is seven and has yet even tried to acquaint himself with a dragon let alone even visited the dragon pit” your husband sighs in frustration his arms wrap around your waist bringing your back into his chest.

He stands behind you in contemplation taking in the warmth of your soft body, eye patch discarded somewhere within the room, “Perhaps you should talk to him” you smile taking one of his hands and pressing a meaningful kiss to his knuckles before he moves away from your warmth.

The horrible truth is that Aemond doesn’t know how to talk to Aenys, his youngest son, he doesn’t know to stop seeing his own reflection deep within his child how to stop the burning hate that seems the spread across his skin whenever he looks Aenys in the eyes, the remainder of himself almost taunts Aemond in ways he couldn’t describe, and he hates himself for it.

A horrifying reminder of all Aemond used to be, a fragile, scared little boy who was in desperate need of a gentle loving mother, clinging to her side whenever he felt less than others, and a father that he needed who could show him right from wrong teach him how to be strong so he needn’t clutch at his mother’s dress.

He hates the guilt that drowns his heart whenever he looks at his youngest son, how he wishes he didn’t feel such anguish towards his boy.

He doesn’t reply to your suggestion instead he hums quietly, “Mother!— Mother!” You smile at Aenys who comes running around the corner with a very tired knight following behind him, “Look! I painted this for grandsire” he beams with a huge smile splayed across his face small specs of paint staining his hands and cheeks.

He shows you a beautiful painting of Balerion flying amongst clouds during sunrise, “Oh my precious boy, this is wonderful” a sense of pride blooms in your chest as you look down at your son holding his artwork, “I’m sure Viserys would love this my dear” you smile pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

You glance back at Aemond who isn’t even looking, “My dear isn’t this amazing?” You tug on Aemond’s sleeve trying to catch his attention but you get nothing just a simple ‘hmm’ before he walks away leaving your son with a disappointed smile.

“Don’t worry sweetie, I’m sure your father is very impressed” you tuck a strand of hair behind his ear, “Let’s go take this to Viserys, Hmm?” You suggest as Aenys nods his head enthusiastically, you take his small hand in yours leading him to the king's bed-chambers.

“Aemond, would it kill you to at least try and talk to him? He is your son— he is your blood” you beg, the hour is late and you’re tired but you can’t let another day go by where Aenys is met with isolating silence from his own father, “Please Aemond” it’s a final desperate plea, looking at him as you thread your fingers through his soft hair.

He looks at you with a concern painted over his sharp face moving from your gentle touch, “My sons will learn how to wield sword and shield, my sons will ride dragons, they will become warriors”

Frustration creeps up on you lighting your skin on fire.

“Aenys is no son of mine” it’s a painful thing to say, and the words catch in Aemond’s throat leaving a horrid taste in his mouth.

You look at him with disgust in your eyes and it sends a cold shiver through Aemond's lean body, “How dare you.” You whisper through gritted teeth your nails digging crescent shapes into your palm, “He looks up to you Aemond, it would break his heart to hear you speak like this— talk to your son” you sigh in frustration and there’s an uncomfortable feeling that wedges itself between you and your husband.

“TELL ME HOW!” He screams desperation straining his voice as his eye well up with tears that carry a mean mixture of guilt and anger, “Tell me how— how can I talk to him without feeling hate coursing through my body” his voice trembles, and you’re left in shock.

“And what exactly do you mean by that Aemond?— I would be very careful with your next words if I were you” he looks at you hurt very evident on his face.

Aemond sighs heavily sitting by you on the bed you move away from him slightly, “When I look at him all I see is myself— I am reminded of the things they used to say about me, their laughter mocking me-“ he trails off hands running through his hair, “- I can not stop seeing myself within all, all the terrible memories” he doesn’t make eye contact with you far to scared of your reaction.

“Aemond, you fool— of course, you will see yourself in him, he is your son” you shift closer to him, “Aenys thinks that you hate him for no good reason, and you need to fix that Aemond because I will not stand by and watch anyone, especially his own father treat him with anything other than kindness and respect” You kiss his cheek before standing from the bed.

Aemond looks up at you with curiosity, “There is more to bond over your son with than swords and strength, talk to him about old Valyria, teach him high Valyrian take him to see the dragons, you have more in common than you allow yourself to believe. Talk to your son Aemond, do not take after your father" And with that, you walk out of the room leaving your husband confused and hurt with much to think about.

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☾⋆AN// another piece I found in the depths of my notes app that I’m currently trying to clean up, anyway I hope you enjoyed it!! <3

Requests are open btw! <3

[kckt88]

The Lost Dragon XVI - Hēnkirī hae mēre

Summary:

Aemond comes to terms with recent events.

Warning(s): Upset, Body Issues, Angst, Fluff, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Kissing, Oral Sex, P in V.

Hēnkirī hae mēre - Togather as one.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C -VAELYS TARGARYEN

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word Count: - 4068

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9

Aemond stood in front of the funeral pyre, his heart heavy with grief, his soul shattered into a million pieces. His once proud posture was slumped, his shoulders weighed down by the unbearable burden of loss. He looked a mess, his silver hair dishevelled and unkempt, his eye bloodshot and hollow from sleepless nights spent mourning the woman he loved.

The flames of the pyre crackled and danced before him, casting an eerie glow upon his pale, haggard face. He hadn't slept since Vaelys died, the pain of her absence like a dagger twisting in his heart with every passing moment. He felt completely lost without her, adrift in a sea of sorrow and despair.

As he watched the flames consume Vaelys' mortal remains, Aemond felt a searing pain deep within his soul. He wanted to scream, to rage against the injustice of her untimely death, but his voice was lost in the howling wind that whipped around him, carrying his anguish into the night.

Memories of their time together flooded his mind—their laughter, their love, their shared dreams of a future filled with hope and promise. But now, all of that was gone, reduced to nothing but ashes and dust.

Every moment he had spent with Vaelys haunted him now, each memory tainted by the knowledge that his actions had led to her demise. He couldn't bear the thought of a life without her, of facing each day knowing that he was responsible for her death.

As the flames consumed her, Aemond bowed his head in shame, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He had failed her, failed to protect her, and now she was gone, lost to him forever.

In the wake of Vaelys' death, Aemond retreated into darkness, consumed by grief and guilt. He shut himself away from the world, refusing to eat, refusing to speak to anyone. The light seemed to have been extinguished from his life, leaving nothing but an endless void of emptiness and despair.

Days turned into weeks, and still Aemond remained lost in his sorrow, his heart weighed down by the burden of his guilt. He couldn't bear to be around his children, especially the newborn Rekara, a constant reminder of the life he had failed to protect.

He felt ashamed of himself, ashamed of the weakness that had allowed his grief to consume him so completely. He had always prided himself on his strength and resilience, but now he felt like nothing more than a hollow shell of the man he once was.

As he languished in his self-imposed exile, Aemond's world grew smaller and smaller, until it seemed as though there was nothing left but darkness. He knew that he should seek solace in the love of his children, in the memories of the life he had shared with Vaelys, but the pain was too raw, too overwhelming to bear.

And so, he remained trapped in his own personal hell, drowning in a sea of regret and despair.

Aemond's soul was consumed by an unrelenting anguish that he could no longer bear. With each passing moment, the weight of his grief pressed down upon him like a suffocating shroud, crushing his spirit beneath its unbearable burden.

In a desperate bid to escape the pain, Aemond sought solace in the one creature that had always been by his side—his dragon, Vhagar. With trembling hands and a heart heavy with sorrow, he made his way to where she liked to rest.

"Vhagar," he whispered hoarsely, his voice choked with emotion as he approached her massive form. "I beg you-Drakarys”.

The great dragon hesitated, sensing the agony in her rider's voice, but Aemond's desperation was palpable, his eyes wild with torment as he pleaded with her to end his suffering.

He couldn’t live without Vaelys, he couldn’t survive in a world where she didn’t exist.

"Drakarys, Kostilus" he cried out, his voice breaking with anguish as he begged for release.

Vhagar turned her head away, refusing to obey her rider’s command.

“Dohaerās. Vhagar” sobbed Aemond.

Aemond fell to his knees, the tears streaming down his face.

“Please-Vhagar-DRAKARYS”

Vhagar let out a sorrowful sound, her eyes filled with a profound sadness as she lowered her massive head, bowing to her rider's command. With a heavy heart, she unleashed a torrent of flames that consumed Aemond in an inferno of agony and despair.

Aemond's heart raced as he jolted awake, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to make sense of his surroundings. His mind reeled with the vivid images of his nightmare—the flames, the pain, the unbearable grief that had consumed him.

But as his eye adjusted to the dim light of the chamber, he realized that it had all been just a dream. Vaelys lay sleeping peacefully beside him, her chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of slumber. Relief flooded through him like a tidal wave, washing away the lingering echoes of his nightmare.

He reached out to touch her, his fingers trembling with emotion as he traced the curve of her cheek, the softness of her hair. She stirred at his touch, her eyes fluttering open as she gazed up at him with sleepy confusion.

"Aemond?" she murmured, her voice still heavy with sleep.

He smiled down at her, his heart overflowing with gratitude for the simple miracle of her presence. "It's nothing, my love," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Just a bad dream."

And as he held her close, Aemond vowed to cherish every moment they had together, knowing now more than ever that their love was precious and fragile, a gift to be treasured above all else. In the warmth of her embrace, he found solace from the darkness that had threatened to consume him.

Aemond sat quietly in the corner of the chamber, his gaze fixed on Vaelys as she cradled their newborn daughter in her arms. He watched with a mixture of awe and tenderness as she gently fed the baby, her movements slow and deliberate, her eyes filled with love.

Their other children, Sovia, Daevyn, and Aemon, sat on the floor nearby, playing together with laughter and chatter filling the room. Aemond couldn't help but smile at the sight of them, their innocence and joy a welcome respite from the darkness that had threatened to consume him.

But his attention never strayed far from Vaelys, who still bore the lingering effects of her near-death experience during childbirth. She was pale and frail, her strength depleted from the ordeal she had endured, but her spirit remained unbroken, her love for their children shining bright in her eyes.

Aemond felt a surge of protectiveness wash over him as he kept a watchful eye on her, his heart filled with a fierce determination to keep her safe from harm. He knew that she was still recovering, still vulnerable, and he would do whatever it took to ensure her well-being.

As the Maesters conducted a thorough examination of Vaelys, their expressions grave as they discussed her condition in hushed tones. After what felt like an eternity, they turned to her with sombre expressions, delivering their verdict.

"You are healing remarkably well, Princess” one of the Maesters began, his voice gentle but firm. "However, given the severity of your recent ordeal, we must advise against any further pregnancies. Your body has endured a great deal of strain, and it would not be safe for you to risk another childbirth."

Vaelys felt a lump form in her throat at the Maesters' words, her heart sinking at the realization that she would never bear another child. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes as she struggled to come to terms with the news.

Tears streamed down Vaelys' cheeks as she buried her face in Aemond's chest, her sobs echoing through the chamber. The weight of the Maesters words hung heavy on her heart, their verdict a painful reminder of her own limitations.

"I'm sorry," she whispered brokenly, her voice muffled against his chest. "I'm so sorry, Aemond. I can't give you any more children."

Aemond held her close, his arms a comforting embrace as he gently stroked her hair, his heart aching at the sight of her pain. "Shh, my love," he murmured, his voice tender and reassuring.

But Vaelys shook her head, her tears continuing to flow unabated. "But I'm-your wife, I’m-," she choked out between sobs. "-I'm supposed to give you as many children as you desire”.

Aemond cupped her face in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Vaelys, listen to me," he said, his voice firm but gentle. "You are so much more than just a vessel for bearing my children. You are my wife, my soulmate, and as a mother, you are nothing short of extraordinary."

“B-But-“ sniffed Vaelys.

"We already have four beautiful children," he reminded her gently. "Our family is complete as it is. We have Sovia, Daevyn, Aemon, and now little Rekara. That's more than enough for any man to ask for."

Vaelys nodded, her heart heavy with sadness but also with gratitude for the family they had built together. She knew that Aemond was right—that their children were a blessing beyond measure, and she would cherish every moment they shared together, no matter what the future held.

As Vaelys soared through the sky atop Vermithor, her heart felt lighter than it had in weeks. The wind whipped through her hair, the rush of air against her face a welcome distraction from the weight of her worries. Beneath her, Vermithor's powerful wings beat rhythmically, carrying them higher and higher into the endless expanse of blue.

Together, they soared through the clouds, their bond unbreakable, their spirits intertwined as one. Vaelys felt a sense of freedom unlike anything she had ever known, a liberation from the constraints of her own thoughts and fears. With Vermithor by her side, she was invincible, capable of facing whatever challenges lay ahead.

As they glided effortlessly through the sky, Vaelys closed her eyes and let herself be swept away by the sheer exhilaration of flight. The world fell away beneath her, replaced by the vastness of the heavens stretching out in every direction.

As Vaelys soared through the sky on Vermithor, a thrill shot through her at the familiar sound of another dragon's roar. Her heart skipped a beat as she looked up to see Vhagar descending from the clouds, Aemond astride her mighty back. A smile spread across Vaelys' face as their eyes met, a silent understanding passing between them.

With a graceful arc, Vhagar joined Vermithor in the sky, the two dragons flying side by side as though they were dancing among the clouds.

But they were not alone. Soon, they were joined by Helaena on Dreamfyre, and Daeron on Tessarion. The four of them flying together, was truly a sight to behold.

As they soared higher and higher, Vaelys felt a sense of unity wash over her, a feeling of camaraderie and belonging that filled her with warmth.

As the dragons descended from the sky and touched down in the courtyard of Dragonstone, the excitement in the air was palpable. Sovia came running out, her face lit up with joy as she called out to her parents.

"Mama! Daddy!" she exclaimed, her voice echoing with excitement. "You have to come see! Kara's dragon egg has hatched!"

Vaelys and Aemond exchanged a glance, their hearts pounding with anticipation as they followed Sovia back to their chambers. When they entered, they were greeted by the sight of their daughter, Rekara, fast asleep in her crib.

But it was the tiny dragon hatchling curled up next to her that stole their breath away. Its scales shimmered in the soft light of the room; its eyes closed in peaceful slumber as it nuzzled against Rekara's side.

Vaelys felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes as she looked upon the sight before her. It was a moment of pure magic, a testament to the bond between dragon and rider.

Aemond's hand found hers, his touch warm and reassuring as they watched their daughter and her dragon hatchling with awe.

Vaelys stood in front of the mirror in her chambers, her gaze lingering on her reflection with a mixture of apprehension and self-doubt. Her body had changed since giving birth to their fourth child, and she couldn't help but feel self-conscious of her body.

Lost in her thoughts, Vaelys jumped when she heard the door to her chambers creak open behind her. She turned to see Aemond entering the room, his expression curious as he took in the sight of her standing there.

"Vaelys, my love, is everything alright?" Aemond asked, his brow furrowing with concern.

Quickly, Vaelys moved to cover herself, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "Oh, Aemond, I didn't hear you come in," she stammered, her voice tinged with unease.

Aemond's confusion deepened as he watched her, his eye searching her face for answers. "Why are you hiding, Vaelys? What's wrong?"

Unable to meet his gaze, Vaelys felt a lump form in her throat as she struggled to find the words to explain. "I-I just-I'm not as-as I used to be," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "Since giving birth, my body-it's changed, and I'm afraid-I'm afraid you won't find me attractive anymore."

Aemond's eye softened with understanding as he approached her.

"Vaelys, look at me," he said, his voice tender and reassuring. "You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen, inside and out. Your body may have changed, but that doesn't change how I feel about you. I love you, Vaelys, more than words can express."

“I-I just don’t-“ muttered Vaelys and Aemond reached out for her.

Aemond held Vaelys close, his arms wrapped protectively around her as he whispered softly in her ear. "Let me show you how much I love you," he murmured, his voice filled with warmth and tenderness.

With gentle hands, he brushed away the strands of hair that clung to her tear-streaked cheeks, his touch soft and comforting. He leaned in closer, his lips finding hers in a tender kiss filled with love and devotion.

His hands removing her silken robe, letting it slip to the floor, leaving her bare before him.

"Sīr gevie," he murmured, his gaze lingering on her with a tenderness that made her heart flutter (So beautiful).

Vaelys felt a blush creep into her cheeks as she met his gaze, her eyes shining with emotion.

With a gentle touch, Aemond brushed a stray strand of silver hair from her face, his fingers tracing the curve of her cheek with reverence. "Every time I look at you, I am reminded of just how lucky I am to have you by my side,"

“Aemond” whispered Vaelys as she leaned into his touch.

“Issa ābrazȳrys, issa jorrāelagon, ñuhon” growled Aemond his cock begining to grow hard in his breeches (My wife, my love, mine).

“Issa valzȳrys, issa nēdenka gēlenka zaldrīzes” replied Vaelys (My husband, my fierce silver dragon).

“Issa dāria, let me worship at your throne” said Aemond as he took hold of Vaelys’ legs and pulled her to the edge of the bed (My Queen).

“Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelys.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her pussy before he ran the flat of his tongue up Vaelys’ soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaelys her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaelys.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaelys, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaelys. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Vaelys; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Vaelys’ inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Vaelys’ body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Aemond-Issa dārys, issa zaldrīzes” whispered Vaelys as she writhed against him (My King, my dragon).

Aemond looked at Vaelys and smirked before he bent down to lick her nipples, he couldn’t contain his excitement as he went back and forth between his wife’s wonderful, enlarged breasts that nourished their daughter.

“Oh” muttered Vaelys as she flung her arms over her face in embarrassment, as pearly white liquid began to leak from her breasts, running down her body in rivulets.

“Do not feel embarrassed my love” whispered Aemond.

Aemond ran his tongue over the milk that had dripped from his wife’s rosy nipples and delighted in the sweetened taste.

“Hmmm” moaned Aemond as he continued to lick and suck his wife’s breasts.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaelys.

“Surely you would not deprive me wife. Your mother’s milk tastes delicious” muttered Aemond softly.

“I need you” exclaimed Vaelys.

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and ploughed his hard cock into Vaelys’ soaked cunt.

"AEMOND!" shouted Vaelys, her eyes popping open from her post-orgasm haze.

"You feel so good" rasped Aemond.

"Fuck me, Aemond" urged Vaelys, her tone bordering on desperate as she thrust her hips upward towards his.

Aemond chuckled and bit down lightly on a nipple, making Vaelys moan and squirm.

He started to thrust slowly, trying to prolong the feel of his wife squeezing his cock.

"Faster, Aemond" begged Vaelys.

"Patience, Issa dōna mēre. This is our first time since you birthed our daughter" chided Aemond as he ran his nose up Vaelys’ neck (My sweet one).

“Yes, Aemond, just like that-" panted Vaelys.

Her hands ran over his arms, over his shoulders, and down his back. Her nimble fingers mapped his back muscles and then went down to his arse and gripped him - pressing him into her harder.

“Gods, Vaelys" grunted Aemond, speeding up slightly.

"Fuck me, Aemond. Fuck me with that big, cock of yours. You feel so good inside me. Make me scream, make me come”.

Aemond knew exactly what Vaelys was doing, but he couldn’t help himself.

Vaelys wanted faster, and he was going much faster now; so much for having the control in the situation. His pace had increased with every filthy word that dropped from his wife’s luscious lips.

Now he was quickly thrusting in and out, shaking the bed, the headboard banging against the wall.

Aemond lifted Vaelys’ legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet pussy.

Vaelys folded her arms above her head as she moved her hips, meeting Aemond thrust for thrust.

“Aemond! I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaelys.

“That’s it baby-come for me. Māzigon syt aōha dārys” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock (Come for your King).

Vaelys always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

Not even waiting for her orgasm to fully subside, Aemond moved Vaelys’ legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft pale flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” whispered Vaelys, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside Vaelys once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Vaelys arched her back and screamed as Aemond pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed around the room.

“Fuck. Vaelys-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He took hold of Vaelys hair, twisting his fingers in the silky strands before he pulled her backwards, her sweaty back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held Vaelys tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me” pleaded Vaelys her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside Vaelys.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and propped himself up against the headboard.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelys breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he pulled Vaelys on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Vaelys as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it baby, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on Vaelys’ hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelys dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelys as he moved his hand to her breasts and once again took one of her nipples into his mouth, his teeth gently grazing the rosy bud.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention as the other.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelys her vision going white as she came around his cock.

Her husband threw her back onto the bed his cock never leaving her warmth as he pounded into her, her legs wrapped around his waist, trapping his body against hers as he chased his own end.

“God. Vaelys” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed, collapsing on top of his wife, breathing hard.

It took a good while for Aemond to regain his senses.

Meanwhile his wife was laid underneath him completely blissed out. Her heart pounding in her chest.

As the tender moment between Aemond and Vaelys lingered, a soft knock echoed through the chamber, drawing their attention.

“Just a moment-“ muttered Aemond as he slowly pulled his softened cock from his wife.

“Aemond” hissed Vaelys as she bunched the sheets around her naked body.

After quickly pulling on his robe, Aemond opened the door to find Ceci standing there, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She held out a cup of moontea, her expression sheepish.

"I thought the Princess would be in need of this," Ceci said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond's gaze softened as he took the cup from her, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. He could tell by Ceci's demeanour that she had overheard their intimate moment, but instead of feeling embarrassed, he felt a strange sense of pride.

"Thank you, Ceci," he said, his voice gentle. "We appreciate it."

As he turned to bring the cup to Vaelys, he couldn't help but feel a sudden surge of arousal as she sat up and the sheets slipped from her body revealing her breasts.

Vaelys took the cup from Aemond with a grateful smile, although her expression soured slightly as she caught a whiff of the foul-smelling concoction. With a grimace, she took a sip, forcing herself to swallow the bitter liquid.

“Mayhaps we should request more moontea-“ muttered Aemond as he removed his robe.

“Why-OH?” gasped Vaelys as she stared at her husband’s half hard cock.

“I seem to have developed quite the appetite-” whispered Aemond as he lowered himself onto the bed and crawled towards Vaelys, his hungry gaze fixed upon her like a predator upon its prey.

“-Then allow me to thoroughly satisfy your hunger” muttered Vaelys as she ran her hands through Aemonds long silver hair and pulled him on top of her.

[sodone-withlife]

i know who i am

summary: really, he never saw himself ever willingly letting anyone in on his broken past, but here he was, sitting in across from Waipo in the tiny cramped office at the back of the shop and nervously sweating about what he was about to tell her

read it on ao3: chapter 1 is the original version with Mandarin, chapter 2 has everything translated into English

the movie really hit me hard as an ABC, and I really wanted to write something for it. even though she barely had any screentime, I loved Waipo—she reminds me of so many of my relatives—so I decided to make her be one of the most important people in Shangqi’s life, and it turned into this wonderful mess (i had to stop writing this for a bit because I literally made myself cry). there is mandarin in this, it's kind of intended to be a physical manifestation of how my bilingual brain works (i did put the English-only version first, the original version with Mandarin is under that one but the formatting for it one is better on ao3, so i suggest reading it from there). apologies for my shitty mandarin; I have mediocre language skills, but I'm still so excited to be able to incorporate it in my writing. in regards to the character's names: I only know for certain the Chinese characters used for Shangqi and Wenwu, but for Xialing, I'm going to go with what it apparently was in the hong kong release (夏灵, with 灵灵 as the nickname)

English Translation:

“Waipo, do you have a bit of time?” Shangqi stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously as fluent Mandarin rolled off of his tongue with an ease he's never felt in any other part of his life. “I want to talk to you about something."

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “Does it have anything to do with the trip you and Katy went on this past week?" she asked, Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

He wasn’t exactly sure what within him prompted this interaction. He had come to San Francisco for a normal life, to get as far away from his father’s reaches as he could and to outrun the blood that stained his footsteps.

Never did Shangqi imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to Xialing, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

Never did he imagine letting anyone in on his broken past, and even though his hand had been forced when it came to telling Katy, here he was going to the second person who truly saw something in him when he first started his new life and planning to tell them everything.

(Okay, fine, Shangqi wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling Waipo, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, Lingling, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“Little Dragon, what’s on your mind?”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that Waipo also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

You have the heart of a dragon, she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

It was a while before he could bring himself to visit the family again—there were a lot of awkward excuses before Katy reluctantly backed off—and it took even longer for him to get somewhat used to the name again, but he eventually started seeing it as a gift with each faint impression of happier days that he got every time Waipo called him that.

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. Shangqi wondered how Waipo would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell Wenwu had put him through, he was still his father. Shangqi still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past Wenwu wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered the whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

Mom, I miss you so much.

(And now Wenwu is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

(But just as she died to protect her children, he did the same. Now, his children are reunited and in contact again, getting ever closer despite living as far apart as they did, and he was reunited with his love in the afterlife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at Waipo, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“Waipo, have you heard of the legend of the Ten Rings?”

And Shangqi told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving Lingling behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before Waipo moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw Waipo.

“You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person.” she finally said gently, and the tension in his shoulders slowly loosened under her familiar touch. “You decide your own fate.”

~~~

That night, Shangqi knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

Am I still your pride and joy? Lingling grew up, but I didn’t even take care of her like I should have.

I swear to you, I will never abandon her again

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and Lingling dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their parents’ legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

Lingling is dating my best friend now, and they’re so happy together. Mom, I know you would have loved Katy. Dad, I know you didn’t like her much, but she really is a wonderful person.

Life went on.

There were the good days, when he went out with others and could almost feel normal, and there were the bad days, when phantoms pains plagued him and he woke up from a restless sleep expecting to see bruises mottling his body like they did so often when he was younger.

(Also, he was considered a superhero now and holy shit that’s still insane, even years after he first got in contact with the Avengers and the sorcerers in New York. Now he was going all over the West Coast, to help the locals take care of whichever crazy supervillain decided to wreak havoc that day.)

Dad, I hope you find this story as funny as I did: I helped a group of American superheroes yesterday. They’ve never been to San Francisco before and were extremely unfamiliar with the roads, especially Lombard Street. They spent half an hour trying to drive down the street, but I ended up driving them down myself.

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and Xialing whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

Mom, Dad, Lingling and Katy are getting married today and everyone is so excited for them. I’m taking over the Ten Ring within a month so Lingling can take a break. She’s led the organization for so long, it’s my responsibility now. I hope I can live up to her standards, she’s done really well. She’ll be back in a few years, but even after, I’m going to be much more involved to lessen Lingling’s workload.

Shangqi walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

Mom, Dad, don’t worry. I’ll take care of them.

I hope you’re happy together in the afterlife.

~~~

Don’t be afraid, Shang-Chi, for you have heart of a dragon and the power of the Ten Rings.

We will always be with you and Xialing.

Original Version w/Mandarin

“外婆，您有没有一点儿时间？” 尚气 stood in front of Katy’s grandma, fidgeting nervously. “我想告诉您一些事情。”

She pinned him with a knowing stare. “是不是跟你和瑞雯这前个星期去的旅行有关？” Not waiting for his answer, she got up from the shop register and beckoned him into the back office. Feeling oddly like the first time he came into the store years ago as a teen—when he first met Katy’s family who had since taken him under their wing—he followed her into the familiar, cramped space.

He wasn’t exactly sure what within him prompted this interaction. He had come to San Francisco for a normal life, to get as far away from his father’s reaches as he could and to outrun the blood that stained his footsteps.

Never did 尚气 imagine that he would end up claiming the ancient rings that now sat in a heavy-duty (thanks to 夏灵, with whom he now keeps in regular contact because of the promise they made to each other before he left the compound because he already left her behind once, and he’s never doing it again and damn, my baby sister is running the Ten Rings now, and she’s trying to turn it into something better) and a very well-disguised (thanks to the sorcerers in the New York Sanctum and holy shit he’s in contact with famous superheroes now) back in his mess of a studio apartment.

Never did he imagine letting anyone in on his broken past, and even though his hand had been forced when it came to telling Katy, here he was going to the second person who truly saw something in him when he first started his new life and planning to tell them everything.

(Okay, fine, 尚气 wasn’t actually planning on letting anyone else in on it after telling 外婆, not even the rest of Katy’s family, but he really didn’t want them to be so involved yet—he still had no idea what he himself was doing and he wants to preserve what normalcy he can.)

(Also, he’s been reliably informed that anyone close to a public figure is bound to be targeted for attacks—which he figured out when the mercenaries attacked on the bus because yes, 灵灵, he does have brain cells thank you very much.)

“小龙，你有什么心事儿？”

Little Dragon.

He started at the nickname, the one originally given to him by his mother. Somehow, it had completely slipped his mind that 外婆 also called him that, starting a few weeks after he first met the Chen family. He barely kept it together, the long-unused nickname dredging up memories he had thought left him forever.

你有神龙之心 ，she had declared firmly when he asked her why she decided on that particular nickname. You have the heart of a dragon.

(That was exactly what his mother had told him right before she died, and yet he stood by, hidden behind a door, and did nothing while the men beat and killed her, the heart of the family.)

(He would carry the guilt with him for a lifetime.)

It was a while before he could bring himself to visit the family again—there were a lot of awkward excuses before Katy reluctantly backed off—and it took even longer for him to get somewhat used to the name again, but he eventually started seeing it as a gift with each faint impression of happier days that he got every time 外婆 called him that.

Old, weathered hands gently covered his own, which were shaking and clammy with nervousness. 尚气 wondered how 外婆 would react to the darker side of the lost boy she had basically adopted all those years ago, wondered if the legends of Ta-Lo and the Great Protector were known outside of the rather insular communities that continued to tell the stories, wondered if she had heard about his father through the stories that were passed down for thousands of years, from generation to generation…

(It can’t be wrong to miss him, can it? Even with the years of hell 文武 had put him through, he was still his father. 尚气 still faintly remembered the man his father had been when his mother was still alive, the happy times they shared as a normal family…)

(But those times were long gone, ripped from their grasp by the past 文武 wanted so badly to leave behind. Grief had shattered whole family, and it ultimately led to the children fighting the father who had been driven to near madness in his denial, in his quest to put his broken family back together again.)

妈妈，我太想你了。

(And now 文武 is dead, just like his beloved wife.)

(But just as she died to protect her children, he did the same. Now, his children are reunited and in contact again, getting ever closer despite living as far apart as they did, and he was reunited with his love in the afterlife.)

Finally, he straightened his posture and took a deep breath, looking directly at 外婆, who he’d come to view as the grandmother he never had.

“外婆，您听说过 ‘十环’ 的传说吗？”

And 尚气 told her everything.

He told her everything and more,

She listened.

She listened as he described the legends behind the Ten Rings, Ta-Lo, and the Great Protector; his father’s history; his own history, from witnessing his mother’s death to ripping open the throat of the man who killed her when he was barely a teen, from leaving 灵灵 behind to seeing her again in the fight club she built from the ground up, from returning to the compound after a decade away in San Francisco to the battle in Ta-Lo…

Finally, he fell silent and stared at his hands but it wasn’t long before 外婆 moved, slowly standing up with one hand on her cane. He made to help stabilize her but was quickly waved off with a stern look. He sank back into the chair and felt her move behind him. The shaky weight of her hands on his shoulders as she gently pressed down and straightened his posture was familiar, even after years of not having his posture deliberately—so gently—fixed like that every time he saw 外婆.

“你是所有在你之前的人的遗产，但你是你自己的人，” she finally said，“你决定你自己的命运。”

You are the legacy of all who came before you, but you are your own person. You decide your own fate.

~~~

That night, 尚气 knelt before the altar he had in his apartment, the only part that was carefully maintained in all the years he had lived there. But now, two smiling faces stared back at him, a joy reflected in their eyes that he knew would disappear in less than ten years after the photo was taken.

我还是你的骄傲吗？灵灵长大了，但我也没好好照顾她。

我向你发誓，我再也不会抛弃她。

Even as his life got even more unbelievable as the years went by, the altar and his copy of his parent’s wedding photo would remain a constant. He and 灵灵 dove deeper into their family history—of the Ten Rings, of Ta-Lo, of both the good and bad—and both worked to carry on their family’s legacy.

(With all of the proper discretion agreements and threats when needed, of course.)

灵灵跟我朋友最近开始谈恋爱，他们俩可开心了。妈，如果你还在我们身边，我保证你会喜欢她。爸，我知道你一开始不太喜欢她，但她确实是一位精彩的人。

Life went on.

There were the good days, when he went out with others and could almost feel normal, and there were the bad days, when phantoms pains plagued him and he woke up from a restless sleep expecting to see bruises mottling his body like they did so often when he was younger.

(Also, he was considered a superhero now and holy shit that’s still insane, even years after he first got in contact with the Avengers and the sorcerers in New York. Now he was going all over the West Coast, to help the locals take care of whichever crazy supervillain decided to wreak havoc that day.)

爸爸，我希望你跟我一样觉得这个故事很好笑：我昨天帮了一组美国超级英雄开车。那是他们第一次来旧京山，对道路非常陌生—尤其是 Lombard Street。他们开也开不好，花了半个小时慢慢的开下去。最终，我把他们的车开下去的。

(San Francisco was still home, and he had found a life there with all his friends and 夏灵 whenever she visited. He had a job now, too, at the local youth center teaching martial arts and self-defense, teaching and guiding the youth in a way he wishes his father had with him.)

People came into his life; some stayed, some left, and some even got together.

妈，爸，灵灵她今天会跟我��好的朋友结婚，我们都很兴奋。我一个月之内开始接管十环的业务，让灵灵休息休息。她干了多少年了，现在是我的责任。我希望我能辜负她，她管的非常棒，帮了许多人。她几年后会回来继续当领导，但我好像在领导方面发挥更大的作用。

He walked the path knowing who came before him and who was still with him.

Most importantly, he walked the path knowing who he was—demons, flaws, strengths, and all.

妈，爸，你们放心吧，我会照顾他们。

我希望你们俩来世都幸福。

~~~

尚气，你别怕，你有神龙之心，十环的力量。

我们永远会在你和灵灵的身边。

[littlemissonewhoisall]

Guide to writing Cassandra Cain

I’ve seen a lot of people in the Bat Family fandom say that they often minimize or exclude Cassandra from their works because they don’t know enough about her. While I HIGHLY recommend reading her Batgirl comic from 2000, I’ve compiled a guide to her personality, abilities, and relationships with other DC characters here for easy reference. (I’ve tried to be as comprehensive as possible, but I’ve probably forgotten something so please feel free to add onto this if you know the character well)

PERSONALITY

Cassandra has a difficult time with language, spoken or written. This generally manifests through her relying on body language and single-word sentences to get her point across. When she needs to speak, it is halting and awkward, but not broken. She will pause frequently, mumble, or use Malapropisms, but she is a perfectionist and is frustrated when she doesnt use perfect grammar or pronunciation. At times she will be unable to find the words for a particular thought. She usually is portrayed as being unable to read or write. 

Cass sometimes uses mimicry when she has trouble putting words together herself, quoting films, tv shows, and plays.  

Cassandra is compassionate above all else. She values life, and protecting it is her highest priority. She will not hesitate to put herself in danger to save others, and does not tolerate killing. 

Cassandra has a strong guilt complex. Anyone who dies on her watch weighs heavily on her conscience, even if there was nothing she could’ve done to stop it. She does not let go of these “failures” easily. 

Cassandra has little regard for societal norms and expectations. While generally caring and compassionate, she often comes across as rude due to spending most of her life either locked in a bunker or surviving in the wilderness. This includes poor table manners, a tendency to lurk in the shadows, and mirroring her adoptive father’s habit of coming and going without warning. 

Cassandra has great pride in her physical prowess, but little in her moral character. Though she has a strong moral code and is quick to intervene when others break it, she does not see herself as above them and may even have more faith in them than in herself, as she still feels that she may not be able to rise above her upbringing. She can be rather arrogant about her superior agility and combat prowess, however. 

Cassandra is fond of friendly jibes and snark, usually but not always expressed nonverbally. Her sense of humor is slightly unconventional, but usually good-natured. 

Cassandra wears her heart on her sleeve. She is very emotional, and her past trauma can make her emotionally vulnerable, especially because of her lack of communicative skills. Her emotions show through her entire body, even when she doesn’t vocalize them. 

Cassandra is quick to leap before looking, but excellent at adapting to unexpected situations. She is a poor planner and rather impulsive, with a rebellious streak that sometimes makes it hard for her to listen to instructions. However, she is great at thinking on her feet and analyzing her situation in the moment.

Cassandra does not do things in half measures. When she wants to learn something, such as reading or detective work, she is eager to dive into the deep end even if it’s not always the best way to approach it. As mentioned before she is also a perfectionist when it comes to herself, so this approach often leads to frustration. 

Cassandra is very physically affectionate, with little mind for personal space. This often comes in the form of gently touching the face of someone she believes to be in pain. 

Cassandra is extremely empathetic, to the point that it can be overwhelming for her at times. She is very good at spotting falsehoods, hidden pain, etc. 

Despite this, she often misinterprets social cues. For instance, when Barbara and Dick were going through a rough patch in their relationship, she though Dick had intentionally done something to hurt Barbara, and threw him out a window. 

ABILITIES

Cass is fast. Really, really fast. She can move incredibly quickly and quietly, making her very hard to track.

Cass has a shocking amount of strength for her small size. She has punched through 3-inch thick quartz glass, kicked down concrete walls, and thrown a metahuman more than twice her size without issue. 

Her primary advantage comes from her ability to read body language and predict her opponents’ actions, allowing her to dodge bullets and outmaneuver pretty much any non powered opponent. This ability does not work on robots, animals, or sufficiently nonhuman aliens. 

Cassandra is a contender for the world’s best martial artist, along with Lady Shiva and Richard Dragon. She can pick up new fighting styles nearly instantly, allowing her to learn and adapt techniques she’s never encountered before. 

Cass is an incredible acrobat, though not as good as Nightwing. 

Cass is able to control the amount of force she uses to the point that she doesn’t usually have to worry about killing even when using normally lethal techniques. 

She is able to use pressure points to paralyze someone nearly instantly, though she has only shown the ability to use it on those who do not expect her to attack.

She can stop a person’s heart using a special technique, and in later appearances was able to do so without endangering the person for a good length of time, though they’d still die if not revived within that time period. 

She is very good at analyzing her surroundings, which has helped her solve cases. 

Cassandra is exceptional at dividing her attention and energy, able to coordinate herself to the point that government agents assumed she was a metahuman. 

She is very good at the intimidation side of the job, able to terrify even trained killers. 

RELATIONSHIPS

Cassandra is very close to Stephanie Brown, who was her first real friend. She can be a bit overprotective of her, even using violence to keep her out of fights that Cass thinks will be too much for her, though she has largely grown out of that and these days has a lot more faith in her. Cassandra is able to unwind with Stephanie in ways that she has trouble doing with around other people, even those she trusts like Barbara and Tim. When Stephanie seemingly died, Cassandra was deeply affected, becoming shorter-tempered and more violent. 

Cassandra sees Barbara as the mother she never had, and values her insight. Though she often chafes at Barbara’s well-intentioned attempts to get her to see beyond her life as Batgirl, she still cares deeply for her. 

Cass sees Bruce as somewhat of a father figure as well as a bit of an idol, and seeks his approval. When she believes that she has disappointed him, it can be devastating for her. However, she also recognizes his pain and trauma, and sympathizes strongly with it. Her admiration also doesn’t always mean she’ll do what he says.

While Cassandra and Dick don’t always get along (as mentioned earlier), she usually sees him as a mentor and big brother, and she is often more relaxed around him than most people. 

Cass and Jason’s interactions have been largely confrontational, and it’s likely that further encounters would be similar, as she is strongly opposed to lethal force and would endeavor to stop him if she could. That said, she would almost certainly understand the pain he went through, and would try to get through to him with words as much as she is capable, rather than immediately resorting to violence. 

Cass and Tim have a long and complicated history. While the two of them started off rather tense, with Tim being somewhat intimidated by her, they soon grew very close, and treat each other as siblings. Their strengths complement each other, and they are able to work in synch with each other very well. She has also been known to break into his house to steal food and take a shower. 

Like Jason, Cass’s interactions with Damian are few and far between. Their first meeting didn’t end well, as Cassandra pulled him from a building when he was disarming a bomb despite his protests that he could handle it. While she found some of what he said hurtful, she didn’t seem to hold much of a grudge, and I think they could find common ground due to their similar backgrounds. 

Cassandra and Duke seem to be friends, though beyond that little is known of their relationship.

Cassandra is close with Harper Row, and the two of them definitely care for one another despite the troubled history between them.

Cass and Jean-Paul Valley bonded quickly over their shared inexperience with society, and they are both very fond of one-another. 

Cassandra is friends with Dinah Lance, who she has been shown to train with on occasion. 

Cass does not get along with Helena Bertinelli for obvious reasons, and when they worked together during the Battle for the Cowl there was quite a bit of tension between them. 

Cassandra had a close relationship with Basil Karlo/Clayface during the time that he had reformed, as she had faith in his ability to change. His apparent death devastated her.

Her relationship with her biological father is complicated. Though she has always despised what he does for a living, it took a long time for her to come to terms with how badly he treated her. 

Cass’s relationship with her biological mother is even more complex. In most depictions, Cassandra respects Shiva in some ways, but is also troubled by all of the lives that she’s taken.

[himluv]

Devotion

Oof. This is my last one. And, uh... it hurts. Solavellan for Dragon 4ge Day, for the prompt “Endings”.

I’m sorry...

TW: Major Character Death

Also: This is my interpretation/expectations for where we’re headed as a ship. I’m going down with this ship y’all, and where I’m going, there won’t be enough tissues in the world to dry my tears. Buckle up.

This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Why did his plans always veer so tragically far off course? He was meant to be the savior of Thedas, of Arlathan, of the People. He would right his wrongs and reset the course of history, restoring order and balance to a world impossibly off-kilter. He was meant to be the martyr, the sacrifice to atone for sins he had not foreseen.

But, yet again, his foresight proved faulty.

He knew the Inquisitor would find him. Knew there was nothing he could do to keep her from doing all she could to stop him. Despite it all, his proclamations, his obvious intent, his pleas that she leave him to his dark endeavors, she still believed she could win. She still believed she could convince him to abandon his purpose.

He just hadn’t realized the lengths to which she would go to save him. How could he? In all his years, the millennia spread out behind him was a tapestry of judgement, foolish pride, and betrayal. He could never have fathomed that someone could care for him with such depth, with a devotion so pure it proved reckless.

Fatal, even.

Her hand on his cheek pulled him from those thoughts. Her eyes, wide and wet with pain, anchored him in this terrible moment.

“Vhenan,” she said. The word struck him deep enough that he flinched. She rarely used the term, preferring to simply use his name. Now she said it with regret for all the times she didn’t. All the times she wouldn’t.

His arms tightened around her, pulling her closer against him as he rocked her. “What have I done?”

She shook her head, but it was a feeble gesture. She was losing strength quickly. “You don’t get credit for this one.” She smiled and it fractured into a wince. “You carry enough guilt without borrowing mine.”

“Riallan.” He stroked her hair, searching for words but all of them turned to ash in his mouth, weightless. Impotence, cloying and clinging, boiled up in him until his shock turned to anger. “That blow was meant for me.” He closed his eyes, unable to look into the vibrant green of hers any longer. “I could have withstood it.” He didn’t know if that was true, but it was far more likely that he would survive the attack than she would.

As ever, she saw through him. “Perhaps,” she said. Her voice grew frail, the words like glass on her lips. “But I could not withstand watching you die.” She shrugged and hissed with pain. Like it was so simple a thing, the decision to sacrifice herself in order to save him.

Around them, the Crossroads were a blur of chaos. The Agents of Fen’Harel fought against the remaining forces of the Inquisition, a stalling tactic on his part. A distraction on the part of the Inquisition. Busy the troops so that Riallan and her team could get close enough to stop him.

He supposed it had worked, though he hoped to every spirit in the Fade that this had not been her plan all along.

Throughout the Crossroads the Eluvians flared and roiled, the magic within them snapping and crackling, demanding release. He was so close. All he had to do was steal that gathered power, take it into himself and then step through the Veil and into the Fade. The Seal would be there, and behind it all the ‘Gods’ he’d locked away. The Eluvians’ power would eat him up, much like his mark had gnawed at the Inquisitor, but he would release it. Bring it all forth to bear on the Seal and release those Old Gods on the world. They would ravage and remake it, bloody and terrible and new.

The time had come. All his planning led to this moment. He simply had to go to the nearest Eluvian, put his hand to its glass, and absorb the magic. The fight was over. He had won. All he had to do was let go of his vhenan and finish what he had started.

Her hand was still on his cheek, her thumb brushing against his cheekbone to wipe at his tears. With what little breath she had left, his vhenan sang to him, her voice hitched and shaking.

“Melava inan enansal, ir su aravel tu elvaral u na emma abelas.”

It was not the first time he’d heard her sing. She’d done it often in the early mornings, soft and sweet in their tent when she thought he still slept. But, he had never heard this song before.

“In elgar sa vir mana, in tu setheneran din emma na.”

She might as well have written it for him alone. A fresh wave of grief rolled through him, washing away his anger and leaving him powerless. He could no sooner leave her now than he could have stopped Corypheus all those years ago.

“Tel’dan’latha, vhenan.” She brushed away his tears even as she shed her own. “Ame dirthem ane, var lath vir suledin.”

He nodded, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “And so it did.”

The blood blossomed crimson on the emerald fabric of her Keeper’s Robes, and though his strength had returned, it was spread too thin. He could not heal her with his power alone, not while the Eluvians seethed around them.

The Eluvians…

He blinked, surprised at his own sudden inspiration. He looked down at her, at the waxy pallid skin around her eyes, and the too red color of her lips. But, despite the feverish shine to her eyes, she still saw him. She hadn’t left him yet.

“You’re right, vhenan,” he said. The words poured from him, confessions he’d hidden from for too long. “I was wrong. Again. Still.” He shook his head. “I see that now.” He kissed her and he was surprised at the force with which she returned his affections. “I know what I have to do.”

“Solas?” Her eyes widened, panicked as he gently moved her off of his lap. “What are you doing?”

“Saving you. The only way I can.” He knelt over her and pressed a hand to her cheek. “Ar lath ma, vhenan. Never doubt that.”

She hissed in pain but nodded. “Ar lath ma, Solas. I never have.”

He smiled at that, and somewhere in the expression she saw his plan. By the time she called after him to stop, he had already strode away from her. He reached the Eluvian, tall and furious with glacial blue light boiling in the frame. All he had to do was put a single finger to it, and he would consume the magic that connected them.

It would be enough.

He pressed his palm to the pane and hundreds of magical mirrors fell silent simultaneously. The Eluvians glowed, but the roiling energy calmed once more. The sudden change brought the fighting to a halt as confused Inquisition Agents and his own forces turned to look at him. But he hardly noticed.

Solas’ entire awareness shrank to where his palm trembled on the Eluvian. He screamed, the sound shattering the unnatural calm, as impossible amounts of power flowed into him. It burned, like the fires of Elgar’nan himself, up his arm and into his chest, consuming and overwhelming his own well of magic. Then it froze, icy and sharp, at first blissfuly numb and then aching. Then lightning, crackling and shocking, explosive in his veins.

Every sort of magic the Evanuris had used, pooled together to forge the Eluvians in the early days of Arlathan roared through him, scorching and searing and sundering him from the inside out.

He expected it to fade once he’d absorbed it all. Instead the Eluvians just shut down, going dark and leaving the Crossroads lit by the pale, preternatural light of the Fade. The Eluvian he touched fell dormant and repulsed him with a shock so violent he was knocked to his knees.

Still no one moved.

He stood, blue smoke curling up from his skin as he turned to look at Riallan. She wasn’t moving, the stillness clenching at his heart. Was he too late?

His eyes glowed with power, the fury of the contained magical forces a hurricane within him. Every moment he held that power was agony, each step a unique misery, like a thousand giants were pulling him apart and crushing him at the same time.

But he took those faltering, torturous steps to fall on his knees beside her. Dimly he noticed she spoke to him, her lips barely moving, but he couldn’t hear her over the roar of energy that thrummed in his ears. He knew her well enough that he didn’t need to hear her words.

“It’s the only way, vhenan,” he said.

She winced away from him while around them soldiers and agents flinched and covered their ears. Even as the power ate away at him, he marveled at the fact his voice had rendered his foes useless, until her hand found his face. Her touch was a balm to the feverish heat of his skin, sweet relief that he leaned into.

“Forgive me,” he whispered. Her brow furrowed, her green eyes wide and frightened. Not for herself, but for him. Her adversary, Fen’Harel, the Dread Wolf. Solas.

Because in the end, that was who he was to her. In the end, it was her refusal to see him as anyone or anything else that saved Thedas.

He pressed his hands to her abdomen, ignoring the warm, sticky sensation of her robes. Though the magic clamored to be released, he only let a trickle pour through his fingers and into the Inquisitor’s failing body. He feared that too much at once would destroy her, just as surely as it was destroying him.

It was slow, excruciating work, holding the magic back and forcing it to do his will. The original plan had only called for him to gather the energy and then unleash it upon the Seal. This… this was harder.

He grit his teeth, fought to keep his hands steady, and still sweat beaded on his brow. But color returned to the Inquisitor’s cheeks and her breathing came easier beneath his palms. He watched as his vhenan revived at his efforts, and knew that the pain and struggle would be worth it. For once in his life, he’d managed to do something right.

He took a step back from her, putting distance between them, committing her shocked and relieved, face to his memories. Just in case he would still have them wherever his spirit would roam. It would be no small comfort to see her face, alive and proud and shining with love, for the rest of his eternity.

Then he released the remaining power of the Eluvians. First came the lightning, streaking through his blood and into the air, colliding back into mirrors across the Crossroads. Then the glacial cold, fogging his breath and threatening to bring him to his knees once more. Last came the fire, hot and burning like a sun behind his eyelids as the power soared back to its home. There was more screaming, his again, before he collapsed and the Crossroads burst into action.

“Solas!” Riallan’s arms caught him before he hit the hard ground. She sank down with him, her voice blessedly strong in his ears. Whole. Her hand on his face again, anchoring him as his focus dwindled. “Stay with me, vhenan,” she said. She cradled him, their roles suddenly reversed.

He smiled. “Say it again.” His voice was his own once more. The pain from a moment before was gone, and the nothingness that followed it was perfection. On some level he knew he should be concerned, but she was alive, holding him again, so he couldn’t quite manage it.

“Dorian! Help me!” She looked down at him, new tears filling her eyes. “Say what again? Vhenan?”

He nodded.

“I’ll never use your name again, if you’ll just stay with me, vhenan.”

He chuckled at that. He felt light, thin in her arms. There was no more guilt to weigh him down, and nothing hurt. For the first time since before he entered Uthenera Solas was at peace. It’d been so long he almost didn’t recognize the sensation.

Dorian appeared in his line of sight, the mage checking his vitals. He gave Riallan a confused look. “Nothing seems wrong.”

Because nothing was, Solas thought. He recalled her face at the moment she realized he’d healed her, brought her back from what should have been guaranteed death. That he chose her life over the rebirth of the world. How awed she’d looked. How pleased and scared and proud of him she’d been. When was the last time someone had been proud of him?

“Dirth ma, vhenan,” she said, calling him back to the present. “What’s happening?”

He had to think about it, which he noted should also be troubling. What was happening? Right, the Eluvians. “I used the gathered strength of the Evanuris to save you,” he said.

“The Eluvians?”

He nodded. “I was going to use it to release them and the Old Gods but,” he tried to adjust in her arms, but found he couldn’t move. That was concerning. He swallowed back the fear, for her sake. “You made me see.”

She glanced at Dorian, who shrugged. “See what, vhenan?”

“That, despite all my worst efforts, this world was better than anything I could have made.” He blinked, the numb nothingness turning to an uncomfortable chill. He was running out of time. “You cared more for this world than anyone in Arlathan ever did.” He swallowed at the emotion caught in his throat. “You cared more for me, as well.”

She bit back a sob. “But what’s happening to you?”

He cleared his throat, his voice going frail on his tongue. “The power is too much for any one being to contain. Even one such as me. There is a cost, one I am happy to pay.”

Her hand tightened around his, and he was glad he could still feel it. “The Eluvians took your power,” she said.

He smiled. “Clever, vhenan. Always so clever.”

“So, you’re mortal now?” Dorian asked.

Solas tried to shake his head, but couldn’t. “No,” he said. “It’s not like severing a connection to the Fade. My magic was sacrificed. Removed. Without it, my spirit cannot remain.”

His breath came shallow, his lungs failing as his body died around him. They were out of time.

“Vhenan,” he said. “Go to Skyhold. I sent,” he gasped, “a gift. Explains everything.” He gave her a shaky smile. “Just in case.”

She made a sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob, and held him close. “Ar lath ma, vhenan,” she chanted, rocking him as he had rocked her only moments ago.

He looked up at her, unwilling and unable to look anywhere else. That her face would be the last thing he saw, he arms the last he felt, her voice and those words the last he ever heard soothed his soul.

The last thing Solas did was smile.

He did not die alone.

Elvhen Translations: Melava inan enansal  ir su aravel tu elvaral u na emma abelas in elgar sa vir mana in tu setheneran din emma na Time was once a blessing but long journeys are made longer when alone within. Take spirit from the long ago but do not dwell in lands no longer yours.  (From the Elvhen song “Suledin”) Tel’dan’latha, vhenan Do not grieve/weep, vhenan Ane dirthem ame, var lath vir suledin I told you, our love will endure/last/survive Ar lath ma I love you

Dirth ma Speak to/tell me (lit. Speak you)

[1000fiction]

Nearly Lost You ft. Brynjolf, Farkas, Saadia, Vilkas.

Requested: Yes, by Anon

Brynjolf:

What was Mercer thinking? A brand-new recruit on Goldenglow? It was true he’d spoken of their natural talent – but surely this was suicide. Vex ’s looming presence in the corner of the Flagon did naught to settle his nerves,  only acting as a constant reminder of what fate lay ahead for his protégé.

His head swiveled from the bar with every open of a door, and on his sixth bottle he’d fallen from his stool – Vekel kicked him out soon after.

Within the cistern, Delvin had attempted to ease his thoughts with wise wisdom. He too had seen something in the new recruit – it gave him hope if only a little.

He’d tried to sleep – he really had – and even the seventh bottle beneath his bed had failed to help when he’d continued tossing and turning. Above ground, the sobering air had been his last resort.

The rooftops of Riften where paved with memories – risky escapes,  drunken escapades, and lifelong friendships had been made atop the shingles.  The stars were bright tonight, glittering over the lake as he sat himself down, legs dangling off the roof of the empty Honeyside. His cuirass and hands pillowed his head as he gazed over the constellations, the thief glittering back at him, a twinkle in his eye – before it began to cloud over.  

A cloudy night was not unusual – until it started reeking of burning tinder.

He was up in an instant, grinning at the towers of smoke that rose into the sky – exactly three. Lights began to flicker in homes, and so was the time for him to make himself scarce.

He’d slept peacefully them, awoken by the cheering of his friends,  and the smell of ash.

This one really was special.

Farkas:

What kind of companion was he? Able to fight off bandits, dragons,  the living dead… but spiders?

He’d frozen at the sound coming through the walls, dozens of legs skittering, clicking, chilling him to the bone and making his hairs stand on end. With the fell of the last specter, he peered into the cave, several pairs of eyes staring back at him. He swallowed thickly, frozen in place until one shot a wad of venom towards him. He yelped, the sound carrying and catching the attention of his fellow companions.

The dragonborn had patted his shoulder understandably, a small smile and quick kiss upon his cheek for a goodbye. They delved further into the tomb, chopping at spiders behind the rock. Aela was not so understanding,  sparing him nothing but a harsh glare as she passed by.

He’d received the same glare from his brother when he entered the first chamber.

“Yeah because you got pretty far too didn’t you?” He quipped, a grin stretching as his brother merely shook his head.

That had been two hours ago. It hadn’t felt like it to Vilkas, but for Farkas it’d felt like an eternity, each second stretching by agonisingly slowly. His hands were clammy, forearms red from nervously scratching at his skin, each minute adding extra weight to his aching heart. Selfishly, he worried over his mate, despite Aela’s presence he couldn’t help but fear it wasn’t enough – it should be him by their side.

Instead, he’d ran with his tail between his legs, left to idly sit as the guilt ate away at his stomach. It swallowed him whole until his brother thumped him upside the head, turning to face the pair emerging from the secret hollow in the wall. There they were, alive and glowing with pride.  Before her tale spilled from their lips he’d scooped them up, holding them against him with all his might, ear pressed to their heartbeat. They were here. They were safe.

He brought them in for a kiss, Aelas story drowned out by his heart hammering in his ears – this was all that mattered.

Saadia:

What had she done?

Dust fell from the floorboards with the weight of her pacing, footsteps barely covered by the plucking of Mikael's lute. Hulda worried for her help, and for the hole she was wearing into the floor.

No amount of pacing or calming breaths would suffice, however, and Saadias heart pounded persistently against her ribcage. She rubbed at her arms, picked at her nails, swigged at the bottle of wine each time she passed it – anything to subdue the guilt, and fear.

If she was to reflect on her behaviour twenty-four hours ago, she would be considered fine, no worries or wishes for the dragonborn she’d sent out on a quest. But the morning had brought a sight, the dragonborn, armed to the teeth, pack laden with every potion they could scrape together. They’d departed with a cocky smile and a sly wink, it had made her smile at the time.

Now, however, it ghosted her thoughts, the idea she’d never see that smile, nor those eyes, nor hear their stories of trolls, dragons, and daedra. She may have sent them to their death for all she knew.

The sun hadn’t risen, no light peeked through the wooden ceiling, but she could hear movement beneath her. Slowly, with careful footing, she parted her doors, only to be met with a neatly folded pile of clothes, boots, and a scimitar blade.

Kematu.

Next she knew she was taking the stairs two at a time and nearly flinging herself into the main room, left to stare breathlessly at the figure across the smouldering fire pit.

“would it be rude of me to order breakfast from a lady in her nightgown?”

Vilkas:

Kodlak was dead, a number of his shield siblings were injured, and now the halls of Jorrvaskr were littered with the bodies of the Silver Hand.

But not theirs.

His hands were filthy with their blood, turning over lifeless corpses, he didn’t know whether he hoped to find the dragonborns amongst them or not.

His head hurt, the rush of emotions locked away and pounding against his cranium until he knew for sure where they were. With the last room and final corpse, he declared they hadn’t fallen, meaning they hadn’t been in the building. His pain sank to his heart, weighing him down to the point he could’ve wretched.

What if the Silver hand had tracked them to wherever they were? For all he knew they could be bleeding into the snow by now, eaten away by the wildlife with no-one to mourn for them, to lay them to rest.

But what if they were alive? Whilst everyone gathered around Kodlaks body, they were out doing gods know what. Perhaps it would have ended differently.  Veins pressed against the thick of his neck, bile rising in his throat.

He’d near boiled over when the doors flung over, they had no reason to be upset, they hadn’t been here to help. He made that very clear as he gripped them, dragging them back out through the doors. They’d make up for it with Silver Hand blood.

[shreyamistry]

Loveshed on the Battlefield - Kenna x Annelyse

Pairing: Kenna x Annelyse

Prompt: “I would honestly die before I let anything happen to you.”

Word Count: 1.9k+

Summary: The battle against Azura ends differently for Kenna and Annelyse, altering the entirety of their lives and relationship. While their worlds crumble, they have to deal with the aftermath of emotions.

A/N: @glowinghelena (-: protect your heart !

Thanks for reading! Hope you like it!

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Annelyse lays on a lone mattress inside the medical wing of the castle, her body limp and lifeless in her private room away from the mass medical area. Her thick black hair lay messy and dirty on her pillow, her skin dangerously pale, and her breathing shallow enough to think she wasn’t. The battle won, but every win comes with a price and Annelyse bore the price on her shoulders. Her gold dress and accessories traded out for a simple nightgown still flush with gold coloring.

Kenna sits on the edge of the mattress, her hands buried in her face with tears etched onto her cheeks staining her skin with the pain she’s felt the past for nights since they’ve won the war. People cheered in the street for their win, while those close to Annelyse mourned and cried. Raydan nearly impossible to find and the warriors of the queen’s homeland lingering in the wake of the accident unable to bring themselves to leave their queen and report the sorrow news. Kenna brushes her hair out of her face turning to look at Annelyse, her face slacked and unmoving leaving a bitter taste in her mouth.

Kenna can’t pry her eyes away hoping every second Annelyse will wake up her eyes noticing the caked-on dirt from the war, remembering Annelyse on the forefront when all hells broke loose before slipping away with soldiers to bring them to the infirmary. She’d trade everything in the world to be in that moment, spare Azura, concede, anything to get her to save Annelyse’s life as she’s seen her do before. Suddenly feeling swollen with rage at the thought of Annelyse saving lives only to come to the edge of perishing in battle, she pushes herself out of the bed marching into the hall to find the first servant she could.

“You there!” She yells taking in the sight of a young man with brown hair and tanned skin, “Why hasn’t Annelyse been properly cared for? What reason is there for her face being dirty and her hair starting to matt and tangle?” Kenna folds her arms over her chest, her statue tall and resilient against the emotions stirring in her chest.

The young man begins to explain, “Whitlock-”

“I don’t want your excuse, bring me a washcloth and her favorite brush.” Kenna demands, “In the small box in my room, she left it with me before the battle.“ Guilt swell inside her, glancing down at the floor.

“My queen, I urge you to hear me-”

“I gave you an order.” Kenna throws her hands in the air leveling a glare at the young man before her, who shakes with fear. “When she wakes up and realizes herself to be dirty that will cause more distress than almost dying.”

“Yes, my queen.” The man nods, turning to rush down the corridor towards the main part of the castle. Kenna takes a deep breath, before turning around and marching back into the room in which Annelyse rested. Leaving the beautifully trimmed architecture behind while the man fetched her belongings.

Kenna waits a few moments before footsteps are heard outside the room, the rapping off knocks on the door before someone pushes the door open. Her mechawolf pup rounding into the room with excitement, running in circles yelling for Kenna happily. Kenna turns her attention to Whitlock who carries a bucket of water with the other supplies Kenna asked for a solemn look gracing his features. The pup brushes against Kenna’s leg before scattering under the bed his eye caught by something underneath.

“Whitlock, I care not for a lecture. Please.” Kenna traces her hand down Annelyse’s shoulder taking in the state of her lover yet again. She fights with memories and emotions that try to grip her and take control of her mind. She needed to stay within reason, push them away, and be there for her love while she could.

“Kenna, I know you’re hurting,” he says stepping into the room closing the door behind him, “But yelling at those helping Annelyse will not wake her up faster.” He places the bucket and the towel with her brush wrapped inside on the table near the door. He unwraps the brush, before placing the cloth towel into the bucket.

“Blue Lady, why is she sleeping?” Sparky asks from the floor, his face flooding with curiosity.

“Not now,” Kenna says to the wolf patting his head, “Whitlock, I wouldn’t need to lash out if her face wasn’t dirty. You all need to treat her like a queen and care for her the way she did for us.” Kenna’s tone defensive even though there were no reason for her to act that way, the event leaving Kenna lost and confused constantly.

“Kenna we all cared for Annelyse and still do, stop shutting yourself away. Have you even considered what will happen if she doesn’t wake up?” Whitlock asks, “With respect my queen, this isn’t you. I know you’re frightened by the possibility, but let us help you and be here for you. You couldn’t have changed the outcome.”

“I-”

“Kenna, you couldn’t.” Whitlock steps to her. “You did everything you could for Annelyse. Now let us do everything we can for her and for you.” Whitlock approaches her with the wet washcloth, her slick with wet tears threatening to spill, her lips parting to find words that never come. He brushes the cloth over Kenna’s face, cleaning her own dirty face and wiping away some of the dried tears. Instead of thanking him, she wraps her arms around Whitlock smaller frame crying into his chest. Whitlock stiffens at first, before holding her back his mind flooding with thoughts of Hex and how he felt when he thought he lost her and knew he should comfort her the way he wished he was. He rubbed her back as the mechawolf pup jumps onto the bed brushes against Kenna’s body digging his face into the embrace to coat her face with sweet kisses.

Kenna absently strokes him with one hand, the other arm holding tightly onto Whitlock, her mind falling back to the fateful night three days ago that has left Annelyse on a constant brink of life or death. Her body stiffening as the thoughts overwhelm her, throwing her into the memory without letting her look away consuming her no longer being able to run from the horrid memory.

Kenna stands with her blade in her hand, blood running down her lip looking directly Azura. Her eyes wicked with hate and pride as she pushes Kenna to her breaking point, the warrior queen still had fight in her, but she felt no match for Azura in the moment. Kenna huffs and puffs, her breath heavy in her chest as she watches the lightning queen snicker at her, how she couldn’t wait to wipe that look from her face.

“Well, Kenna Rys, are you done?” she draws her hand back building up energy inside her fist. “Or would you like me to end your life?”

“I will never concede to you, witch.” Kenna growls, before spitting her blood onto the ground, tightening her grip of the blade that Annelyse gave her back in Annelyse’s home when they rushed in to stop dragon Dom. “You will never have your hands on the Five Kingdoms as long as I breathe.”

“Then, let’s put an end to your breathing.” Azura smiles. She moves to let loose her electricity when a blade connects with her back pushing through her body her hands instantly moving to the wound as she crumples onto the floor her eyes burning with hatred. “What?” Blood spills from the wounds as she touches the blade in her side.

“Annelyse?!” Kenna yells, Annelyse stands with blood on her skin as she draws the ornate blade from the lightning Queen’s body, dropping the blade onto the floor her mouth opened in shock looking to Kenna and back at the dying woman. Light erupts from the queen as Kenna yells, “Annelyse!” Dashing forward to protect her, put herself between Annelyse and the lightning Queen’s wrath. The blow, however, strikes too late. A small dagger controlled by the lightning queen’s magic plunges into Annelyse’s stomach before clattering to the floor with a metallic clink splattering red blood onto the floor as it comes to rest. Blood flowing freely from her wound, Annelyse crying out in pain her eyes glossing over. Annelyse doesn’t have time to register the blow completely before Azura’s magic engulfs her, Annelyse flies into the wall her body smashing against the brick with intense force as Azura holds her wound in one hand the other towards her Annelyse. Annelyse screams in agony as she falls onto the floor trying to push herself up to no avail.

“Your beloved will fall with me.” Azura gasps, “You will not win without the same lose as I have suffered. You can steal my daughter, my home, and all I have fought to preserve. If only you had joined me, Lady Kenna.”

Kenna rushes her, her blade drawn striking Azura with a final blow, her body falling limp to the floor pooling her corpse with her fresh blood. Kenna rushes past the avenged queen, rushing to Annelyse’s side, instantly taking the wounded woman into her arms, her tears sting her eyes as she looks down at her form. “Annelyse, why?”

“I would honestly die before I let anything happen to you, Kenna.” Her frail voice shattered Kenna’s heart in her chest, trying to hold back the tears that continue to burn in her eyes. She takes Annelyse’s hand kissing her kiss. “Kenna, I don’t have much time.”

“Annelyse,” Kenna sobs her hands tightening around her body, her skin purple with bruises from impact against the brick wall and her hold weak against Kenna’s hand, tears linger in Annelyse’s eyes as well. “You...I... Annelyse…Please don’t say that, someone will come and we will heal you.”

“The safety of The Five Kingdoms and you mattered more, my love,” Annelyse coughs, “Tell ...tell Raydan he is to watch over our home. My last wish as queen of Aurelia.”

“Annelyse,” Kenna gaps, “It won’t be your last.” She rests her forehead against Annelyse’s own, stroking her cheek with one hand. The tears roll down her cheeks as she leans down kisses Annelyse on the lips, her movements gentle against her injured lover. Annelyse kisses her back with the final ounce of strength she could muster, her hand still holding Kenna’s tightly as she could. “Please don’t leave me. I can’t lose you Annelyse, this war will mean nothing without you beside me.”

“I love you, Kenna.”

“Annelyse? Annelyse?! ANNELYSE?!” Her hands shake Annelyse’s shoulder earning her no response, her tears falling loosely as she holds her body close to her. “HELP! SOMEONE! HELP!” She musters her weak strength to help her brace Annelyse’s weight in her arms, her body heavy with soreness from the battle with queen moving out of the throne room to find her people. “HELP!” Her cries going unheard as she runs with Annelyse’s body to find help.

Kenna gasps the memory leaving her as she holds tightly onto Whitlock still, Sparky in her arms nuzzling against her face to comfort her. Her heart falling in her chest, taking a look at Annelyse’s form on the bed, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Wake up Annelyse, wake up.

[scldsouls]

❛ valiantvirtue / little sister.

        Teeth ground in her jaw, on edge, her hands tightening their grip on the armrests of her chair. She had come so far, from a raped child ( his doing, she reminded herself ), afraid of whatever the world would do when it finally got its teeth into her, to a queen. A Khaleesi. Her expression remained still, unmoving, refusing, to give one bit of a reaction to her brother. She was not a girl, easily riled. She was a DRAGON , and he a fool. Trusting. Too trusting. Too easily fed by the lies of charm. He had always been her warning.

      …to her surprise, a deep HURT resonated in a moment after, his words sinking in like an iron anvil in calm waters. Like a wound that had not yet healed being ripped open once again. “I’m sure you would. Though don’t pretend it had anything to do with family , as much as it had to do with your own pride in being a Targaryen.” She said, far calmer than she expected. Her hands moved to clasp in front of her, the light trembling in her fingers something she didn’t want to reveal. It wasn’t fear, but wrath. How could Viserys possibly know what she’d endured due to his actions? He was a man. Men never went through the same things as women.

      “I don’t suppose you’ve stopped to think that I was your sister and therefore part of this ’family ’ you say you acted on behalf of.” She continued. “Though I must assume I have only been a object to you. To be bought and sold to whomever you deemed fit– or rather, whomever would give you the most for your bargain. Didn’t do you much good though did it?” She breathed deeply, looking at her brother through wide eyes, taking everything he did in. She had always wanted to please Viserys in her childhood, to do as he bid and never question that what he did was for her own good. He was a lost boy, driven to actions he might not have taken if they had both remained at Dragonstone as a prince and princess. But still, it was hard to let his actions pass… so very hard.

       There was one thing, though , that she had to admit. “To your credit, because of you I stand where you always wanted to be. I only ask one thing… does it pain you?”

       viserys had never expected that she would allow him to live in that night he threatened to kill her baby, to take her away along with the dragon eggs. truthfully, he did not expect nothing of this sort to happen but to go exile and him being the one following his little sister, when he was the one who had the claim to the iron throne, he was THE DRAGON not her. even if he had to go through the humiliation of being threatened not only by her, but also by her now dead lover, being dragged through the desert where he barely survived and follow his little sister like she was the one and only they would ever follow, viserys knew he had to keep his head down. he had made a fool out of himself, knowing very well what he had done to her and how they used to be in the past... it all changed very fast. but daenerys was far too young to understand why her big brother was angry, desperate to find a way to return home and reclaim what was taken away from them. she had never seen the beautiful halls of dragonstone, how people respected their father and loved their mother unconditionally and how loyal they remained. she had witnessed naught of that and even if deep within viserys still loved her, the cloud of madness had settled in his mind and allowing only his greed to return home, sit on the iron throne and rule as the rightful king. but would this ever come to be? they loved and acknowledged his sister as the dragon, after all she did stepped out of the fire with three dragons in her arms. all the time he had spent trapped away, by her order, it allowed him to think about every single thing that he had done. 

       even if it was no excuse to his behavior, viserys knew that what he had done was for the greater good... alas, not for himself but his little sister who he had taken care of his entire life, their entire exile the need to beg for food and shame himself for all that he could, one day become. alas, all was lost and daenerys was ruling as their khaleesi, with the dragons he DESERVED to have and didn’t. there was a shaky sigh when he was brought to her and even if they had him prompted up, viserys still looked as an exiled targaryen would look. they had gone through so much and still she could not understand. 

       ❝ do you think i enjoyed all the things we had to endure? do you believe i loved every single moment of seeing you so hungry that i had to beg for countless of nights for food, waiting for someone to pity us enough to feed us? or do you believe i don’t regret selling our mother’s crown to a fool merchant just to allow us to survive another week with the coins we made from that? ❞ his amethyst eyes were beginning to tear. ❝ he said it belonged to the targaryen whore, that it meant NOTHING but a few coins to him. but when i returned to you, with my heart broken and being able to see you lightning up with the happiness of seeing some food, it made the pain go away. the regret, the guilt... everything. ❞ perhaps it was not the answer daenerys was searching for, but viserys had time to think about all he had done and come to regret it. 

       ❝ i never forgot you were my sister, if i did i would allow you to starve and save myself. ❞ harsh words were pronounced but merely because this brought more PAIN that what he enjoyed to admit. ❝ i regret it every single day. selling you to that bull, seeing him treating you the way he did, claiming you as his and not delivering all he had promised us. all i wanted was a way to return home... and you were there, dany. ❞ he released a sigh, the tears then falling from his eyes. ❝ go ahead... do with me what you please. execute me if you will, lie you would do that night which in truth, perhaps, would be the death i deserved. ❞ his voice was trembling, but still he stood tall. the targaryen pride was also a misplaced stick in his back. ❝ you got what you wanted... you went through so much but so did i. remember that, little sister, none of us are innocent in this story. ❞ 

( @valiantvirtue. ) 

[the-dragon-fried-my-homework]

Headcannon:

After the war, Draco was taken in by the Weasleys.

There wasn't much left for him after the Battle of Hogwarts. His parents were gone, locked away to rot in Azkaban. His family name had been dragged through the mud, his fortunes lost to a would-be dictator who he was glad was dead, and there was nothing. But he didn't complain. He grit his teeth and suffered in silence, because even if he had nothing else, the world would never take his pride.

It was an arrangement he resented at first, bitterly. But Ginny hadn't given him - or her family - much of a choice. She knew what it was like to have no choice. And she recognized that hollow look in his eyes all too well, she'd had the Dark Lord in her head for a year. How much longer had it been for him? So when she found him sobbing alone over a friend's grave, she had made up her mind. And no amount of protests or snide comments and insults could dissuade her.

Percy was the first to forgive. He got it, in a way. After all, he dreaded to think of some of the things he had done during his time with the Ministry. Cold, heartless things. But he had told himself he was doing it for the right reasons. To make his father proud. To prove that the Weasley clan was worth more than people thought, that they were deserving of their place within the Sacred 28. He had done it for honorable causes, but the ends don't justify the means, and he understood the guilt Draco felt, whether or not he felt it himself.

Bill and Charlie were next. Charlie worked with dragons all day - he'd seen enough of "monsters" to know who the truly bad ones were versus which were simply hurting, or scared, or misunderstood. And Bill never had been good at holding grudges.

After that came George... This shocked everyone, especially Draco. In some way, he still felt responsible for what had happened to Fred. But after the battle, George had changed. Yeah, he still cracked jokes, but there was a sort of sadness in his smile. Like a bandaid over a gunshot, you could tell they were now a way to keep the darkness at bay. And he was a little more careful now... Just a little, but he'd learned that life was short, and there was still so much he wanted to do. There was no point in wasting it on anger and resentment.

Molly was the last to forgive. She had a hard time seeing past the Mark on the boy's wrist. It was a symbol of the ultimate evil. The monsters who bore that Mark had ripped her son away from her before it was time. They had left a gaping hole in her heart and her family and that was something she could never forgive. In some way, she felt anyone bearing that Mark was guilty of the crime. But one night that changed. She had been up scrubbing the dishes by hand for the fourth time that night simply for something to do, and he- he remembered a spell, not in any spellbooks or grimoires, but that had opened him up once before. And he sought to getrid of that vile thing, that thing that symbolized all his failures, and the lies spoonfed to him from the moment he was born, and the evil he had so readily consumed. And as she held him close and healed his wounds, at last she remembered that this was child.

Ron never really forgave him, but Draco didn't really need him to. He had never needed anyone's support or approval, especially not Weezlebub's. And over time he found what he'd always been missing. Ginny goes with him when he goes to visit his father, just so he doesn't have to face that horrid place alone, and she holds him when it is over, just until he has calmed down. At night, she talks about Harry and he talks about Tori and sometimes they sneek out to go fly, anything to keep the darkness at bay. He'll never admit it, but Molly makes the best bread. And sometimes, he even finds himself asking Arthur about his work, because he recognizes his prejudices now, and he knows that sometimes they can be wrong, and the truth is Muggles are far more inventive than they get credit for.

The Burrow may be crowded and cramped, and he resents the complete and utter domesticity of it all. But there is a life there, and it is so much different from the draft halls and empty corridors that were all h'd ever known. It's warm, and cozy, and there is a genuine love among the Weasleys. For the first time in his life, Draco understands that family doesn't have to mean pain.

When he receives an unmarked package for his 20th birthday, he breaks down crying. Inside is a deep navy sweater, hand knitted with the letter D.

(@noisesfrombeyondtheuniverse I finally got around to writing it. Kind of a mess, but oh well.)

[nebula-starlight]

Scarlet Emerald (WIP) - The Gala

"Madames and Messieurs, may I proudly introduce your gracious host for this evening! Please join me in welcoming His Highness, the Count of Monte Prisma!"

The entirety of the ballroom quieted almost instantly as the announcement was made that their host was finally going to make an appearance. It didn't take much to realize that the newest dragon to appear was the very one that had been most speculated about for the last half hour. Void tugged lightly at the collar of her dress, wishing Magnus would finish showing her off. She hated that she had been talked into wearing a gown with such a constricting neckline. While it was true that the outfit was gorgeous and far beyond anything she could have been able to afford fifteen years ago, there came a feeling of sadness at the sight of the elaborately swirled ivory and crimson train and the accompanying large gemstone pendent that adorned the front. This life of luxury was meant for another, certainly not for a lowly commoner who had wed her own relative during a period of sorrowful loneliness. Lifting a paw, she glanced down at the soft creamy white fabric encrusted on top with tiny rubies and sighed, reminded once more of her single deepest regret as she tried to prevent herself from staring at the spot where the cloth blunged to hide the small gold band linking her as his mate. While she felt at least somewhat grateful towards him for having specifically ordered the gloves to enhance the beauty of her outfit, she couldn't ignore that even this petty trinket was just another attempt to sway her back into his embrace.

As much as it pained Void to admit to herself the real reason she had been dragged along to the gathering, her thoughts still wandered far away from the whispers of gossip she heard all around her. She had to confess though that she was at least mildly curious about the mysterious drake who had recently become among the top wealthiest within the country. There were so many rumors spreading about him that she simply couldn't keep all of them straight anymore. Yet, despite the thrill of anticipation she felt, why was the pit of her stomach suddenly clenched tight in nervousness? There was nothing to fear, she had attended countless events like this before...

A single gasp rose from the gathered crowd and Void looked up to see an approaching silver drake clothed in a beautiful burgundy tux as he descended the grand spiral staircase towards the ground floor. Strands of gold had been embroidered into the cloth around his collar, contrasting with the ruffled pearly white cravat around his neck. Long coattails covered his flank but for the briefest second she thought she saw hints of a ropy scar etched deep into the faded scales as he descended the elaborate stairwell. The dragon proudly raised his head as he finally stepped down onto the ballroom, his pale amber irises sparking a memory from deep in Void's mind of a younger Nether and his bright crimson gaze.

Void quickly looked away, chastising herself for even comparing a brief glimpse of the Count to her memories of Nether. He looked nothing like the drake who had captured her heart so long ago... No, it was simply a subconscious wish that her life could have been different. Dream all she might about imaginary futures, there was no denying those dreadful words that had torn her world apart nearly seventeen years ago. She still remembered how sympathetic Magnus had been when he quietly approached her and delivered the news.

A soft cough from her mate caught her attention and her gaze reluctantly drifted to him to find one of his dark hazel irises locked on her in concern over her lack of attention towards him and whatever topic he had been discussing with the other drakes prior to the Count's appearance. Although the worry seemed genuine, she wasn't sure how to take his sudden interest in her wellbeing. Hadn't he treated her as nothing more than a servant to him anyway? Yet, despite herself, he did look quite handsome in his ivory tux that was embroidered with swirls of red much like her dress. The only difference was that his was more pronounced along his collar and shoulders while hers made the train of her gown look as if she was walking through fire.

Shaking her head to clear her wandering thoughts, she offered him a halfhearted smile and then silently breathed a sigh of relief as he accepted her nonverbal response with a curt nod before leaving her alone as he tucked his wing back against his side. While it was true that she was the mother of his heir, her current happiness was nothing like it once had been when she knew and loved Nether. Eyeing various dragons approaching the drake who had furnished the gathering, Void couldn't help but look back up at the Count as well, finding him just as mysterious as the gossip she'd overheard had suggested. How exactly had he risen to such wealth in such little time? Snorting softly, she decided the explanation didn't matter as the group gathered around Magnus and herself slowly wandered off, allowing her the freedom to watched the new arrival from afar.

Magnus suddenly pulled her from her silent musing again with a nudge from his wing as the Count started to approach. Void tried to force a polite smile but the closer look she got was enough to set her heart aflutter. She recognized those eyes! The drake's faded crimson irises barely regarded her, although she was otherwise distracted by memories of her first love. Somehow, someway fate was punishing her but perhaps she was merely imagining it. After all, the mere sight of his elaborate outfit and stern composure almost had her convinced it was a completely different individual standing before her.

The Count's emotionless gaze finally met her own as custom dictated but Void noticed a subtle difference pass over him as he stopped before Magnus and herself. Still carrying himself as both regal and proud, the noble's stance shifted slightly to become more guarded and defensive as his eyes narrowed briefly in almost disgust at the sight before him. She wondered what exactly he thought he needed to protect himself from and wanted to ask, but the unofficial rules that often held sway over such interactions among vast portions of the nobility clearly insisted that the ruling male of each represented house would be the first to address the newest among their ranks before introducing any significant others or even heirs - provided the reason for the gathering wasn't to strengthen an alliance between houses.

Magnus took the silence that settled between them as an excuse to step forward and personally greet the Count, oblivious to the behavior of their host as he bowed and recited his usual introduction. "It is with great pride that I come before you representing the Noble House Crisma, Monsieur Le Cornte. May I proudly introduce my wife, Void."

Void reluctantly bowed her head in respect, trying to keep eye contact with him as she awaited a response. Typically the newest member of the elite would address the dragoness politely before seeking further information from the drake about their position. Given the identity of who stood before her, she wondered if he was aware of the custom. Even if her mind was playing tricks on her, she couldn't deny the similarities in his gaze. Weathered scales and a colder demeanor had changed him from the dragon she remembered in her dreams... almost as if she was seeing a ghost that returned from the grave.

"Charming, I'm sure. And you are Count Magnus Crisma, if I am not mistaken."

The gravelly rasp of his voice haunted Void as she raised her head, gazing into his dull eyes with the hope she could convince herself it was a terrible dream. Nether was dead, she received the letter personally announcing his fate. How could she even stand being near him - if it was indeed him - after all she had done? All the promises of faithfulness she broke when she gave herself over to the Mage she'd known her entire life.

Seconds crept by in agonizing slowness as his apathetic gaze seemed to cut straight through her with little more than an absentminded glance before he politely excused himself from their presence to greet other guests. As her eyes followed after him, Void was left utterly at a loss for words, barely able to fathom how exactly he had returned from the grave itself. Was this fate's way of punishing her for moving on after he had been thought lost? She shook her head, sighing softly as her tail twitched behind her. Perhaps she was just overthinking the situation...

"It can't be possible," she whispered to herself, making her way through the crowd as she left Magnus to entertain himself. "This feeling that stirs anew in my chest after so long... How have you come back to life?"

Nether's gaze stayed far away from her as the gala continued and Void was left to quell her sickening guilt by herself, silently wrestling with gathering the courage to approach him alone. She knew the regulations overseeing various wealthy events but also knew her heart wouldn't allow her to live with herself if she didn't confront him directly and apologize for all the years that had passed. There had been nothing she could have done to prevent herself from ultimately being forced into a union of marriage with another drake, not to mention the matter of her child. If he even suspected of Ilmat's existence then it was no wonder that anger was all she could see in his eyes.

Finding his slim but still faintly muscular form from across the room, Void watched the Count mingle with several guests before she grabbed a drink from a nearby tray left unattended and took a sip. Heat seared down her throat as she gently placed a paw over the cold gemstone at the front of her dress to ease the bitter reminder of her unfaithfulness. She was not worthy of his forgiveness, nor did she imagine he would grant it after learning of what she had done during his absence.

"Time has aged the drake I once knew," she muttered, glancing back in his direction as she leaned up against a stone pillar decorating the sides of the ballroom. "How strange, how different we've both become. Those eyes that once sparkled with the joy of life now reflect back nothing but apathetic emptiness just like as the stars above."

Wondering where exactly Magnus had wandered off to, she looked around the crowded space briefly before locating the crimson drake standing by one of the buffet tables with a drink in hand, eagerly chatting away to a rustic amber orange drake outfitted in a smooth black tuxedo. There was no doubt he was already drunk, judging from how he wildly handled the crystal in his grasp. Letting out a sigh, she let her gaze wander across the room mindlessly as she took another sip of her beverage, still debating when it would be proper to approach the Count alone.

Suddenly a flicker of movement from Nether drew her attention back to him again as she noticed his shoulders twitch slightly. For a brief second she thought her mind was playing tricks on her, but then remembered how she had personally felt after attending her first social gathering and the mental exhaustion that followed. It was perfectly understandable in her eyes if the Count was going through the same thing, although mildly surprising if it was indeed the case. Pushing herself away from the pillar, Void put down her nearly empty glass on the same tray she had grabbed it off of and thought nothing more of what she'd just done. She didn't drink very often, far less than her dear mate, and already could feel the alcohol's effects. Deciding there was no better time than now to approach the regal drake, she started off across the crowded ballroom, occasionally catching sight of him as he headed out towards the open balcony.

Falling further behind his retreating form, her pace slowed as she tried to understand why he would leave his guests in the middle of such an event. Determined to make sure she wasn't being followed, she glanced back towards where she had last seen Magnus to see he was pleasantly occupied by several other drakes. If her mate learned of what she planned to do, there was a rather likely chance he'd accuse of being unfaithful. However with him distracted, she was free to finally seek out the drake and discover the reason for his apparent anger towards her.

Void eventually reached the opening that lead out to the balcony and stepped out onto the quieter floor, pausing to briefly observe the quaint surroundings. Strands of silver moonlight sparkled across the polished limestone floor in invitation but her attention focused in on the Count as she found him quietly standing against a low stone wall that acted as a railing. A quick glance across the visible portion of his snout that was not shrouded by the darkness of night assured her that he was not yet aware of her entrance but, instead, captivated by the lush fields that surrounded the estate. The beautiful burgundy cloth that had been used for his elaborate garment seemed custom-fit as the fabric had barely shifted even though both of his forepaws now rested peacefully on the aged barrier. He looked so relaxed, a soft smile having lifted the edges of his snout as if the persona he adapted for public use was little more than a facade.

" 'Tis a wonderful evening, no?" His soft voice, aged by time and quite raspy, contained enough hints to his former identity to taunt her as he suddenly acknowledged her presence. Void had not spoken, having been slowly making her way across the polished floor while internally debating if she had done the right thing by going after him. Pausing mid-step in the middle of the balcony, her ears lowered in dismay, realizing just how easily he had detected her as an interference into what had otherwise been a moment of blissful serenity.

Sighing quietly, Nether leaned back slowly as though longing to preserve the earlier calmness of the night. Eventually, however, his earlier peaceful expression faded away to be replaced by one of restrained annoyance as the edges of his snout dropped back into the same scowl she'd seen earlier. Void wondered just why exactly she seemed to elicit such a strong change in his demeanor. How could a soul she thought had been lost react so bitterly to what had once brought him such joy?

Two slits of red cut through the silvery night around them as the Count addressed her once more, capturing Void's gaze as he stepped away from the wall. "It appears as though you follow me even here, Madame. I suppose it is quite fair to say you have my attention..."

As he spoke, her eyes were drawn to the subtle rustle of cloth that had accompanied his retreat from the stone and she gasped at the sight, raising a forepaw to her snout in shock as she saw for the first time exactly what the extra long fabric had been keeping hidden. Innumerable ropy scars crisscrossed over the exposed dulled grayed scales in a deadly pattern that made no sense. Some areas were so blurred by murky white scar tissue that it made it impossible to tell if actual skin or even scales still existed in those places. Timidly lifting her gaze from the mystery that had so intrigued her, Void could only flinch under the intense glare she received from the Count at the violation of his privacy. He said nothing but had every right to ask her to leave as she stepped back, lowering her head in shame. This wasn't how she had ever imagined a reunion with Nether would go...

"You thought you'd find a warm welcome when we met? That I would be blindly acceptant of your betrayal..." She tensed as he drew closer, not from fear at the low rumble of his gravelly voice but, rather, out of worry that her longing heart had toyed too much with her mind. It wasn't her Nether she confronted! There was no way it could be him...

The Count continued to speak as Void silently wrestled with her conflicting thoughts, circling around her much like a predator ensnaring its prey. "The drake you seek is no more, I'm afraid. He was, regrettably, lost amidst the darkness of Talon's Nook. Where there was once life and joy, now only thrives hatred and vengeance."

She let out a shaky sigh, collecting herself before she turned around to face him as he stopped, his cold eyes staring her down with the same indifference she'd seen earlier. "I know my actions may seem brash but I would like an honest answer to a simple question, if I may."

Nether gaze flickered briefly with an emotion she couldn't place before he responded with a low growl, "Very well, go ahead.”

"Are you the drake I loved? Are you Nether?"

He kept silent, his entire body still as stone as Void leaned forward in search of something that would prove her wild thoughts held at least a shred of truth. She found herself drawn to his eyes as the crimson irises wavered, a haunted expression falling over the dark orbs before he seemed to compose himself. Acting on instinct possibly spurred on by her earlier consumption of alcohol, she reached out with a hesitant forepaw and gently touched his chest right under where his cravat tucked into his dress tunic. Something drew her to him, like a sense she couldn't name as it physically hurt her own heart to resist the mysterious Count.

"I was once..."

Tears filled her eyes at his hollow confession, confirming her suspicions without a doubt as her thoughts turned to the scars she'd seen along his lower back. What had happened to him during those long years that he didn't even trust her to reveal his true identity to a dragoness he once adored? Did he even care that she had grieved over losing him for nearly twenty years? That not a day had gone by without something reminding her of the love they’d shared.

"Now that you've confirmed what you dreaded was the truth, I do believe I have a question of my own to ask in return. Are you happy with your life and the mate you’ve chosen?” The slight growl she thought she heard as the Count remarked of her union with Magnus distracted her for a moment before she could immediately respond. She wondered why such bitterness would be present if it was not her Nether returned from the grave. For what reason would a rich drake have issue with her having already been claimed by another? After all her beauty had faded over the last two decades as stress and, dare she admit it, grief tarnished the gleaming golden hide that once caught the eye of every dragon in their hometown.

"Well, I... I suppose I am." She stammered, too shocked by just how blunt he had been to take the time to think out a truthful or even proper response. Her gut instinct was truly to admit that she was not but there was always a chance another might be listening in on their conversation and her truthful reply would find its way straight back to Magnus.

Nether said nothing, the edges of his snout dropping down into a disapproving scowl as a light breeze fluttered the ends of his coattails. Void wondered if he believed the lie, although she wished she hadn’t tried to paint her marriage to Magnus as picture-perfect when it was far from even being considered healthy. She had to salvage what she said to him somehow, at least attempt to quell some of the rage she had no doubt stirred up.

“That isn’t to say that I don’t treasure what we had, Monsieur. When you vanished I-“

She froze mid-thought, seeing nothing but the fiery glow of his crimson irises as he lowered his head to meet her on an even eye level. A second later she realized he’d laced one of his gloved paws together with hers and pulled away her one constant reminder that their conversation wasn’t some terrible dream, only to hold her forepaw gently as he remained silent as ever. There was nothing else around them in that instant, no party or personal responsibility that would break the connection established by an action as simple as the Count finally meeting her on equal ground. Void relished the moment, no longer seeing the bitter drake that stood before her but a much younger dragon as he presented her a simple silver band after a rather nervous proposal.

Her heart felt as light as a feather, oblivious to the reality of the situation before her as her mind recalled the joyous day she’d agreed to become his mate. Lost in her fantasy, she reached out with her own forepaw, resting it on his shoulder as he took her reluctantly yet gently into his embrace. His wings unfurled, the shredded membrane sparkling like new to her as she buried her head against his chest. Nether flinched, the memory of that beautiful night wavering before he abruptly put an end to her illusions.

“It is as I expected. You remain blind to the lies you were once told, relying on the past to sustain a fantasy that died long ago.” The Count sighed as he twisted his paw out of her grasp and stepped away, dropping back down onto all fours as he straightened to his full natural height. Void blinked in confusion, only realizing what she’d done once he quickly folded his wings against his side. Her memory of the proposal... Had she actually tried to act it out with him?

Silently cursing her alcohol-fogged brain, she shook her head in denial, dropping back to the ground as he retreated another step to put distance between them. How could she be so stupid? If anything she’d made her relationship with Nether worse by acting like an ignorant thoughtless fool and in public no less!

“Perhaps it is time to return to the lives we both are committed to as adults,” he suggested, emotionless as she tried again to approach. Fending her off with a low snarl, his voice rose in both anger and authority as the persona of the Count of Monte Prisma re-emerged. “Leave this place, forget who you knew as Nether D'Argent. Now, if you'll excuse me..."

The final few words were spat out with enough venom to kill a young dragonet as he stepped away from her. Thinking quickly, Void reached out, her talons grazing the scales along his hind leg in an attempt to slow him down as she turned to follow after him. She wasn't done talking! There were so many apologies and questions alike racing through her mind after learning it truly was Nether who was the Count. How had he come back to life just to act as though she was far beneath him?

Nether said nothing, only snarling softly as he swatted away her paw with his tail before walking away and returning inside the chateau. Void took a step after him in shock before dropping to her haunches on the cold stone beneath her, struggling to make sense of his sudden change in demeanor. His attitude suggested he blamed her for something and, yet, his usual apathetic nature seemed to dissolved into wrath when he so much as saw her.

His vow of vengeance echoed through his thoughts with every step he took as he walked away from Void. It was all the Count could do to focus on her betrayal, lest he feared he'd turn around and beg forgiveness for his crass words. She had no right to lay a single paw on him after forsaking their love! Trembling at the mere thought, he growled softly through clenched teeth before wincing as his back throbbed faintly in protest. Fifteen years worth of lashes had taken their toil on him, not to mention the lack of medical attention afterwards. Some days it was a wonder he could even move...

Reentering the ballroom, his discomfort was temporarily forgotten as he noticed Magnus trying to woo a pretty sky blue dragoness and he had to force himself to look away before he intervened. What business was it of his if the crimson drake made a fool of himself? No, the Count suspected his rival was most likely drunk anyway if the information his servant had uncovered was correct. Not that he was willing to test the accuracy of such second-hand knowledge given his own currently irritable mood. Concealing another wince as he passed by several beautiful she-dragons gathered together no doubt spreading gossip, Nether turned his focus to finding Sitedal, or Vogulis as he often referred to him. The dark amethyst drake was now his most trusted ally, even going so far as to gather intel on the three that had carried out the act to ruin his life. Of course that news had ultimately led to his coldness towards the one he'd once called his Versi, an act he silently regretted with each step he took further away from her once he cleared his head of the anger that had been aroused at very the sight of her with that crimson monster.

Spotting the cloaked form of his only true friend lingering near the staircase he had originally used to enter the ballroom, Nether quickly wasted no time in approaching. As he neared, he was barely able to see the faint blueish glow of the ruins that decorated one side of former smuggler's snout and neck, choosing to announce his presence with a soft hiss. Drawing the drake's attention, he fought not to look back at the balcony's open entryway to check on Void. She meant nothing to him now, no matter how hard his heart tried to remind him of the love they once shared.

"Yes, Sire... Have you need of my aid?" Vogulis softly inquired, his deep voice drawing Nether's focus back to the reason he sought out the concealed dragon in the first place. Indicating that he indeed was with a brief dip of his head, the cloaked drake grinned. "I thought that might be the case. It wasn't hard to avoid noticing the two of you step outside. If I may be so blunt, why didn't you ask her to dance?"

"I don't dance," he reminded Vogulis with a soft snarl, pulling the drake closer with a light tug of his cloak.

Curling the end of his tail in frustration, he glanced back towards where he left her standing on the balcony. He could no longer see her but that didn't immediately mean she had returned inside. What use would there have been to charm her? She was already married to that monster anyway and, thus, proved to him that whatever loyalty she originally displayed had been nothing but a lie. Had she even been in on the plan to get him imprisoned? His heart denied her involvement... but his head was too far lost in the thrill of revenge to consider any other possibility.

"Is everything alright?”

Claws rose before he realized what he was doing, barely missing the drake's snout by inches as his gaze snapped back to who he stood in front of and immediately pulled back in bewilderment. Was he really just about to hurt the only one who now stood by him? Muttering out an apology for his rash behavior, Nether took a step back to collect his scattered thoughts, eventually finding his gaze drifting once more back in the direction of the lone dragoness who he had loved what seemed like a lifetime ago.

"It's... complicated, my friend," he finally admitted with a sigh, lowering his head in shame as he fixed his gaze once more back on the runic glow coming from Vogulis's neck. "There is something you can do for me though. Make an announcement explaining that I was abruptly called away on a matter of business. The guests may do as they wish, free to disperse at their leisure."

The amethyst drake frowned, eyes quickly darting in the direction of the balcony before returning. "Does this concern that 'ness and what took place just a few moments ago?"

"Perhaps," Nether muttered before he winced, eager to leave the rather crowded ballroom as his scarred back throbbed. "Do as I have instructed. We will discuss this later in my chambers."

Vogulis started to speak up in protest but, instead, nodded and left the Count's side to carry out his wishes. Alone once again, the grayed drake collected himself, mentally shoving away the consistent aching pain that rattled his very bones with each step he took as he slipped away unnoticed into a small hallway hidden just off to the side of the main staircase.

Now surrounded by marble on every side, the barren walls lacked the decor of the more public portions of his home and, instead, offered him a reflective look back on what he had known for almost two decades. Cold emptiness pressed down on him, bringing with it a feeling of the rough stone he'd often slept on and he growled, shaking his head to clear away the memory. It wasn't Talon's Nook; he wasn't back in that Hell. That much he had ensured when he commissioned the building's construction. Polished stone over the granite he now loathed was but one decision he had made to distance himself from all that prison stood for in his mind.

Making up his mind with a snort, he set off down the empty hallway towards a small staircase on the opposite end that led him directly up to the second floor of the large chateau. Upon exiting the hidden passageway by an unassuming wooden door, he felt himself relax as the stress of the gathering no longer pressed down on him. His brief interaction with Magnus had been rather interesting, only further backing the knowledge Vogulis had uncovered weeks prior. The drake had squandered away what little fortune his family had amassed when he took the role of Count from his ailing father years before. In addition, the relationship he had built with Void was shaky at best and thus, he had begun to seek out the company of other she-dragons to pleasure himself.

It was a pity though that Narssia had been unable to attend, otherwise he could have enlisted her aid for the next part of his plan before she too met her fate. Tiern would quite likely be the first to receive his judgement, although possibly much earlier than originally planned. The tan drake was likely already heavily intoxicated down in the ballroom and also severely in debit from numerous years of trying to run a failing business. Now if he were to inform his former shipmate that a shipment of his grand fortune was to arrive shortly at the docks... Perhaps he could deal with him as early as later in the evening.

Shaking his head to remind himself where he was, the Count sighed, tail sweeping back behind him as he started for his bedchamber several doors down from the secret staircase. He moved quickly, the sound masked by the red and gold carpet lining the floor. There would be time later to approach the judge and explain why he suddenly had an interesting story of Count Crisma's years as a Mage. Whether she believed him wasn't the issue - after all, any dragon could be easily persuaded with enough gold - no, he would have to make sure Void wasn't going to get hurt as a result. The poison he'd planted in the Ebon household was already working wonders, causing the stern law-abiding dragoness a healthy dose of paranoia over who would be the next to die.

Maybe he'd pay her a visit in the morning after he had dealt with Tiern? Not to end her life but to push ahead his plans for ruining Magnus. The drake deserved to suffer the worst for what he had done. Being the one to instigate his imprisonment was worthy enough of his wraith but to learn that the Mage had actually taken Void as his mate while she clung to the hope he might be released had pushed any thoughts of possible compassion far beyond reach.

Stopping at his door, Nether pushed the heavy wood inward, allowing himself a sigh of relief once he shut it closed behind him. Almost instantly his eyes welled with long held back tears, the tip of his tail still curled around the gilded door handle as the emotion of seeing his beloved once more slammed into him. He'd thought he had done a good job steeling his heart for the enviable encounter but now in the silence of his innermost sanctuary he knew just how poorly he had mentally prepared himself to see Void. The look on her face when she saw him had spoken volumes, even as he looked away to scan the gathered crowd for the rest of the conspirators. Of course Magnus had a wing draped over her as though he prided himself on the treasure he had snatched away the minute her lover had disappeared.

Yet even far above the noise and the bustle of activity on the lower floor of his home, he found it difficult to focus on anything other than her. The scent of her perfume, the sound of her gentle laugh. It nearly drove him mad with desire! Void had been his one source of hope for so long and then to suddenly see her again... How he wanted so fervently to rush back down into that ballroom and sweep her off her feet. She was his Versi no matter how long the time or distance that had separated them.

After all that had been broken, all the promises shattered, was there any hope he might be able to find it within himself to love her again? His heart reminded him of his love for her with every powerful throb but his back, scarred and ruined as it was, echoed back with the horror he’d experienced within Talon’s Nook. Even his gloved forepaws gave him reason to hesitate, so much so that he fell to his haunches against the closed door. Unfurling a wing, he shakily brought the torn membrane into view, taking notice of each and every jagged edge that he could only blame on himself. It had been wise to leave her when he did, painful though it was, but necessary, else he might have started to waver in his vengeful desires.

[beautifulramblingbrains]

The Dog - Chapter 4

Fandom: Vikings Characters: Ivar, Ubbe, Hvitserk, OC (However brief they appear.) UbbexOC Rating: This is Mature content with trigger warnings.

A/N: A big thank you to @murmelinchen for forever cleaning up my mess, and to those following the story.

First Chapter // 2nd Chapter // 3rd Chapter

Tags:   @pathybo@oddsnendsfanfics@sparklemichele@singingpeople@captstefanbrandt @equalstrashflavoredtrash@whenimaunicorn@kiiiimberlyriiiicker1995@emmysrandomthoughts@pokeasleepingsmaug@underthenorthstar @ariwolf14 @bcat1291 @tomarisela (If you want in or out of the tags just tell me, it’s all cool :))

The Quiet One always kept a hand on the top of Avery’s arm, guiding her back quickly to the woods, beyond the treeline, where in the distance she was surprised to see movement. Once they were hidden, he stopped her again, and Avery shrugged his hand off.

“I’m not going to run,” she hissed, fed up with his hovering.

“You lie beautifully.”

Avery only frowned. “I have nothing to trade with you.”

He clicked his tongue, placing his hands on his hips in thought while staring down at her. “I think you do. Well, not an item trade…”

Tilting her nose up at him, she pulled her cloak further around herself. “Not my body either.”

“So, you do think lowly of me. That is nice to know.”

“I hate the ground you walk on. I won’t be fooled by you.”

He snorted and ran a hand across his mouth. “Huh, that so. Well, you can hate me all you want but I am what stands between you and becoming an evening's entertainment.” He sighed and stepped closer, keeping his voice low. “For the trade, it is your help in return for the life of your holy man. Your holy man can live if you make them open the gates.”

“One life for a whole Keep? How stupid do you think I am?”

“Do you favour your life? If you don’t, that is stupid. Not one of them in there care for you, not even a little. You are just a casualty.” Avery peered to the ground, watching his leather boots step into her view as he crept closer. He wasn’t wrong. She’d seen it before; how easily they disregarded her safety, how people were left behind. “And it is two lives we are talking about, including yours. If you don’t help, there is no use for you, and I don’t travel with useless people. It’s not like we can let you go.”

“This isn’t a trade, it’s bribery.”

“..Or perhaps protection?” He smiled toothily. “But you call it what you wish.”

“I do this, I become an enemy. Once you and your people are flogged back to your boats and leave, I have nothing but a past that is going to haunt me.” She became desperate as she spoke, gripping the sides of her skirt in frustration, panic. “Will you kill me after?” Avery’s eyes shone, and for a moment he was wordless. “What happens after? Am I a slave now? Will you give me to that… demon,” she spat.

The Quiet One seemed far away, then crossed his arms over his broad chest. “You are a slave now, stulka.”

“Slave…” She tested the word in a whisper, her sense of pride dwindling. “I have another condition.”

“Yes? What is that?”

“I want to go back to my Keep. I need to know what happened to them.”

“There is nothing to go back to.” He chewed his cheek, tilting his head with a sigh. “But I will take you if you agree.” Avery couldn’t look at him anymore, and nodded, swallowing thickly. “Your name?”

“Avery.”

“A word of advice, Avery,” he said her name so thickly, pronouncing it with the hindrance of his accent. “Betray me and you will know Hell. Pretty face or not.” He roughly grabbed and spun her towards the men gathering heavily in the trees. “Move.” And she did, this time without being restrained.

The path leading up to the large gate was quiet, just the sound of crunching earth under her feet disrupting the silence. Her heart pounded and the sweat that slowly started breaking out was cooled by the light drizzle. The Keep was a picturesque view, a form of sanctuary portrayed before her like the gates of heaven. Though, the devil secretly flanked her, the heathens slinking to nearby buildings, eyes locked on the prize, watching her and every movement.

For a group of dangerous, rumbunctious men, they were undeniably quiet - not a sound. No wonder her Keep never saw them coming.

“Halt!” shouted a man’s voice when she got within reach and she froze.

“I come from Benedict Biscop’s Keep to the North with news.” She tried not to look around her, to give away anything. “And I’m in need of help.” She lowered her hood, brandishing her cross for all to see against her chest, a woman standing alone at the mouth of dragons. If her accent and fluent talk wasn’t anything they could trust, she could conjure up a prayer, or beseech them.

“Benedict Biscop?”

“Yes. There has been a great tragedy.” She suddenly remembered what Benedict had told her. “It’s for Father Murdoch’s ears alone.”

The one face of a man disappeared and left a great silence, and for moment she didn’t think it had worked. Until the sound of thick chains began to rattle, a loud crack as the gate began to lower. It sheathed itself against the earth and Avery was signalled forward by paranoid and iron clad churchmen with spears in their hands.

Clasping her sweaty palms, she made a slow walk without any haste, praying for her soul, raindrops running from her hair down her face. She stopped within their reach. Confusion swept across their features when she whispered, “May the Lord be with you.”

Deafening were the battle cries from the heathens as they passed her, weapons held high in full sprint, while she stood solidly in the middle of the path like a witch that had cast their deaths.  

Eventually the celebrations of the night tumbled into the first light of the morning. Only a few had caught sleep. Ubbe wasn’t one of them. His brother Hvitserk was outstretched on some furs, daydreaming across the small river by their camp.

“A Christian woman damning her people,” he said aloud, not looking to Ubbe, chewing stolen dried meat. “She doesn’t run now.”

“No,” Ubbe said. She was out by the water, crouching down to wash her hands, having aided a man with a blunt wound to his forearm. “She prays for it though. You can see it.” And he could, her face turned into the sun, following the stream across the field. “But now she can’t.” Especially now, he thought.

“A Christian woman with courage,” Hvitserk toyed.

“Is it courage or self-preservation? There is a difference.”

With Ubbe’s tone sharp, Hvitserk changed the subject. “The villagers will tell tales.”

“Let them.” Ubbe stood up and stretched. “We move soon. But there is something I must do. Perhaps you can lead and I will catch up.”

“Let me guess, West?” Hvitserk sat up. “And where are you going?”

“I promised to take her back to the Keep to look. What for, apart from rubble, I’m not sure.”

“It will be swamped with the Christians,” Hvitserk almost laughed, linking his arms over his knees. “You can’t be serious.”

“My plan worked better than I thought. If I can’t stick to my side of the bargain she won’t do it again.” Ubbe tied a knot in a sack of travelling items. “And we might need her to.” He eventually glanced at Hvitserk with a smirk on his face. “You’re not scared for me, little brother?”

“You know Ivar’s men are here to watch you. Hendrick-”

“Can suck my cock. I may not be King of anything, but I rule here, right now.” Ubbe flicked his wrist to the old man by the cart in the distance, beckoning his horse. “Dog or not.”

“It’s a stupid title only Ivar finds funny.”

“Ah, well, I happen to not mind it much.”

Hvitserk was bothered though, letting it show on his face. He’d seen the physical torture, the training, the pain. And still, Ubbe had come out on the other side, awoken by the leash of Ivar being cut.

The freedom, the distance, relying on hope of re-establishing their brotherhood kept Hvitserk restless. Yet, there was something still lost. It looked and sounded and had the quick criticism of Ubbe. But the determination and stamina, tactics, thinking rationally, were not.

Had this been what Ivar had subtly planted into Ubbe’s image without possibly realising?

Hvitserk stared at Ubbe a long moment, even when the old man approached and Ubbe commanded another horse. It could have been a delirious, drunken thought but it dawned on him like the sun that lit up Ubbe hitching the saddle. He’d even said it himself. ‘I may not be King, but I rule here’.  

“Two days and I’ll be back,” Ubbe broke Hvitserk’s thoughts. “Move our camp further West, a day’s ride, and I’ll find you.”

The younger brother was still mesmerised in his own discoveries. “Yes, brother.”

There was many things Avery was expecting. But for the Quiet One to approach from behind, the thudding of horses on reigns, was not.

“We go now,” he told her.

Still ashamed, she didn't bother to speak to him, walking up to the horse tied to his where he helped her up onto it. He was covered in thick furs, a sack dangling down from the saddle. He briefly looked to her in silence and clicked his tongue, moving them out to the shallowest part of the river to cross again.

She wished she was knowledgeable, had paid attention to the lay of the land and took the few occasional lessons on basic survival seriously. But at the time it was left on deaf ears as she mourned for her family and old way of life. What drove her was basic instinct. And furthermore, a guilt so deep for betraying people just like her.

The sun burned her eyes and she squinted past the silhouette of the quiet one leading ahead until the liquidy warm rays slightly tinged her skin. If she was already going to burn in Hell for the children's sake, she may as well make damn sure that she lived in the short time that she had left. Maybe, once it becomes her time to leave and fall into the afterlife, God may forgive her then.

But could she forgive herself?

Avery had wrapped herself tightly in her cloak, letting the horse sway her from side to side, eyes heavy. The cold chapped her face and it had been hours since she could last feel her fingers.

The Quiet One dropped back until they were side by side, at a leisurely pace, and he didn’t seem bothered by the weather at all. “On my travels I prefer to hear stories to pass the time,” he said, watching her as she kept her eyes straight ahead.

“I know none.”

He chuckled to himself. “Tell me of what happened to your home?” Avery raised an eyebrow, but still didn’t say anything. “Your original home before you were a hidden slave girl.”

“I minded the children. I wasn’t a slave.”

“So you say. Did they give you a pretty title instead?” He began reigning in the rope between them, bringing them closer. “You know, we have a very long way to go. It’s going to be longer if you don’t talk.”

“Everybody was killed, every woman was raped, everyone is dead.” The wind picked up and swung her hair, covering little noises from the horses and scurrying off into the trees in the distance.

“Hmm, apart from you.” Suddenly he tugged on the reign of her horse and halted it.

“What do you want me to say? Do you want me to tell you so you can get off on the details?” she finally snapped. “Do you want me to tell you how I watched people and the buildings burn? How I hear them still?” She turned her nose up at him. “Ha, that is probably exactly what you want to hear. You’re all a bunch of scruffy barbarians. There is nothing between you and those who ransacked my village.”

The Quiet One leant over and grabbed her foot, unhooking it from the saddle, and in one easy movement flipped her entirely off the other side. She landed with an ‘oomph’, the air knocked from her. He laughed loudly. “Your skills on horseback are terrible, stulka.” She was dusting herself off angrily. “I need to rest. Here will do. We have cover and I can tie the horses.” He grunted as he dropped down, pulling away the two steads and tying them. He brought back his sack, laid out a fur he’d stashed and sat down. Avery took a place opposite him, far away enough that he couldn’t touch her, but near that she could still hear him and not look like she was running away again.

He indulged himself on bread and dried fruits while Avery wrinkled her nose at him, hugging her knees. “You eat like a dog,” she said, beginning to pluck grass.

“It works for me. I am called The Dog.” While he took another bite, Avery got a glimpse of fine braids crossing over the top of his head, and then into the small hair he had pulled back.

“That is not something you should be proud of.” His blue eyes shot up, daring her to speak further. “Dog,” she let out slowly.

“I am going to get tired of you very quickly. Have I not stuck to my word? You should be thankful.” Out of his sack he pulled a lump of meat and carved a piece with his knife, sticking it on the end.

“Oh, yes. Let me thank you for being a dog walking upright. Scavenging peaceful villages, stealing, killing.”

He stood so quickly she jumped and shuffled back, but not fast enough. He pulled her up by the back of her hair, his breath curling out in foggy whispers while he cursed in his language over the sound of her prayers.

At last, he held up the knife. “Enough with your noise. Eat. And when you're finished, you can find wood for a fire.” He shook her to capture her attention. “And no more from that mouth of yours.” He tipped the point of the knife towards her, and she took the food. “Good.”

They’d fallen asleep around the fire. It was Avery who woke first as the flames died down to nothing but embers and the chill set back in. The Quiet One was on his back, long and deep breaths while he slept, and in one hand Benedict’s cross.

It looked as though he had been examining it before dozing off, though she didn’t see him doing that. But right now it glinted so openly for the taking, loose in his palm.

It’s not his to keep, she told herself, sitting up. It is mine.

And it was indeed hers. Benedict had given it to her. It was her salvation, her currency if she ever survived being a Viking’s captive. And on that thought she crawled on her knees very slowly, taking it from his large and scarred hands, claiming it back for herself. Acting like she hadn’t moved at all when he begins to stir, she rests her head back down and pretends to sleep.

Avery got the feeling they were close just before the light had begun to die earlier that day, leaving them travelling by moonlight. The river had began to widen, similar to how it was by her Keep, how she had last seen it on that night.

The Dog, The Quiet One, or whatever his name was that she still hadn’t learnt, lead ahead, casually guiding her horse with their tie. She’d been gloating inwardly to herself the whole time as so far he hadn’t noticed, and a smile kept threatening beneath the half-faked forlorn look on her face.

“We are almost there,” he said, confirming her thoughts, his voice trailing off while keeping his sights turned straight ahead of him. He dropped back beside her again. “When we get there, we are quiet.”

She nodded. There was nothing she had to say to him. The night was beautiful and calm, the moon lighting their way. It shone from the mane of her horse while she pulled her fingers through it.

“Isn’t it a sin to steal?” Avery snapped her head to him, mouth opening to defend herself but he interrupted her. “I know you took it.” His voice was smug, body swaying with each step of the horse. “Don’t deny you didn’t.”

“Well, it is mine,” she said curtly, scrutinizing him with a frown. “You stole it from me. I was taking it back.” He only chuckled. “And if you should know, it is my salvation after I am free from you. I will sell it if I need to. Then my plan is to find work, a manor or farm... Keep a roof over my head until I find a husband…” she mumbled the last part, not really agreeing with the idea that in order to have a normal life, she needed a husband.

Sometimes she didn’t even think she would live to have one. And so far, with what she had seen, she didn’t know if she would be healed enough from her experiences to live so quietly. She would be forever dreaming off into the night in vivid nightmares, perhaps screaming out that the Vikings were coming again while they slept. That no place was safe.

“Once I am finished with my duties here, I will have a big farm. You can work on my farm.”

Avery scowled at him. He was leaning over his horse in his own amusement. “If there is any good in this world, you will be dead,” she said simply.

“My name is Ubbe. That is what you will call me.” He was smirking, self-assured. “When you are my slave on my farm, I will allow you to call me by my name… perhaps. I will think about it more - whether I can put up with such a heated mare.”

“Your humour is sad.” She meant to offend him, but it didn’t work. He was happy for a reaction she’d tried all this time not to give him. “And your name is stupid, ooh bear.”

Even though he had demanded silence, he laughed loudly. “Your accent is joyful. Your mannerisms not so…” He thought about what he wanted to say for a moment. “A little guidance and you could talk like a true Viking.” They began to incline a hill to a break through some woods, having to turn away from the river on their detour. “It’s U, B, B, E. Ubbe.”

“It still sounds like an infant cooing to a beast.”

“I like that…”

She couldn’t help but snort in disdain, trying to cling to her horse and not show she was fearful. “It is not a good thing.”

“Your mouth is still feral, that is not a good thing. Especially while still being held captive, stulka. It could get you into trouble.”

“Don’t call me th-” Her horse suddenly stumbled, lost its footing and slid back while she held on for dear life. It made an awful noise, a squeal, and Avery tried her best to unhook her feet and roll off the horse’s side as it collapsed and began to slide all the way to the bottom, leaving her a crumpled mess half way. Ubbe let their tie go and motioned his horse to the brow of the hill, then skidded back down, bringing debris with him.

Avery coughed, once again thrown from the saddle. But this time, Ubbe pulled her to sit up. She groaned from the jolt, but the whimpering of the horse was worse. At the bottom it lay heavily breathing, throwing a hoof out, and Ubbe, having looked, wiped a hand down his face cursing. “Stay here,” he told her, his eyes saying more.

She watched him unsheath a knife that was hidden within his furs, make his way down quickly to the stead laying helpless, and without hesitation, jammed it through the animals skull. He took whatever supplies her horse was carrying and jogged back up to her still seated in a daze on the incline.

He flicked his head to get moving back up the hill, and she did so, watching him climb effortlessly back onto his horse. “You ride with me now.” And without speaking further, pulled her up to sit behind him.

“You killed it,” she said, barely.

“I killed it quickly rather than letting it die slowly. We can’t help a horse with a bad leg,” he said, his amusement completely deflated by the unexpected accident.

Avery nodded to which he couldn’t see. Then, he prompted by shifting his elbows outward and letting her hold onto him, her fingers slipping between his furs, finally finding warmth.

There was no bodies like Avery had seen in her foresight. All the little huts that used to surround the Keep in a magnificent show of life, were all but five. Three, if she didn’t count the ones that still stood erect but without roofs and half blackened. It smelt charred and burnt too. A smell not like campfires and comfortable memories of feeling safe and warm, but a poignant stench that was wretched. When she looked down on the dirt, it was etched with pools and lines from a rain that must have passed, and the reason why the smell was so powerful.

As far as she could see in the dawn lighting, there was no Keep but a shell of a once fortified wall.

They stayed seated on Ubbe’s horse, walking directly through the middle - through the silence. They had hung back far enough to watch for movement, to be left with nothing but a bird tittering down to the ground and pecking, calling to its mate and fluttering off. There was not a soul.

“It doesn’t exist anymore…” she managed to breath through the squeeze in her chest. She went to slip off the side but Ubbe grabbed her thigh.

“There are track marks,” he said cautiously.

“They are gone.” She intentionally used her blunted nails to try and hurt him as she pushed his hand away, but he didn’t flinch at all. Slipping down, she surveyed her surroundings. “They are all gone.”

With her feet flat on the ground, she searched aimlessly, each image burning into her mind. She could see her own village now, how it looked after the raids. She could feel how the people did when they came across it. All of those things she didn’t experience and wished she could to lay her mind to rest, only triggered it.

“Avery-”

“Shut up!” She turned on him with tear-stained cheeks marking through the dirt on her face, pointing a finger to drive her point home. “Don’t you speak to me!” She ran through what was once the arch of the Keep’s gateway and across the barren courtyard towards what would have been the entrance to the kitchen.

She could remember stumbling through the fencing of the chickens, the items scattered around her when she had fled to find help, telling the children to stay there. They were supposed to hide and not come out unless days had passed or she had come back for them.

Avery’s knees gave out.

They never had a chance. The weight of the building had fallen sideways, crushing everything in its path.

Rubble and dust, nothing else was left. After a while, the guilt shifted to sadness, leaving her in a bleary haze. Emotionless, still entranced by the exact place where the kitchen of the Keep used to stand, she rose to her feet. The horse snorting as it came to a stop behind her was the only sound.

“We can’t stay here, stulka,” he said in a low voice, sounding almost compassionate.

Avery knew they had been here longer than necessary, knew that she couldn’t stay here much longer, frozen to the very bone. “You slaughtered them without any thought, just like that horse. Are the innocent seen as bad limbs - unworthy of fixing?”

“Men have fought over land endlessly; way before we were born, and long after we die.” She finally turned to look at him while he spoke. “We are all pieces to a lasting game and will never see the end to it. That is what you must see.” He gestured towards the rubble. “Not this.”

“Is there a choice?”

“To play the game? No. It has already started. But some of us make do. And we do that, we all lose something. It’s what keeps us playing. It is the way it goes and always will.”

Avery gathered her cloak around her. “And your farm? Is that what keeps you going?”

“It is my dream. I know I will never see it,” he admitted. She went to the back of the horse and Ubbe shook his head, holding out a leather bound hand to her. “You take my hand and you risk playing something with no known end, stulka. But it is the path of the make-do. And I think you have already suffered your losses, don’t you?”

Her fingers itched, half extended to his. “What does that mean?”

“That you may find something that keeps you playing. And from nothing, we can only gain.”

“You sound like you know a lot about it?”

He ignored this question, his posture only giving away the slightest discomfort with it. “It is time to go.”

Avery noted the damaged and scarred palms of his bared to her; the knicks and scabs of terrible doings. When seeing her own half-extended in moral hesitation, there wasn’t much of a difference.

Her fingers slid past his slowly, an uncertainty, but rather, a fascination. The possibility of finding answers to nightmares, her own existence, and how far her beliefs would carry her began to swarm her mind. There was a chance to heal, even if minutely, and also, to see the faces behind the monsters that plagued every day of her life.

She could save one man - Benedict. But she couldn’t save them all. Maybe that was her objective, her path she was destined to take.

Avery’s feverish touch was hastened by his roughness. He grabbed her hand, pulling her up until she sat in front of him. An uncomfortable minute passed as they adjusted, a turn of her head to see him behind her so close and leaving her blushing.

Ubbe tugged the reigns and guided the horse back around.

[yukiwrites]

Yukiii... Please feed me some Ryouma x Male Kamui, I'm dying over here... Could you come up with something involving their S-support, but the flaws (lying about them being brothers and all) actually being addressed? Kamui getting super angry and not even giving him an answer at first? (I'm sorry, Ryouma, I love you but you deserve that slap... at least a little...) Of course, everything ends well later~ and if it's not too much to ask... can things get... steamy? OvO'

Aaah where to even begin with that mess of S-support? xD I’ll try to deliver everything, but be ready for some suffering >vAs always, I call the male avatar as Corrin, so sorry for not using the name you asked~

Part 1 - Part 2

Dusk was falling in the real world as the soldiers started to take shifts inside the Astral Realm. In there, the sunset was still to come, the skies in a mix of red and orange.

Corrin sat under a tree behind his quarters, holding his knees in a childish attempt to hide as his heart bled. “It’s like the sky’s feeling compassionate towards me, painting itself in such color.” He whispered to himself, looking at the ring his siblings had given him some time ago.

“This is from all of us,” Ryoma had said, flashing a beautifully hoshidan-made ring. It had inscriptions inside – all of the siblings’ names – whereas the outer ring consisted in an embossed Dawn Dragon, its body doing three turns before it met its tail.

Corrin had to hold back his tears, a lump on his throat making it harder to breathe. “T-that’s quite a ring…” He said, trying the accessory immediately.

“Indeed.” The High Prince nodded, crossing his arms with pride, unaware of the younger prince’s inner turmoil. “The four of us had it made for you a long time ago. We vowed to give it to you upon our eventual reunion. And here you are, safely returned to us.”

“As… as your sibling,” Corrin stuttered, lowering his head and praying that Ryoma would interpret that as emotion instead of self-loathing, “I’m so g-glad to be part of this family.”

Once again the dragon prince sniffled with the memory. How could he live like that? Hiding whenever his eyes met with Ryoma’s; wishing to murder the feelings which only grew stronger every time he heard his voice… wanting very much to simply disappear.

They were brothers! Corrin squeezed the ring and raised it above his head, ready to throw it away in the woods. His hand trembled. “If I had known I would feel that way… I wouldn’t have chosen to stay…” He croaked out, his entire body shaking as he brought the ring close to his heart, cherishing and hating it with the same intensity.

“Corrin? Corrin, I know you’re here somewhere!” An oh so beloved voice called for him, somewhere from behind him. The prince flinched and immediately put the ring back on his neck – he used it as a necklace so as not to lose it – before trying to sneak away.

Of course, that plan wouldn’t work. Ryoma’s senses were sharpened to almost perfection. At least his physical ones. “Aha, there you are!” The High Prince spread two bushes apart, revealing his crouching brother.

“Eep…” Corrin flinched, turning his head away from his brother. He had been on the verge of tears just a few moments previous, so it would be troublesome should Ryoma ask about that.

The High prince offered his hand. “I realize that you have been avoiding me lately, Corrin, and I need to know why. Being… being ignored by you hurts me more than you can imagine.”

Corrin dug his nails on his chest, biting his lip so hard it turned white. “Don’t… don’t say that…” By me, specifically? I can’t feel special! I can’t… he thought over and over, trying to convince himself like a mantra.

Ryoma crouched, stretching his neck to try to see the dragon prince’s face. “How can I not say it when it is the truth?” He huffed, almost in physical pain. The very same words he spoke brought him more reason to keep talking, the feelings locked inside his chest too much to bear. “Hah, however I have to admit that I have not been completely honest with you.”

“Huh?” Corrin peeked over his shoulder, confused. “You’re telling the truth but also lying?”

For the short second that their eyes met, Ryoma’s face contorted into a blush, making him avert the gaze towards the ground. “Ah, y-yes. That is to say… no! I am telling the truth, but not all of it.” He breathed in. “Father, forgive me. Queen Mikoto…” He looked up to the sky, the sun almost finishing setting.

The mention of their parents made Corrin’s heart grow cold and he finally managed to breathe in deeply before turning to his brother, his feelings once again tightly locked inside his heart. For Mother, he thought while crossing his legs and looking at the fruit of his taboo.

“Forgive me,” Ryoma started, sitting formal hoshidan style and placing both hands over his own thighs. “I have not been completely honest with you.”

Corrin’s heart grew colder at every word Ryoma spoke, dreading what was coming next. Had he found out about these ugly feelings? Was he there to say that Corrin was tainting their Mother’s memory by loving his blood sibling?

“The truth is… I am not your brother.”

Dusk fell and the sky darkened as the wind slowly blew their hair away, the silence stretching itself as both now non-siblings looked at each other: One with incredulity and the other with hope.

His heart had jumped right after the news, but his mind refused to accept. “What do you mean?” His voice sounded hoarse, as he clenched both fists. Was that some kind of sick joke?!

Ryoma breathed in with relief, as though he was waiting for that question to continue. “Exactly what I said. You and I are not related by blood.” He nodded and proceeded to speak the reason behind that elaborate lie.

Honestly, Corrin didn’t listen to it all; his heart thumping so loud inside his chest he could barely hear his own breathing. A frown started to dig itself over his brow.

Was he happy? 

The love of his life was finally within reach… but all he could see was red as Ryoma babbled about their Father being an honorable man by adopting Corrin.

“What changed?” Corrin spat, clenching his fists so hard it almost pierced the skin. Ryoma stopped talking and blinked with a nervous smile.

“W-what?”

“Why are you telling me this now? What changed?! Why didn’t you tell me this two years ago when I first showed up in Hoshido?!” He started to get up, balancing himself on one knee.

Ryoma opened and closed his mouth, not understanding the rage but feeling that he should be honest. He stood his ground. “I fell in love with you.”

That was the last straw.

Corrin got up, a mix of incredulity, elation and, most of all, disgust fighting a battle inside of him. “So because your feelings changed you decided to drop this bomb on me?! You– you didn’t think for one second that I would spend the- the rest of my life loving my brother and beating myself about it?!” He stuttered and screamed, warms tears rolling uninvited from his eyes. Flabbergasted, Ryoma also got up and tried to make peace with both palms facing Corrin. “That I would live a miserable life watching…” he averted his eyes, his lips trembling with all of the scenarios his mind made him go through, “watching you marry a nice lady and becoming King while I would just wish I could wither away and die?!”

“Corrin,” Ryoma fought a frown and a smile – his beloved had inadvertently confessed his love! – taking a step forward.

“Don’t come close to me!” Corrin exploded, taking three steps back, huffing. “Just- just because you thought, ‘oh hey, I actually love him’ you thought it was about time you told me the truth?!” Corrin wrapped his arms around himself to stop the trembling as he took the time to breathe through his mouth. “I chose…” his voice got lower, memories of his time in Nohr flooding his mind, “I chose to stay behind because you guys were the ones who were truthful to me; who didn’t lie to me…”

Heartbroken, Ryoma stood there midway to apologies, his hand uselessly reaching out for his prince. “Corrin…”

The dragon prince let out a bark of laugh, “what’s the truth, really? You’re behaving just like Garon – lying and manipulating me into thinking I’m your family!”

“Corrin, you do not mean that!” He snapped. “Do not compare me with that monster!”

“Hah! Monster?!” Corrin sniffled, still shaking, “I was the one thinking I was a monster; loving my blood brother! How could you have lied to me about such an important part of my life?!” He huffed, out of breath. “Do the others know about it?”

Ryoma tried to keep his blood from boiling. As much as he loved that man in front of him, to compare him to that disgusting ruler of Nohr was pushing his limits!

However, seeing how much Corrin suffered dwindled the High Prince’s rage. Look at how that small prince trembled and cried – so many tears, so much more than Ryoma thought possible for a person to cry at once. The love blossoming in his heart made him calm down. And feel even more guilt.

He just wanted everyone to get along.

“Father spoke of this matter only to me. Unless Mother told them herself, they also believe you are their blood sibling.”

It took all Corrin had to stop the trembling. They have also been lied to? That couldn’t go on. “Come with me. We’re setting all of this straight right now.” He said before turning on his heel and leaving.

Ryoma looked down, his heart shredded to pieces. They loved each other, but would the lie that brought them together be too big of a hurdle on their oh so very faraway future?

“Corrin, please, tell me what’s going on! Your eyes are red and you’ve been crying ever since you summoned all of us here!” Hinoka pleaded as all of the hoshidan royalty grouped together at the real world. It was Hinoka’s turn to stay behind and watch over the remaining soldiers besides the portal, so they all chose to stay with her there.

The princes and princesses excused themselves to speak in a clearing, under the shining moon. Corrin finally raised his gaze to his fami– former family.

“Did you all know that we aren’t related by blood?”

Takumi crossed his arms. Sakura fidgeted as Hinoka widened her eyes and looked at Ryoma. He looked to the ground.

“Humph,” Takumi started. “Why do you think I resisted letting you in so much? You’re not even Father’s kid, so why should I have embraced you as my brother?” He turned his face to the side. “Well, that’s what I thought in the beginning, anyway,” he said in a smaller voice. But the damage had been done.

Sakura walked two steps forward and took Corrin’s hands on her small fingers. “I-I only remember a bit of our time together as children… so I’m glad we could spend time as a family to know each other better.”

More damage.

Hinoka still pierced her older brother with her glare, but touched Corrin’s shoulder and bended over to try to look him in the eye, “Mother told me about it during the time I went crazy trying to bring you back.” She smiled like a good big sister would, digging the knife deeper into his heart. “But it only made me want to see you again even more! I loved you as a true brother.”

A single tear fell from Corrin’s eye. Hinoka flinched.

“I still love you, Corrin! Nothing’s changed!” She squeezed her hand on his shoulder. Sakura did the same on his hands. Takumi reached out, feeling guilty for saying what he did.

Ryoma clenched his fists.

“So I was the only one who didn’t know?” Corrin said with the tiniest of voices. “I was the only one with these ugly feelings inside of me?” He cried, finally raising his gaze to the man of his life. Ryoma’s dejected look brought even more grief to Corrin’s heart.

How he loved him!

“Corrin,” The High Prince reached out, making the dragon prince flinch and take a step back, breaking contact with both of their sisters.

“Why did you all go through with this lie? I thought we were family!” He cried out, making both sisters bring her hands to their hearts.

“But we are, Corrin! Our love bounds us together!”

“Enough!!” The dragon prince yelled, shutting everyone in sight. “How can I reciprocate your love if it was all based on a lie meant to keep me around?!” He turned around and ran, wanting nothing more than to just disappear.

“Corrin!” Hinoka and Ryoma followed, but the High Prince was faster and the eldest princess didn’t have her pegasus.

They decided to split up to look for Corrin in the woods right ahead, but Ryoma had something Hinoka didn’t have.

He could always find his beloved no matter where he was hiding.

Not too long after going separate ways with his sister, Ryoma found his small prince in the same way he had done earlier that evening: hugging his knees and crying.

Ryoma finally felt his eyes itch. It hurt him more than a thousand arrows to watch Corrin suffer, especially since the source of the suffering was Ryoma himself. He spent a full minute reaching out to the air, uncertain if he should crouch and touch that small shoulder.

“…Forgive me.” Was the only thing he could say. “I thought I could embrace our love anew after telling you the truth, when, in actuality, I should not have kept the lie in the first place.” Corrin heard as he positioned himself on the ground, sitting formal style and bowing. “I truly, deeply, just wished to be with you as my beloved.”

That’s unfair, Corrin thought, his heart bubbling and his tears overflowing. “I’m mad at myself the most.” He declared, his voice hoarse from all the crying.

“Eh?” Ryoma raised his head, tilting it to the side in confusion.

Corrin put one hand on the ground behind him, slowly turning to the love of his life. His face was a crying mess: Nose, cheeks and eyes were red as the tears drenched it all. “I’m mad at myself for being so happy about it all.” He confessed, looking down. Ryoma’s heart skipped a beat. “I know I should be angry and yell and throw things at you and slap you – I thought of all of that.”

The High Prince fought a smirk and gulped, patiently waiting for Corrin to finish.

Slowly, the red eyes met the grey ones. “I know I should… I should rebel and say that I wished to never come here, but that– that would be an even bigger lie than the one you told me.” He sniffled. “I love you so much, Ryoma. I’m overjoyed that we’re not blood siblings; that I can finally be free of the chains of taboo bringing me down every time I raised my eyes at you… that you love me in return.”

“Corrin…” Ryoma smiled, slowly crouching so as to reach his prince’s side.

The dragon prince flinched, the whirlwind of emotions still fresh inside his chest, but the deep roots of his love screaming louder than anything else. Ryoma got close enough to caress that reddened cheek and swipe the tears away with his thumbs.

“Forgive me for making you cry so much, my precious prince.” He whispered, nuzzling Corrin’s swollen nose.

“Heh,” he held one of Ryoma’s hand, the other one holding onto the High Prince’s haori for support. “I’m still mad, but not for long.” He replied, raising his chin, brushing their lips together. Ah, his hot breath on his! How much he dreamed of that! “I’ll always forgive you.”

Ryoma’s smile disappeared as their lips touched for the first time, a wide array of emotions being transmitted to one another through it. Love. Grief. Acceptance.

Desire.

As Corrin opened his mouth to welcome more of Ryoma’s tongue inside of him, they felt as though time had stopped for them. A small moan died in the dragon prince’s throat, making his beloved flinch.

“What a sweet, sweet sound.” Ryoma said, biting Corrin’s lower lip, moving his hands towards the smaller prince’s back. “May I touch you, Corrin? I wish nothing more than to please you and make you happy for as long as we live.”

Another tear fell from Corrin’s eye. But this time, it was finally of happiness. “You needn’t ask; but yes, you may.” He giggled bashfully, wrapping his hands around Ryoma’s neck.

Ryoma waited no longer to run his hands from Corrin’s back to his front, opening the yukata the dragon prince usually wore when he was resting. Slowly, he pressed his hands through his beloved’s muscles as their mouths conjoined once again in a heated kiss, their tongues getting used to each other.

“Ah!” Corrin moaned as one of Ryoma’s hands reached his underwear. To get an erection with just a touch and few kisses… How much Corrin loved his prince. Ryoma relished on the sound, licking Corrin’s wet face towards his pointy ear.

“Call my name in this sweet voice, my beloved prince.” He whispered, making Corrin tremble from head to toe, already feeling his erection let out preseminal fluid. With just a whisper!

“R-Ryoma…” Corrin almost begged, making Ryoma himself close one eye in pleasure, his own erection poking at his loincloth. He lowered his mouth to Corrin’s neck, sucking it as his hand touched the now free erection, slowly pulling the skin up and down. “R-Ryomaah…” Corrin moaned, digging his nails on the broad back.

Slowly did the High Prince masturbate his beloved, looking down at the shiny glans as it trembled under his big hand, a terribly cute voice begging for more over his ear. Ryoma licked Corrin’s collarbone, neck and ears, his hands never speeding up, enjoying how stretched out his name became when Corrin became closer and closer to the climax.

“Alright,” he said before deeply kissing Corrin as he was about to come, muffling his increasingly louder moans under his tongue. The dragon prince came, his fluids spluttering around Ryoma’s hand and kimono, his body trembling and deflating with exhaustion. “Next will be my turn, but inside our tent.”

The post-orgasmic fog still clouding his mind, it took Corrin a second to understand as his eyes fell to the bulge on Ryoma’s pants. His anus gapped in anticipation and he held onto his beloved for his dear life as Ryoma took him in his arms.

“Our tent?” Corrin managed to whisper, his heart beating too fast and his mind to focused on the strong chest he was being pressed onto to remember the reason why they were so far into the woods.

“Indeed. I shan’t let you sleep on a separate tent; not after waiting for so long.”

Corrin gulped. They had two years’ worth of pinning to catch up to. He could only hope to match Ryoma’s stamina and thank the gods once more for the blessing of not making them siblings.