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blueberrypancakesworld · 4 months ago

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Surprise visit with needs

modern!Aemond x servant!reader

warning : +18, smut, mommy issues, breast play, thigh job (humping), implied age gap (Aemond is in his 20s and reader in her 30s), hurt/comfort, family problems, aemond needs reassurance, kissing, fluff, no use of y/n, nicknames : Ma'm/Mommy/Muse

Summary : Just because you're the second son of the rich Targaryen family doesn't mean you're automatically a somebody. Ignored by his father and mother, Aemond takes the path as a musician, but after a small concert but all the more the cries and accusations of his parents he comes back home exhausted, broken but above all looking for comfort a comfort that only one can give him…

info : OMG the pictures i mean all like how beautiful can someone be an angel, my muse he is so pretty and deserves only more photos thanks for the help in choosing the reader and i wish everyone a lot of fun reading ;)

masterlist

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The night was cool too late to even call it evening but still too early to herald the morning. A time when no one was on the streets anymore and no one wanted to be in King's Landing even though the city was large with many neighbourhoods and their histories it was still a city riddled with poverty, brutality and the power of the youth who held various parties and concerts every night in the pubs and various factory buildings.

A city that had stood for hundreds of years and had always belonged to them, the dragons as they were called because of the family crest that dated back to the Middle Ages when they conquered the city with fire and had ruled ever since.

The Targaryen family silver haired beauties with more money and influence than you could imagine whether it was the sea routes of trade through the Velaryons or the other influential families like the Baratheons or Arryns it was a family that had many members but above all the family had a black sheep, one member that stood out.

One son is good he is the heir but the second son he is like a shadow never really important always second and never the hope of the future no matter how well he learnt or trained with the sword no matter how many times Aemond met his older brother with the blade no matter how many tournaments and medals he brought back home it never seemed enough never even close.

So he withdrew, though still part of the time, when his father or mother, even his grandfather, or his teacher Criston demanded it, he was there like a ‘dog’, but each time it came back differently less gold more free dragon….at least that's what he thought.

A free dragon who did what he wanted to do, a guitar on his leg playing and his lips on the microphone he entertained the city that had given him more than once what the rich son needed and wanted, on his hands the silver rings and the dragon tattoo on his arm and yet at the end of the day.

When the moon was over the city and the dark alleys were only slightly illuminated, he was still dressed in gold when he went back through the high, thick iron gate and was always let in by the servants or sneaked in.

But then the fire of his parents' disappointment hardly hurt him anymore, it was more the threat that he would take away his guitar and send him away to his great cousin or whatever Rhaenys was related to in order to “get some fresh air” by the sea, as his father always glossed over it.

He sometimes avoided the older man's gaze, sometimes held his own, but all Aemond saw was a rich old man who had overreached himself and couldn't really see what his well-born family was really going through.

But the thing that hurt the most when he looked in his room helpless on the bed and the guitar next to him was hearing his mum's footsteps his mum standing in the open door her disappointment ,,I really thought you were better matured than Aegon I am disappointed Aemond everything is already complicated and you are making it worse" her words clearly audible in the room but he tried not to hear them.

The green and gold always showing the colours of her family, her blood that she always carried close to her and that he himself had worn most of the time but now everything just seemed so monotonous and overwhelming.

He just nodded slightly and looked down at the pain of his scar throbbing, stabbing, disturbing him saying that he was a bad prince a bad son a disappointment before the door closed and he was alone in the room alone with his feelings but most of all with no one to turn to.

I've given everything mother he thought he wanted to tell her but knew it wasn't enough and instead sighed trying to distract himself with his guitar and record collection but after the time of self-pity, hatred and insecurity his stomach grumbled.

He heard the confused growl of Vhagar lying on her dog basket, an old wolfhound that had belonged to his grandfather and just seemed to be going through the motions, a friend when he needed to get out of the castle and someone soft to cheer him up even if it was just rolling the ball back and forth, but when he was hungry Vhagar couldn't help much.

,,Umbās Vhagar I'll be right back’ he commanded the dog in the old language from the former land from which his ancestors supposedly came, but it had been lost for centuries and nothing more than ruins of Valyria remained, but even his ancestors would not help him.

Opening the door to the long hallway, he could hear his brother's snoring even through the door, but above all he could smell the odour of grass and beer, the typical smell of the heir to the throne, ,,How beguiling," he murmured cynically and turned his eyes to see the small ray of light under the room next to his and he calmed down slightly.

His dear sister Helaena was not awake, not a rarity as her interests, which were centred on insects and nature, only allowed few public appearances like his only when necessary.

He had no interest in her insects but he enjoyed her company when he wrote a book of new songs and listened to her thoughts that she spoke to him, some of which he turned into songs and gave her as a birthday present, a thing that always made her happy.

But ignoring his family, knowing that his father was asleep and his mother was probably on another floor for a ‘meeting’ with Criston Cole, he had a clear and safe route down to the first floor where the large open-plan kitchen and living room were located.

The walls honoured the family with old murals of legends and legends of dragons and the taking of King's Landing by his ancestor Aegon and his sisters' wives Visenya and Rhaenys, a legend and story with truth and fantasy that he could learn and interpret in contrast to Aegon whose face he had to see again as he looked at the large family picture but turned his image away from the black and white photograph.

Emotions welled up in him again and he twisted the silver rings on his fingers trying to turn away from the pain of his scar and his mind as he saw the moon shining into the kitchen, his only companion on the way back and oh now there was only one person who would see him.

Still and quiet it was in the house not loud and full of life like the old bar he had played in where people cheered and cheered and listened to him and he felt somehow loved as his body shook with his own voice and the vibration of his guitar.

It was freedom, a life he should have and actually was allowed to have because as a second son he was good for nothing but looking good when his parents needed him to, he was no hope and would never matter.

His emotions boiled inside him as he ripped open the door to the fridge and after grabbing the first best thing he could after what he wanted again he took out the bottle of milk and slammed the door shut again and turned to the pull out cupboard and just took the cereal and poured it into a bowl the little tinkling of the single oat flakes and other dried seeds were almost like music.

But the sounds drowned in the milk as the crunchy sound of chewing kept coming up in the silence and the rich prince sat down on the kitchen counter with the bowl in front of him and brought the spoon to his mouth again and again, savouring the taste of the ice-cold milk with the cereal it felt like the only thing he had eaten after breakfast in the morning before sneaking out again.

It was like this almost every day, sometimes only every other day when he was forced by his mum to join the family or even attend the visit of his half-sister and her family, a thing he hated and his tongue always made a cynical comment to his half-nephew Lucerys.

It may have all been an accident back then, playing around with the sharp letter opener and naive children but the damage was done and now he wore either the black eye patch or the dark blue sapphire prosthetic eye, his injury the only good thing was that his mum was with him again for a long time.

Her voice soft with a hint of worry but mostly love and apology when she held his hand, stroked his head and always gave him a gentle kiss on the head before falling asleep but most of all she was proud of him to get through this being as strong as a dragon for a small moment he had seen that she wished so much that he had become Aemond the firstborn and not his brother Aegon.

But that wish and that time had been over for more than a decade and so now he sat here almost laughing at the irony of it all and yet he seemed to feel the tingling on his skin where she had always touched him, given him comfort whether he was really hurting or lying it didn't matter as long as his mother loved him and wasn't disappointed it didn't seem to matter.

Lost in his thoughts about the time of comfort and love, he noticed too late the footsteps coming towards him from the dark of the house, the woman coming towards him, the high heels making a clacking sound and the dark uniform with white embroidery was an image he saw every day, but even so, when the older woman said ,,Good evening Aemond" he winced violently and dropped the spoon into the bowl, the milk splashing slightly and sticking to the ends of his hair.

His eyes went from the spilt milk to her and he saw that she was still wearing her uniform, she always wore it, there didn't seem to be a day or night when she didn't wear it.

The black dress that went up to her thighs, the dark nylon tights sometimes white or blending in with her skin and clinging to her legs, the black high heels she could run in and often did when his brother threatened to throw up on the carpet and she had to practically carry Aegon into the bathroom.

But the white embroidery on the edge of her dress and on her wrists bright white pure innocent fabric that never had a stain she always seemed to be the purest thing in the house, no the purest thing in his family.

,,Good evening…Miss" he replied and swallowed to moisten his drying throat which didn't quite work so he tried to take a spoonful of the milk which didn't quite work either as half of it was in his dark hair and on the kitchen counter.

As always, she smirked, her lips a slight smile and her voice revealing joy and slight infatuation when the prince addressed a simple servant as Miss, but he had been doing this too since she had been here for as long as he could remember, she was there for them all and especially for him, ,,I could have made you something proper" she said casually and came up to him he saw her casually drop a silver thimble into her dress pocket.

His mother had always insisted on having her clothes hand-tailored by her and it had to be extravagant but it took a bit of time she only had at night or in the morning.

,,No need I just wanted something small" he lied and he saw her briefly sceptical look as she looked at him and still turned away to grab a drying cloth and held it under the tap she wiped the milk off the kitchen counter and he only now realised how close she was to him.

He blocked the stains but she only briefly put a hand on his wrist and signalled him to stay seated but instead of continuing to eat his food he couldn't help but feel the warmth on his leg and side as she moved to clean him, her warm soft body pressing against him again and again.

Aemond almost flinched when she used the drying towel to lightly dry his hair and a few of the stains on his khaki trousers and the light-coloured helmet to make it easier to wash, ,,Don't-you don't have to do it," he tried to stop her but she put his hand aside and took the bowl from his hand.

He almost felt stupid just sitting here, being served everything like his brother and having everything given to him but…now just as she put the cloth aside and gave him an almost motherly look, ,,Don't you? Oh Aemond how many times has it happened now mhh?" she asked him alluding not only to their nightly meetings but also to the nights and mornings when he had to deal with his parents, his feelings were hurt and a broken boy who could never lie in his mother's arms again longed for exactly that.

A prince who wanted to be king in the shadow of his brother and would never be of the same value again, a maimed prince who deep inside longed for something he would never get again.

,,I-I wanted to apologise he threatened me again but mother her disappointment burned like a fire" he admitted slowly lowering his head he looked at the soiled clothes and he felt the lump in his throat as he thought of his mother's look again.

She only seemed to look at him like that for the last few months and weeks since the day he had dyed his light hair black and taken care of his business but since then Alicent hadn't even hugged or touched her second son. It was as if he didn't exist and he longed for more physical contact night after night.

No one appreciated him in what he did, no one appreciated her, it was she who had taught him to play the guitar, had practised with him, had given him a hug after his first concert instead of the shouting of his parents and the jokes of a brother that Aemond Taryren preferred to socialise with the common people rather than the big crowd.

But she like a ghost was always with him even when the tears rolled down his cheek when his mother hurt him like no one else could, ,,I'm sure she would have understood, I get it you were looking for fun, recognition and love is normal no shame" her voice replied softly.

Not a hint of reproach to be heard in it as her hand laid on his cheek her fingers caressed his skin and he slowly closed his eye and snuggled up to her hand. Warm and soft as everything of hers she always welcomed him into her arms as he leaned his head against the crook of her neck.

She always smelled of sweet biscuits and warm clothes, a smell that represented a mother to him, a sense of security that he so wanted to have again, ,,I was never good enough," she heard the words that had probably plagued him all evening as his fingers wrapped around her, he squeezed her and she held him, stroking his back and he slowly, slowly pressed himself closer to her, trying to push his neediness straight towards her.

,,Shhh don't say that for me you've always been more than enough Aemond,’ she made him hear what he needed, what he wanted before he lifted his head to look at her his eye dark in the night seemed to slowly replace itself with lust and desire before he came closer to her just waiting for her consent which she gave him with a nod before he pressed his lips to hers.

His fingers that were on her tightened not tearing at her fabric yet he seemed afraid she would leave him, let go like his mother that she would never hold him his sigh sent a shiver down her spine as his centre slowly pressed against her thigh as she stood practically between his legs.

The cold leather of his black jacket fell away from his shoulders as she slipped it off, ,,I'm only here for you," she told him again, slightly breathless as she ran her fingers over his lip and kissed his scar, noticing the twitching of his skin with excitement and arousal.

His reaction warmed his cheeks and he closed his eye enjoying this special kind of love on something grotesque like him and she almost thought she heard a whimper from him, ,,You love me" he said but she knew it was more of a question than a statement her fingers trying to reach his shirt were held by him almost shaking with ignorance.

,,Of course I love you like a mother loves her child, a dragon loves fire or humans love money…in the end I will be everything you want me to be Aemond," she reminded him, still reminding him of the reality he was in with her, where they were and what it would mean if they were discovered.

Their eyes met she almost thought she saw tears in his eyes until she saw a slight smile of satisfaction his lips kissed her hands and he nuzzled her lips again seeking another kiss to get close to her and savour her love.

Her fingers opened his shirt slightly and stroked his unblemished skin massaging his taut muscles slightly and a relieved moan came over his lips, ,,That's it, just relax my love," she whispered, her lips lightly kissing his neck and sometimes her fingernails leaving red streaks that seemed to burn like fire for a moment.

She noticed his own efforts at arousal as he slowly rubbed against her thigh while his hands pushed her dress up just a bit, he would never expose her the way Aegon had tried several times.

She was his muse, the substitute for a mother's comfort or simply a past of his own that he wished he could have had longer, ,,May I? " he asked as his fingers travelled up her dress, gently making small circles or scratches as he felt her underwear under the fabric but his fingers were on the top of her dress.

However, she realised herself that with his touches and kisses, her body was also reacting to him, the slight arousing throbbing in her middle, the tingling in her body that made her nipples slowly harden and she could see very well that even in the low light that his eye had fixed on her breasts, her nipples were pressing lightly against the fabric, even the bra couldn't hide it, ,,Of course you can," she gave Aemond permission and pulled back from him, giving him what he wanted as his skilful fingers pulled the fabric of her dress down slightly to rest against her bra.

She smirked as she saw his brief puzzlement in his eye her bra was the same dark sapphire colour as his eye but it seemed to please the prince for a moment creating a smirk, ,,A pretty colour" he murmured.

His fingers ran with a light pressure over the lacy bra feeling her goose bumps the warm soft skin but most of all he enjoyed her sigh and encouragement as he lightly massaged her breasts, these full-on encounters had happened too often for him not to know what she liked.

The prince had been too busy with her and what would have been a shame a hundred years ago seemed to be just another bad joke in his whole weird family, ,,Always so hasty," she murmured as he pulled down the lacy fabric covering her nipples faster than usual and looked at her nipples and he immediately let go of her apologetically, she saw how it unsettled him as it reminded him of the question of whether he had done something wrong.

But just as quickly a moan came from his lips and a closing of his eyes as her hand went to his bump and stroked his hardness, ,,But a good boy no matter if you hurry go ahead Aemond I'm not going anywhere" she assured him and her other hand twisted one of the silver rings on his before she picked it up and kissed it sucking lightly and seeing with satisfaction that his cheeks had darkened another shade.

The tightening of his groin replaced his mind of uncertainty with lust as she slowly let go of him and gave herself to him again she let him do it felt him turn to her breasts again for a moment before she let out a throaty moan as his lips came to her nipple almost cautiously knowing what he was doing was shameful like his brother had done in the past but her hand on his head playing with the dark hair assuring him it was okay he closed his eye.

His body relaxed, his breathing steady and the slight sucking sound could be heard as he sucked on her nipple, his fingers massaging the other and her hand caressing him as he rubbed against her thigh every now and then a stifled moan and grunt could be heard.

She knew he would love to have something, something she could not give him until her body was in a certain state but such a thing the dutiful Aemond would never do, Aegon yes but the shame he would bring would be impossible.

Instead he made do with what he had his change was clear to see the uncertainty and hatred and disappointment was gone a broken prince relaxed in the arms of a mother figure he loved in a way even though they were not related.

It was a different kind of affection yet it was an affection a feeling that went with lust ,,So good my muse" she heard his murmur as he looked up at her as she saw lust and gratitude in the dark eye a look of a rich man fallen deep from his dragon fallen.

Her hand brushed from his head over his scar again and gave him a soft kiss on the forehead as she stroked him a little faster, ,,Anything for a good boy," she replied and pressed him against her again, letting him take the pace of his arousal as he rubbed himself against her again and again, following the high as he almost rocked back and forth as if she were holding him properly in her arms.

But he didn't let go of her, he continued to give himself to her, to this secure hold, to the arousal, and she heard his lustful sounds more and more steamed as he rubbed himself against her faster and she kept whispering to him how good he was.

How good and a good boy he was for her, she knew that Aemond needed this and even if the limit of the one-time had long since been crossed, they both knew that it couldn't last forever.

No matter it didn't matter because in the lust her words were lost in his foggy mind where he was trembling with lust holding on to her ,,I-I gonna-ah please" she heard his ragged words barely intelligible in the noise of the large room and yet she knew he was close to his climax the heavy rushed breathing, the needy look in his eye when he looked up at her through his lashes the lust soaked gaze nothing but neediness could be seen.

Her hand played with the lengths of his hair knowing he would wait for her for the words she made him do the neediness before she murmured ,,Come for mummy" to him the whimper and groan he heard as he buried his head in the crook of her neck with a jerk and held on to her and for a moment seemed to forget everything around him.

A sight of shame, lust and embarrassment would see them both like this but it was egall it was egall that he needed her in a perverse way that was not lustful, it was egall that she was above him and could command him if she wanted to because as soon as he broke away from her he was Aemond Targaryen the second prince and millionaire again and she was nothing more than the nameless servant.

She took her hands from him after a few minutes and felt him almost grumble as he lost her warmth, lost her security and devotion, ,,Don't…don't leave me," she heard his voice softly, barely more than a whisper as he reached for her wrist but she pulled it away and adjusted her bra and dress before taking his face in her hands.

The brightness of his eyes returning as the night slowly threatened to end and the royal house of Targaryen would return to ‘normality’ she gently stroked his scar, ,,I am here Aemond call me and I am here ask for me and I am here I will always be here if you need me my prince" she replied and gave him one last kiss on his bruised skin before pulling away from him.

She took the drying towel and the leather jacket with her she would wash the rest of his clothes during the day she heard the clacking of her shoes as he scurried from the kitchen counter ,,Good night" he said after her again it seemed almost ironic to say it now when they had spent the last few hours together and yet he heard her laugh heard her amused laugh which pleased his own comfort.

,,Good night my Prince Aemond I am proud of you…and your last concert’ she said back to him as she gave him one last smile and the younger wondered if she had been in the crowd that liked him at all his concerts so far.

With the sun slowly rising, maybe it really did seem like she was always by his side when he needed her and she was there to rescue him from the ruthlessness of his family into her own dragon fire.

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@vipervixxen , @thefangirlsblog , @rl-nancyholbrook , @reylatargaryen

#house of the dragon #hotd #hotd season 2 #hotd fic #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #modern aemond #modern au #aemond targaryen x female reader

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blue-mint-winter · 3 months ago

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Reading Fire and Blood: The rest of regency - Unwin Peake and others

I decided to make a post about the last chapters as they are mostly straightforward and the level of bias is somewhat lowered. With the removal of Orwyle and Eustace as sources and replacing them with Munkun it becomes a smoother story without so many internal contradictions. It's clear Munkun is still pro-Green and both him and Gyldayn paint certain characters in a better (or worse) light than they should, but all in all it's easy to see what was really going on - powerful people plotting to stay in power and control young Aegon III. I was rooting for Aegon III a lot.

Unwin Peake was the major player seeking full control as the new Hand by any means necessary. His execution of Orwyle and various actions taken to fill the court with people loyal only to him show how dangerous and power-hungry he was. Now I have no doubt he was behind Tyland's and Jaehaera's deaths (which is identical to Helaena's death, giving a strong hint that both of them were murdered).

Btw, Orwyle was highborn! I wonder which house he belonged to - was he another Hightower or maybe Dornish? When he hid in the brothel, he was called Old Wyl and Wyl is a house in Dorne.

Munkun is ridiculous as he's constantly calling Aegon III a sullen boy and trying to make him sound unreasonable when the kid was firmly under the boot of Peake, was tormented and terrorized by his master at arms who punished him for any disobedience by hitting Gaemon - who was like 7 years old. Aegon III was surrounded by traitors and enemies and couldn't trust even his own Kingsguard which was filled with Peake's own men. Marston Waters, the man that served Aegon II and watched Rhaenyra's murder, was the Lord Commander. Aegon III had nothing to be happy about, he had zero freedom and was only a puppet king constantly in danger of being replaced by a new claimant, if one was found, or by his own son if he married Peake's daughter.

Munkun portraying the choice to marry 6-years-old Daenaera Velaryon as motivated by her being exceptionally pretty is another claim that is hard to believe. Obviously, Aegon chose her because his sisters brought her and because she was so young that before he could have children with her, the regency would already be over and he'd be king in power. It was a perfect solution to his problems. (Btw, how ironic that Daemon and Rhaenyra's son married Vaemond's granddaughter).

The mess with Greyjoy succession and then Arryn succession is probably more important to the main book storyline. I definitely enjoy the mention of Nettles and Sheepstealer still hiding in the Vale. I wonder what happened to Alys Rivers and her son and the alleged dragon. Harrenhal is strangely dropped from the story and it wasn't even given to anyone.

Of course Hightowers are warmly welcoming Alyn on his way to Iron Islands, they are sucking up to king's brother-in-law. They want to regain their political capital. It's pretty telling how Redwynes are still refusing to be associated with them and won't even send their ships alongside Hightower ships.

Viserys was found which was a huge relief. I really like how the brothers became a united front against all the plotters. Especially the part with protecting the drawbridge to Maegor's Holdfast against Peake's loyalists and Viserys exposing lord Rowan's confession as false. It all pretty much proves that confessions under torture are completely unreliable, the man was so broken that he was agreeing to everything that was said to him.

Sandoq the Shadow was really cool, he seemed like a Balrog on the bridge, but he protected the king against the attacking white knights.

The fall of house Rogare does seem more like an Essosi plot than Westerosi. They had many powerful enemies, among them Iron Bank, their competitor. But then one of the Rogares went to Braavos which funded his attack on Lys, so it's uncertain if Braavos was truly behind the fall of his house or only wanted to get rid of their bank, after which they did business as usual with him.

Even though the current generation of Targaryens didn't practice incest, their marriages were still messed up, with huge age gaps. They were forced to grow up too young :(

The amount of child abuse in these chapters is staggering, including the girls that came to the ball on the Maiden's Day.

Manderly as the last Hand treated Aegon III the best out of them all, but I can see why he decided to get rid of all people involved with the whole regency mess when he finally came of age. The idea of progress wasn't bad in itself, as previous kings did that, but without a dragon was it truly safe to go to visit the lords, whose loyalties were often uncertain, and risk his neck to more plots? His decision to keep the home advantage and only treat with lords on his own turf in King's Landing was reasonable.

The policy of full bellies and dancing bears :)

All in all, I think Aegon III's regency looks like GRRM's answer to the end of GOT show, when the council from all over Westeros chose Bran, who was still a child, as their king and... just let him rule? Why would they let him have any real power over them? GRRM showed his version of what would happen if a council put an orphan child on a throne and the results aren't pretty - the constant power struggles, plots and various dangers to the young king's life. The king was vulnerable and helpless, a puppet that had no real power as others ruled in his name. If Aegon III represents the future king Bran (both are even called the Broken), then Baela and Rhaena would be substitutes for Arya and Sansa (Baela and Arya - wild, willful, Rhaena and Sansa - a lady, married to the trusted Valeman). The sisters came in the clutch, but couldn't truly protect their brother from the vultures. Perhaps Baela's marriage to Alyn, a bastard that became a lord, foreshadows that Arya would similarly elope with Gendry if he was acknowledged and given Storm's End. Viserys, the younger brother returning from overseas long after they presumed him dead, would be Rickon's substitute.

#fire and blood #my thoughts #asoiaf theories

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an-abyss-of-stars · 1 year ago

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He saw her at daybreak - Part 7

Summary: The babe is growing steadily, and with merely three moons left in her pregnancy Rhaena begins to feel the calling of a dragon…

Warnings: None for this chapter!

Tag list: @minim236 , @bohemian-nights , @neocil , @nettysnest , @avidreader73 , @jordanjanellejoyy , @azaleapotterblack , @yourlittlehoe , @partypoison00 , (feel free to tell me if you want to be on the taglist or not)

P.S: AGGHHHH BLEH BLEH I'M BACKK!!

PLEASE, if you haven't been following my spotty updates on Tumblr, I basically wrote this entire chapter about month or more ago…and it totaled out to about 30k words in length…and the I reread it and hated it! LMfAO, so, I've been going through it slowly trying to make it tolerable, and in that process I've realized that I don't mind this first half too much! I think it's pretty good, so I decided I'd cut the chapter in half and let y'all read this bit! For those of you still care about this weird smutty fic!

This half isn't smutty i'm afraid to say, but the next half will have the other 20k words in it…so that'll have the sex scene it! Either way, long time coming! Hopefully you all enjoy it!!!

☾

The rest of that evening had been calm and peaceful, mainly due to Rhaena stealing her husband away, to enjoy the serene nature of the grassy fields that faced Dragon mound.

Aemond had Maester Varion push his last two hearings over to the following day, giving him the free time to lay with her and Vhagar in the grassy fields as the sun slowly began to set on the horizon. Rhaena had always thought this spot, here on the peak, was one of the most perfect spots to witness a sunset here on Dragonstone. The saturated orange glow of the setting sun bathed the grass and anything on it in such an ethereal way, everything glowed like pure gold.

Truly the Golden Hour.

With a soft tranquil breeze that ruffled and flowed over against them. Rhaena had leaned herself back against the solid massive heat that was Vhagar's side, while Aemond had comfortably rested his head on her lap. His body laid out on the cool grass, casual and relaxed, as he crossed his arms.

For once, truly, Rhaena's mind was at ease, sitting here in their shared comfortable silence. With her fingers absentmindedly running through his hair, Aemond had closed his eyes, either just as peacefully soaking in their solitude or just as likely he might have found himself comfortable enough for a light nap.

Not unlike his bonded dragon, Vhagar, the legendary she-beast could be heard purring soundly, a massaging rumbly feeling that vibrated against Rhaena's back.

Just off in the distance, Rhaena could see the great King of the dragons, Vermithor, nestled closely with his beautiful mate, the iridescent Silverwing. Seeing them together like this often brought back old memories of Rhaena's childhood, when she'd run these fields with her siblings and their own dragons. Back when they could sit with Caraxes and Syrax, and kepa would tell them all wild and exciting tales from his youth, the many exiles he'd experienced for annoying and angering his grandmother or aptly, his elder brother. Of his battle in the Stepstones, a personal favourite for all of the kids then. Sometimes he'd tell them about muña Rhaenyra in her youth, tales that made her blush and swat him affectionately.

But most cherished of all, to Rhaena at least, were when he told them all of how he'd courted the girls' other mother, their birth mother, muña Laena.

It always sounded so fantastical and romantic, Rhaena had always loved to hear of it, even when her muña was still alive. But after her death, she supposed it meant all the more to know that her kepa hadn't forgotten her. That even though he'd found love again, he'd never let go of his previous love…he never let her name or her memory fade into oblivion.

And she loved him dearly for that.

It was also never lost on her, the incredibly soft, fond expression Rhaenyra had whenever he spoke of Laena. A clear expression of someone who also once loved her mother.

Though, of course, by now Rhaenyra had been more of a mother to Rhaena than her birth mother, Laena, had ever gotten to be. This coming year, it would be eleven years since Laena died…eleven years since Rhaenyra had respectfully taken her spot in Rhaena and Baela's lives.

And just as well…this coming year…Rhaena would have a babe of her own.

Frightful business indeed…but exciting nonetheless.

Rhaena's little train of thought had swiftly eroded away as a new surge of energy started to spark within her. It started like a low hum…sizzling…sparking in the pit of her stomach, a faint tingle ringing throughout her body like full-bodied butterflies.

It was a feeling that sought attention…beckoning her over…and as her eyes searched around for the source.

Rhaena found herself gazing directly over at the glorious iridescent beauty, pink and white, light and regal…the Queenly she-dragon, Silverwing.

It wouldn't have caught her as off guard as it did…except, the dragon in question was gazing right back at her.

From across the vast field, their eyes met with fire-like intensity, something Rhaena had never felt before.

Surely this wasn't…

Not now…

After all these years…

The calling .

No.

It couldn't be.

Quickly she broke the line of sight, and tried to distract herself with conversation.

"Aemond," Rhaena breathed, still slightly startled, still in disbelief over what she assumed might be happening…but Silverwing would not move to her. If this was…what she thought it was…she'd have to make that move herself.

And for now…she wasn't sure she wanted to.

She wasn't sure she could…even if she did.

Eighteen years…her entire life she'd never wanted anything more. And now she was too scared to take it…claim it.

Maybe it wasn't fear .

Maybe she found herself existing in a false sense of acceptance.

Rhaena Targaryen…the only Targaryen in her current living family to not have a dragon.

This was a fact.

And it had been for years.

Was she really meant to change that now?

"Hmm," upon her lap, Aemond hummed faintly, whether he had in fact been resting or not, she couldn't be sure, but she had his attention now.

So she figured she'd use it, redirect her thoughts into something else, "the babe…do think we'll have a boy or girl? Or perhaps twins…they are quite common in our family…"

Her sentence trailed off into silence…try as she might, she could not focus.

That electrifying feeling ached and demanded attention.

Thankfully, she supposed, Aemond hadn't noticed the subtle change in her demeanor. Instead letting her casual question marinade as he turned his head towards her belly and pressed a soft kiss against her. His hand reaching up to caress the curve, "since they're coming from you, I wouldn't care what you birth."

"I could birth a deformed dragon creature," Rhaena had meant it as a slight jest, but the moment the words left her mouth, she realized there was a true possibility that she could. House Targaryen prided itself on pure Valyrian blood matches…and seeing how both of their fathers' were brothers and indeed incredibly pureblooded.

A true dragon-like babe was a real possibility.

Not a likely one…but a possibility nonetheless.

"I'd love them just the same," had been Aemond's calm response as he pulled himself up, sitting in front of her as he eyed her closely, "why do you ask?"

"Oh! No particular reason, just curiosity," she smiled sweetly, pulling her legs up and crossing them, "I just know, most men would prefer sons…is all."

Real authentic, nice work…

It wasn't at all, but it seemed to pass well enough. At the very least, the more she distracted herself with this pleasant conversation…the more time she'd be able to give herself to truly comprehend what was happening within her.

Softly, her mated dragon pulled her from her thoughts, she was drowning in them but thankfully he provided sanctuary. As he caressed her cheek, his indigo eye held her gaze quite intensely, it seemed as if he was trying to read between the lines. To view something upon her face that she hadn’t purposely realized she’d given in to, an expression, a twitch, a look…something to reveal more than what she had said.

And part of worried he might have seen what he was looking for…that he would be able to see right through her.

Her thoughts of callings and Silverwing …

Although, why she felt the need to keep these odd feelings to herself…she couldn't say.

But she didn't wish to attempt describing this discomfort when she wasn't entirely sure about it herself.

It had nothing to do with the symptoms she felt due to the babe and even then she’d barely been able to explain herself.

"You should be happy to know that I am not like most men," his voice was so low and smooth, silk-like in its delivery, while his gaze was so intense yet charming. His lips had begun to quirk upwards, something playful mixing in with his usual cunning smirk. As his hand slid from her cheek and down to her chin, his thumb affectionately stroked down over her lower lip to the shallow dimple on her chin. Such a simple gesture had managed to fluster her if only slightly, his tone had simpered down to a suggestive rasp, as he queried, "now, which were you hoping for, byka ābrazȳrys?" little wife?

Oh, how she loved when his voice did that.

Such a simple question, and yet, now he had her swallowing thickly and biting her lip.

"I couldn't possibly…" Rhaena spluttered, her voice all airy yet bereft, her eyes darting upwards towards the sky for just a moment, to calm her heated chest and mind. All the while his patience was unyielding…calm and planted like a purposeful current in a rushing river. When her eyes finally returned to him, she decided she might as well divulge a truth she’d once known, "hmm, well…a few moons ago. When I first heard that I was with child, rather instantly I imagined us having an adorable little boy. And it seems, ever since, I’ve only ever been dreaming of him in more vivid detail."

There a mixture of sweet fondness filtered through Aemond’s heated gaze, silently urging her on, clearly he was patiently waiting to hear more of her innocent dreams for their little growing family.

And so Rhaena thought she would indulge him with the details, letting her own hand reach for his cheek, as a naturally sweet smile grew on her own lips, "well, in my dreams, he always looks like a cute little version of you. And he has your eyes, deep and dark, that perfect indigo shade that so simply draws one in. He has your sharp cheekbones, but with really chubby cheeks. He also has your jaw, and maybe your eyebrows. Really floppy pale blonde curls, and maybe his skin is just a shade lighter than my own. But what I remember most, every time, is his adorable little laugh, it tugs at my heart even though I know I’ve only created it in my mind myself. But he smiles so much…all of the time. He’s such a happy little babe…and his smiles are so much like your own mischievous ones. He’s the most perfect little thing in my mind."

Rhaena had fallen into a slight daze, practically gushing over every little detail she’d imagined for their child. For even as she was only describing a dream…a fictionalized created image to her husband, one she’d seen a dozen times by now. It still felt oddly cementing to admit it all out loud, as if she was speaking this child into existence…truly cementing the idea that this little boy might be theirs…that he might be real. That her current little gremlin which she carried within her at this very moment, was possibly in fact the very same babe from her dreams.

Aemond for his part looked as if he had enjoyed her description, his face held an incredibly fond expression as he seemed to be putting her words to an image in his own mind. Especially grinning deviously once she’d gotten to the end of it all, “ mischievous smiles, are they," his free hand slipping around her waist, pulling her close to him, practically up onto his own lap, "wouldn’t you think it’s a dangerous thing to want our son to be the spitting image of me."

Her body instantly warmed, engulfed in the heat of his response with the added feel of being held in his larger more muscular arms. Rhaena might have planned on laughing, giggling brightly really, but his movements were faster. The nimble speed in which he tipped her chin up for his own easy access to her lips, just as fiercely as ever, he devoured her with a deeply passionate yet possessive kiss. She’d sighed instantly, melting against him wholly, as his heated tongue slipped through her parted lips. Delving into the molten heat of her own mouth and she did the same to his, her tongue roving over and syncing into a fire-like dance they’d played a million times over. And even so, her body always reacted the same, sparking live-electric currents through her blood. Like an itch only he could ever scratch for her, with just a kiss he held so much power over her.

Their rising tension seemed to connect with Aemond’s bonded mount, as Rhaena could hear Vhagar ruffling and rumbling behind her. Not that it stopped her husband, he only tugged her closer. Pressing her against him as much as he possibly could, desperate to feel the heat of their bodies entwined and bound together.

If he wasn’t careful, they’d end up writhing against one another in this field… once again .

For they’d done it several times before.

It was an active pull of force, to work against the current of energy her body was willing with his own, to deny the primal urge to feel his large member thrusted deep within her again so soon. But by the time Rhaena had found the resolve to want to pull herself back just enough to breathe, it felt as if she was pulling herself out of a heated trance. Her lips still desired to cling to his, latched on with near animalistic intent as her teeth still grazed at his lower lip, a possessive hold she barely wished to relinquish. And only caused him to groan quite provocatively, something deeply seeded from within him.

It took quite a lot of self control, to trail a heated path of kisses down along his jaw before she panted the words, "you cannot want me again so soon, three times in one day? I thought we were pacing ourselves?”

The incredible low and husky chuckle he’d given her had made her entire body flutter just at the sound alone, nevermind the dark wanting look in his eye, “you haven’t much cared for pacing ourselves during this last moon…if ever,”

This sort of talk was exactly why she was with child so soon after their wedding.

But as much as she wanted him at this very moment, her body urged rest and…more importantly, her little gremlin urged for more nourishment.

In just a moment, my little baby , she thought, glancing down at her swollen baby.

Deciding she still wished to finish their previous conversation, before their ever undercurrent of lust and love overruled them. Rhaena wrapped her arms more securely around his neck, leaning further onto him as she brushed her nose against him, leaning her forehead against his, feeling the innate sturdy warmth he always provided for her. Softly she gazed up into his eyes, practically puring when his indigo and sapphire eye gazed back into her own pale violet eyes, “you do realize that you still haven't answered my question, ñuha gevie zaldrīzes . What have you pictured for our child? What does my valzȳrys dream of, " my pretty dragon, husband .

There was a beat of sweet silence, as Aemond caressed her back, warm soft streaks drawing down her back as his nose nuzzled hers. As if he only craved to kiss her again, to drown in the senses of tasting her and holding her…forgetting the world around them.

Eventually his lips curved into a smile, one of those boyish grins that still made Rhaena's heart thump no matter how many times she saw it, "I already told you, I don't have a preference,”

“Well humour me then, my love,” she whined lighty, shifting herself around on his lap so that she’d be able to rest her cheek on his shoulder, “if you were to have a preference, what would it be? When you were most adamant about a fucking a child into me, did you not consider imagining what said child would come to be or even look like?”

Rhaena was wearing him down, or at least she hoped she was. Not that he needed much. She had her thumb softly caressing his neck as she held him there, pressing her plush lips against the scarred line he had on the other side of his neck. The one he had once earned during the tourney that was set right before their wedding, his final single combat match with Lord Cregan Stark. She still remembered how furious she’d been with him that day, how careless she’d thought him to be to remove his helmet during a match like that. Even now seeing the completely healed mark still evoked a strained emotion in her, one that always simmered into some sort of pride mixed with love, that her idiotic dragon had managed to win and live.

“Fine, for you, my little dragon," he sighed, drawn out dramatically as if he wasn't anything but excited to speak about their futures, about the child that would soon join their lives, "I suppose I've pictured a little baby girl. Daughters are far more precious, are they not?"

Her chest had burned almost instantly, primed to burst, for Rhaena hadn’t even dared to imagine her dragon carrying a little baby girl around the castle. But just the thought of it alone…he was indeed right, it would be a most precious sight. The idea of her stoic dark dragon Prince playing little games, sitting for little tea dates or escorting around the castle a tiny little Princess.

Rhaena couldn’t stop smiling over the thought, maybe she was equally hopeful for a daughter after all.

"Either way I wouldn’t mind, but if the babe is born a girl…then I'd hope she'd have the good fortune to take after you. I’ve envisioned a sweet little version of you," he'd kissed the edge of her jaw as he spoke, but Rhaena hadn't missed a word. Her heart, hammering at the idea of it all…that he could want for such a thing just as much as she did.

As she pulled herself up to properly gaze at him, his lips began to traverse the length of Rhaena's neck. His hand glided along the curving dip of her waist, and just as the flames of pleasure began to seep in once again…she found her eyes landing on Silverwing in the distance.

Once again.

Seemed she couldn’t escape it. That sparking feeling from deep within her, the one she'd spent the last half hour trying to suppress…it had awakened once again.

Even as she tried to focus in on her husband's affection…on the roaring sound in the distance, where from the corner of her eye, Rhaena could see a pure black dragon soaring out from the direction of the Dragon Mount volcano, most likely Cannibal.

But all would be for nought…her body longed to brave the scene.

She couldn't allow it now.

If she was wrong…she'd be putting more than just herself at risk. She'd be risking her babe as well. So instead she shook the thought from her mind, refocused on the dragon she had before her. Guiding his face back up to hers, brushing her lips over his, teasing the ferocity that laid beneath the surface.

Just as her stomach audibly growled, Rhaena grinned sweetly against his lips, with a soft contented sigh, "I am quite hungry now…"

"Then let's feed you," he stole one quick kiss, before he pulled her to her feet, walking her back to the castle.

☾

The next day, Rhaena had felt Silverwing's calling become even more potent…increasing throughout every hour of the day. It felt like a stiffening burn, charring and scorching, the more she tried to ignore it…the more it singed her from the inside.

As afternoon rolled around, Rhaena found herself perching her back against a cool wall of a corridor in the southern wing of the castle. Her chest felt as if it was constricting her…squeezing her lungs shut each time she tried to breathe deeply. It was in these moments, when the feeling was most intense…she could hear a roar in the distance, one she hadn't known all that well but was familiar enough with to distinguish it from the other dragons.

It was Silverwing.

She was calling to her…this was real…this was happening.

"My Princess, are you well?" Ser Garin questioned, clear concern etched on his face, he stepped forward to her but made sure not to touch her, "shall I alert Wardeness Aelaera, you may wish to retire for the day?"

A considerate offer, but no, Rhaena did not wish to retire…although she also did not wish to sit through petitions now either.

Soon enough the burning in her chest would subside, and in that moment of clarity, Rhaena simply shook her head and pulled herself off of the wall. Breathing deeply, collecting herself before she glanced up towards her knight, "I thank you, Ser Garin. But I am fine, I needn't retire…but just as well, I do not feel fit enough to endure through the rest of my duties today. Do inform Wardeness Aelaera she may sit through the farmers' disagreements on my behalf. Anything more, which requires my personal attention, may be moved to the morrow."

Ser Garin nodded swiftly, and left to relay the message.

Now left only with Ser Drako, Ser Miklaz and Ser Moredo, Rhaena turned towards them.

She had a few possible options now that she'd cleared the rest of her day. She could interrupt her husband once again, a very enticing option if only for the possibility that his presence might actually distract her. Or she could go for a calming stroll, summon her Ladies in waiting…or…do the frightening thing.

Do the one thing she'd wanted all her life… claim a dragon .

If that was what this was…if that was what Silverwing was truly calling her for.

She could just go to her…do the deed…but of course it was not that simple.

Rhaena supposed, she could simply ask Aemond…find out whether this feeling…was truly what a calling felt like. Or whether it was simply another symptom of her pregnancy…the latter of which he most likely wouldn't be able to say definitively.

Although if it was a pregnancy symptom, surely Maester Varion would have informed her of such during her check in with him earlier this morn. Not that she'd bothered to specifically bring up the recent way her body reacted around Silverwing, but if such a thing was ever present in Targaryen women when they were with child.

Surely he would have mentioned it.

Then again, she also wondered if it was an average occurrence for a Targaryen woman to claim a dragon when she was child as well.

The likelihood of either seemed slim to none, but she couldn't be sure.

Either way, Maester Varion had instead extensively checked over her physical progress. Laid up in bed in only a two-piece ensemble of undergarments so that she could expose her belly, allowing gel-like ointments to be poured and rubbed over it. There he examined the steady growing size of her belly, listened in for the babe's heartbeat and even confirmed that it was more than likely that she was simply growing one babe and not several.

No such luck with twins on their first attempt, but Rhaena found herself feeling slightly relieved when she'd heard it was not to be. One babe would already be a big new experience, two would have been just slightly frightening…just slightly.

At the very least, when she'd glanced over at her dragon Prince, he didn't seem phased by the news either.

He only cared that his wife and child were healthy and well.

And after their Maester checked off everything necessary for his examination, he assured both Aemond and Rhaena that she was currently in perfect health as was the babe. He even went as far as to inform them both that Rhaena's salt craving was nothing to be worried about, that women were known to crave all sorts of various things due to their babes…some a lot stranger than salt.

A fact, Rhaena was sure she already knew, but it did do well to be reassured by a Maester as well. For she knew her husband was more than likely just trying to calm her nerves the other day when he simply offered to give her whatever she wished for.

During her check in, her Maester had advised that so long as she made sure to stay more hydrated during her days, and kept the rest of her diet leaning more towards leafy greens and hardy vegetables as opposed to harder to digest heavy meats. She would be able to ensure the babe continued to grow healthy and well nourished. With a set of prescribed added vitamins and minerals, as well as mentioning the tonics she would have to start consuming once the next moon arrived.

All in all, it was assessed that Rhaena was indeed six moons along and that babe would arrive precisely in three moons, during the twelfth moon of the year.

Some time close to the Ice Winter festival or possibly even Qēlos Bantis … Star Night . A Yule-like holiday reserved for glittering parties, hymns and spiritual worship, gift giving and all. But most of all during the coldest moon of the year, it's reserved as a time for family, peace and love, blessings and good tidings.

How very wonderous it would be to give birth to a babe then, not that Rhaena much liked the cold, but it would surely make the time of year even more beautiful.

With sigh, Rhaena reorientated her thoughts.

She wasn't meant to be thinking of her babe now, even as her hand subconsciously already reached to rub soothing circles along her swollen belly as she thought. She needed to think of her situation. Of the fact that husband, her love, Aemond…he was a fiercely protective man. Especially now that she was carrying his child, if she went to him with her thoughts on attempting to claim a dragon…surely he wouldn't want her risking her life for such a thing.

It'd be her own life as well as their babe's life at risk all on the possibility that this may be a calling .

No .

The danger was beyond herself…she'd need to be certain.

This could not be a simple guess or a hunch, she needed to be truly certain.

What she needed was…an outside opinion.

Someone she trusted and loved, who'd know just as well what it felt like to claim a dragon.

Now all of her siblings were of no use in this case, as all of them had been given the fortune of having their dragon eggs hatch in their cradle with them as babes.

Her muña, Rhaenyra, had been blessed with just the same fate.

No, her choices were limited. In fact she had only one true viable option in mind…she'd write to her kepa.

The only other member of her family who had to claim a dragon, the only other man in her life that trusted and loved her so fiercely that he'd do just about anything for. Her father may be her very opposite in many things, but this was one thing he'd be most qualified in aiding her with, and she knew he'd be glad to.

Or at least she hoped he would be .

If she could receive a response from him soon enough, then she'd be able to make an intelligent decision.

Taking a deep sobering breath, Rhaena began to plot out her next set of moves. Starting with her with guards, she needed some space from them. She could do with some peace and seclusion for the next few hours.

"Ser Drako, I think I shall return to my chambers. I wish to send a raven. Nothing of note, just a letter to my father, the King," Rhaena spoke slowly, crisp and clear, she left no room for discussion before she turned, taking paced steps down the hall, "and Ser Moredo, do summon my Ladies to my chambers. After I'm finished with my task, I'd like to visit the bathhouse. The private hold's bathhouse."

"Of course, Princess," Ser Drako had grinned as he bowed, she could hear the joviality in his tone.

While Ser Moredo simply affirmed, "as you command, your grace."

Certainly a far more stoic young man than her two favoured knights.

Once Rhaena had returned to her rooms, she sped over to her seat by her vanity table, finally within the privacy of her bed chambers. With the remainder of her guards waiting outside in the hall, Ser Moredo only left to summon her Ladies a few minutes prior.

It was in that time, between her Ladies arriving to greet her here at her chambers, that Rhaena aimed to complete her letter to her father and have Ser Drako send it.

It was most definitely feasible, and Rhaena only assured herself of that as she shifted on her rosy toned cushioned chair, hoping to find at least one angle comfortable enough to perch herself.

It seemed her babe insisted on shifting uncomfortably within her today.

But she'd remained focused, already envisioning the words she'd put down on the page once she was ready. Pulling a clean sheet of parchment from her drawer, she began dipping her quill into some fresh ink:

To his Highness, King Daemon Targaryen,

Kepa,

I write to you with news, at least I believe it to be so. Over the past day or two, I have begun to feel something. Something seems to be drawing me towards Silverwing, I can feel her calling to me. Like stoked flames rising in my chest that burn all throughout me. It feels all-consuming, but I cannot seem to bring myself to her.

What if I am wrong?

And she does not in fact wish to bond with me?

Could I not be putting myself and my unborn child in unnecessary danger by risking such an encounter that may not be what I think it to be?

I sound a coward, I know I do. You've taught me better than this surely, as a true Targaryen, I should go to her. Take my chances, and should I perish, it would be a true dragon rider's death.

Even saying so evokes dark memories of my muña.

I'm not frightened of dying per se, not entirely. I'm more frightened of being wrong. And so I suppose, I'm writing to you in hopes that you might tell me that I am right. That is this is without a doubt the feeling I've been waiting for. And that if it is, I will not stall on it any longer. I will face my fate and I will go to Silverwing.

Until then, I shall wait…I am a patient one, that you know.

In all, I hope you are well, my dear kepa. I do miss you all, muña Rhaenyra as well, I know you both have suffered at the loss of little Visenya. We all have.

My heart also calls for all of my brothers and Baela of course. It's ridiculous I'm sure, but I hope my little brothers Aeggie and Vis have not forgotten me. I receive letters from Joff with their little questions from time to time, and it is most heart warming.

I have, as you've requested, been careful not to overly exert or stress myself. As you and my husband clearly are of the same mind, if it was up to him, I'd have no duties to attend to at all. I'd simply be sentenced to bed rest for my safety for all days until the babe was born.

In all, I hope my missive finds you well, kepa.

With all my love,

Your beloved daughter,

Princess Rhaena Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone

When she was done, she waited a few minutes for the ink to dry. Skimming over her words once more before she rolled the parchment, sealed it closed with a red and black swirled wax, pressing down Dragonstone's own Targaryen three-headed dragon seal stamp.

She hadn't mentioned why she hadn't spoken to Aemond about all of this in her letter, but she hoped her father would have the sense not to mention it either.

Feeling she'd said all she possibly could, covered all of her bases. Rhaena slowly pulled herself up from her seat and waddled back through her rooms. Stepping back through her chambers, opening the door, and finally, handing her letter off to Ser Drako for it to be sent.

As he left, Rhaena's Ladiesmaids entered to prepare her for the bathhouse.

Perfect timing.

Preparing for the bathhouse meant removing her ornate pink blush-toned jeweled gown, as well as undoing her elegantly done fishtail plait that had trailed down her back. Slipping off her jewels, her earrings, bangles, rings and bracelets, as well as her prized sapphire necklace.

The last of which Rhaena supposed she could take with her, but at the risk of her sapphire, possibly, to her horror, slipping into the waters of the bathhouse. Sinking away from her, lost to her forever.

No, she could not risk such a thing.

Even though…knowing her husband, he'd never let her shed a tear over the lost item, he'd instead, most likely in secret, find a way to either retrieve it or replace it.

Though that wasn't an outcome she wished to invoke, as Rhaena was just as much attached to the item as she was with the memory of how she'd received it. To have spent her life receiving gifts and jewels from so many suitors and expectant eligible Lords. All meaningless frivolous glittering gifts, all meant to show the wealth they and their house was capable of.

Gifted like a trap meant to lure in a Princess …but not a dragon .

And to think this one simple yet elegant necklace had been the one gift that meant the world to her now.

Given to her by a man she never thought she'd have such intense feelings for…yet.

How the Gods worked in the most mysterious of ways.

Rhaena would always cherish the memory. How during the moon of their engagement, Aemond had made no fuss or spectacle on the day when he gave the necklace to her. He'd spent three whole days away from the castle, only to return and sneak into her chambers late at night. She'd been awake, reading as per usual. But the look in his eye told her that he had something for her, he hadn't said what, he only asked that she close her eyes and lift her hair to give him access to her bare neck.

She could still remember how she'd felt as the cool smooth steel graced her skin for the first time, how her mind could only focus on the warmth of Aemond's fingers. The way they'd grazed against her collarbone and slid along her shoulders, making her shiver with arousal, gooseflesh prevalent and prickling. All while still simultaneously offering her an odd yet all consuming sense of comfort with just his touch alone.

To think so soon in their newly made romantic relationship, he'd managed to have such a power…such a thing that came to easily.

Allowing her to naturally ease back against him, his sturdy heated chest, like a gravitational pull, she could do little else but meld against him.

By the time he'd bade Rhaena to open her eyes, she found that she could barely speak. In her mind, she had ideas of what sort of necklace this may be. What jewels may have been used, what cut of the gem, design of the steel or gold or silver.

But she'd been wrong.

The choice to use Valyrian steel should have crossed her mind, at the time she was preparing to marry a man who was most proud of his pure Valyrian blood. It was not uncommon for Targaryen men to court their Ladies with jewelry made of Valyrian steel, just as her kepa had done with her own muña, just as he'd done with current muña, Rhaenyra.

It was an apparent trend for most Targaryens, going all the way back to even some of their earliest ancestors.

And yet, it hadn't crossed Rhaena's mind that she might have such an opportunity. An opportunity that was now simply her reality. To be gifted a piece of her dragon, part of the very Sapphire he wore in his left eye, used to complete this necklace. Made to be an offering that would allow her to carry a part of him wherever she went…whether he could be with her physically or not.

It was her one precious item…her only jewel which she treated like no other. She’d never risk damaging it or losing it.

So she removed it, everything really, including her undergarments was stripped from her. With her silver curls undone, let loose, flowing down her back and slipping over her shoulders. Once she was ready, she simply donned a thick silky robe and soft cozy slippers.

Soaks in the bathhouse were meant to be calming affairs. So Rhaena dismissed her maids afterwards as she waited for her Ladies-in-waiting to enter the Dragon's Nest. It wasn't customary for anyone unauthorized to enter this area of the castle, it was always securely guarded as the one safe haven for any members of the royal family.

Rhaena even giving permission for her Ladies to enter beyond this point was a blessing in itself.

As it was, Dragonstone held two bathhouses. One that was welcome to all courtiers and noble visitors alike, located in the northern wing of the castle. It was on the main level of the castle. Warmed by the volcano's heat well beneath the building’s structure, but as it was built on the main floor, the water’s temperature remained more of a Lukewarm temperature than a true quality Targaryen heated spring bath.

Which, Rhaena supposed, made perfect sense.

For that bathhouse was not meant for the royal family…it wasn’t meant to appease true dragons.

No, there was another bathhouse. On the main floor, down in the southern wing of the castle, one corridor led to the securely blocked off and guarded Dragon's Nest. Passing through that corridor, which led to several rooms, chambers and solars that were reserved for the royal family alone. There, there was a hidden door at the end of the corridor, smoothed in with the slick granite walls, missed by all who did not already know of its existence...for behind that door there were special specific steps. Steps that led down a level to the private Targaryen bathhouse, known as The Springs Of Caraxes . A true hot spring, one that allowed the heat of the volcanic magma from the Dragon Mount, deep below the castle, used directly to warm the waters of the bathhouse.

It was a far lovelier room as far as Rhaena was concerned.

It was a bit of a walk, through a hidden corridor or two, but once inside it was the brightest, most beautiful of places. The size of a large grand hall, the halls were once again made of smooth white marble. With pillars and archways that held smoothly carved statues of the Fourteen Flames in their most grand humanoid forms. The ceiling arched and curved with a cascaded glass ceiling that allowed in glowing sweet daylight. This ceiling did not face the grounds' of Dragonstone though, it seemed to be crafted upon the cliff's edge.

For it only ever faced the sky.

Along the edges of the crisp blue bath water, along the borders, were small steaming water fountains that helped to steam the air. Rhaena had also, of course, decorated the borders with more potted plants. Pale blue Hydrangeas and pale violet Wisterias mixed in with pink Roses and Dragon Spittles, a thorny green plant Rhaena found, looked quite eye-catching in floral arrangements.

Yes, this bathhouse was where she felt the most at peace.

Eventually her Ladies would be given passage to her chambers, and once they had, with Rhaena's two remaining guards in tow. She guided her Ladies to the hidden bathhouse.

It was a bright sunny day, so the bathhouse was illuminated beautifully. The afternoon sun reflected so brightly against the water and the white marbled room.

The guards would remain outside the doors of the bathhouse, while Rhaena and her Ladies would unsheathe themselves from their robes and enter the steaming water of the bath bare.

Of course, Rhaena's own tolerance for the water's temperature was higher than the others. Lady Kyra couldn't take the heat in particular, so she usually sat in one of the cushioned chairs along the side with a book in hand.

Lady Ellyn's tolerance was much better; she'd always stay in the water the longest alongside Rhaena, while Lady Lelia and Lady Victaria would periodically remove themselves from the steaming hot water.

Rhaena had taken to floating on her back, looking up and out at the sunny blue sky. Bright and exfoliating. Lady Ellyn stayed seated on the steps that entered the water, letting her legs soak while she laid back. As Lady Lelia had chosen to lay out on a pale pink chaise lounge, opting to let her skin take in some sun, as she claimed she felt 'too pale'.

A sentiment Rhaena and the rest of the girls found to be a bit comical, as women from her region were meant to be celebrated for having pale skin.

"Princess, I've been meaning to ask. But how have you been, pregnancy wise…each passing day is a day closer to your due date," Lelia Lannister asked, her voice floated in, echoing in slightly with the crisp acoustics of the room, "I know I was quite frightened when my late husband had placed a child within me. Though I suppose I never did get this far along, to know any true symptoms beyond nausea."

It was true, Lady Lelia had lost her child early on…early enough that she'd never been too distraught over the loss. Not as distraught as her late husband had been.

"I'm fine, I suppose," Rhaena sighed, her discomforts with her pregnancy came and went like the wind sometimes…and sometimes they stuck to her like glue and bogged her down for hours if not days. But that wasn't a feeling she felt she could convey all too easily with just words.

"Truthfully you're handling it quite gracefully," Victaria smiled, slipping back into the water as she'd been sitting on the edge, "I've seen some of my brother's salt wives, and I recall some of them being incredibly irritable."

"Oh I've been irritable," Rhaena laughed, "you've only missed the worst of it. I broke down crying to Aemond over salt just yesterday. Apparently the babe only craves the oddest of flavours."

"Really!" Kyra giggled, "what is it with babes in the womb always making their mother's consume the oddest of foods. My cousin, who lives in the North, she once wrote to me upset that her babe only craved sweet cream and mint leaves. She'd lamented having eaten a whole tin of only mint leaves!"

At that, all of the girls giggled.

And Rhaena's chest felt lighter…warmer.

"I suppose I can relate, this morn, I'm sure I poured a bowl's worth of salt into my porridge and then drizzled it all with honey," Rhaena sighed with a smile, "I have no idea what sort of creature I'm feeding, but surely this is no regular babe."

Lelia turned herself over so she could look at Rhaena when she spoke, "Princess, if anything is certain, you shall give birth to a most beautiful child."

"Such flattery shall get you nowhere," Rhaena grinned, but her cheeks had warmed at the compliment nonetheless.

Lelie was unfazed, only shrugging, "come now, everyone knows house Targaryen only births beauties. You're already one of the most beautiful women of all the realm, and you've gone and married quite possibly the most handsome member of your family. There is no doubt you shall birth a lovely babe."

"Absolutely, a babe that only loves for salty foods!" Victaria giggled, and Rhaena joined her, splashing a wave of water over her. It was so close to Kyra that she shrieked.

In the aftermath, Rhaena only sighed a soft smile, relishing in the comfort of having such kind ladies in her company.

"But Princess, you shall tell us if things become too much, yes," Lady Ellyn who'd remained quiet thus far had spoken so elegantly, stoically nearly, "the pressure of pregnancy is not one any woman should be bogged down with. Especially not as you enter your later moons. And I could understand the fear a Targaryen woman may feel as she enters motherhood…"

At a glance, Rhaena caught her smokey grey eyes, and nodded softly, "I'm not sure anyone but another Targaryen woman may truly understand this fear…but nonetheless, I thank you. All of you. You four are my trusted confidants."

She didn't wait for their responses, instead Rhaena dipped herself below the water's surface and swam to the further edge of the pool.

In the silence of the water, one thing was certain…soon enough she'd have to face the things that frightened her.

For one could only run so long.

☾

It was getting worse, at night Rhaena would only dream of Silverwing. As if she could see her great-grandmother in her youth, gloriously riding atop the beautiful glistening dragon. A true Targaryen Queen of old riding a mount that was most fitting for a Queen.

Surely, Rhaena thought, she herself was no such Queen .

Formidable and ethereal.

Did Silverwing truly wish to be claimed once again?

By Rhaena Targaryen no less?

It was a thought that plagued her, rounding its way through her mind, her body, her soul.

If it was to be…it'd be all she ever wanted. She'd finally feel right…true…worthy of her name. Worthy to be the namesake she was, to be named after the great Queen Rhaena …rather than to live her life of eighteen years with no dragon.

Surely her ancestors must have been disappointed…even if her parents and family claimed not to be.

Even if her husband claimed not to be.

Aemond would always say it didn't matter to him, that he was happy to be her dragon, that she'd claimed rightfully so.

A sweet sentiment she'd believed in most days…but ever since this burning feeling from Silverwing…Rhaena was beginning to doubt things.

He'd chosen her above all others, and of course, deep within herself she knew that he'd chosen her because he found something kindred within her. Because they could relate to another, had things in common with one another…found one another deeply attractive, like a magnetic pull that neither could deny.

All that she knew.

But she also supposed that her pure Valyrian blood held more weight than whether she claimed a dragon or not. Either way, the fact remained that whatever hole existed within her…however the realm would view a Targaryen Princess…things would be exponentially different if she were to claim Silverwing.

"Skoriot emagon ao geptot naejot," where have you left to , Aemond's low voice pulled her from her winding thoughts about Silverwing. Bringing her back to the clear present, where she stood behind her seated husband in their chambers.

That morning had been a rather average one, Rhaena had awoken alone as Aemond had woken himself earlier to train. Upon his return they'd bathed cozily together, in the heated water Rhaena had allowed herself to melt against her dragon . She'd let his strong arms secure her fears and wandering insecurities.

But even still…she hadn't been able to broach the topic of dragon claiming .

Afterwards, they'd helped to dress one another, an activity she'd missed from their earlier days of wedding to one another. It always made their mornings feel more comfortable, when they could spend their time together before they had to step away from one another to take care of their duties.

It also gave Rhaena the time to braid her husband's hair, something she really loved doing.

She had him seated at her vanity table now, as she brushed his still slightly damp pale hair. Combing her fingers through the silky feel of his hair, scratching his scalp lightly with her nails the way she knew he liked it. She then messaged in small amounts of her own hair milk and oils. He never did oppose to her using her own products on him, creams and oils or otherwise, even when they were sweetly or floraly scented.

It was both heartwarming and slightly amusing to think of her husband storming around the castle, intimidating nobles, servants and subjects alike…all while partially carrying her scents around with him.

"Iksan vaoreznuni, ñuha jorrāelagon. Ñuha bartos…nyke've sepār issare tubis ēdrurys," I'm sorry, my love. My mind...I've just been day dreaming, Rhaena hummed softly, it wasn't a complete lie…as far she was concerned at least. She had been lost in thought…thinking of her odd dreams and the weird feelings her body had been giving her.

Aemond only hummed as a response, leaning his head back just a bit so she could begin braiding, "hmm, ēdrurys hen skoros, ñuha gevie dārilaros," hmm, dreaming of what, my beautiful Princess.

Rhaena couldn't help the bright smile that formed on her lips as his voice rasped handsomely at the word beautiful .

She wondered if she should have been used to his casual compliments by now…they'd been together for several moons now. Surely the honeymoon phase had come and gone by now…although Rhaena could concede to herself that no amount of time could pass where she wouldn't feel so affected by him.

So she sighed, a peaceful dreamy sound, soft and demure, "the usual by now, I suppose. Of dragons and babes. The Harvest Festival too, preparations may be all but complete for the feast itself, but then there is the ceremony and the sacrifices…"

Rhaena had nimbly and neatly braided his hair down in one single plait, tying off the end with one of her thinner black hair ribbons.

Once he felt she was finished, Aemond leaned himself back so he could look up at her truly, "you're thinking the sacrifices will be a problem,"

It was a loaded question.

His voice had simmered into a most sympathetic tone for it just as well, because he wasn't really asking her about the sacrifices themselves. He was hinting at the true center of the issue…her aversion to situations that dealt with large quantities of blood.

During their time here, he'd been most considerate if not entirely conscious of his decision to perform any and all approved executions without her present. It'd been a decision they'd never had ever really discussed or cemented as an agreed upon move to go forward with. But either way, Rhaena was most thankful for it. Ever since Criston Cole and his plot to steal away Aemond and possibly even slay her in the process…she'd never really been able to put that night behind her.

Maybe the aftermath and consequences of it all…but the actual events that occurred that night. They still haunted her at times…some nights still.

And now, as they approached their first celebration here that would require a blood sacrifice for the Gods…it would seem Rhaena would be forced to face her fear once again.

"Only slightly," she leaned herself over him, pressing a warm kiss to the crown of his head, draping her arms over and around his shoulders as she nuzzled her chin atop his head, "but I shall overcome it. Even though, for the ten years that I lived here exclusively with my family. Every year, every solstice, there were four festivals that required blood sacrifices to the Gods. And a handful of others that encouraged them. It's never stopped me from liking the ceremonies, I always have, I'd just turn my head away or close my eyes for the sacrifices. If I should feel uncomfortable tonight during that portion, I'll…simply do the same."

Aemond's hands held hers, his thumbs caressing the palms of her hands. He wouldn't ask her, he'd simply guided her arm, and her body to step around from behind him. Allowing him to smoothly swoop her up onto his lap, wrapping his arms around her waist as he pressed slow heated kisses along her jaw and throat. Rhaena found herself sighing contentedly, relishing the feel of him, his body burned hot and hard against her but he felt so soothing nonetheless. With his chin nuzzling along her neck and against her shoulder as he breathed deeply, seemingly settling himself. Tempering whatever wishes or thoughts he might have had in the moment.

In the reflection of the mirror on Rhaena’s vanity, she met Aemond's eye, watching as his jaw rolled while his lips twisted. He was mulling over the various things he wanted to say to her, figuring out how to word his thoughts, as if he was sifting through a million emotions he'd never be able to verbalize to her.

Not that she ever needed him to.

"Ñuha dārilaros…ñuha vok byka ābrazȳrys," my Princess...my perfect little wife , his voice was all low and somewhat husky, like a near sultry growl that worked its way from the back of his throat, "I don't want you to feel any discomfort, not if I can do something to help it. I can have the High Priestess perform the ceremony another way…"

"I love you, so much, oh, how you know I do," Rhaena wasted no time attempting to turn herself just enough to grasp his chin and kiss him sweetly, smiling against his lips as she did, "but…there is no need to ask the temple for such a thing. The Gods only respond to blood anyhow, and by rights of our ways, I must be present for it. Whether I gaze upon the slaying exactly or not has never been specified in any text, but physically I must bear witness with my presence. It is the way of things."

He loosed a far more weighted hum accompanied with a heavy sigh as his arms tightened their hold around her.

She could tell that wouldn't be enough for him, he'd want to offer her something…anything.

So, Rhaena did her best to think of something, thinking back to the many ceremonies she'd attended as well as the many texts she'd read on the topic. She couldn't see a clear way to avoid anything.

"The other day…" Aemond had started, the way his breath warmed the exposed skin on her shoulder made her shiver just slightly, "I found in most texts, the ruling sovereign may perform the sacrificial act instead of the High Priestess. I carry Blood Moon now, either or, it would be most fitting if I do carry out the deed by my hand, my blade. Besides, I'll be quicker than the High Priestess. I'll be fast, it'll be painless for them, and that way you won't have to witness it for long."

It was true, Rhaena's own father had always taken the task honorably during most ceremonies that required such large sacrifices.

So, she supposed the fact that her husband may want to handle this task himself as well…it made sense to her.

And in this case he intended on doing the duty quickly…for her sake.

For a moment, Rhaena gazed out the window beside the vanity, her eyes trailing along the lovely cliff side view, the crashing deep blue sea several leagues down below them. The sky was clear this morning, with only a few scattering clouds floating across the pale blue sky as the sun beamed down bright rays through the open windows of their chambers.

And there flying off in the sky…off in the distance…there she was.

Silverwing.

Flying, circling loops around her mate Vermithor.

Picturesque as always.

The might of house Targaryen.

So many things…so much clouded around her mind. Here she was in her husband's embrace, as he worked to please her as much as possible by making her life easier. And even now…she couldn't even imagine bringing up the one true thought that plagued her.

This might be her chance, her only chance, and here she was letting it pass her by. There was no telling what happened to one's body if they ignored the calling of a dragon. This flame that coursed its way through her, all fury and wanting, if she left it unquenched…would it engulf anyway?

Would it kill her if she didn't act on it?

Would it kill her to share these thoughts with her own bonded mate, the man she'd grown to trust with every part of herself. She'd given him access to every inch of her body, her heart and her soul. Her mind was usually so open to him, her thoughts and emotions on clear display for him and only him.

And yet…with this one thing…she still felt the need to keep this hidden.

At least for a little while longer.

"It's true, my father used to be the one who'd make the sacrifices. I trust you'd do them quickly, swiftly," her voice was so close to straining, such a lump had formed in her throat but she managed to fight past it, leveling her sound out as she pulled her lips into a soft smile. She hoped desperately that Aemond wouldn't see through her now, she wouldn't be able to cope if he did. Rhaena was in no mood to shed tears now, so early in the morning over a matter that seemed to overwhelm her entire being.

So instead she quickly aimed to shake off the discomfort, feeling his hands caress her belly, she placed her own warmly over his. Nuzzling her cheek against his, "after the feast and ceremony are done with. Next we shall have to redecorate the nursery, we only have a few more moons before our little gremlin arrives,"

Rhaena could feel his smile, his warm chuckle reverberating against her back, "sepār hāre tolī hūrus, byka mēre," just three more moons, little one.

There, Rhaena felt her heart burn sweetly, a truly happy smile graced her lips, especially as she knew that sentence wasn't for her.

It was for their babe.

Bit by bit…she'd have to remember to think of her babe when things felt too overwhelming.

She’d have to learn to embody what it meant to be a mother.

☾

P.S: So overall, I think what was really obstructing me with this fic was the arbitrary "40 chapters" total I gave this fic, so if you've noticed, I've taken that off and I'm just going to let this fic go on for as long as it needs to. That way I won't feel too bad if I split things up or meld things together, and I won't be fighting myself to stay on target with the number of chapters I'm writing/creating.

Anyways, this just means the initial plan I had for when baby Vaella will arrive has been pushed back one chapter so far, so instead of her arriving around ch.10 it'll probably now be ch.11. Nothing too major. (This effects Ao3 only really...)

And now I've just got to go through/edit the 2nd half of this chapter! Honestly, I like what I've written, and the plot and everything is fine. It's just the sex scene that's bothering me!! Like I don't know what it is about it, but I hate something about it…the things they do is all fine, like the sex itself is what I wanted to happen…it's just the way I've described it or something…I can't really explain it. But something about it just lacks feeling or true eroticism…it just reads like I'm describing things that are happening…but I don't think it sounds genuine…if any of that makes sense.

#aemond targaryen #rhaena targaryen #aemond x rhaena #rhaena x aemond #hotd fanfic #hotd fic #rhaemond #hotd #he saw her at daybreak #hshad

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elfqueen006 · 1 year ago

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Beauty In The Beast (1)

Knight!Jacktor/Joseph x Dragon!May-Rose (OC)

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A/N: sooo, since we're nearing the end of Smaugust and I haven't been giving my usual contributions to this blog like I felt I should, I might as well give y'all this months old draft that will hopefully continue! Thank you and enjoy!

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Joseph had managed to slip through a tight but sizable opening in the cove.

He'd often heard that these types of locations had a sizable opening at the forefront, but that was currently being blocked by a sizeable amount of boulders.

If not for the hoard he would've thought the cove abandoned.

Nay, it'd simply locked out future intruders.

Joseph's eyes followed the scraped trail across the floor that led to the blockade. If Joseph hadn't known any better, he would think the rubble was too articulated for a mere beast to have made. But he supposed it could have been reasoned with something as simple as animal habit or instinct, like how rabbits or foxes would make a burrow for their kin; anything fit for protection could be adapted to.

So if the creature wouldn't enter through there, the only reasonable option was the skylight.

The sun's rays shone like a beacon of hope in the dark cave, directly hitting the dragon's hoard. It sparkled with radiant light. The way it shimmered drew Joseph in without hesitancy.

When he took a handful of coin from the hoard it'd been cooled, likely by the dragon's body.

He gasped when he noticed the kings mint on most of the coinage.

Just like the dutchess had said..!

He recalled the words of the noblewoman clear as day.

"Dragons are infamous for keeping hoards; you'll find this one is no different," she'd said, "the king himself has given up sending knights to retrieve his piece of missing hoard. So should you slay the beast, the riches would be under your name entirely."

A twitch of a smirk played on her lips when noticing his astonished expression.

Knighthood, while honest work, wasn't as luxurious he'd hoped it would be. When fleeing his old village he'd sought out a life where he would be held in high regard. Adored, cherished... loved.

He learned the hard way that gaining such attention wouldn't come so easily. Women often laughed at him, his mentors hazed him relentlessly as a squire, and even for a while he had to sleep in the barns of the knights' manors.

But in the long run it had not been for naught. For as he grew in size, so did his admirers. And he was sought out for many jobs to where he earned a hefty sum in return for his services.

It hadn't been enough exactly to rid himself of sharing a home with mentor turned fellow Chevalier Jean Laurent - the cad.

But as fate would have it, he was also the duchess' brother, leading him to the woman who then made her demand:

"Slay the dragon that's cursed my son. And you could be the richest man in Generia.

He liked the sound of that. Though her choice of wording pestered him his journey to the cove. 'Could'.

Could he?

Renowned legends told him he could. But what are legends other than prettied up hearsay?

And even if he could. The dragon seemed to be no where-

RrAAAAAGH-

The knight jolted as a sharp inhuman cry tore through the air.

"It's here..."

Joseph took refuge behind one of the discarded piles of rubble, luckily large enough to tower him. He hears its call once more. For a moment it simply circles the cove; probably alerting its presence to would-be trespassers.

If Joseph were on any different business he'd be quick to heed its warning.

Soon the creature stopped circling. It landed on the cove surface, it's weight heavy enough to shake the ground.

Joseph took a cautious peek from hiding and had to cover his mouth in other to keep from gasping.

To say it was ghastly was a bit of an overstatement, but it'd been nothing like he'd ever seen before.

It was smaller than he imagined. Not as small as he, of course, but it'd been slim enough to slip through the cove opening. It slithered down the hoard of treasures and circled it. It was long enough so that the thing's tail met with its nose could make a perfect circle.

The body in the shadows of the cove it could look black as ash, but the light bouncing off the treasure had illuminated its scales and revealed them to be a deep purple.

Joseph wondered, if he pulled this off, how much the coat of a dragon could go for?

Would it be grander than the hoard before him?

Maybe he could take that and then some!

The dragon continued to circle its hoard until it stopped at a particular spot.

Sharp airy puffs signified that it was sniffing the hoard - Nay, inspecting it.

And by the way it's pupils had constricted, Joseph could tell it didn't like what it picked up.

Its hiss made the knights' blood run cold as he tried desperately to control his breathing.

The thing stomped about its home, sticking its head in deep nooks and corners to see where the possible intruder had hidden.

And it would've almost gotten close to where he hid, if not for the next turn of events.

"May-Rooose!"

The dragon stilled and looked up to the ceiling. When the voice called again, it'd hissed and flew out to inspect the other would-be intruder.

#Beauty In The Beast #sdj x oc #sdj oc #Ch: May-Rose #sunny day jack fanfiction #dragon au #medieval au #smaugust #my fics

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cameoamalthea · 1 year ago

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@hdmevu I feel you. I was you. I was not uncomfortable looking at Fiona and Cake and wanted to watch it, so I'm forcing myself to binge watch Adventure Time first.

Here's what I understand so far

So about a thousand years before the story starts there’s an apocalypse, with bombs. Except it’s not just a nuclear apocalypse, it’s a *magic* apocalypse where the bombs radiate something that changes the world into a magical world. The world is a bombed out wasteland full of mutated dead zombies like things called oozers, then vampires, and rainbow unicorns. They all kill people. Even the rainbow unicorns (they eat flesh).

The surviving humans wear animal beanies to protect their heads and necks from vampire bites and plan to flee the continent to get away from all the monsters.

Without humans other things become the dominant life forms (and lots of stuff is alive because magic chaotically spreads like radiation) and the land is inhabited by sentient candy, talking animals, hotdog people, slime people, just a bunch of random people except humans. Also there are multiplaner dimensions like Lumpy Space (it's a space where lumpy space people live) and the demon realm (called the nightosphere)

Well, one human. Finn the human. He was found alone as a baby and raised by talking dogs. He has adventures with his adoptive brother Jake. Jake is actually half dog half shapeshifting eldritch horror creature that gives John Carpenter's the Thing Vibe that implanted an egg into Jake’s father. But Jake doesn’t know that, and thinks he’s just a magic dog that can shapeshift in horrifying ways (no one acknowledges it’s horrifying). But Jake is a good boy and so is Finn, they were raised by good dogs.

So before the apocalypse, the world was like our world, but not completely free of magic. It had Indiana Jones level magic and demons existed in a demon realm, so more pulp fantasy. One of the guys living in the pre-apocalypse world was Simon. Who wanted to be an Indiana Jones adventuring professor type finding cool artifacts but instead ended up in a more Magnus Archives evil cursed artifact situation? He found a magic crown that drives the wearer mad and turns them into an ice wizard.

So Simon’s being consumed by an evil madness artifact, the world ends, and then he finds an orphaned half-demon girl child and has to raise her in the middle of an apocalypse while losing his mind. The half-demon girl is called Marceline.

Later Simon leaves Marcy to protect her from himself, and later she grows up to become a vampire slayer. She kills all the vampires but ends up being turned into one herself. So now she’s immortal and half-demon and has a bunch of cool powers she got from absorbing the souls of the vampires she killed.

Fortunately, she’s not the only immortal teenager. The magic-apocalypse created sentient magic gum that birthed a princess made of bubble gum (and also a dragon). Princess Bubblegum created the candy people in a candy kingdom and she and Marceline fall in love.

So you’ve got Finn the human, Jake the Dog*, Princess Bubblegum, Marceline the Vampire Queen, and a magical world 1000 years post-apocalypse with lots of different Princesses like Lump Space Princess, Flame Princess, Soft Serve Ice Cream and Bounce House Princess.

Also, Simon is now fully taken over by the magic crown and is known as The Ice King and he kidnaps ladies trying to get them to marry him because he yearns for love (and his long fiance who disappeared after the first time he tried on the crown and lost himself/blacked out).

But wait! There’s more lore. Cosmological lore. With gods, old gods, chaos monsters, more chaos monsters, cycles of reincarnation, cycles of destruction and rebirth, and a multiverse. Also the four elements, which are Fire, Ice, Candy and Slime (for some reason - this is a weird show).

the whole adventure time universe seems like it has some wild lore that i’d be super interested in but everytime I watch it I am uncomfortable

please recommend looong video essays about it

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istumpysk · 2 years ago

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Tyrion III (Chapter 8)

Once again I'll be examining Aegon Blackfyre evidence, and letting you decide.

"Did you hear that, Haldon? The little man wants to fight with us!"

His companion was older, clean-shaved, with a lined ascetic face. His hair had been pulled back and tied in a knot behind his head.

[...]

The man called Haldon studied Tyrion with cool grey eyes before turning back to Illyrio.

[...]

"So he does. I am Haldon, the healer in our little band of brothers. Some call me Halfmaester. My companion is Ser Duck."

Haldon the Halfmaester is Aegon's healer/tutor.

If I'm supposed to be reminded of Qhorin Halfhand, it worked.

Jon knew Qhorin Halfhand the instant he saw him, though they had never met. The big ranger was half a legend in the Watch; a man of slow words and swift action, tall and straight as a spear, long-limbed and solemn. Unlike his men, he was clean-shaven. His hair fell from beneath his helm in a heavy braid touched with hoarfrost, and the blacks he wore were so faded they might have been greys. - Jon V, ACOK

Qhorin's shrewd grey eyes seemed to see right through him. - Jon VII, ACOK

+.+.+

The man called Haldon studied Tyrion with cool grey eyes before turning back to Illyrio. "You have some chests for us?"

[...]

"How fares our lad?" asked Illyrio as the chests were being secured. Tyrion counted six, oaken chests with iron hasps.

[...]

"There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candied ginger. He was always fond of it."

Get ready for baseless chest drama.

+.+.+

"How fares our lad?" asked Illyrio as the chests were being secured.

[...]

"There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candied ginger. He was always fond of it." Illyrio sounded oddly sad. "I thought I might continue on to Ghoyan Drohe with you. A farewell feast before you start downriver …"

"We have no time for feasts, my lord," said Haldon. "Griff means to strike downriver the instant we are back. News has been coming upriver, none of it good. Dothraki have been seen north of Dagger Lake, outriders from old Motho's khalasar, and Khal Zekko is not far behind him, moving through the Forest of Qohor."

The fat man made a rude noise. "Zekko visits Qohor every three or four years. The Qohorik give him a sack of gold and he turns east again. As for Motho, his men are near as old as he is, and there are fewer every year. The threat is—"

"—Khal Pono," Haldon finished.

Illyrio's sounding sad, and getting agitated when he can't see Aegon.

Many would tell you that means Aegon is Illyrio's son. Others might say that's not abnormal, given Illyrio helped raise the boy.

+.+.+

"So he does. I am Haldon, the healer in our little band of brothers. Some call me Halfmaester. My companion is Ser Duck."

"Ser Rolly," said the big man. "Rolly Duckfield. Any knight can make a knight, and Griff made me. And you, dwarf?"

Oops.

Ser Rolly Duckfield (Duck) is a knight in Aegon's service, and he just stupidly announced to Tyrion that Griff is also a knight.

+.+.+

Illyrio spoke up quickly. "Yollo, he is called."

Yollo? Yollo sounds like something you might name a monkey.

I KNEW IT.

"Perhaps your silver queen would like a monkey," said Gerris. - The Merchant's Man, ADWD

+.+.+

Worse, it was a Pentoshi name, and any fool could see that Tyrion was no Pentoshi. "In Pentos I am Yollo," he said quickly, to make what amends he could, "but my mother named me Hugor Hill."

"Are you a little king or a little bastard?" asked Haldon.

Tyrion realized he would do well to be careful around Haldon Halfmaester. "Every dwarf is a bastard in his father's eyes."

Hugor was the first King of the Andals.

Hill is the surname given to bastards in the Westerlands.

Have you made any connection to another character? A king or a bastard? Maybe both? :)

+.+.+

"No doubt. Well, Hugor Hill, answer me this. How did Serwyn of the Mirror Shield slay the dragon Urrax?"

"He approached behind his shield. Urrax saw only his own reflection until Serwyn had plunged his spear through his eye."

Haldon was unimpressed. "Even Duck knows that tale. Can you tell me the name of the knight who tried the same ploy with Vhagar during the Dance of the Dragons?"

Tyrion grinned. "Ser Byron Swann. He was roasted for his trouble … only the dragon was Syrax, not Vhagar."

Please don't tell me some poor schmuck will try this a third time.

+.+.+

"I fear that you're mistaken. In The Dance of the Dragons, A True Telling, Maester Munkun writes—"

"—that it was Vhagar. Grand Maester Munkun errs. Ser Byron's squire saw his master die, and wrote his daughter of the manner of it. His account says it was Syrax, Rhaenyra's she-dragon, which makes more sense than Munken's version. Swann was the son of a marcher lord, and Storm's End was for Aegon. Vhagar was ridden by Prince Aemond, Aegon's brother. Why should Swann want to slay her?"

Tyrion's pretending to be a bastard from the Westerlands, but he can't help showing off his giant brain.

Hard for me to not see Daenerys vs. Aegon hints here. Should I also be thinking about Balon or Donnel Swann? I couldn't tell you.

+.+.+

Haldon pursed his lips. "Try not to tumble off the horse. If you do, best waddle back to Pentos. Our shy maid will not wait for man nor dwarf."

"Shy maids are my favorite sort. Aside from wanton ones. Tell me, where do whores go?"

Please die.

+.+.+

"Do I look like a man who frequents whores?"

Duck laughed derisively. "He don't dare. Lemore would make him pray for pardon, the lad would want to come along, and Griff might cut his cock off and stuff it down his throat."

Aegon, you tramp! Lol

+.+.+

"Good fortune," Illyrio called after them. "Tell the boy I am sorry that I will not be with him for his wedding. I will rejoin you in Westeros. That I swear, by my sweet Serra's hands."

I question why a man would skip his own son's wedding.

The hands are still weird.

+.+.+

The last that Tyrion Lannister saw of Illyrio Mopatis, the magister was standing by his litter in his brocade robes, his massive shoulders slumped. As his figure dwindled in their dust, the lord of cheese looked almost small.

Still upset.

+.+.+

This time Duck laughed, and Haldon said, "What a droll little fellow you are, Yollo. They say that the Shrouded Lord will grant a boon to any man who can make him laugh. Perhaps His Grey Grace will choose you to ornament his stony court."

Duck glanced at his companion uneasily. "It's not good to jape of that one, not when we're so near the Rhoyne. He hears."

"Wisdom from a duck," said Haldon. "I beg your pardon, Yollo. You need not look so pale, I was only playing with you. The Prince of Sorrows does not bestow his grey kiss lightly."

His grey kiss. The thought made his flesh crawl. Death had lost its terror for Tyrion Lannister, but greyscale was another matter. The Shrouded Lord is just a legend, he told himself, no more real than the ghost of Lann the Clever that some claim haunts Casterly Rock. Even so, he held his tongue.

There's a first time for everything.

The Shrouded Lord spreads greyscale through his grey kiss, unless you can make him laugh. All of this was probably foreshadowing, but the scene was cut.

Someday I will die, and I hope you're right and it's thirty years from now. When that happens, maybe my heirs will decide to publish a book of fragments and deleted chapters, and you'll all get to read about Tyrion's meeting with the Shrouded Lord. It's a swell, spooky, evocative chapter, but you won't read it in DANCE. It took me down a road I decided I did not want to travel, so I went back and ripped it out. So, unless I change my mind again, it's going the way of the draft of LORD OF THE RINGS where Tolkien has Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin reach the Prancing Pony and meet... a weatherbeaten old hobbit ranger named "Trotter." - George R. R. Martin

Instead of the above, we got this:

He dreamt of his lord father and the Shrouded Lord. He dreamt that they were one and the same, and when his father wrapped stone arms around him and bent to give him his grey kiss, he woke with his mouth dry and rusty with the taste of blood and his heart hammering in his chest.

"Our dead dwarf has returned to us," Haldon said. - Tyrion VI, ADWD

It's been theorized that Tyrion was supposed to "encounter" the Shrouded Lord when he's pulled into the river by stone men, while travelling through the Sorrows.

I guess Tyrion made him laugh, and escaped greyscale? Apparently Jon Connington isn't as witty.

+.+.+

"Those chests we brought you," he said as they were chewing. "Gold for the Golden Company, I thought at first, until I saw Ser Rolly hoist a chest onto one shoulder. If it were full of coin, he could never have lifted it so easily."

"It's just armor," said Duck, with a shrug.

"Clothing as well," Haldon broke in. "Court clothes, for all our party. Fine woolens, velvets, silken cloaks. One does not come before a queen looking shabby … nor empty-handed. The magister has been kind enough to provide us with suitable gifts."

This isn't important, but let me talk anyway.

A ton of people believe the Valyrian sword Blackfyre and Targaryen banners are in these chests.

The sword theory comes from a draft of this chapter, that was read before release.

Haldon interrupts him by saying they already know this because Bennaro has seen it in his fires and that the Golden Company makes for Volantis. That is why Griff needs them to make haste. Illyrio says there is no need for haste. Haldon says Griff believes there is need for haste. Haldon eyes Tyrion and then begins to speak in another language. Tyrion cannot tell what it is but think it might be Volantene. He catches a few words that come close to High Valyrian. The words he catches are, queen, dragon, and sword. - Tyrion III, ADWD (Draft)

Queen, dragon, sword.

Tyrion catches the word sword, so people jumped to the conclusion that Haldon is referring to Blackfyre.

Anyone paying attention should know what sword is being referenced.

The Volantene waved a hand. "In Volantis, thousands of slaves and freedmen crowd the temple plaza every night to hear Benerro shriek of bleeding stars and a sword of fire that will cleanse the world. He has been preaching that Volantis will surely burn if the triarchs take up arms against the silver queen." - Tyrion VI, ADWD

It's Daenerys's sword of fire, Drogon. Queen, dragon, sword.

They also believe candied ginger is code for Blackfyre because of the following exchange:

There is a gift for the boy in one of the chests. Some candied ginger. - Tyrion III, ADWD

"Time to raise some bruises. Swords today, I think."

"Swords?" Young Griff grinned. "Swords will be sweet." - Tyrion IV, ADWD

Lol, okay.

The Golden Company might have Blackfyre, but this is not evidence for it. As for the banners? Total guesswork.

+.+.+

"If it is useful occupation you require, useful occupation you shall have," his father then said. So to mark his manhood, Tyrion was given charge of all the drains and cisterns within Casterly Rock. Perhaps he hoped I'd fall into one. But Tywin had been disappointed in that. The drains never drained half so well as when he had charge of them.

Tyrion will repeat this information again.

David and Dan couldn't even remember Samwell was a point of view character, so I doubt they'd remember this.

I have to believe it wasn't a show invention. Tyrion will eventually weaponize that knowledge of Casterly Rock.

+.+.+

After the animals had been tended to, the riders shared a simple supper of salt pork and cold white beans, washed down with ale.

I need a cup of wine, to wash the taste of Tywin from my mouth. A skin of wine would serve me even better.

Tyrion's been mostly cut off this entire chapter, but he's still an alcoholic.

+.+.+

The city was no more impressive. Ghoyan Drohe had never been large, Tyrion recalled from his histories, but it had been a fair place, green and flowering, a city of canals and fountains. Until the war. Until the dragons came. A thousand years later, the canals were choked with reeds and mud, and pools of stagnant water gave birth to swarms of flies. The broken stones of temples and palaces were sinking back into the earth, and gnarled old willows grew thick along the riverbanks.

Something something dragons plant no trees.

+.+.+

"Duck!" came a shout. "Haldon!" Tyrion craned his head to one side, and saw a boy standing on the roof of a low wooden building, waving a wide-brimmed straw hat. He was a lithe and well-made youth, with a lanky build and a shock of dark blue hair. The dwarf put his age at fifteen, sixteen, or near enough to make no matter.

Apparently the wide-brimmed straw hat is an Egg reference? Shrug.

Aegon shares some similarities with Illyrio's statue.

A naked boy stood on the water, poised to duel with a bravo's blade in hand. He was lithe and handsome, no older than sixteen, with straight blond hair that brushed his shoulders. So lifelike did he seem that it took the dwarf a long moment to realize he was made of painted marble, though his sword shimmered like true steel. - Tyrion I, ADWD

Of course Rhaegar's son should be older than sixteen, so that might also be a red flag.

However, Tyrion has never been the best judge.

Tyrion sighed. "You are remarkably polite for a bastard, Snow. What you see is a dwarf. You are what, twelve?"

"Fourteen," the boy said.- Tyrion II, ADWD

+.+.+

The roof the boy was standing on turned out to be the cabin of the Shy Maid, an old ramshackle single-masted poleboat. She had a broad beam and a shallow draft, ideal for making her way up the smallest of streams and crabwalking over sandbars. A homely maid, thought Tyrion, but sometimes the ugliest ones are the hungriest once abed.

Why are you still alive?

+.+.+

An older couple with a Rhoynish cast to their features stood close beside the tiller, whilst a handsome septa in a soft white robe stepped through the cabin door and pushed a lock of dark brown hair from her eyes.

[...]

I do not like his eyes, Tyrion reflected, when the sellsword [Griff] sat down across from him in the dimness of the boat's interior, with a scarred plank table and a tallow candle between them. They were ice blue, pale, cold. The dwarf misliked pale eyes. Lord Tywin's eyes had been pale green and flecked with gold.

We'll cover Septa Lemore in another chapter, but it's important to note Tyrion never states the colour of her eyes. That's unlike Tyrion.

+.+.+

Tyrion turned to Young Griff and gave the lad his most disarming smile. "Blue hair may serve you well in Tyrosh, but in Westeros children will throw stones at you and girls will laugh in your face."

The lad was taken aback. "My mother was a lady of Tyrosh. I dye my hair in memory of her."

The sun's son.

+.+.+

He watched the sellsword read. That he could read said something all by itself. How many sellswords could boast of that? He hardly moves his lips at all, Tyrion reflected.

Who's better at hiding their identity, Jon Connington or Sansa Stark?

+.+.+

"Tywin Lannister dead? At your hand?"

"At my finger. This one." Tyrion held it up for Griff to admire. "Lord Tywin was sitting on a privy, so I put a crossbow bolt through his bowels to see if he really did shit gold. He didn't. A pity, I could have used some gold. I also slew my mother, somewhat earlier. Oh, and my nephew Joffrey, I poisoned him at his wedding feast and watched him choke to death. Did the cheesemonger leave that part out? I mean to add my brother and sister to the list before I'm done, if it please your queen."

"Please her? Has Illyrio taken leave of his senses? Why does he imagine that Her Grace would welcome the service of a self-confessed kingslayer and betrayer?"

A fair question, thought Tyrion, but what he said was, "The king I slew was sitting on her throne, and all those I betrayed were lions, so it seems to me that I have already done the queen good service."

Because she's an idiot?

His brother's smile curdled like sour milk. "Tyrion, my sweet brother," he said darkly, "there are times when you give me cause to wonder whose side you are on."

Tyrion's mouth was full of bread and fish. He took a swallow of strong black beer to wash it all down, and grinned up wolfishly at Jaime. "Why, Jaime, my sweet brother," he said, "you wound me. You know how much I love my family." - Tyrion I, AGOT

Oh Daenerys, you silly girl, a blind man could see what's coming from a mile away.

+.+.+

"There is blood between Targaryen and Lannister. Why would you support the cause of Queen Daenerys?"

"For gold and glory," the dwarf said cheerfully. "Oh, and hate. If you had ever met my sister, you would understand."

Would you betray her for gold?

For Casterly Rock?

For your golden siblings?

+.+.+

"I understand hate well enough." From the way Griff said the word, Tyrion knew that much was true. He has supped on hate himself, this one. It has warmed him in the night for years.

"Then we have that in common, ser."

"I am no knight."

Not only a liar, but a bad one. That was clumsy and stupid, my lord. "And yet Ser Duck says you knighted him."

Why tell him you know what's going on?

Tyrion's the type of guy who would include his IQ score on an online dating profile.

+.+.+

"Some might wonder that a duck can talk at all. No matter, Griff. You are no knight and I am Hugor Hill, a little monster. Your little monster, if you like. You have my word, all that I desire is to be leal servant of your dragon queen."

I didn't like that Tyrion came immediately after that Bran passage.

I hate it even more now.

"A monster," Bran said.

The ranger looked at Bran as if the rest of them did not exist. "Your monster, Brandon Stark." - Bran I, ADWD

+.+.+

"And how do you propose to serve her?"

"With my tongue."

+.+.+

"I can tell Her Grace how my sweet sister thinks, if you call it thinking. I can tell her captains the best way to defeat my brother, Jaime, in battle. I know which lords are brave and which are craven, which are loyal and which are venal. I can deliver allies to her. And I know much and more of dragons, as your halfmaester will tell you. I'm amusing too, and I don't eat much. Consider me your own true imp."

I can't stop laughing. The most despised man in all of Westeros just said that.

What allies will you be delivering, demon monkey?

+.+.+

Griff weighed that for a moment. "Understand this, dwarf. You are the last and least of our company. Hold your tongue and do as you are told, or you will soon wish you had."

+.+.+

Yes, Father, Tyrion almost said. "As you say, my lord."

"I am no lord."

Liar. "It was a courtesy, my friend."

Oh my goodness, he's so smart. So clever. So cunning.

+.+.+

"What if we should find the queen and discover that this talk of dragons was just some sailor's drunken fancy? This wide world is full of such mad tales. Grumkins and snarks, ghosts and ghouls, mermaids, rock goblins, winged horses, winged pigs … winged lions."

You mean a GRIFFin?

Almost like naming yourself after your house's sigil is the dumbest idea in the world.

+.+.+

Griff stared at him, frowning. "I have given you fair warning, Lannister. Guard your tongue or lose it. Kingdoms are at hazard here. Our lives, our names, our honor. This is no game we're playing for your amusement."

Of course it is, thought Tyrion. The game of thrones. "As you say, Captain," he murmured, bowing once again.

Title drop!

Final thoughts:

I wouldn't say I believe Tyrion will lose his tongue, but I'm definitely giving it more consideration than I was two books ago.

One thing I keep returning to is that George likes to deprive Lannisters of the things they value most. For Jaime, it's his sword hand. For Cersei, it's her children/beauty (depending on your point of view).

For Tyrion, it would be his tongue. . . I don't know.

38 down, 11 to go. :(

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #tyrion iii

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lonelyanxiousmess · 3 years ago

Text

Long Live the King

@kiddiesides

Concept: Roman and Remus build a Lego castle big enough to fit their king, Virgil. They do their best to get him to smile.

Cw:

Roman and Remus bow before the small throne that was once in the corner of their room moved into the small casted big enough for Virgil to sit in happily with a too-big crown atop his head, occasionally slipping to cover his eyes.

"What do you want Vir- I mean my king?" Roman glanced at Remus who gave him a thumbs up on his save before turning to his 3-year-old brother. Virgil just looked at them without a clue what was going on, only knowing he wanted his friends. Remus nodded "ROMAN!!! VIRGIL WANTS HIS FRIENDS GO GO GO!!" The two ran up the stairs toy swords in hand before grabbing as many of Virgils stuffed animals they can carry and running back Logan waddling behind them and picking up the ones they dropped.

"Here you go!" Remus smiled as he presented the friends, after they set them up into a proper position. "Oh yes! How could we forget!" Remus dragged Roman up the stairs and the two grabbed the mini tea-set; They then walked down the stairs, carefully, knowing that the small cups would easily break. They gave two to Virgil, (one for him one for Otter) and as many as they could to his stuffed animals. They then waddled into the kitchen with the teapot in hand and asked Thomas to make tea for the party.

"Of course! Just give me a sec you wait with Virgil!" The twins did a weird mixture of a salute and a bow before walking into the living room. Thomas sighed at his kids antics and made them 'tea' or as Thomas called it, grape flavored kool-aid and brought it out and poured the drink for his sons, who all had teacups on little saucers infrount of them.

After tea the twins did more of Virgils bidding, including cuddles, snack time, and listening to 'It's a Little World' for atleast 15 times, the twins hated it but endured to see their little brother sway calmly from side to side.

All was at peace in the kingdom, until the evil tween attacked. Patton walked into the living room and walked back out, going into the twins room and grabbing one of their spare swords, and heading back out.

"It is I! Patton, the evil witch-dragon! And I have come to steal the throne!" Virgil squeaked and grabbed Otter before waddling behind the twins with impressive speed and hiding his face in his Otter.

"You will never defeat us!! We're two your one and that means we have on- Remus does that me we have one more than Patton?" Remus shrugged and looked at Patton who nodded, Remus then nodded at Roman. "We have one more than you!" Patton smiled "So? I'm bigger! Mwhahahaha!"

The three started battling, Remus, being used to swinging the slightly heavier mace around accidentally hit Roman on the hand when play fighting. Which lead to a small argument between the twins and Patton scooping his brother up, who promptly started wailing because his brothers were fighting and the dragon-witch had him! Roman and Remus gasped at Patton and attacked once more and, as Patton was much less proficient at using a sword when he had a baby in his hands, the twins came out victorious, Patton surrendering Virgil, who gave the twins stompies until they apologized properly.

And, as Patton played dead on the ground and Virgil was hugging his brothers Thomas walked into the livingroom after helping Janus with his hair. "Now what is going on here?" Virgil squealed and ran up to Thomas and started happily telling him how cool and brave his big brothers were and how they saved him from the evil dragon-witch, much to the twins joy. "Yeah we totally beat the sh- shoot out of Patton! Long live the king!" Thomas looked at Remus with a deadpan expression "Janus thought you a new word didn't he?" Remus nodded and hugged the 3-year-old happily, who was now giggling and smiling. The twins looked at one another and smiled, they had completed their mission.

(Bonus)

"Wow Daddy, that's a weird way to say I was gullible." Thomas gasped "Virgil!" The teen in question put his hands up "They're not that cool!" Remus and Roman popped up from the kitchen "Hey! We're cool!" Virgil looked between the two with an unamused look. "Right.."

"We are!" "Yeah we'll prove it!"

And so the twins spent the rest of their day proving to their now teenage brother that they were cool. (Spoiler, Virgil used it all as blackmail)

#my work #sanders side fic #sanders sides #kiddie sides

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ficsilike-reblogged · 4 years ago

Text

To Weep For The Sun

Summary: Argella Baratheon never wanted to become a lady-in-waiting to her cousin's, Rhaegar, betrothed. But then Elia Martell smiled at her and the world tilted.

Pairing: Elia Martell/Baratheon!Female Original Character, Oberyn Martell/Baratheon!Original Female Character

WARNINGS: sneaking around with the love of your life behind your husband’s back, Elia and her babies have the canon ending, sorry, maximum angst

Word Count: 9.6k (is anyone surprised?)

(Banner by bb @thesadvampire who would always let me scream and cry about Elia)

A/N: This story bounces between the 'past' (pre-Robert's Rebellion) and the 'present' (post Rebellion.) Please let me know if you have any questions.

Or read on Ao3 here!

Robert’s face was red and wet—redder still from where her hand had connected with his cheek. The clattering of armor, of Kingsguard dogs rushing to their new king’s aid from the woman who had just smacked him, barely registered in her ears.

“You are a monster.”

Argella remembered meeting the princess before the royal wedding. She was a Baratheon—a far off cousin of the Targaryen family tree and the only girl born to Steffon and Cassana Baratheon and Queen Rhaella had requested she become a lady-in-waiting to the new princess of the Seven Kingdoms. It was supposed to be an honor, many others had been vying for the position she was unceremoniously saddled with, but she only saw it as an inconvenience. King’s Landing smelled. It had none of the charms of Storm’s End and she hated how warm every day was—where were the storms to lull her to sleep? Or the sea breeze to cool her heated skin?

And she was completely prepared to bribe her new slew of handmaidens to make sure her chalice was always filled with sweet wine but then…

“Hello,” a soft voice said.

And the world tilted.

Elia was a quiet sort of woman, who had a soft laugh and a wicked wit she only voiced in chosen few. And her poor heart was already firmly planted in Elia’s delicate hands when the princess called her into her chambers, late at night, only a few moons after her engagement to Prince Rhaegar had been announced.

King’s Landing, it seemed, had been very lonely for both of them.

“But it is good to have friends. True friends.”

Argella’s breath stuttered in her lungs when Elia reached out to touch her hand, pressing her gentle fingers around hers and squeezed. “Yes. Friends.” The word was strangled in her throat. “I would be blessed to call you friend, Princess.”

Elia chuckled and tightened her hold. “We are already friends.”

Even as the Kingsguard pushed her down to her knees at the base of the Iron Throne, Argella would not stop hurling insults at her brother—the usurper.

But she did not care about the stupid throne or whose ass sat on the stupid metal chair.

She cared about Elia and her babies.

“Did your hurt pride truly rob you of your last shred of humanity?”

“Silence!” Robert roared. He waved his hand and the armored grips on her shoulders were removed. “You are my sister. I will not fight you-”

“Fight me! You coward! You could not bear to have little Lyanna be anyone else’s wife! You are a spoiled boy with a toy—so you broke it so no one else could play with it.”

“I am your king! You will-”

“I will not! You will listen to me. You have robbed three innocents of their lives for your stupid pride. Elia and her children were not a threat to you. They would have renounced any claim to the throne if you had asked. But you left them bloody and nearly unrecognizable,” she spat. “They were children—babies. And Elia was gentle and kind. And you killed them!”

“I know!” Robert yelled, his voice cracking and echoing in the hall. “Do you truly believe that I do not care-”

“I know you don’t! Because you sit there with a crown on your head and wine in your gut like a glutton. You will ruin this kingdom—you will ruin yourself even more than you have already—you have ruined me!”

It was almost embarrassing how quickly Argella found herself half-in-love with the Dornish Princess. She was kind and beautiful and clever and she was fond of whispering vulgar jokes into her ear when they were surrounded by other highborn noblemen who were preparing for the royal wedding in just a few moons’ time.

“I’ve never met anyone like you,” Argella murmured as they both pulled the blankets on Elia’s bed up to their chins in the dark room. Argella’s room was always too warm and, since she was the princess’ companion, it was blessedly common for the women to share a bed. After all, the companion was to tend to the princess’ every need at every hour she may need. “I think I’ve been waiting for you my entire life.”

Even in the dark, with the smallest sliver of moonlight filtering into the room, Argella watched a smile spread across Elia’s face. It was the sun—she was the sun.

And then Elia kissed her.

She wished she could say it looked like Elia was sleeping when she saw her next. But no. She had fought like a tigress against the hands of the Stranger but she was still ever so delicate. She had lost that fight.

“I’m sorry, my love. I am so sorry,” she whispered, her fingers just touching the ends of Elia’s hair, remembering how she used to braid it when Elia would be up late with her babies, nursing them or tending to their cries. It was always so soft under her fingers and Elia would smile at her over her shoulder whenever Argella tied off the ends. “I wish it were me. I wish it were me on this wretched table and you were still holding your babes close.” Tears tracked down her cheeks and splashed against Elia’s cooled skin. “Oh, my love. I am so sorry.”

The wedding was lavish, as it was bound to be for the Crown Prince and his bride.

Argella would be lying if she said it did not hurt to see Elia pledge her love and loyalty to Rhaegar. He did not deserve her. Rhaegar had been obsessed with prophecy since he was a boy and Argella wondered what he would do to Elia in pursuit of a fulfilled divination that was centuries old.

But she smiled at her Princess when she turned, holding Rhaegar’s hand, and was pronounced the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

The Seven Kingdoms did not deserve her either.

“She shines brighter than any sun, does she not?”

Argella turned at the sound of the voice and smiled as she recognized who was speaking. Oberyn Martell. Elia’s younger brother. He was a dashing man, filled with charisma and charm—and a temper as bright as his smile.

“She does.” Argella wanted to say more. Wanted to say that the dragon prince would try to stifle her shine, that the cloying dirt of the capitol would try to warp her into another mindless drone, that the last night Elia had spent as an unmarried woman had been in her arms. But she didn’t. She only smiled at Oberyn and clapped along with the crowd as the newly married couple walked by, out into the sunlight.

“I wanted to name you Princess of Dragonstone—my heir.”

Argella turned at the sound of Robert’s voice, biting back a snarl. “I would refuse. Have you no shame?”

“I need you-”

“You’re marrying Cersei Lannister. She will provide you plenty of heirs, I’m sure. Just as many as your precious Lyanna would have, too. Or any other girl in the Seven Kingdoms.” Argella turned back to her trunk and placed the dress she had been folding on top of the others.

“It was not me who killed her.”

“No. But you might as well have. You started the rebellion. You marched on the capitol. Every little thing comes back to you and your hurt pride, brother. And for that, I will never forgive you.”

Argella watched Rhaegar dance with his new wife and tried not to scowl. Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions. Royal weddings even more so. But she wanted to rip her hair out when Rhaegar was cold with Elia time and time again during the festivities. It was his wedding—he had married the most beautiful woman in the world, the kindest, the most gentle. And he could barely muster a smile.

“May I steal you?”

Argella nearly startled at the question but laughed as she recognized Oberyn at her side. “As long as it is only for a dance, my prince. You know I must stay by your sister’s side.” She placed her hand in his and let him lead her out toward the other dancing couples. He held her close and she let his pleasurable scent of spice and citrus invade her senses as he led her through the steps of the familiar dance.

“Elia speaks highly of you, Lady Argella.”

“She is too kind. It is a joy to be at her side.”

They spoke easily for the next few songs and dances, and Argella knew she could have easily fallen to Oberyn’s teasing and magnetic charms. She could have chased his smiles and made herself stupid trying to earn his laughter and attention. He was a handsome man, a learned knight, with worldly aspirations. He was who any woman would aspire to marry.

But all she could think of was how soft Elia’s lips had been last night.

But Oberyn smiled at her, unaware of her internal conflict, and she had to smile back. She could never deny him that, it seemed.

“You were my favorite, you know.”

Argella bit back the sneer she felt growing as she finished packing away the small trunk she had taken. “Renly and Stannis both starved for a year holding our home against the Tyrells but I am your favorite? I must say that I hope your new crown grants you a bit more awareness.”

Robert reached out and wrapped his strong hand around her wrist, stopping her movements. “Please, Argella. Please.”

And despite wanting to simply run him through with any sharp object she could get her hands on, she let her older brother turn her to face him and almost scoffed at the tears in his eyes. “What?”

“What would it take for you to forgive me?”

“More than you could give, your grace.”

Robert’s warm hand dropped. “I am giving you one hundred thousand dragons, to help you make a home wherever you see fit.”

“I don’t want your coin! I want Elia alive and breathing! I want her babies to still call me ‘Aunt Argella’ and tug on my hair! I want my life as it was—before your hurt pride ripped it away from me. I was happy, Robert. I was so happy.”

“You used to be happy on my lap, listening to me tell you stories. You used to climb into my bed when you had nightmares because you trusted your brother to keep you safe.”

Argella felt her chin wobble with fresh tears. “Yes. I should have known better. Should have known that you were a selfish brute when you never returned a single one of my letters after you were taken in by Jon Arryn at the Eyrie as his ward. Should have known when you dismissed me out of hand when you came back to Storm’s End. I waited all night for you, to see you come back on your mare. I made sure the cooks had your favorite meal waiting for you, spent more than a few dragons getting that ale you liked from the market—and you waved me off as soon as the gates were opened. You have always been selfish, Robert. I should have known you would take what little happiness I had and squash that, too.”

Robert’s face turned a familiar, terrible shade of sweaty red and he turned away sharply before turning back to her, dragging a hand down his cheeks. “It was not me! I did not steal your Elia away from you!”

“Then tell me who! Tell me who gave the order!”

Elia happily sighed as Argella kissed the backs of each of her thighs, up her back, shoulders, before nipping just slightly at the pulse of her neck. They had been granted a few hours reprieve of Rhaegar’s presence and had indulged themselves in a little carnality, filled with soft touches and wet kisses that lingered and fingers that moved to touch places only the other knew about until they were biting at the other’s shoulders with a cry of release. Elia’s labored breathing slowed as she turned to face her lover, tugging at the ends of her dark hair, silently requesting a kiss which Argella happily gave. “Only the sun can rival the warmth you bring me.”

“You are my sun, Elia.” And then she kissed her again.

“Dorne is calling for war. Prince Oberyn is readying House Martell’s bannerman as we speak,” Jon Arryn, Robert’s new Hand of the King, and surrogate father was pacing around the Small Counsel chamber like a white haired pony.

“My sister wants to travel to Sunspear to deliver Elia and her children to her family,” Robert said.

Argella held her breath from her hiding place behind the door, waiting for Jon Arryn or some other stupid man to say it was not her place.

“That is acceptable. Perhaps Prince Oberyn would be willing to marry-”

“I will not force my sister into any arrangement she does not design herself. That will be the last I hear of it, Lord Arryn, am I understood?”

Jon let out a sigh. “Argella, must learn her place, Your Grace. And it is to serve you and the Realm.”

“Oberyn has sent another raven.” Elia held up the bit of parchment with a smile. “It seems you have made quite an impression on him. He has dreamt of your ‘beautiful eyes and sweet smile’ while he has been running around playing sellsword in Essos.”

Argella chuckled and shook her head. “I am sure he has plenty of people to distract himself with. I will be barely a memory to him in a few moons’ time.”

Elia reached out and tugged at the end of Argella’s braid. “You think so little of yourself, my love. No one would ever be able to forget you. Even when I am old and frail and I can barely remember my own name, I will remember you. I know it. The way you smile, the sound of your laugh,” she reached out to brush a finger down her cheek, “the curve of this, just here. I will remember you.”

Argella leaned forward and kissed her. “And I shall remember you, too, my love. Until the end of my days, which I promise will be at your side.”

Dorne was warm—even as the last vestiges of Winter had the other kingdoms still firmly in its grip. Argella had to pull the silly gable hood from atop her head only a few hours after sunrise as they crossed the Red Mountains. The traveling caravan was small. Much smaller than what was probably proper. But that was what she wanted. House Martell did not need more strangers showing up at their doorstep.

It irritated her enough that Jon Arryn insisted he accompany her, telling Robert that Argella wouldn’t be capable of easing Doran’s (and Oberyn’s) need for vengeance.

Their want for vengeance was justified. Argella wanted vengeance.

And she would have it. She was not satisfied just yet. She wasn’t sure if she ever would be, even if the world was left in ashes.

“Lala,” sang a familiar voice. “Lala!”

Argella opened her eyes at the sound of her secret nickname and had to catch Elia as she pounced onto her bed. “What is it, my love?” She asked in a tired whisper, eyes half closed again already. The sun had not yet risen but it was not as if she would send Elia from her bed.

“I am with child. The maester just confirmed it.”

Argella sat up in bed and her hand pressed against Elia’s stomach, all traces of sleep evaporating in a heartbeat. “Truly?”

Elia happily nodded and placed her hand over Argella’s, squeezing her fingers.

“Oh, my love. I know you have always wanted a babe of your own.” She just wished it was someone who truly loved her. Not Rhaegar—not the dragon prince who would use her babies for some delusion. “They will be the most loved. I know it.”

“Even by you?” Elia asked, her melodic voice very soft, almost frightened. “I know you do not care for Rhaegar-”

“This child comes from you, my love. I love them already.” And Argella meant every word. She would love this little prince or princess as if they were her own. She knew the moment Elia’s lips touched hers all those months ago that this relationship, this clandestine bond, would always be confined to the shadows and the dark of the night. But she truly wanted to scream it from the rooftops that Elia was the love of her life. She wanted to hold her hand in the sunlight, kiss her for all to see. Wanted everyone to know that the Sun of Dorne was worthy of every bit of love anyone and everyone could give her. But she was quiet. She remained the perfect lady in the eyes of court, living for these stolen moments.

Elia kissed her—and Argella could feel her smile pressing against her mouth. It was Argella’s favorite sensation—aside from the more carnal feelings only Elia could elicit from her beneath their silken blankets. “I love you,” Elia whispered against her mouth. “You know that, don’t you? I love you.”

“I love you too. More than words could ever truly express.” She kissed Elia and ignored how something churned in her chest.

“I have a list of names—if they are a boy or a girl.”

“As your ‘most trusted confidante,’ I must insist that you add Argella to your list,” she said with a wink, referencing how the court referred to Argella. Elia smiled and moved down the bed just enough to lay her head in Argella’s lap, a silent invitation for her to play with her hair. “Tell me the story behind your name. It is one of your ancestor’s names, correct?”

Argella hummed as she started to weave a braid into Elia’s hair. “The Stormlands were once ruled over by the Durrandon family. But, during Aegon’s Conquest, the head of the house was King Argilac the Arrogant. Argilac and Aegon tried to find a common agreement but it quickly soured when Argilac chopped off the hands of Aegon’s envoy and sent them back to the Targaryens in a box. Orys Baratheon, Aegon’s Hand, then challenged Argilac to a duel and, of course, easily slew Argilac. The Storm Land armies fled. Argella was Argilac’s only daughter and heir. When she heard of her father’s death, she barred the gates at Storm’s End and crowned herself Storm Queen.”

“Now I see why you’ve been given such a name,” Elia teased, earning a pinch to her side.

“The Stormlanders heard of how Aegon and his sisters burned everyone in their way and turned on Argella as Orys approached with his army. They wrapped her in chains and presented her—naked, mind you—to Orys Baratheon. They told him that he could do whatever he wished to her as long as they did not suffer the same fate as Harrenhal.”

“I have not heard of this. How cruel!”

Argella sighed and nodded, finishing off one of the braids before starting another. “But Orys was kind. He wrapped his cloak around her and fed her warm foods, telling her of her father’s bravery on the battlefield.”

“And then they were married?”

“And then they were married. Orys took the Durrandon words as his own—Ours is the Fury—and House Baratheon was created.”

Elia was quiet as Argella finished the second braid. “That is cruel, to name you after a woman whose fate was less than fair. I only knew she was the wife of Orys Baratheon—but I might have dozed a little when learning the histories of the other kingdoms with my Septa.”

Argella laughed lightly and leaned down just enough to brush a kiss at Elia’s temple. “I do not blame you—but I did always wish I was Nymeria of Ny Sar instead of Argella Durrandon.” She then pressed a kiss to Elia’s lips. “But I am lucky to have you in my arms now.”

Elia reached up to tug at the loose strands of Argella’s dark hair. “There must be other names in your family that are kinder to women, no?”

“I’m sure there are—but women are rarely written about in our house’s history aside from how many sons she might have given her husband.”

“I remember learning of a mermaid…Elenei? Am I saying that right? Elenei?”

Argella chuckled and nodded. “Yes. Elenei the mermaid—daughter of a sea god and goddess of the winds. Fell in love with the First Storm King, Durran Godsgrief, it is said. Her parents forbid their love and used their might to tear down any castle he built for his bride. But he kept building. Building and building until their storms could not shake the stones free.”

“And Storm’s End was made,” Elia finished with a smile on her lips.

Argella hummed and glanced outside to the moon. What would her ancestors say of her now? Hiding her love in the dark.

“Elenei. I like that name,” Elia said, seemingly unaware of Argella’s bit of melancholy. “A much better story than poor Argella. She must be happy to know that someone as strong as you carries her name. I am sure of it.” She tugged again at Argella’s hair with a smile, drawing her gaze back to her. “Truly, I can only think of one person holding that name.” Elia turned in her lap to truly look up at her, bathed in moonlight. “It is you—only you.” She reached up and placed her warm hand against the curve of Argella’s cheek. “My Lala.”

The towers of Sunspear loomed overhead and she tried not to think of a young Elia running down those marble steps, a laugh on her lips and the sun on her skin.

This was the place Elia called home. This was the place that she had wanted to return to with her babies. This was the place that Argella never wanted to see without Elia at her side.

“My lady,” a knight said to her, draped in colors of House Martell, “Prince Doran is waiting for you in his Solar. I shall escort you. Your entourage will have to wait here.” His eyes cut to Jon Arryn in particular who was already opening his mouth to argue.

“I follow where you lead, Ser. Lord Arryn needs some sun anyway.” She only gave Jon Arryn a look in return, drying the words on his tongue before following the knight into the cooled shadows of the fortress.

The pair was quiet, only the sound of their footsteps echoing in their hall, before he slowed to a stop in front of a carved, white wood door and bowed his head just slightly before opening it for her.

“Lady Argella, I’ve been expecting you.”

Rhaenys was beautiful. Beautiful like her mother and liked to laugh when Argella would kiss her little tummy. Argella did not mind when Elia would ask her to hold the little princess when she grew tired. The birth had been hard and the healers and maesters said it would take time for her body to heal itself.

Rhaegar, the pompous silver-haired prince, did not seem to care that his wife was bedridden. He had already pressed Elia to agree to the name of Rhaenys and didn’t seem to spend much more time than necessary with his newborn daughter. He did dote on her, true. But Argella knew and wished that he could do more. More for Elia. More for Rhaenys. More for his family and less of that stupid prophecy he was known to obsess over when he was in trusted company.

“The dragon must have three heads.”

It all sounded so ridiculous. He had everything. A family who loved him. And he continued to not see that, willfully.

But she pushed that from her mind as Rhaenys happily slept in her arms while Elia was napping, too. Her sun tilted toward the slip of sunlight warming the side of her pillow as the sea washed up on the shore just a few feet below. The hum of Dragonstone was quiet.

This was peace. This was as perfect as her life could get, she knew it. Despite all the secrets, the hurt, the loneliness when Elia was called away, this right here? This was worth all of it.

Rhaenys’ dark eyes opened and she smiled as she recognized Argella—she was a smart little babe. “Hello, my little sundrop.”

Doran had given her a room in Sunspear for the night, telling her the arrangements had been made to have the funerals tomorrow. The Silent Sisters who had accompanied them down were making sure the bodies of Elia and her babies were prepared correctly for people of their station and rank.

Argella didn’t sleep that night. Doran seemed to know she wouldn’t and had a maid come in when the moon was at its highest with a bit of tea to help her. She took it with a soft ‘thank you’ but hardly sipped at it as the maid stood at the side of her bed.

“This was the princess’ room, you know, my lady. When she was a girl.”

And that just about destroyed her but she hid her face in her teacup and quickly drained its contents before handing it back to the maid who quietly excused herself, probably aware that the woman was about to burst into tears.

And Argella did, as the door shut in its frame. Through blurred vision, she could almost see Elia sitting at the edge of the bed with a smile and a book on her lap. She could almost see Elia wrapping herself in the golden silk of the blankets with a happy smile. She could almost see Elia.

And that was the worst part of it all. To know that Elia had been here, in this place, felt safe in this place, and now she was here—alone.

The Tourney at Harrenhal was a disaster. And that was putting it politely. There had been the unannounced and unexpected appearance of King Aerys—who had barely been seen outside Maegor’s Holdfast in the last two years. Then the appearance and subsequent disappearance of the mysterious Knight of the Laughing Tree. Little Lord Jaime Lannister had been inducted into the KIngsguard and then sent to King’s Landing to guard Queen Rhaella and little Prince Viserys, which in one move, stripped Tywin Lannister of his heir and refused Jaime the chance at more glory in the tourney.

But that was not even the worst of it. Elia had been feeling poorly the entire time and Argella was fretting constantly, like an old mother hen.

But she did remember how Elia was when she was pregnant with Rhaenys, and knew that Elia wanted to keep the second pregnancy a secret until she was sure she could carry this babe to term, too. She was so delicate. But she still sat in the box, beside her uncle Ser Lewyn Martell of the Kingsguard, and Oberyn, who had finished his ‘adventures’ across the Narrow Sea, to cheer on her husband in the tourney.

On the night before the final day of the tourney, Argella was happy to see Elia with a bit of life back in her face as she danced with Oberyn and Ser Arthur after the night’s feast. Oberyn then called Argella for a dance and whispered in her ear, making her laugh as one song turned into two then three. And if he snuck a kiss against her cheek, she would never tell.

Argella then pulled her princess away with a secretive smile, toward her tent. “We cannot be sure that Rhaegar will win tomorrow—so I wanted to be sure to crown you the Queen of Love and Beauty.”

Elia laughed and kissed her as Argella plopped a crown of braided blue roses on her shining black hair. “No matter if he does or not, I know that I am yours,” she whispered.

And, for a moment, Argella was happy.

The happiness would not last.

Rhaegar did indeed win the jousting tourney and he was given an ornate crown of blue roses to crown his Queen of Love and Beauty. Argella steeled herself to watching Rhaegar lathe half-hearted attentions on his wife—but what happened was much worse. Rhaegar rode his horse past his pregnant wife and placed the wreath of roses in the lap of Lyanna Stark.

The Septon’s words were a low hum in her ears. She could only stare blankly ahead as the funeral processions continued on. It felt like a rusted blade had wedged itself between her ribs and twisted with each breath she took. It ached.

Most of the Dornish in attendance did not look at her. She might as well have been just another pillar in the large hall. Unnecessary and unimportant. But some others… some other she could hear whisper if she put in enough effort.

“That one… the doe. The Usurper’s sister.”

“She must be mad to show herself here.”

“She should have died instead of Princess Elia.”

And they were right. She wanted to be dead instead of Elia.

But a few were kind, their eyes sad as they looked at her, as if they knew something she did not. One of them was Harmen Uller, Lord of Hellholt. His large, warm hand clasped her shoulder and squeezed gently, murmuring his condolences with kind eyes. Lady Mellario, Doran’s wife, also did not avoid her, giving her a small smile as they passed each other in the halls and offering her solar if Argella ever needed a reprieve from the court at Sunspear. But her young daughter, Princess Arianne, was always at her side, and it hurt to see the happy little girl who would always ask after her Aunt Elia.

It hurt.

So she sat in her rooms and cried.

Elia was quiet as she sat on the edge of her bed. She had managed to school her face into careful indifference during the tourney but had sunk into herself as soon as Elia had pulled her away into the tent. Oberyn was raging—vowing vengeance against the Crown Prince for the public display of shame he had just cast over his wife.

But Argella did not hear his words, only sitting at her princess’ side and holding her hand, trying to be there for her when she needed. She would do anything to make Elia smile again.

“He told me that he would do this,” Elia finally said, pulling a gasp from Argella and stopping Oberyn in his tracks.

“What?”

Elia lifted her chin from her chest and looked at her brother with tears in her eyes. “The maester told me that this babe would be the last I could bare.”

“What does that matter?” Oberyn hissed. “Two is plenty—two is perfect. Rhaenys is perfect,” Argella said, grip tightening on Elia’s hand.

“He has been obsessed with a prophecy—the dragon must have three heads—since he was a boy. He thinks the savior of the world will come from his bloodline.”

“I will split his head in three,” Oberyn said but Elia reached out and grabbed his arm as he moved toward the tent’s flap.

“Do not, Oberyn. I will remain his Queen, the true Queen. The babe I now carry will be king and any child the wolf-girl bares him will only be a spare. He has promised me this. But I had…I had only hoped that he would have waited until they were alone for him to start his courtship.” She shook her head. “And I am not sure if the girl told her betrothed of Rhaegar’s plan.”

Oh, that was right—Lyanna had been recently betrothed to Robert. He had been so excited to announce the news and then promptly brought two women to his chambers to ‘celebrate.’ Argella doubted marriage would tame his appetites. But his pride would be wounded. And a wounded stag was a dangerous one—Robert embodied the Baratheon’s words to his core. Ours is the Fury.

“Robert is an eligible lord. He can find another bride, I am sure of it.”

Elia nodded. “I do hope so. For his sake.”

The funeral had ended and Doran had asked her to wait for him in his solar. She awkwardly stood near the window, watching the sea lap at the shore until the door opened with a slam.

“How dare you show your face here, in Elia’s home!” Oberyn was already raging from across the room, his voice echoing. He was crossing the marble floor then, strides long. “You—the sister of the Usurper. You—who my sister trusted with her life. I should strike you down where you stand.” He stopped as he stepped to her side, his beautiful face twisted into a snarl most fowl.

“I would let you.”

And that seemed to strike at Oberyn as he took a single step back. “Have you no self-preservation? Did you come here to let us kill you like some lamb? To sate your brother’s guilt?”

“No…no I came here to…bring Elia home.”

Oberyn’s snarl faded. “Then you come here to sate your own guilt.”

“I came here to bring Elia home,” she repeated, standing just a fraction straighter despite the urge to curl into herself, as if that would shield her from Oberyn’s stare.

“You have done that. Leave.”

Dragonstone felt as if it were about to be consumed by the volcano on which it sat.

The paranoia of King Aerys had only grown, thinking everyone was his enemy. A raven the king had sent to his son was filled with unsubtle threats and demands for Rhaegar to stay at his side, to remain loyal to his father.

But Rhaegar only played his stupid harp and pored over his scrolls about prophecy as Elia languished in her pregnancy.

“He is preoccupied with saving the world, Lala. Try not to hate him too much.”

Argella sighed as she pulled the blankets a little higher around Elia. She had been so cold lately, constantly shivering as her hands cradled her growing belly. “If he truly wanted to save the world, he would have deposed his father long ago.” She shook her head. “He should be preoccupied with keeping you comfortable. You are carrying his child.”

“We both know you are more suited for it—and I prefer your company,” Elia said with a smile.

Argella had to smile at that and leaned down to kiss Elia’s forehead before sneaking a kiss against her lips, too. “Then I shall stay at your side until you tire of me.”

Elia chased her lips as best she could for another kiss before falling back against the silk-covered pillow with a smile. “You know I will never tire of you.”

The sun was beating down on her but the soft breeze off the water almost made it tolerable. The dark veil over her face fluttered and hid her tears from the other onlookers. The grand tomb of Elia and her children had been finished just that morning. The final brick laid. They would rest beside their ancestors in Sunspear’s ornate necropolis. They were home again. They could rest.

Argella walked forward and pressed her hand over the deep carving of Elia’s name. Princess Elia Nymeros Martell – The Sun of Dorne.

“Goodbye, my love.” She lifted the veil just enough to kiss the smooth stone of Elia’s name—the last kiss she would be able to give her. Her fingers traced Rhaenys and Aegon’s names, too. A quiet goodbye.

It was time for her to go. She had only a few more things to attend to and then…she would set sail. She would leave Westeros.

The royal stables still held her wheelhouse and she found the trunk she was needing and waved off the servants who offered her help. She dragged the trunk into her room and unlocked it before feeling fresh tears sting her eyes. Tucked inside, neatly tucked beside her dresses and chemises, was a portrait. It was of Elia and her babies. They were smiling and happy and…alive.

Some artist from Braavos had impressed Elia with his talents as he sold his wares at the market on Dragonstone and Argella had secretly commissioned him for the portrait only a handful of moons before the rebellion started. She had meant to gift it to Elia for her next nameday.

It was a true likeness—he had perfectly captured the gentle warmth in Elia’s eyes as she looked down at Aegon in her arms as he slept and Rhaenys dutifully peeked over her mother’s arm to look down at her brother. The gold dragons Robert had gifted her were left forgotten at the bottom of the trunk as she closed the lid, the portrait in her hands as she moved toward Doran’s solar.

A servant bowed to her as he announced her presence and Doran welcomed her, telling her to take a seat across from him at his finely carved desk as he finished a bit of correspondence. And she patiently waited, the portrait sitting on her lap, her arms wrapped around its frame as if she were trying to hug it—to hug the little family on its canvas.

Perhaps she was.

When she handed it over to Doran, her fingers lingers on the carved frame before dropping back down her lap.

Doran was quiet as he looked at the portrait but she could see the emotions running through his eyes before he tightly shut them and nodded once before calling for and handing it off to a servant and whispering where he wanted it hung. The servant nodded before walking away, the portrait in his hands held like a precious gem.

Argella told him of how Elia had loved the artist’s skill and Doran smiled at that. “She would have loved it. I know it.” He paused to clear his throat, the warble of tears in his voice. “It is a fine gift, my lady.”

“I have…one last gift for you. Much less palatable than the last.”

Rhaegar had left.

His wife had nearly died bringing his son into the world and he had set off with his band of guards to the Riverlands, quoting the prophecy again. Lyanna Stark waited for him.

The raven Argella had sent to Robert, telling him to break off the engagement to the wolf-girl had went unanswered.

“I am nervous, Lala. Everything is about to change.”

Argella stepped beside Elia at the window and kissed her temple as she watched Rhaegar and his retinue recede on the horizon. “And I shall be with you every step of the way.”

“I know that you were more than a companion to Elia.” Doran said it with such ease that it startled her. They had been quietly sipping tea in his solar as the sun rose when he spoke. “She loved you. I know you love her. You have lost your sun, too. And you have come here, to return her and her children home, despite knowing that your welcome would not be kind.” Doran took her hand in his and gently patted at her wrist. “The truth will come out, little doe. But we must let all of Dorne grieve, too.” He sighed and his eyes moved to the giant skull sitting on a tall-legged table. That had been the price Robert paid to try to buy Argella’s forgiveness. He had told her who had been the one to steal the sun from the world and demanded Tywin hand him over or he would not marry Cersei. Tywin had agreed. “I have been told that you are hoping to set sail for Braavos on the next ship that comes to port in a fortnight.”

She nodded.

“You will always be welcome here.”

“I cannot stay here—not without Elia.”

And Doran nodded at that. “If you ever care to return, there will be a place for you at my table.”

“That is kind of you, Prince Doran. Your wife has also suggested I visit her homeland of Norvos, if I am given the chance.”

Doran opened his mouth to respond when the door opened and Oberyn strode in. His dark eyes darted from his brother to Argella. “I thought you would have left by now.”

“Oberyn,” Doran scolded.

“I am surprised you would sup with a Baratheon, brother. First Jon Arryn comes and tries to offer peace and you take it without argument.”

Without a word, Doran opened a drawer on his desk and produced a bit of parchment from its depths. “Oberyn. I have a letter for you.”

“Now is not the time, brother.”

“It is from Elia.”

“I have already been given the last letter my sister wrote to me. Telling me of how scared she was in the Red Keep and how she loved me.” His dark eyes looked to Argella again. “How she wished that I could have been there.”

“There was another, brother,” Doran gently said, extending his arm out, lifting the letter a little higher.

Oberyn looked from Doran to Argella again before pulling his lips tight against his teeth and walking over to snatch the parchment from Doran’s outstretched hand. He opened it and Argella watched his dark eyes scan the words, his face crumpling as he finished. And then he looked to her again. “You? It was you?”

Argella looked to Doran who only looked back at her, eyes unreadable. “I…I don’t understand.”

Oberyn carefully tucked the paper into his tunic before marching forward to grasp Argella’s arm and nearly hauled her out of the room, through the halls, and toward his own chambers. When the door shut, he pushed her into the overstuffed chair at his desk. Dozens and dozens of letters were neatly stacked on top and Oberyn whispered that she should read them. He placed the letter he had just received beside the stack. “You deserve to know.” And then he left her there, alone in his solar.

It took Argella a moment to work up the nerve to reach out and grasp the first letter, recognizing Elia’s neat handwriting.

Argella dashed down the stairs toward Elia’s chambers with a smile on her face. She had woken in a good mood at Elia’s side that morning and had only slipped away to dress for the day. The sound of metal on stone seemed to echo in the halls and she briefly wondered if the royal guards were running drills.

But, as she turned the corner toward the hall that contained Elia’s chambers, two spears were thrust out toward her. “Lady Argella Baratheon, you are forbidden from seeing Princess Elia.”

“Move aside. I am her maid—it is my duty to-”

“Your brother has taken up arms against the Crown. House Baratheon are traitors. You are now a hostage until your brother is dead and your brothers swear fealty—or they are killed.”

“I demand you move aside this instant! I am no threat to Elia or her babies. I am loyal—you have-”

Two more guards suddenly grasped her arms and started hauling her back toward her chambers.

“Elia?! Elia?” She screamed.

But she was a prisoner here, too. She knew it.

My dear Oberyn, I am in love. I know only you would truly understand when I say that it is not with my husband. I shall only call them Lala, to keep their identity secret—I would not have them persecuted at Court if these letters would be discovered. But I am happy, brother. Happier than I ever thought possible.

They have kept me sane, dried my tears. When their lips touch mine, I believe I have tasted heaven—if only for a moment. My Lala is my haven in this wretched world. Rhaenys is fond of Lala, too. It is…almost as if the gods have blessed me with them, letting me have my true family at my side, letting me know what I should have had. …perhaps it is actually a curse.

Over and over again, Elia had written to Oberyn about ‘Lala,’ telling him of how they lived. How they loved. She read of how much Elia had loved her.

“Lala?” The voice was soft, but it still woke her from sleep.

Argella sat up in her bed in an instant, recognizing the dark shape at the edge of her bed. She reached out and drew Elia into her bed and quickly pressed her lips to hers, desperate and wanting.

“I do not have much time. The guards are changing shifts and they will notice I am not in my chambers if I do not time this correctly. But I had to see you.” She kissed Argella again. “I needed to see you.”

“You must know I would never, ever do anything to endanger you or Rhaenys and Aegon.”

“I know, my love. I know it as well as I know my name. But I have been summoned to King’s Landing. We leave at first light.”

“Will I be coming with you?”

Tears filled Elia’s eyes as she shook her head. “You cannot. You are to stay here as leverage against your brothers. And I do not know what Aerys would do to you if you were to come to Court again. I have learned he has been burning dozens of people a day.”

“You cannot go,” Argella said, grasping at Elia’s hands. “It is not safe.”

“You know I must. I would only make his ire worse if I prolong how long it takes me to arrive. I would rather arrive with my head held high than in shackles that I know these knights would slap on my wrists if given the order.”

“Elia, please,” the tears were choking her. “Please, do not-”

But she kissed her again. “I love you.” And in the next breath, she was gone.

One last letter remained and she dreaded what it held, what Elia had written to Oberyn to make him forgive her so easily, but she slid her thumb under the broken seal anyway and read it.

Oberyn. I know my time on this plane is coming to a close. I can only hope that my babies will survive this but I know in my heart of hearts, that they may not. The Seven Heavens await us all. I wish I could have seen Sunspear one more time, pushed you into the pools at the Water Gardens like I did when we were children. You used to pout so much after I would do that, and mother always fussed over you. I miss you brother. More than words can say. I wish I had more time. When this is over, please tell Argella, my Lala, I love her. Tell her I know she was innocent in all of this—it was not her doing. Tell her to smile. Tell her I will wait for her. She helped me understand what love should be like—she gave me her heart and I gave her mine. Tell her that I will be with her—every sunrise and every sunset. I am with you all.

The last letter slipped from her hand and Argella wept.

Her hands hurt. For hours on end, she would hit the locked door of her chambers, pleading to be let out.

But no one would answer. She only heard the terrible sound of metal on stone as knights moved through the halls and once a day, a plate of food was slid beneath her door.

How long had it been? If she was counting the moon’s cycles correctly—it had been three months.

She had nearly given up the last tendrils of hope she had before her door suddenly swung open and a familiar face stood in her doorway. Queen Rhaella Targaryen looked as bruised and beaten as ever, but the gentle swelling of her stomach was new—she was pregnant.

“Lady Argella,” her voice was as soft as it ever was. “I must apologize for your captivity. I have instructed a ship to have you brought to Greenstone—your mother’s home, was it not?”

“It…it was, your grace.”

Rhaella nodded and held out a hand to Argella, helping her stand from her place on the cold, stone floor. “I hope you do not hold me in any ill will. I had not heard of your imprisonment when we disembarked. I would have had you home sooner.”

Argella shook her head, her greasy hair falling in front of her face. “I know you are kindhearted, your grace. I am happy to see you safe.”

Rhaella’s answering smile was small and she nodded. “I will have a maid sent up to help you wash. Your ship will leave at first light.”

And Argella would have been lying if she did not feel a bit of relief as she saw the familiar island of Greenstone come into view as the ship neared its shores. Her aunt and uncle were quick to welcome her and made sure she was comfortable in their finest rooms. And it was only then, that Argella had the nerve to ask what had happened.

Her aunt smiled. “Our little Robert is King of the Seven Kingdoms. Is that not wonderful news?”

“And…and Princess Elia? Little Rhaenys and Aegon?” She hated the sound of hope in her voice. It was cruel to her own ears.

Her uncle sputtered and looked to his wife for a moment. “They were killed when the Lannister army sacked the city.”

And the scream Argella let out nearly shook the walls.

Oberyn sat at her side without a word. He did not speak. Neither did she.

But silence eventually turned to quiet, stilted conversation which evolved into seeking each other out at meals and then Oberyn was slipping into her rooms at night so they could continue their discussions, falling back into old habits of hidden smiles and secrets and trying to make each other laugh even if they wanted to cry.

On the last night, Oberyn slipped into her room and watched as she packed away her belongings and readied for bed. As she neared the bed, he stood and grasped her hands in a soft grip that had her sucking in a shuddering breath. She did not want to say goodbye just yet.

“I loved you once. I might love you again—I believe I do already.”

That was equal parts the best and worst thing he could have ever said. “And I love you still. But not in the way you deserve. You…” the words were hard in her throat. “You deserve to be someone’s sun. You deserve to be someone’s first choice. And you will be, I know it. You will find the true love of your life.” She paused. “And I know I would only be a reminder of those who you loved and lost.”

“Just as I would be to you.”

Argella nodded and dropped her head to her chest. “Yes. I am so sorry, Oberyn. Truly.”

But he shook his head and squeezed at her fingers. “Do not be sorry, little doe. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He stepped closer and rested his forehead against hers, both of them squeezing their eyes shut at the contact. “Let us not part on such sad terms. Let our last memory together be one of happiness.”

Argella nodded as best she could, trying to keep the warmth of his embrace as close as possible. “Whatever you wish. Whatever you want. It is yours.”

And the night they spent together was filled with hungry, searching kisses and warm hands and slick skin. Oberyn kissed her as his release rumbled through him and then quickly made sure she found hers, too, before making sure she was truly tired and finding euphoria with each other again before they both fell asleep in her rumpled blankets.

And she did sleep soundly—far better than she had in over a year. Before the Rebellion. But she still woke before the sun and took a moment to watch Oberyn sleep—peaceful amongst the silk. Carefully, she brushed the hair away from his face and kissed his brow in a silent goodbye before slipping away.

At the port, she caught sight of Harmen Uller and his retinue, preparing their boats to return to Hellholt.

“Ah, my lady. Prince Doran has told me you are departing as well.”

Argella only nodded before seeing a beautiful woman step to Harmen’s side.”

“This is my daughter, Ellaria Sand.”

“My lady,” Ellaria said with a small curtsey.

Argella mirrored the motion. “Lady Ellaria.”

But Ellaria chuckled. “I am no lady. But I do wish you fair travels.” Ellaria reached out and grasped Argella’s hands and squeezed, as if knowing that she was in desperate need for some sort of simple contact. “And whatever lies before you, I hope it is kinder than what lies behind.”

Lord Uller nodded at his daughter’s word.

“And I wish the same for you. Your kindness… it has been most welcome.” She smiled as best she could and bid them goodbye as they were boarded onto their fine ship. And then it was time for her to do the same.

She crossed the gangplank and was welcomed by the crew who had been expecting her—and her gold. Before she was shuffled away to her cabin below deck, Argella turned and looked back at Sunspear, trying to press it into her memory. She wanted to remember how the sun shimmered on the golden towers and how the sea salted the air and the sand glistened.

And on just the edge of the dock, just a few feet away from the bustle of the early morning crowd, was Oberyn. He raised a hand to her, a quiet goodbye. Argella did the same.

And then she turned and walked away.

Braavos was welcoming. Filled with song and people who would smile and the customs of the city demanded that the highborn and wealthy wear black—it was fitting. She could wear black the rest of her days, a mourning dress. But while they would treat her with the respect a woman of her station warranted, both high and lowborn would take an opportunity to coo over the babe on her hip.

It had only taken her a few moons to realize she was with child. And Elenei came screaming into the world just past midday, when the sun was at its highest. Fitting. Elenei looked like a Baratheon—except for her eyes. Her viper eyes that would shine in the light and always seemed to know more than she said. Those were inherently Oberyn. She was a Martell.

And she was the delight of the maids who watched her when Argella was tending to her duties as a companion to the Merling Queen, one of the most revered courtesans Braavos had ever sheltered. Her duties mostly included letting Laena, as only Argella was allowed to call her when they were alone, speak of her troubles and help her remember when she was supposed to meet whichever rich lord had paid for her company that week.

Laena was kind and sweet and sometimes would simply cry when she felt that her public persona had robbed her of a true life, of happiness. In a way, Argella was reminded of Elia. A kind woman shackled to duties she did not truly agree to and confined within a gilded cage. So, she let Laena use her as a walking diary, let her express emotions she could not with anyone else. It was cathartic for both of them, in a way.

Argella did not need the coin the position provided—she could have lived very comfortably with the small mountain of gold Robert had given her. But she needed a distraction—and the connections she made at Laena’s side made sure Elenei would be as high-ranking as she ever could be in Westeros.

Elenei was her whole world. The light of her days. She need only look at her daughter’s face to feel herself smile.

She hoped that Oberyn would smile again, too. She hoped her would find happiness with someone kind and beautiful who would handle his wrath with gentleness. Her mind conjured a thought of Ellaria and she found herself smiling at the thought. They would be a handsome pair. Maybe the gods would allow them to be happy.

For a few years, as Elenei continued to grow and prosper into a lovely and well-learned little lady, Argella pondered telling Oberyn of his daughter across the Narrow Sea. But that would have been crueler, wouldn’t it? To drag him back to into the tumult and loss she knew she embodied for him and his family.

And Elenei seemed to know that her father was an important man—but that her mother’s heart also belonged to another. And would forever.

“The sun is shining today, mama. That always makes you smile,” Elenei would say whenever the almost ever-present clouds would clear for a few hours.

“Yes, my sweet one. The sun will always make me smile.”

Elenei smiled and held her mother’s hand, dragging her out of their manse as their servants chuckled at the familiar sight. “Then I must make you smile, mama!”

“Do you think you’ll love me forever?” Elia asked, eyes closed as sleep started to take her.

“I know I will.”

(And another banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites I love you)

A/N: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you think!

#elia martell x ofc #oberyn martell x ofc #oberyn martell x oc #oberyn martell imagine #game of thrones imagine #asoiaf #game of thrones fanfiction #oberyn martell #elia martell

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jadienjaystoriesandart · 4 years ago

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Sander Sides - Coraline AU

So when scrolling through one of my favorite channels on here I saw someone mention Janus as Other Father, and this got my creativity going. I’ll hash out the characters and ideas, then give you a basic idea of what is cooking in my head. However, I’m not sure on how I want things to go in terms of plot. But I do have a general idea of the characters and their roles as well as background.

Other Mother: Logan Sanders

In this idea the Other Mother would have been Patton, but given there are so many sides, I thought he’d fit another role better. Then my sister suggested Logan as Other Mother, and it fits for the basic plot I have in mind. He goes by Logic by the others in the Other World, or as they call it the Alternate World or Pocket World.

Logan says he’s the eldest one here along with Patton and Janus, and seems to be the head of the ‘family’. He’s a very stoic mother, pushing his kids, which in this case is Roman, Remus, and Virgil, to be smart. Not in a bad way, he’s a silently content mother, and you can tell when he’s proud of you. He cleans mostly and makes sure everything is in place, and enjoys gardening. Mostly he stays in the study or outside.

In terms of power, Logan is the most powerful of them due to being the oldest person there. And no, he doesn’t turn into a spider being, he actually is a type of bird. Looking alot like harpy when you really tick him off. His buttons are dark blue with silver thread and his skin is warm but overly smooth.

Other Fathers: Patton and Janus Sanders No one is really sure who is older, they’ve always been with each other. Janus enjoys making music and Patton enjoys cooking for the family. Both are very fatherly and enjoy doting on their kids. Going by the names of Morality and Deceit/Self. When mother dear isn’t around, it’s up to the one of the fathers to sort things out. Janus is strange, as in he’s the one who gives the hints something isn’t quiet right. Though it’s unknown if these are his actions or not. He seems to like challenging kids that come to the Pocket World to think about what they are seeing and why. Yet does it a very coy way. Then there are days he’ll do a 180 and ask you not to question anything and actively lie about things. His buttons are dark gold with black thread, and he does have scales on his face still. Though, to a kid that’s nothing. Patton is cheerful and bubbly, his dinners are always the best as is his sweets. He’s the one that mostly sticks to Logan the most, and enjoys gardening also. He’s the first to make sure one doesn’t question, easily deflecting odd things, and is great at distracting people. He is Nostalgia after all, his areas when your near him make you feel so happy and get you lost in happy moments. His buttons are light blue with dark blue tread. Both take on forms of a Frog and Snake when angry, which are terrifying. Their skin is also very rubbery feeling. Other Brother: Virgil Sanders Virgil here is the youngest, looking like he’s only 15 or 16. He’s been here the shortest... and looks oddly like a kid that went missing back in the early 2000′s. The Family calls his Anxiety, and he’s rather withdrawn. But does enjoy playing video games or board games with Patton, Janus, and Logan. Soft spoken, sarcastic, and a little emo spiderling, he’s adored by Patton mostly. Who calls him the ‘Dark Strange Son’ alot. Virgil seems rather happy in the Other World. Stating to little Thomas that this world is much better than anything he could dream of. He’s however hesitant to answer questions about things not inside the Other World. Telling Thomas to not think about that, and just be happy. He enjoys his room/the attic, and outside in the front yard. When angry, Virgil is the one with the spider form, taking on a more glass like look and his skin is cold to the touch. His buttons are dark purple with light purple thread.

Other Twins: Roman and Remus Sanders The two Creativity Rascals, they are slightly older then Virgil, but much younger than Janus and Patton. They can warp reality around them when in their favorite spots, be it the Basement for Remus, or the Woods for Roman. Their rooms are actually in the basement in the door near the left side of the house. While Virgil's is in the attic. They serve as the entertainment, coming up with ideas on the fly to go on adventures, play dragons and knights, or kings and castles. The forest, quiet literally, is their playground. Having their own fort and castle there, and a while bunch of land to cover. The twins play fight alot, but they get along very well and are rather close to one another. And are like the cool older brothers who have alot of fun, but are happy to let the youngers join them. Both have tentacles in this one, though Remus is more slimy than his brother. And when they open their extra mouths on their body when angry, it’s very scary. Roman’s buttons are red with green thread, while Remus is green with red thread. And their skin is like plastic almost. Coraline: Thomas Anderson He’s about 12 in this one, just moved to the country side in a little blue house on the back dirt roads. This town is dreadfully boring, with dull, muted colors, always over cast and rainy. It’s like all the happiness has been sucked out of it and left to decay. Thomas is not upset about the move, as he never had many friends, if any, from his old home. He’s mostly upset with the fact he’s just dull, he’s not allowed to be colorful. And to top it off, his parents aren’t always there emotionally for him. Leaving him completely isolated, even more so when he’s a closeted gay in a very religious family. So when he finds a world where everything is colorful, with three dads, well two and a mom, a family who cares about him, he’s excited. Maybe this move won’t be so bad.

Plot: The idea in my head is that Thomas has moved with his parents to a rather nice when hie father got a promotion. But, like most typical rich families, he’s not really paid attention to. And Thomas feels mostly left out, having no friends to call his own, and just his imagination and books to keep him busy. When exploring his new house, finding the attic and basement locked, and a small golden key, he finds a little door. It’s been walled off, which is a bummer. That is until the middle of the night, when Thomas follows a shadow to the door. Finding it leads to a world that is perfect. The world represents everything Thomas wants, brothers, Roman, Remus, and Virgil. Fathers, Patton and Janus, and a mother, Logan, who actually cares about him. He isn’t sure if this is some very real dream or not. But he’s not complaining, he feels welcomed instantly byt he family. Taken on adventures with Roman and Remus, playing games with Virgil and learning knew things from Logan, helping Patton cook, and Janus teaches him music and among other things. But when after a week of this, Thomas starts to see strange cracks in their personalities. And when they one day ask if he wants to stay forever and be part of their family, it meets getting this pink buttons in his eyes. He’s terrified, and now wonders if he’ll ever escape... or even if he wants to. Notes:

So I’m not sure how I want it to be played out. If the Others are truly evil in just that they want to kidnap Thomas just because they are selfish and/or turn him into a doll. OR if I want it to be well meaning sinister, where they think they are doing Thomas a favor by taking him away from his neglectful family.

One thing to note is they do really like Thomas, regardless of intentions, they do like him. And either way, they want him to stay forever.

Now, I’m not sure if I want with the Other Father for Patton to be controlling Janus or Janus to be controlling Patton. One of them is well aware of what they are doing, but can’t go against the wishes of their controller or Logan. While they are happy, the idea of luring kids tends to hurt them inside.

The Other World is bigger than Thomas things, he’s just in a small area that belongs to Logan. There are MANY others out there. Who lure people away into their realm, for better or worse. It’s like it’s own reality, only everything is just perfect. It’s like a nostalgic trap, much like Patton’s room only worse.

Logan is the main guy, he’s been at this for a long time, and either Patton or Janus is their partner depending on who is controlling who. He mainly lures kids as he likes the taste of their humanity. It’s what he feeds off of, draining them of their everything, and making them like dolls, only with a semi soul. Any who does this too becomes his kid or helper. Logan is fine with this, he enjoys having a family. And he only has to feed every few decades or so. He’s been around for a long time. Most of his ‘kids’ have grown up, and become true Others who have their own areas. Virgil, Roman, and Remus though are still MUCH too young for such a thing. Others are NOT human, nor are they ‘aliens’ either. Best thing I can think of are like Fae, only... less magical as we know it. They are creatures who feed off of emotions and the essences that make people human. Which is why they all feel like dolls.

Others are near immortal should they feed properly, and Others areas tend to just attract people to them. Some go after teens, others kids, some adults, taste is everything. Adults tend to be more fulling, but can be bitter and sour tasting, Teens are half and half depending on situation, and are often spicy tasting. While kids are very sweet, and typically are fulling also depending on how well you’ve gained their trust. If you can get them to agree to being an other, even better. It’s harder than it sounds though.

Each Other does have a specific power that they use. Which I am still hashing out in my head.

They rarely get angry, but boy is it scary when they do.

The key only is Thomas’s interpretation of the entrance way, it can be anything to get into the Other World. It’s all up to the person in how THEY think to get in. It could be walking through two trees making a hole in them, opening a door that is only unlocked on certain days, or even just crawling under your bed. It’s up to the seeker how they wish to get in, which is why the Other World can stay in one spot, no matter the house or thing built on it.

There is no real moral code for Others, their world is very well hidden. But they are very protective of their charges when they find the right type of feed off of. Logan gets extremely possessive of Thomas when he shows up, not as in he punishes the others, but if Thomas ever thinks about leaving or tries too, Logan would lock him up until Thomas gives into despair.

If they are being unruly or try to escape, one way to get them ot agree is by isolating them, and cutting them off from happiness. Which makes kids and teens want to stay once they leave their isolation. Logan dislikes doing this, but going without a food source is rather painful, and he’d rather not put himself or his partner through that. So if he must, he will make sure the target stays. Even if it won’t be as filling as if they agreed willingly.

Also, their areas is often where their power is the strongest.

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So Yeah, there it is, if you guys have any question just let me know. And this goes to @fangirltothefullest who when I mentioned this idea to her really wanted to see this. I still need more for it, but I like the concept of it, it’s much different from the books, but that’s what makes it interesting. Could easily be Angst with Happy Ending. Could even get more sinister than this. We’ll see. Might post more about this later. And fanart is well loved, I can draw, but not well enough in my mind lol.

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otterskin · 4 years ago

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Dumb Details From the Loki Trailer I noticed but then got too serious about

First - apparently it’s not a trailer, so I guess we’ll get ‘Trailer 1′ later? ‘Exclusive Clip’ hardly seems accurate, but hey, I’m not Disney’s marketing division. I wouldn’t live in a shoebox if I was.

Dumb detail no. 1:

Owen Wilson’s jacket is...weird. Look closely.

And another shot:

Yeah...his jacket has a ‘reversed collar’. It’s a cut-out rather than cloth folding on top. Huh. What a strange design choice. What could it mean?

I’ve no idea, but that I watched the trailer enough times to notice this should concern you.

Detail No. 2

In this scene, we see what we can presume to be President Loki’s ‘Throne’. Notice the candy-canes. This is a Santa Claus throne, presumably from some mall Santa. This whole place might be in a mall, judging by the stuff in it.

But the Loki in this shot is not President Loki. Notice that he’s wearing brown pants, a thin brown tie, and the beige shirt he’s seen wearing in other parts of the trailer after he's apparently joined the TVA. President Loki wears black pants, a green vest and a wide green tie with a golden clip that resembles Loki’s little chevron he always has (more on that later).

So it would seem that Loki might meet President Loki here. President Loki might even be addressing him at the end of the trailer. It’s possible that his minions turn on him because there’s two Lokis and they don’t know which is the ‘imposter’.

Speaking of, there’s a minion with bicycle handlebars grafted to a football helmet here, likely meant to resemble Loki. I dig it. There’s also cans of food scattered among the rubbish here. Makes sense that food production is non-existent since everyone has resorted to wearing license plates and spoons. Love how tattered the whole aesthetic is.

This reminds me of the opening Michael Waldron’s script ‘Worst Guy of All Time’, which featured a similar post-apocalyptic setting after the ‘worst guy’ ruins everything and makes himself king of the ashes. That’s likely what’s happened here, but I hope that Loki isn’t anything like Logan Paul, who was the inspiration for that title character.

Ah, the mysterious female character watching a meteor shower WAY TOO CLOSE UP. But my eyes are drawn to one thing...

What is that oblong object with a shiny handle? Could it be...

A sword? I do love swords. Did you know there’s a bunch of pictures of me in the stock photos for ‘Fencing?’ That’s my cred for loving swords.

I suspect that this female character will be an amalgamation of Amora (shudder) and Sylvie and an alternate Loki of some kind. This sword is currently in her possession, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it or another timeline version of it becomes the Loki Show’s Loki′s weapon.

Loki has lacked a ‘weapon of his own’ in the MCU for quite some time. I mean, yes, he has his little knives, but they are many and disposable and something he chose for himself, rather than the two legendary weapons wielded by Odin and Thor, Gungnir and Mjolnir. In fact, throughout his appearances, Loki has seemed to want such a thing of his own - he briefly had Gungnir, and then the Gungnir-like scepter, and even tried to lift Mjolnir.

One might ask why Odin would’ve overlooked such an obvious show of favouritism. Why give Thor a storied weapon and leave Loki empty-handed? Heck, even Hela had the Necroblade.

In Thor 1, we might’ve assumed that the Casket of Ancient Winters was perhaps intended one day to be given to Loki, as it is shown with Mjolnir in the Vault and thus connected to it and the children who would inherit it. But in the comics, Odin did have another weapon of storied history put away for his second son: Gram the Sword.

It was locked for eons by Odin in a special vault which required five keys to be opened, and it was meant to be for Loki if he be worthy.[2] The five keys were infused by Odin with the powers of "journeys", "endurance", "secrets", "new beginnings", and "brotherhood", respectively.[3]

The sword, like everything else in comics, has a complicated history full of take-backs and twists, but let’s just leave it at ‘it’s a representation of Loki’s worthiness and belonging in the trifecta with Odin and Thor as a King of Asgard’. It gives him ‘equality’.

In the original mythology, it’s wielded by Sigurd to kill the dragon Fafnir, and the only relation it has to Loki is that Loki is partially responsible for Fafnir existing in the first place (my username is nod to this myth by the by. Sorry Ottär.) But hey, maybe that means we’re getting a dragon? The Fafnir would be very cool.

Or it could just be a bit of rebar in this mining quarry.

Then again...it appears somewhere else...

It’s easier to see in motion, but that’s a sword swinging on this person’s back.

So the hooded figure is this lady...shall we call her Amylkie? Does that mean she’s the antagonist of this show? Well...maybe, but I suspect the true antagonist is foreshadowed here -

So, what’s going on here? A young girl (Young Amylkie? Some other TVA prisoner that the guard is watching over? An oracle, A Norn, or a kid who wandered off from the tour group in a basilica somewhere?) She’s giving Mobius M. Mobius a...piece of chocolate. Maybe he saw a Dementor, I dunno. I suspect it’ll be a MacGuffin of some kind later. He looks pretty concerned here, which contrasts with his ‘another day at the office’ blaséness when dealing with Loki. But of course this is the eye-catcher:

So, Norse Mythology. It’s been Christiannized. You can thank Snorri Sturluson for that, but you can google all about him later. Let’s just say that he made many Norse figures into equivalents for Christian ones. Baldur is Jesus, pure and a sacrificial lamb who dies for a greater good. And the devil is...Loki. Something the Marvel comics and the MCU have continued.

Here we have a devil, dressed in green and with a distinct shape on his chest:

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

Ah. I’d say that cinches it. This is meant to be Loki. If you look at the devil’s hair, it also resembles Loki’s, being shoulder-length and black.

So, what’s devil-Loki doing? Laying an egg? Trying out a foot massager? For a second I thought it was a moon, but we see the moon over his left shoulder, amongst the stars. Which means this is - probably the Earth.

...Dammit; I live there.

So Earth is barren and being devoured by flames, likely caused by this Loki sitting atop of it (in a throne, no less). Aw gee, things look pretty bad, don’t they?

But wait - what’s that? Under the Earth (and, possibly, under the earth)?

It’s a plant. A shoot, to be exact.

Back to Ragnarok for a second. Ragnarok isn’t the apocalypse (something we see a lot of in this trailer - all of it seems to be exploring the end of days). Ragnarok is the fire meant to wipe out the old and fertilize the ground for the new. And after the gods have died, what happens? Well, Baldur emerges from Hel, one of the only surviving gods (hmm, seems him dying worked out, didn’t it?). He’s joined by Líf and Lífþrasir, who are the new first man and woman, who’s names mean ‘Life’ and who are pictured, usually, with plants and new life. It is they who are tasked who growing a new Yggdrasil after the destruction of the old. The previous first man and woman are Ask and Embla, meaning Ash Tree and Vine/Elm tree, so there’s a theme there.

So a new sprout, possibly a tree, growing out of the destruction of the old.

This fits with Loki’s role as understood in mythology. He checks the arrogance of the gods, including when they tried to achieve immortality (sorry, Baldur, nothing personal), and that keeps the gods at their best. After Loki is imprisoned, the gods become weak, unhelpful and foolish, and Yggdrasil starts to rot. Eventually Loki escapes and returns along with Surtur (who also resembles this figure) to burn it all to the ground. This is also referenced in Thor:Ragnarok, with Loki releasing Surtur in the Vault, a place of thematic importance to Loki and one that represents the hidden secrets and sins of Asgard). You could say Ragnarok continued into Infinity War, where Loki played an important part in aiding Thanos’ destruction, giving up the stone to protect his brother and essentially dooming the rest of the universe - but also ultimately leading to its salvation, even if, like Myth Loki, he wasn’t around to see it.

So, we see Amylkie literally start a fire in the trailer -

- in fact, this whole trailer is awash in flame -

It’s fire, fire everywhere and she’s setting them!

It’s possible Amylkie’s our big bad, but I think there’s a chance she’s either a red herring, or, much like how Loki ‘worked’ with Thanos in The Avengers, she is the pawn of a greater foe -

- a Loki bent on destruction, for some reason or other. The TVA is obviously aware that this is the case, and it seems like they might be trying to ‘fight fire with fire’ by enlisting one Loki to combat another. The villain could be President Loki, since there's evidence of 2 Lokis in that scene - or maybe that's one of many Lokis, and the Big Bad Loki is being played by Hugh Grant as Old Loki. In any case, it would appear that Loki will be coming face-to-face with the worst versions of himself, and many of them. And, if I’m right about this scene:

...Loki will likely eventually discover that even his ‘good’ timeline ended in the destruction of his people and home, plus his own gruesome and torturous death. Although I think the TVA will keep that from him, and just show him the happy parts in an effort to inspire ‘good behaviour’. Until Loki inevitably discovers the rest of how that timeline played out and realize he’s been lied to. I don’t imagine he’ll take that very well...

Damn, even our ‘hero’ Loki is burning stuff down! Does this mean that Loki is doomed, always meant to be an avatar of death and toasty destruction?

Well...let’s go back to that stained glass.

Hmmm...wait...I know that weird horny shape...

And there’s something else...the bottom of the Earth is being lit up, and not by fire. Light appears to be coming off this little plant.

What colour is this plant again? That’s right, green. Green is the colour of new life and growth and change and...hang on, I’ve heard that before, too...

Hang on hang on HANG ON... let me have a look at the shape again.

That’s...a letter. An L? For Loki? Like in the title sequence?

Wait...no, a different letter. An older letter. After all, Loki is old Norse. How do you spell his name in that again?

ᛚᛟᚲ ᛁ -

And ENHANCE on that third letter!

This, my friends, is a Kenaz/Kaunaz, or what would become 'K' in our alphabet. It is also known as the 'Loki Rune' (and the Ulcer Rune, for some reason. I suspect Odin understands why). It’s used to spell his name, but is also used on his own to represent him. Heck, it's even his Superman 'S' in the comics:

Runes are more than letters - they are symbols for concepts. So what else does it mean?

Primarly, it means ‘torch’.

And also ‘knowledge’ (ken). As well as ‘growth, change, the search for truth, decay, arrogance, elitism, feminine, kinship and creativity.’

...Okay, that’s a lot, but you have to admit it fits.

More specifically, it means ‘Mastery of the Fire’. As in, someone who has learned to tame fire so that it is helpful, not harmful. To bring light and, symbolically, knowledge.

There’s another way Loki’s been associated with fire - in the Wagner Ring Cycle, Das Rheingold, the opera that inspired much the Thor films’ aesthetic and certainly their helmets, Loki is called ‘Loge’, which means ‘Fire’. He’s usually dressed to match, too -

Many trickster figures are associated with fire. They are usually called ‘Fire-bringers’ - See: Raven, Lucifer, Prometheus, etc. They are often complex figures with a foot in different worlds, but who nonetheless help mankind with the gift of ‘fire’ - although they usually pay for it, and tend to be self-destructive.

(Side note. Lucifer means light-bringer, which is what luciferase is named after. Because it glows. Which is helpful in labs. In case someone needed to know that.)

Moving from a destructive fire-starter to a fire-bringer seems like a great character arc for Loki to take, especially given his rehabilitation in pop culture, the comics, and even wider culture. Loki has gone from being seen as an evil, deviant, destructive character to one who’s seen as a patron of the arts and creativity, of stories rather than lies. Heck, some scholars of Norse Mythology even posit that he’s the closet thing to a protagonist Norse Mythology has, so I guess that backfired, Snorri!). Being dressed in green and with the sprout clearly also being stylized after his Kaunaz, there’s foreshadowing that he’ll be capable of growing good things even out of ashes.

So, to sum up: Being ‘Satan’ sounds pretty bad, but with a little letter re-arranging like we see in the title sequence, you can be...

...practically a saint. Maybe even a saviour.

Merry Christmas, everybody.

#loki #trailer #details #meta #theories #theory #explanation #thor #tva #santa #devil #snorri sturluson whinging #christmas #fire #kaunaz #loki trailer

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uglyshirtsinc · 4 years ago

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AIGHT HERE WE GO BUCKLE UP!! Endermen hybrids Illumina, Purpled, and Ranboo! With a sprinkle of Technodad and Sonboo, a drizzle of Little Brother Purpled and Big Brother Punz, with a side of Illumina and Fruit friendship! Less go! This was meant to be a ramble but literally ended up a fic outline?? Could even be read as a fic if you wanted??? What the hell 6 am me???

Endermen hyrbid are valuable because since they're half human instead of making enderpearls they make eyes of ender, and they respawn like humans do so they're used to farm ender eyes.

Ranboo meets Illumina and Purpled after being kidnapped and separated from his dad at the wee age of eleven meets sixteen year old Illumina and eleven year old Purpled.

He's tossed into a cell with the two of them, Illumina being there to calm the younger two down after being used for the farm. Whenever Illumina is brought back to the cell, he cares for the boys and dotes on them, acting much more worried and clingy that normal. They let him take care of them, knowing that keeping them safe calms him.

They talk about their lives before being taken, Illumina talks about the adventures he and his friend Fruit would go on. The dangerous things they did. He promises the boys to one day show them cool tricks, using the excuse of "the cell is too tiny and someone would get hurt" as to why he can't show them off there, not wanting to tell them the little portions of food he recieves (even less considering he gives most to the boys) has eaten away at his strength.

Purpled talks about his adoptive brother Punz who's just a bit older than Illumina, at age seventeen. How he was a cool mercenary hired to do "super secret" stuff and protect people. He tells them about his trident and tomahawk.

When Ranboo opened up, it gave Illumina his first real sense of hope he's had in a long time. Ran talks about his dad, emperor of the Antarctic Empire and faithful patron of the powerful Blood God. Illumina had heard of the Arctic Empire's hybrid son and after story after story began to believe that Ran really was the prince of the Empire. Ran's father obviously loved him, each story leaving him in tears of either longing or laughter. His father would be searching for them, and he would find them.

Weeks turned to months and nothing changed, until Ran was on the floor screaming in pain and Purpled was hiding in the corner wailing in fear. Illumina could hear cracking, popping, and spotted two hard lumps just next to Ranboo's shoulder blades and realized he wasn't just some Enderman hybrid, but rather a dragon hybrid. When the pain finally subsided and their captors returned to take the two young boys Illumina knew what he had to do.

He didn't know much of Gods and patrons, only what he read while searching the strongholds with Fruit after their latest adventure.

Patrons were messy, being worthy to have one and be a follower was even messier. But within that moment, he didn't care. Thousands of voices in his head was better than having to witness those monsters that held them captive force Ran to cough and gag and wheeze in attempt to get Dragons Breath from the boy. It was worth it to return Purpled to his brother, to see the boys eyes light up the same way they did when Ran said his dad would save them. And for just a moment, Illumina let himself be selfish. It was worth it to get to hold his best friend close, to be strong enough to scale buildings and run from golems they'd messed with. To see the sunrise over a snowy mountain, to show the world he was faster, stronger, and smarter than anyone imagined.

Cutting his hand on a jagged rock sticking from the walls that he had warned the boys about so often, be used his own blood to draw the symbol. When it glows and the world fades, stands before him a towering man with hair as white as snow, wearing the finest attire fit for a king, dressed in gold with everything he wore.

Wordlessly, a deal is made and as their hands shake Illumina is staring into dark, ruby red eyes sparkling with a beast like excitement. The Blood God speaks and tells him "They have been waiting." And Illumina knows what he means.

When the world returns, his ragged and dirty clothes are replaced by the ones he would wear before the monsters took him. A pouch of emeralds hangs from his belt and a familiar black mask covers his nose and mouth. His strength has returned, but at a cost he has yet to find out.

There's no whispers, no cries, no one yelling in his head. There's no insanity blocking his train of thought. No amnesia. He is Illumina.

He wraps himself with the one thin blanket they were allowed, curling up near the gate to keep himself and his clothes covered.

Purpled is first to return and Illumina places a figer over his lips, signaling Purpled to stay quiet. When Ran returns, it takes Illumina less than thirty seconds to have the monstrous man on the ground unconscious. Ran and Purpled watch in awe as he checks the horrid man for anything of value to them. A ring of keys, a pouch of coin, an iron sword, and a map are all Illumina deems worthy.

While his strength has returned, he's mindful of the boys and their weak bodies. He carries Purpled on his back, the violet eyed boy the smallest out of them all.

It takes hours to escape their prison mostly undetected. When they do, Illumina grabs the first horse he can find that's saddled up and tells the boys to hold on as he rides off.

The map was appreciated beyond comprehension. It doesn't take long to find a town and get the boys proper clothing that will survive the journey to the Arctic. Keeping them close and their heads down they get what they need tools wise and leave before the sun can even set.

It's hard, telling Purpled that he'll have to wait even longer to see his brother, but promises once they return Ranboo home that Punz can come there to take him home. If Illumina must admit, he chooses Technoblade first because once it hits the news of the princes return and Illumina's name is spread, he hopes Fruit will come and find him, even if they have to meet in the middle.

Throughout the terror and pain, they push through. From the nights they got separated, Purpled clinging to Ran and assuring the dragon hybrid Illumina will find them, fighting off zombies when Ran couldn't stand straight to hold a sword. The relief when Illumina scoops them both into his arms and holds then tighter than before.

With hunters hot on their tail they can't afford to stop and it takes four months itself to reach the borders between the Arctic Empire and whatever land they found themselves in.

Ran's wings have grown in, one a dark, scaley black with brilliant green in the folds between each bone. The other is a is white and reminds Illumina of a jellyfish, bits and tassles hanging from the wing giving it a much more fragile, paper thin appearance. Both are incredibly strong, despite their looks, and it's often the intimidation factor the two wings bring that gets them out of sticky situations.

A year has passed since they've been held in captivity, Illumina now seventeen and the boys twelve.

Illumina buys the cheapest tickets to the Empire, having to hold Ran's hand to keep him from teleporting ahead in excitement. He cries multiple times, the feeling of finally being free and so close to home hitting him like a truck. Illumina sees the excitement on Purpleds face, knowing after Ran he gets his family too.

They arrive on the island and immediately Ranboo is dragging them the way to the inner walls. Claiming to know his home like the back of his hand. Passing by a few guards, Purpled asks why they don't just tell the guards they have the prince.

"The guards were the whole reason Ranboo ended up where he was, plus they could try killing us immediately thinking we took Ran. I can't risk putting you two in any more danger." Is the reply he gets.

They teleport to the other side of the walls easily, walking to the other, and teleporting. This repeats for two days till they reach the inner most wall. Techno stands on a platform in the town center, his expression showing no emotion and stance as proper as ever. Just watching him stand so straight makes Illumina's back ache.

Ranboo sobs on the spot and before he can call for his father and rush forward a hand is placed on Illumina's shoulder with a harsh grip.

The guard asks who they are, saying they most definitely are not meant to be there, and within that moment a rage so heavy it hits Illumina like a tidal wave.

A year of torture and pain, months of walking and risking his life to get here and right as he can reach it someone stops him. Illumina barely registers it before the boys jump back screaming and he's pulled his sword out to hit the other man.

He faintly hears cries of "Harvey!" As more people rush towards them. He can only focus on his blade pressing against the man, Harvey's, sword and the deep laughter filling his mind.

"It seems you've finally been broken into." The Blood God thinks aloud.

He yells for Ran to run to his dad who's being ushered of stage, his speech being cut short.

Ran looks between his father who has yet to notice him and then back to Illumina who's risked so much for him. To Purpled, who looks horrified and is trying his hardest to pull back Illumina.

And he chooses them.

Jumping between Illumina and Tapl he unfurls his large wings and yells out with a slightly staticy voice "Stop!"

And it's as if the world has stopped, the Blood God no longer speaking in Illumina's mind, Purpled can sag his shoulders in relief, and all eyes are on them.

He looks into Tapl's heterochromatic eyes and in a voice barely above a whisper says "Stop attacking my family."

Tapl steps back, the other guards step back. All can easily recognize the missing Prince, from the two-toned hair to the sparkling eyes only he possesses.

His name is breathed out and demands attention. Ranboo turns to gaze at his father from across the short distance and it's real.

They meet in the middle and Ran holds his father like a scared child, and Techno allows himself to crumble and cry. He cries for the child thought to be dead, stolen from him by those he trusted. He cries for the year and months he's spent separated from him. They cry together, and tears of pent up pain turn to tears of happiness. His grandfather and uncles appear soon enough, he's wrapped in hugs so tight and a pair of wings so warm he could fall asleep.

Purpled and Illumina and thanked for bringing him back, and all Illumina asks is for them to help them find their homes. A message is sent far and wide of Purpled's reappearance and it takes less than a month for a blonde boy, fresh i to adulthood to come crashing through the castle doors and Purpled to find himself wrapped in his big brothers arms once more.

Punz sobs so loudly it's heard from across the palace, clinging to his baby brother and cradling him like a baby.

You'd think after the royal family just about got on their knees to thank him, Illumina would be used to it and stop being so embarrassed, but something about seeing Purpled light up like he's dreamed of seeing the boy do and finally getting to see with his own two eyes the brother he talked about makes him very thankful for the mask there to hide his flushed cheeks.

Ranboo and Purpled aren't ready to let go, so Punz stays with his brother in the castle for awhile.

Illumina is asked thousands and thousands of questions, where they were taken, how they escaped, etcetera.

He takes Techno aside and confesses the deal he made in return for their freedom. He confesses he has yet to know what he's given up to the Patron and his fears. He confesses that He couldn't bare the thought of young Purpled loosing his hope and being raised in a place like that, Ranboo being hurt worse and worse for bottles of acidic breath.

He apologizes for being selfish and wanting to find his family.

And for the first time in forever, he's being held in the safety of a warm hug. He gets to cry and be comforted, he gets to be weak.

It takes longer, but one day new face appears and after four years he breaths in that ridiculously sweet scent of green apples and sweet fruits that Fruit Berries always had. He hugs his friend once again.

They show the boys their tricks, as Illumina promised. They watch them do stupidly dangerous things that make Phil, Techno, and Wilbur flinch and jump to catch the two seventeen year olds, always groaning in faux annoyance watching them land safely, Phil claiming this'll give him a heart attack and Wilbue and Techno agreeing their stupid (while impressive) actions are gonna be bad influences on their sons. Wilbur calls it quits after they manage to drag Punz in, the mercenary dueling the two of them and trying to see whether strength or agility are better. Purpled is torn between cheering for either family member and just yells words of encouragement a lot.

For once in a long long time, they're safe.

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tigerseye46 · 3 years ago

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Red Sand/Shark AU

So this is an au where Sha Wujing is the one who retired and Red is his successor.

I had a lot of amazing help from my anons and others for this au and I just want to thank them for that! You all made the au 100% more awesome! So here’s the au (re-uploaded cause it wouldn’t appear on my dash):

Sha Wujing: Sha Wujing takes Wukong’s place as the teacher and retired hero of this au and is the mentor of Red Son, albeit a reluctant mentor. Sha Wujing, unlike his canon counterpart, has not calmed down and is still rage-filled due to isolating himself for centuries. He has isolated himself due to Tripitaka’s death at the hands of a demon which he believes he, Bajie and Wukong could have prevented even though the other two were nowhere near at the time. He has a strained relationship with them because of this belief. Due to the monk’s death, he started picking fights in the mortal realm with any demon and sometimes human he could. The other three tried to stop him at multiple points but he wouldn’t listen and they had no choice but to give up. Eventually he came to the conclusion that this isn’t what Tripitaka would want and decided to pick one last fight to seal the Spider Queen before retiring.

He has rarely spoken to anyone else in centuries, he is extremely closed off to people. and has a lot of rage pent up. He lives on a mountain around the city that has a small house on his mountain and it has a river. He has the basics, oven, microwave, fridge, he also has a tv. Although he doesn’t use the television as much and considers it good background noise while he’s cooking or training. He absolutely despises it when any trace of his past adventures come onto the screen due to the events that have happened. He has a bunch of training equipment around that he uses to at least better manage his rage. He also builds inventions similar to his counterpart and it is something he and Red have in common. He does love tea and cats in this au but doesn’t own any cats in the beginning. He keeps a shrine of Tripitaka in his home and talks to it at certain points, he also has Tripitaka’s old staff.

Fun fact, he didn’t even want a successor and the only reason Red became his successor is because Guanyin appeared to him a couple years before the au and told him that trouble was brewing. She knows he gave up fighting so she proposes that he find a successor and she knows the perfect candidate, Red. After watching him for a bit, he agreed with her and waited for something to happen but wasn't exactly happy at the thought of having to train someone since it meant having prolonged social interaction, especially someone that almost killed his brother even if he isn’t Wukong’s biggest fan by that point. He is rather grumpy while training Red and they clash at certain points but they do have a respect for each other. He is more blunt and honest here.

Red: Red Son is the successor of Sha Wujing and formerly the disciple of Guanyin who after noticing how far he had come decided to let him go to the city to meet new people. He arrives at the city 2-5 years before the events of the au start and keeps a human form. While they still have somewhat of a temper, it is nowhere as bad as canon. They were initially confused by the city as due to being under Guanyin’s teaching, they weren’t as exposed to technology. It wasn’t until they met Mei who showed them the ropes that they finally got the hang of things. They build inventions like their counterpart but aren’t as skilled as canon Red since they’ve only been doing this for five years tops.

Mei actually gave her a place in the beginning since they didn’t have anywhere to go since they were still new. Red refused at first but gradually gave into Mei’s persistence. They were roommates for a while while the demon figured out where they could work. They noticed Mei’s struggle with her parents and encouraged her to be open about it, resulting in her becoming happier as a person and embracing her dragon heritage. Mei introduced them to Tang and got taken in by the human. Tang gave Red a place at his shop, although he works more at the cover business since he wants some sense of normalcy but he does do things like stock supplies for the magic side sometimes.

He hasn’t told anyone who his parents are nor has he found them again and prefers to keep a low profile. He also keeps the fact that he’s a demon a secret along with his fire powers. The fire powers only show up when he’s overcome with rage but since they aren’t as rage filled as their canon counterpart, that is rare. He isn’t exactly thrilled to be someone’s successor since it meant giving up his normal life but does it to further atone for his actions.

Mei/Long Xiaojiao: Xiaojiao remains here as the descendant of the Dragon of the West and is Red’s best friend. She found Red Son wandering the city one day and allowed him to stay with them until they found a place to work so Red has actually been inside her house before. Throughout his stay, she accidentally vented about her troubles with her parents which Red helped her with and because of that, she is less insecure about her place as descendant of the Dragon of the West. From that point forth, she was more open about her problems. She also obtained the dragon blade relatively early thanks to Red and her parents’ urging.

She, like Red, works for Tang but at his magic business and spends time being Tang’s assistant. Her job is to sometimes collect ingredients and deliver if the client asks. She is more reckless here due to having the dragon blade for years and because of the amount of demons she faced. She is slightly more protective here because of Red since she thinks he doesn’t know how to expertly fight as he hasn’t revealed who he is to her yet.

MK/Qi Xiaotian: Xiaotian is the biological son of Syntax and the only human of the Spider group. After the incident when he was around 12 that resulted in his dad becoming a spider, his life was completely changed and they were taken in by Huntsman and Goliath. Learning of their plan to free the Spider Queen, Syntax offered to help, knowing from Goliath that she would protect his son. They raised him where he turned into a mix of all of them. Since he is Syntax’s son, his father made sure he got the best education and taught him many things because of this, he knows a lot about tech and sometimes uses technology based insults like his dad, the other insults he uses are the more crass ones because of Huntsman. While he knows a lot about tech, he’s bad at practical applications and ends up setting things on fire.

They know how to hunt because of Huntsman and spar with him regularly in an effort to get strong to protect their family. Since they’re the only human, they feel the need to prove themself to the Spider Queen who doesn’t really give them a thought in the beginning as she’s more concerned with returning the spider demons to their former glory. The issue of him as the only human has caused somewhat of a disconnect between him and his father.

He is rather cocky and reckless here because of Huntsman and Syntax who both have massive egos, something that was passed down to him. Although deep down he is a sweetheart thanks to Goliath. He uses the tech insults to insult his rival, Red Son and makes fun of him on a daily basis which is great because Red only slightly knows what those mean. He is still an artist here and was encouraged by his father to pursue his passion, he is also still a slight Monkey King fan because of stories he heard when he was little. While he makes fun of Huntsman for wanting to date his dad, he does want to be able to call him his stepdad one day. He has a staff given to him by his dad when he was around 15 that contains some cool things.

Sun Wukong: takes Tang’s place kinda. Actor and scholar. Sun Wukong in this au is the owner of a theatre that for the most part does JTTW plays, he is also an actor and scholar. He spent about 300-400 years in retirement before finally deciding to enter the world again and do something. He has a rivalry with Macaque since both are scholars and always have academic arguments. He remains king of Flower Fruit Mountain but mainly lives in the city now. He maintains a human form to not attract attention from demons.

Before owning the theatre, he was a big name actor (well still is) that did mostly Monkey King related stuff to honor his past adventures and family. He even directed, starred and wrote stuff for his own movies and tv shows, something he does for the theatre now. He also produced some video games. He used to bring his monkeys on the set sometimes and does that now for his theatre, people have no idea where the monkeys come from. Some joke that he’s gotten really into his role and there are those that call him the “Monkey Actor.”

He carries a good amount of guilt over Tripitaka’s death especially after what Wujing said to him and believes he doesn’t really deserve to be called a hero. He also feels bad that he couldn’t help Wujing and that the incident resulted in the demon closing off. He hides all of this under a confident attitude. He hardly uses his staff anymore but still has it. He’s had off/on contact with Zhu Bajie over the years and misses him and the rest of his family deeply. When they meet up around the time the series starts, the pig informs him that he’s found Wujing but they don’t go talk to him since they know the other doesn’t want them around. Instead, the two hang out again with Wukong absolutely dreading the idea that they’ll lose contact again. Bajie actually introduces him to the kids he sometimes babysits and they eventually begin calling Wukong “yéyé.” He met Tang when he heard a rumor about his magic business and decided to check it out, he stuck around even after finding out the human was harmless because he met Red again, he hasn’t told Red or Tang who he is.

Tang: Tang is surprise, surprise, Tripitaka’s reincarnation. He does get dreams sometimes but he writes them off as fantasies. Compared to his counterpart, he is a lot tougher than his normal counterpart and actually fights. He runs two shops with one that is a secret magic shop (mostly temporary enhancements and minor spells), he’s proficient in both hand to hand combat and magic.

He is slightly more serious in this due to running a business now but not as serious as Pigsy would be. His nerdiness is toned down here but still present. In fact when Red is working, Tang likes to bring up different stories from the past despite the fact that Red knows them already. He gave Red the apartment above the shop and has no idea that the kid he adopted is actually a demon. He is rather annoyed and angry at the fact that Red was chosen by Sha Wujing to be his successor even though he is partially a fan of the demon and totally doesn’t have a celebrity crush on him. While he isn’t aware of everything Red has gone through, he is aware that the kid has had a rough life and wants to protect him.

Zhu Bajie/Pigsy: Zhu Bajie, after years of loneliness, came out of hiding and wandered the mortal world as he needed something to occupy his time. He’s had off/on contact with Wukong throughout the years. Eventually he settled into the city where he’s known as a beloved and involved member of a small part of it. He is seen as an ‘uncle/grandpa figure’ there and is sometimes asked to watch over the kids. The kids absolutely adore him and he in turn adores them. He takes them out a lot to places and spoils the heck out of them. He actually met Wukong again when he took the kids out to see the plays at Wukong’s theatre and enjoys taking them there because he gets to see the king, he’s become a huge fan. He memorized the surrounding mountain range there and partially chose the city as there is a path that leads to Wujing, he hasn’t told Wujing he’s tracked him down. He’s just kept tabs on him, mildly happy with that since he knows his brother doesn’t want to see him.

While he retains his snarkiness here, his temper isn’t as bad here due to not being business focused since he doesn’t own one. He retains his parental instincts here since he’s a grandpa now. He has grown a lot since the JTTW days and is proud of this fact. He is on the more reasonable side of things between Wujing who is unnecessarily angry and Wukong who believes he doesn’t have the right to be considered a hero.

Macaque: Macaque in this au is retired from fighting and does not have much of a grudge against Wukong as he does in canon. Although they do have a rivalry as fellow scholars and constantly complain about each other’s theses suck. They are usually one debate away from fighting each other in the parking lot of Wukong’s theatre.

Demon Bull King: Demon Bull King takes Macaque’s spot as the one who trains and plans to take Red’s powers. After their son became Guanyin’s disciple, the two were extremely worried about their child and held resentment for Sun Wukong and his gang that continued long after the gang defeated him. Princess Iron Fan and him had a falling out that resulted in them parting ways (although still married) but they still love each other very much. DBK heard rumors floating around about someone that had become Sha Wujing’s successor and that someone matched his son’s description. Angered over the fact that his son was forced to become someone’s successor, he found a spell that would take his powers. He crafted a plan to lure his son out to do so so his son could be relieved of that pressure along with protecting him and so he could use that power to take revenge on those around them.

Princess Iron Fan: Princess Iron Fan is the main villain of the Red Sand/Shark au. Due to the loss of her son and the fall out with her husband, Princess Iron Fan has become rather desperate to get her family back and she’ll do it by any means necessary. She has kept herself hidden for years, plotting ways to bring her family together. Once she found out that Red Son became Sha Wujing’s successor, it caused her to lash out as her son was within reach but forced to be what she considered a weapon, a pawn. She took advantage of the blood oath she made, promising the twins that if they joined her, she would make people cower before them. She used them to attack on New Years in the hopes of grabbing her son and taking over the world. While that might have failed, she has other tricks up her sleeve and will make Red join her, no matter what.

Spider Queen: Spider Queen once led a powerful army that threatened to disrupt the mortal realm. She was feared by mortals and respected and loved by her subjects. This ended when she faced Sha Wujing and was actually the last demon Sha Wujing fought before he retired. He decided to seal her, citing her as a danger. Due to her containment, the various spider clans started declining as their royal line had been deposed of. Things have become desperate and it is believed that the Spider Boys are part of the last generation before they are wiped out entirely, although there may be more out there. They have decided to free the Spider Queen as her era was the last time the spiders were prosperous and believe she is the key to saving their future.

Goliath (Strong Spider): Goliath remains a total sweetheart in this au and is one of the reasons Xiaotian contains sweet qualities. He is completely supportive and encouraging of Syntax and Huntsman’s feelings for each other and wishes they would just admit it. He bakes in his spare time and gets help from Xiaotian. He is also the other’s confidant and manages to keep secrets relatively well. He does suggest that they speak about these issues but doesn’t push them.

Huntsman: Huntsman is the same here but has a more fatherly side to him as he’s helped Syntax raise MK and has actually developed feelings for the nerd spider. He taught Xiaotian to be an excellent hunter and spars with him on a regular basis. He cheers the kid on during fights unless he has to do something like go save him for a reckless endeavor. He doesn’t admit how much the kid and the others mean to him often but will slip up and admit it. He and Syntax have snarky banter with each other and have a trusting relationship that neither acknowledges.

Syntax: Syntax is the biological and single father of Xiaotian. He was a relatively hardworking and great father that taught Xiaotian to make different things, gave him the best education he could and encouraged him in art endeavors. He was turned into a spider by a horrific lab accident when his son was around twelve. Resentment, horror and terror piled up in him because of that incident. He had absolutely no idea what to do, he was a human turned spider all because of what happened, there is a possibility that no one was going to treat him the same after this, people would assume he had malicious intent and might try to separate him from his son. After that, he spent a good portion trying to return himself back to normal but no matter what he did he could not. Afraid for the safety of him and his son, Syntax began to research the spiders, learning they were almost gone but there may be some out there. He took Xiaotian with him where they bumped into Huntsman and Goliath who were trying to find ways to bring the Spider Queen back. He joined them as Goliath had assured the queen would offer them protection. Along the way, he had come to see them less as allies and more as family, not that he would admit it. He began falling in love with Huntsman after getting to know him for years and seeing deeper sides of him. When Xiaotian was around 15, he crafted a sci fi tech staff for his son which contains some tricks and traps, including a GPS that can be used for when his son is in trouble.

Yin and Jin: Yin and Jin take Spider Queen’s place here. They trapped Red in the calabash just like they did with canon MK and after that incident, they continued popping up with a variety of plans, most that have failed. Red eventually stopped taking them seriously and treated them more as nuisances than real threats. In an effort to be taken more seriously they created a partnership between them and PIF. They shook with excitement at New Years when they began to topple people around them, this died down when the plan didn’t work but they continued to listen to PIF’s instructions, little do they know she’s just using them to get her son back.

White Bone Spirit and Mayor: These two are nowhere near as dangerous as they are in canon and actually replace Yin and Jin as the comic relief although the Mayor is still slightly creepy. WBS probably has a much older host or has shapeshifted to give herself a human form. She tries to get revenge for her defeat at the hands of Sun Wukong and since Red is the closest thing she messes with him instead. She believes she is a powerful antagonist but is more of the average shape-shifting demon and the Mayor serves as her minion. They come up with schemes similar to Yin and Jin but unlike Yin and Jin don’t ever come up with a way to be taken more seriously.

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softluci · 4 years ago

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atla hcs

i’ve been thinking about this for a minute, and i wanna do a set of headcanons for how i think the brothers (and eventually the undateables) would feel about certain avatar: the last airbender characters, or something along those lines. i actually just wanted to talk about lucifer and azula, so everything else here is a bonus. this doesn’t matter, but for what it’s worth: wherever the mc pops up, they will be gn, enjoy!

also: this kinda goes without saying, but there are most definitely spoilers in here. for which seasons? i don’t remember, i watched this show when i was nine, but proceed with caution if you have yet to watch it.

lucifer

if it’s one thing you are not gonna play with him about, it is princess azula. this man is an azula supremacist, and while he might not say those words exactly, anyone would be able to tell that’s the case if they talked to him about the show for longer than two minutes. he actually wasn’t even interested in the show until azula showed up, and he will readily admit this to anyone who inquires about it. what makes it funny is the fact that her first appearance is literally, like, ten seconds, so that means he saw her and immediately knew she was the best, which, like—real recognize real. is he projecting? am i projecting? yes, no. in that order. shut up.

he actually almost couldn’t hide how proud he was when azula almost killed aang, this man is deranged. the same way he takes her wins personally, he takes every loss of hers personally as well, so when she lost that agni kai? 🚶‍♂️

the average azula enjoyer believes azula should get a redemption arc, lucifer believes azula should simply get whatever she wants, and the difference between those two things is striking.

average azula enjoyer: i believe azula deserves to heal and redeem herself. it isn’t fair that she was left with her tyrannical, abusive father during formative years of her childhood, with no one to help her or show her what it means to be good. she cannot be blamed for the way she turned out. it especially isn’t fair that she gets no redemption for evil things she did at age fourteen, for a year, while the entire show is iroh’s redemption arc, and he was doing evil for decades—he is literally called “the dragon of the west” because of it. additionally—

lucifer morningstar, resident azula supremacist: everything azula did, she was right to do, because i would’ve done the same. there was never a point at which she was wrong, it’s just unfortunate that nobody could keep up with her, her father included. the only reason why she ended up losing, ultimately, is because this is a children’s show, and good is supposed to win out. it was plot armor. if this were realistic, she would’ve beaten everyone—at the very least, she would’ve beaten zuko in the final agni kai, it’s just that he broke the rules and brought backup. at the time of the agni kai, she was literally the strongest firebender in the show. that’s actually the only part of this lucifer is right about, but you can’t tell him that.

if you ask him what his favorite quote in the show is, he’ll immediately say, “i can see your whole history in your eyes. you were born with nothing, so you’ve had to struggle, and connive, and claw your way to power. but true power? the divine right to rule? is something you’re born with.” and he will do it so well that it’ll give you the chills.

in actuality, his favorite quote is, “i’d really rather our family physician look after little zuzu, if you don’t mind.” it’s just that it doesn’t have the same chilling effect as the first one.

does he like any other characters? does he even care about any other characters? he has a deep fondness for sokka because he reminds him of mammon. yes, and they are katara and suki, with honorable mention to avatar kyoshi.

does he hate any characters? no, but if you mention avatar kuruk or uncle iroh to him, he might get annoyed. is mildly frustrated by aang, but has the sense to cut him some slack for being twelve and the last of his kind. never speak of ozai.

mammon

toph supremacist. frequent user of the phrase, “toph is just fucking class.” knows for a fact that toph is the best and strongest bender in the entire show, and no one has ever managed to convince him otherwise. mainly because nobody really disagrees. like, have you ever even seen toph slander?

just like lucifer with azula, he wasn’t invested in the show until toph showed up, which, once again, is funny, because technically her very first appearance is only a few seconds long, so that means he saw her for a literal second and just knew. you can’t even be mad at that, real recognize real.

no one will ever see him more proud than when he’s talking about one toph beifong. he can’t get over her raw, unbridled talent, and he really never should. if you let him (so, if you’re levi), he will spend so much time analyzing her character and every single one of her strengths, from the fact that she’s the only one who knows when azula is lying, all the way down to the fact that even though she projects a tough persona, she can still be vulnerable, AND—

not only is she strong, but her personality is simply untouchable. this girl grows on literally everyone; like, even lucifer likes her, even though he’ll die before saying it out loud.

he gets so smug whenever someone asks him who his favorite is and it’s because he knows his taste is top tier, and what makes it worse is that no one can even disagree because toph is just that good.

will never admit it, but he was shaking and crying during the scene where it looked like toph and sokka were literally gonna die. was also gonna cry when toph almost drowned. basically: he is eternally grateful to suki.

his favorite line in the entire show is, “i am the greatest earthbender in the world! don’t you two dunderheads ever forget it.” it’s just fucking class.

does he like any other characters? he sees himself in sokka, he’ll tell you that much. he also knows that satan and lucifer like sokka because of him, and he found out because he heard them talking about it. to their joint dismay, they turned to see him standing behind them, grinning like an idiot, and they couldn’t even scare him into leaving them alone when he hugged both of them at the same time because, one, they didn’t really want to, and two, they couldn’t turn off their fondness for him fast enough ^_^. did they reciprocate his hug? did they stay like that for a little bit? did lucifer kiss the tops of their heads? maybe so🤨

does he hate any characters? not really, but he doesn’t particularly like azula because she scares him and makes him sad, like lucifer and doesn’t see her appeal. once tried to make a case for why she shouldn’t have a redemption arc and felt painfully human from the way he almost died. do not mention toph’s parents to him. the name ozai should also never be on your tongue.

levi

resident sokka enjoyer and suki appreciator. do not ever call sokka dumb in front of this man unless you want a proper lecture. unlike a few of his brothers, he doesn’t like sokka just because of his similarities to mammon. he also likes sokka because he relates to him on a personal level.

levi absolutely knows what it’s like to feel inadequate and outshined by people younger than you. he absolutely knows what it’s like to feel like your competence is overlooked. while he might be unfamiliar with how it feels to strategize for a war and lose a battle, but it is one of his biggest fears and it absolutely crushed him to see sokka go through that.

on a lighter note, levi has a deep appreciation for sokka’s comedic value, despite the fact that it can overshadow his intelligence. levi would actually venture to say that he likes sokka’s funnier side because it overshadows his intelligence to the point that it throws the opposition for a loop. this is the aspect of sokka that reminds him of mammon.

it also seriously warmed his heart to see how everyone missed sokka while he was away for sword training; he especially liked that episode because it was just an affirmation of the fact that sokka is an integral part of team avatar, which he really needed to see.

you know who else is an integral part of team avatar who needs to be recognized as such more often? suki. do you know how much pain levi is in every time he thinks about the lack of suki screentime . it’s a lot . suki is just too good for the amount of screentime she has, he’s sorry, but it’s true. this is evidenced by the scene of her literally running across prisoners’ heads to apprehend the warden of boiling rock. that scene speaks for itself—she and the other kyoshi warriors end up as zuko’s body guards for a reason.

he will never let anyone forget that if it weren’t for suki, sokka would still be a misogynist. she was an essential element to sokka’s growth as a character and everyone had better remember it or so help him. also , he is a firm believer in the fact that suki was the best love interest for sokka, with zuko as a close second. don’t ask questions. rip yue but argue with the wall.

his favorite line in the series?

“zuko’s gone crazy! i made a sand sculpture of suki, and he destroyed it! oh, and he’s attacking aang.”

it’s not profound or cool or anything like that, but it makes him smile and giggle every time he thinks of it ^_^.

does he like any other characters? he has a lot of love for toph and azula for the sole fact that the series improved exponentially after both of their introductions; he thinks both of them are in leagues of their own and seeing them in action just puts a smile on his face. he’s also inexplicably fond of king bumi.

does he hate any characters? not particularly, actually! he pretty much respects and appreciates everyone, except the guy who mutilated his thirteen year old son for speaking out of turn.

satan

just pick a girl. any girl. and from the way he talks about them, you’ll think they’re his favorite. he can and will go on about the girls of atla for the rest of eternity.

but since we’re being specific:

katara appreciator. azula enjoyer. basically, between him and lucifer, no tongue raised against azula shall prosper. he has a deep respect for each of their wraths. he also really must have a thing for angst because both of these characters just break his heart.

if you let him (in other words, if you’re levi), he will go on about how it’s not fair that people call katara annoying when, in reality, she just hasn’t healed from the trauma of seeing her mother’s corpse at age eight, followed by having to take care of her village, meaning she got literally no time to grieve properly, and—

call katara annoying in front of him and you might actually have to meet god for your shallow views of such a deep, complex character.

he will also go on and on about how katara would be the best bender in the show, if it weren’t for toph, who is untouchable. instead, he’ll talk about how katara almost killed pakku for being misogynistic and how she single handedly beat azula during sozin’s comet. you will frequently hear this man say, “katara aang’s master for a reason,” and he’s right.

similar to if you call katara annoying, if you call azula scary in front of satan, he’s bullying you. he’s sorry, but it has to happen. no way you’re scared of a traumatized fourteen year old, what are you, eight? or do you have no understanding of azula’s depth? both are unacceptable.

satan is the average azula enjoyer, times about seven. you simply won’t get away with speaking poorly of azula in front of this man, so if you’re like mammon and don’t like her, you better tread very carefully.

one time mammon tried to be like, “azula is too far gone to deserve redemption anyways,” and satan literally reverted to his demon form as he said: “if i were abandoned with my terrible father as a child, with literally no one to help me, and then my friends betrayed me, and then, as i was about to be crowned ruler of my country, my dumb fucking idiot brother showed up with his dumb peasant friend for backup, which isn’t even allowed, i might be mad forever too, actually—” and then he threw the nearest chair at mammon for his criminally bad take.

another reason why satan loves azula so much is because he’s convinced she’s a lesbian and satan is the most “let’s go lesbians!!!” person you will ever meet. you actually can’t convince him that she isn’t a lesbian. forget chan. nobody gives a fuck about chan.

what’s his favorite line in the entire series?

“trust me, zuko—it’s not going to be much of a match.”

like, come on. katara is just too good.

does he like any other characters (other than the girls of atla)? he’ll never admit it, but he has a lot of respect for sokka and a soft spot for him because he reminds him of mammon. he also has a lot of respect for aang because he reminds him of beel of how well he handled literally everything despite being twelve.

does he hate any—yes. never speak of avatar roku. or iroh. or ozai. for good measure, don’t mention general zhao either.

asmo

what lucifer is to azula, asmo is to ty lee. like do i even have to say anything else. but for what it’s worth, he also love, love, loves azula because she reminds him of lucifer, from her strength and class, all the way down to her descent into madness. and even though she breaks his heart just as much as she does satan’s. he may or may not have cried over azula in satan’s room while they were talking about her. unlike lucifer and satan, he can respect it if you don’t like her, but it’ll make him so sad.

but enough about azula. ty lee is where it’s at for him. her subtle strength and unwavering love is something to die for, and he will defend it against anyone, up to and including lucifer, and he’ll win too. asmo is not to be trifled with and neither is ty lee; he can make a strong argument as to why ty lee is the strongest character in the show, and you will have a very hard time trying to refute his points. (the main point being: it’ll be really hard to win a fight against someone who can paralyze you in a few seconds, bender or not.)

the fact that ty lee ran away from home because she was tired of the fact that nobody ever saw her as her own person is just something that tugs at asmo’s heartstrings. he thinks ty lee’s bravery is just something that can be so personal.

also—he has a massive appreciation for the fact that, even though there’s a war going on and ty lee is in near-constant danger, she still has the sense to maintain her appearance and worry about the skincare of not just herself, but also people she’s close to. that is a detail he will never let anyone forget.

never mentions it in front of lucifer but one of his favorite scenes is when she paralyzes azula to save mai. once again: ty lee’s bravery is just something that can be so personal.

he doesn’t have a favorite line in the series, but his favorite exchange of dialogue is between ty lee and azula, wherein ty lee is trying to teach azula how to flirt. he thinks it’s the cutest thing in the world.

does he like any other characters? of course! he likes everyone ^_^ . you’d actually be hard pressed to find someone he hates. ozai. it’s ozai. he has a real soft spot for mai because she reminds him of belphie. something about their shared aversion to affection is just so cute to him!

beel

aang supremacist, will hold steadfast to the fact that aang is the best character in the show and you will struggle to figure out how to convince him otherwise.

if you ask him why aang is his favorite, the first thing he will do is gesture to a picture of him and say, “look at the material,” like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, before diving into a ten minute in depth character analysis for this boy.

come on. he shouldn’t even have to explain himself. not only is aang one of the strongest, most competent avatars to exist, ever, he also mastered all four elements in a year, when he was twelve—he’s literally a different breed. and he managed to beat ozai in his own way, without killing him, as a means of staying true to a culture that could have literally died with him at any point in the show. aang is just fucking class.

he also admires aang for his near unwavering kindness and lighthearted nature. and for never going berserk and killing everyone he sees, especially after finding out his people were killed while he was in ice.

you have no idea how much pain beel was in when he found out that the air nomads were just gone. seeing a child find out that not only their family is gone, but also the entirety of their people and culture, just absolutely broke his heart. and that guilt aang was feeling? hit way too close to home for him.

he also thinks it’s really nice that aang was so quick to forgive zuko after everything, and the two of them ended up being really good friends. it just puts a smile on his face.

after some reflection with levi, he would’ve liked to see the full scope of an airbender’s power in the series; as in, he would’ve liked to see someone suffocated, but it’s okay, because aang wasn’t like that. and he heard it happens in the next series over.

anyway, beel’s favorite quote in the show...well, it isn’t really a quote, as much as it’s a dialogue between two characters. it’s the scene where toph asks, “do you really think friendships can last more than one lifetime?” and aang says, “i don’t see why not.” it could bring a tears to his eyes just thinking about it; and in the next series over when it’s proven to be true, he absolutely cried.

does he like any other characters? he’s actually really fond of zuko and mai because they both remind him of belphie. he also likes sokka for the same reason lucifer and satan like sokka. he has a deep appreciation for katara because aang would literally be dead without if it weren’t for her.

does he hate any characters? well, he doesn’t really like azula. he feels bad for her, but he doesn’t like her. but as for who he hates? take a wild guess.

belphie

zuko makes him sob is his number one. yes zuko is his favorite because of his redemption arc, yes he sees himself in zuko, no he will not explain any further than that, what’s your point🤨

in actuality, he will never be able to properly articulate how important it is for him to see that redemption is, indeed, attainable, if you put the work in. in a similar vein, he will also never be able to give words to how important it is for him to see that forgiveness is also attainable. it means the world to him. that is why it makes him cry. the feeling is overwhelming. i’m gonna cry if i think about it for too long.

he will cling to the fact that zuko is the best character in the show, and he will cling to it even when zuko embarrasses him by saying stupid shit like, “no lightning today?” and even when zuko is so awkward it causes him physical pain. that’s his number one and he’s not changing on it!

firm zukka supporter. will not argue. that’s all.

what’s his favorite line in the entire series? it’s one of the two you’re thinking of. make that decision for yourself.

does he like any other characters? he positively adores aang and will readily admit that it’s because he reminds him of beel. bonus points for aang because he also loves the dynamic between him and zuko. toph is a distant third, mainly because he just really likes her attitude. he looks at her and thinks, now this is someone who would not hesitate to kick lucifer’s ass.

does he hate any characters? you better believe it. he hates iroh because he reminds him of dia. he can’t really bring himself to like azula because she makes him a different kind of sad. and if you know what’s good for you, you will never mention ozai.

#can you tell i am also an azula enjoyer #doesn't matter because i'm correct but still #worth mentioning i suppose #obey me #obey me!#obey me headcanons #obey me imagines #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me beel #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

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