#CANON DIVERGENT.... ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️ | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

snowbellewells · 22 days ago

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@jrob64 Oh wow! This story just keeps getting better. Season two as a whole - particularly the back half of it - has never been my favorite in canon, but you are really adding a lot to this segment you’re dealing with that makes it much more compelling. For one thing, you’re letting people actually deal with their past actions and their current feelings, and not convoluting it with nonsensical plot twists and extraneous, unneeded characters. Hook telling Neal the truth about his mother’s death, and then Emma telling him they were NOT ever getting back together and why, were enough on their own to make this chapter great, honestly.

Anyway, all that being said, I loved how, at the start of the chapter, Hook’s take on NYC was so realistic and relatable. It would be so much overload for someone from his time and place - it’s a lot even for a modern person not from there! And not all of its hustle, bustle, and modernity would look positive either. I loved though, how he was able to find a calmer spot and then how he was almost able to “sense” Emma. That was beautifully done! 🩷 “When he finally found a large plot of grass and trees, he wandered through it until he spotted a bench in a somewhat quiet area. Sitting down, he closed his eyes and pictured Emma. Ever since he first laid eyes on her from his position underneath a pile of bodies, he felt a connection with her that he really couldn’t explain. It was as if he could tell when she was near, simply by thinking about her. She was like a magnet, drawing him to her.

The longer he sat there, the clearer his mind became. When he was compelled to start walking again, he seemed to have some indication of which way to go. Before long, he was standing outside what appeared to be a residential building. He went into the lobby, but found it empty. Looking around, he discovered a small bench along the wall beside the door and settled down on it to wait.”

There were so many other wonderfully written, really memorable moments in this one!! But I’ll try to highlight at least a few. You wrote Hook catching up to Gold and his speech as he sinks his Dreamshade-laced hook home SO vividly. It was perfect - how he was so close to seeing his son, and how Belle was back in Storybrooke waiting, but that was for Milah and his mission was complete. Really, really effective!! ❤️⚓️❤️

His moment telling Neal the truth was so intense and emotional too. Neal didn’t want to believe him, and yet, he knew his father well enough that he kinda had to. Not only that, but you then balanced the ensuing conversation Neal had with a dying Gold so well too. Though that conversation back in SB between Neal and Gold is one moment of 2b’s canon I do really like, I could easily see it going this way as well. Neal does have so much unresolved anger and trauma with his father and in the end, Gold really would still choose his power, even over his loved ones - as we continued to see in canon when he survived. This allows for so hard truth and realizations to be aired in a way the show never fully did.

And Hook having them lay Gold right there on the spot on the deck where Milah died?!? Talk about poetic justice! He might have been convinced by Emma to let Gold onboard and try to get them back to Storybrooke, but he’s at least going to have to lie there and think about what he did.

I also loved Emma speaking to him about Milah’s loss and his hand. Her understanding just why he has carried this dark mission for so long, and her sympathy for the pain he has suffered was really effecting.

And then, my favorite part came right at the end, where we see just what his new mission, his new reason to keep going will be: “The first time he laid eyes on her, he was struck by her beauty. As he spent more time around her, he admired her fire and determination. Most people who held a knife to his throat would have found themselves on the pointy end of his sword. Then she chained him up in the lair of a giant. Yet he felt himself inexplicably drawn to her.

“I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you.”

“…As the Jolly Roger sailed silently toward Storybrooke, Hook contemplated what he would do now that his quest for revenge was finally over. He had no family and no home, other than his ship. He had already sailed to numerous realms and seen almost everything the world had to offer. Nothing held any appeal for him.

Except Emma Swan.”

Wow!! That was just gorgeous!!! I surely can’t wait to see what chapter three will hold now!!!

❤️⚓️❤️⚓️❤️⚓️❤️

Exacting His Revenge - Chapter 2

Welcome to chapter 2 of @kmomof4's birthday story. There will be one more chapter after this, and because the birthday girl has requested smut for that chapter, the story is now rated M. I haven't begun writing the final chapter yet, but hopefully you won't have to wait too long.

Thanks so much to @hookedmom, my wonderful beta and friend.

Story Summary: When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.

Rating: M

Words (Ch. 2): 6076

Posted on Tumblr - Chap. 1 and also on ffn & Ao3

Story under the cut

Hook had been to many ports in his hundreds of years, but none as crazy and disconcerting as New York City. The people at the harbor seemed especially interested in his ship and he almost decided against leaving it there, but knew time was of the essence.

The city itself was loud, dirty and obnoxiously colorful. Bright lights flashed everywhere around him and huge signs displayed pictures of everything from barely clad women to bottles of whiskey.

People walking past barely paid attention to him, even though he saw no one else dressed, even remotely, like him. However, their attire was vastly diverse and he supposed he really didn’t stand out any more than anyone else.

At first, he was overwhelmed with the tall buildings and massive size of the city and nearly despaired at finding Emma. Taking deep breaths of the stale, putrid air failed to calm him, so he sought a place where he wasn’t surrounded by buildings that seemed to stretch as high as the beanstalk he and Emma climbed.

When he finally found a large plot of grass and trees, he wandered through it until he spotted a bench in a somewhat quiet area. Sitting down, he closed his eyes and pictured Emma. Ever since he first laid eyes on her from his position underneath a pile of bodies, he felt a connection with her that he really couldn’t explain. It was as if he could tell when she was near, simply by thinking about her. She was like a magnet, drawing him to her.

Numerous people came and went while he waited, none of them paying any attention to the leather clad pirate. He was beginning to think his intuition was wrong, when he heard a familiar voice and saw Emma and Rumplestiltskin entering the lobby.

“...still can’t believe you screamed about wanting to be the first one off the plane until you got yourself placed on the ‘no fly’ list, Gold. How are we supposed to get back to Storybrooke now?”

“I can get us back with a mere flick of…”

“We’re in the fucking land without magic!” Emma hissed.

“We’ll worry about the problem of getting back later. Right now, I need to find my son.”

They were so caught up in their conversation, neither of them noticed Hook. As they searched for something on the wall, he bided his time. He hadn’t prepared his hook with the poison yet and he didn’t want to do it while they were standing right in front of him.

“I bet this is it,” Emma said. “It’s the only one without a name. I know from experience that when a person doesn’t want to be found, they won’t put their name beside their apartment number.”

She pushed the button beside the number and waited. There was no response. She was getting ready to press it again when a heavyset woman with her hands full of shopping bags entered the lobby. Rudely pushing past Emma and Gold, she dropped the bags that were in her right hand, dug in the pocket of her gaudily flowered dress and withdrew a key. After unlocking the metal gate, she collected her bags and passed through.

Quickly, Emma stopped the gate from closing and gestured for Gold to go through ahead of her. Hook watched their slow progress up the stairs, waited until they disappeared, then pulled the bottle of poison out of his pocket. Before he had a chance to uncork it, a man entered the lobby. Something about him seemed familiar to Hook and he studied the man as he unlocked the gate, entered, then hurried up the steps.

Hook was so busy trying to place the man, he forgot to get his hook ready to attack Rumplestiltskin. He was further distracted by feet pounding down the stairs. The man who had just gone upstairs plunged back down them, burst through the gate and took off out the door.

“Go get him, Miss Swan!” Hook heard Rumplestiltskin shouting. “I can’t run, so you have to catch him. Get him to come back here and talk to me!”

As Emma flew past Hook, red scarf trailing behind her, he realized why the man she was chasing looked familiar. It was Baelfire!

Thinking quickly, Hook dashed across the lobby and caught the gate with his hook before it slammed shut. He knew he didn’t have much time if Rumplestiltskin was on his way downstairs, but after listening carefully for several seconds, he was able to determine the crocodile wasn’t following Emma.

As he uncorked the poison, he grinned at the irony. The day Rumplestiltskin found his son again was the day he was finally going to die. After dousing his hook with the deadly poison, he stuffed the empty bottle back into his pocket. Then he began creeping up the stairs, keeping his eyes and ears open for any sign of the vile imp.

When he reached the second floor, he moved down the hallway, listening at each door along the way. Behind some, he heard music or conversation, while others were completely silent. He knew the man he sought could be in any of those apartments, but Hook had a feeling he wasn’t.

Continuing on to the next floor, he immediately noticed an open door at the far end of the hallway. Sucking in a breath, he started in that direction, pondering if he could possibly be lucky enough for that to be the right place.

Once he reached the doorway, he peeked around the open door and saw Rumplestiltskin leaning out the window, looking down at the street below. Hook swiftly covered the space between them, grabbing the other man’s arm and spinning him around.

“Tick tock, Crocodile,” he growled, then sunk the tip of his hook into Rumplestiltskin’s chest.

Gold let out a choked cry, dropping his cane to clutch at the metal appendage. “You…you cannot kill the Dark One,” he gasped.

“Ah, but dreamshade straight to the heart can,” Hook leered. As Gold’s eyes widened and filled with fear, Hook continued, “Now, as you die, you can think about how very close you came to seeing your son again. The one you abandoned because you chose power instead. And you can think of Belle, back in Storybrooke, waiting for you to come home. I told you all demons could be killed and it looks like I did indeed find a way.”

Yanking the hook out of his victim, Hook gave him a slight push and watched with satisfaction as he slumped to the floor. “Milah’s death is finally avenged. I’m sated, replete. My life’s purpose is met,” he said savagely, his face mere inches from Rumplestiltskin’s.

Then he straightened up, turned, and triumphantly walked out the door.

*********

It took Hook longer than expected to make it back to his ship. When he finally did, he was appalled to find that he owed docking fees and they wouldn’t take doubloons as payment. By the time he worked out a deal with the harbormaster to send the money once he got home (which he had no intention of doing) the sun was beginning to set.

He readied the ship to sail, trying to keep his mind off of the fact that he may never see the lovely and fiery Emma Swan again. Just as he was set to instruct the dock workers to untie the ropes, he glanced across the bow of the ship and his mouth dropped open in shock.

He could see Emma and Baelfire were approaching the Jolly Roger. They were half carrying, half dragging Rumplestiltskin between them. As they started up the gangplank, Hook moved to block the opening in the ship’s railing. “Where do you think you’re going?” he boomed.

Emma and Bae looked up at him in surprise. “Hook? You’re here?” she asked.

“Where did you expect me to be? This is my ship after all. How did you know it was going to be here?”

“We took a chance,” Baelfire answered. “My father said it was you who stabbed him. We figured you sailed to New York and hoped you hadn’t left yet.”

“When we saw the ship, we thought you may have gotten lost on your way back here or something,” Emma said. “Neal said he could sail the ship back to Storybrooke, but now that you’re here, you can do it.”

Hook widened his stance and crossed his arms over his chest. “The bloody crocodile isn’t coming aboard my ship.”

“Hook, please,” Emma begged. “He says he has a cure for dreamshade in his shop…”

“Why would I want him to be cured?” Hook interrupted. “I intended to kill him. I’m not going to do anything that will help him survive.”

“You owe me, Hook,” Baelfire snarled. “You already took my mother from me and now you’re trying to take my father, too.”

“And my son’s grandfather,” Emma added.

“Your son’s…How?” Hook asked, but as soon as he did, the pieces clicked into place. “Wait, you mean the two of you…?” He gestured between Baelfire and Emma.

“Can we discuss this aboard the ship?” Emma asked, hoisting Gold’s limp form up a little higher. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

Hook remained slackjawed for another few moments, before his countenance darkened once again. “I told you I’m refusing his admittance onto my ship.”

Emma gave Baelfire a meaningful look, then disentangled herself from Gold, leaving his son to keep him upright. She hurried up the ramp to stand in front of Hook.

“Look, I know you hate the guy and I don’t blame you, but Henry has the right to know Gold is his grandfather. Plus, Neal is Henry’s father and he deserves a chance to meet him.”

“Neal?” Hook questioned.

“That’s how I knew him, not as Baelfire. He took a more modern name in the land without magic.”

“How did the two of you…”

“I’ll explain everything to you later, but first we need to get back to Storybrooke. Personally, I don’t care if Gold lives or dies, but since it turns out he’s Henry’s grandfather, I’ve got to do all I can to try to help him survive.”

Hook’s jaw ticked furiously, but before he could protest again, Emma stepped closer. Looking deeply into his eyes, she pleaded, “Please, Hook. Do it for me?”

Hook narrowed his eyes and stared at her for several long moments. “What’s in it for me?” he finally asked.

Emma sighed heavily. “Can’t you just do it out of the goodness of your heart?”

“I’m a pirate, Love. I have no goodness in my heart.”

“I don’t believe that, Hook. You helped me and Mary Margaret get back to Storybrooke and you can’t convince me it was only because you wanted to get your revenge.”

“Emma! Hurry up!” Baelfire called.

She turned to look at him, then turned back to Hook. “If you get us back to Storybrooke, I’ll…I’ll make sure everyone knows you’re a hero.”

Hook blinked in disbelief. “A hero?”

“Yeah. Like I said, you brought the rightful queen back to her people.”

“I also shot the town librarian.”

“True, but if Gold dies, they’ll be able to overlook that. Everyone in town hates him.”

“I’m bringing him aboard, Hook!” Bae yelled, his voice strained from holding his father up.

“Please, Hook,” Emma begged again.

He reached out and captured a lock of her hair between his thumb and fingers. “I’ll allow him aboard on one condition.” Emma raised a brow, silently encouraging him to continue. “You join me for dinner on the Jolly Roger once we’re back.”

“Seriously?”

“You’re asking me to bring my worst enemy onto my beloved ship and sail him to Storybrooke in an effort to save his life - the life I’ve been trying to take for hundreds of years. One dinner with me isn’t too much to ask, is it?”

Emma glanced between him and the men on the dock. Then she seemed to deflate a bit. “Fine. I’ll have dinner with you.”

Hook watched her walk back down the gangplank and help Baelfire maneuver Rumplestiltskin up to the ship, swallowing down his malice with every step they took. When they got the injured man aboard and began making their way to the hatch which led down to the living quarters, Hook quickly stepped in front of them.

“I may have been forced to allow him on my ship, but he will not be given the luxury of being in my quarters, or even those of my crew,” he growled menacingly.

“Where are we supposed to put him then?” Emma asked, breathing hard from the exertion of hauling the man around.

Hook walked over to the starboard side of the ship. “There,” he said, pointing to a specific place on the wooden deck.

Giving him a quizzical look, Emma helped Neal lower Gold down to the designated area. While they helped the man get as comfortable as possible, Hook went about sailing the ship out of port.

Once they were out on the open sea, Emma climbed the steps to where Hook was standing behind the wheel. “Is there any way you can make this ship go faster? If we don’t get back to Storybrooke very soon, it’s going to be too late.”

“Our speed is dependent on the wind. I can’t control that.”

Emma looked thoughtful. “I wonder if I could.”

Hook narrowed his eyes. “Are you thinking of using your magic?”

“You have magic, Ems?” Baelfire asked incredulously, taking them both by surprise. Neither had heard him approaching.

Emma sighed and turned toward him. “Yeah, it seems the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming somehow has the ability of performing magic.”

“How did you figure that out?”

“When the evil queen’s mother tried to pull my heart out of my chest to crush it, she couldn’t. Apparently it was because I have magic inside me.”

Neal laughed humorlessly. “You expect me to believe that?”

Hook moved to stand beside Emma. “It’s true. I saw it myself.”

The other man crossed his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t mean Emma has magic. Maybe it just means pulling a person’s heart out isn’t possible.”

“It bloody well is possible,” Hook growled. “I watched your father do it to…” He stopped short, suddenly realizing what he was about to say.

“To who, Hook?” Baelfire challenged.

Hook set his jaw, determined to set the record straight at last. “To your mother. That’s how she died. Your father” he spat, pointing to the man writhing in pain on the lower deck, “reached into her chest, pulled out her heart and crushed it right in front of me. She died in that very spot. That’s why I had you lay him there, to remind him of the horribly despicable act he committed.”

“You’re lying,” Baelfire said through clenched teeth. “He told me pirates killed her.”

“That’s the thing about the Dark One,” Hook shot back. “Dark One lies. Dark One tricks. The truth is, Milah and I loved each other and she was miserable with him, so she ran off with me. He couldn’t stand the fact that she left him, so he killed her.”

Baelfire’s face lost all color. “Is that true?”

Hook’s eyes softened, seeing the boy he once took care of within the man. “Aye, and I’ve been seeking my revenge ever since. I tried to tell you when you were a lad…”

“But you can’t deny that you took her away from me,” Baelfire accused.

Hook dropped his head and swallowed. “Not a day went by that she didn’t miss you and talk about you. We always planned to go back to get you when you were a bit older and better able to live aboard the ship, but she..she was killed before we could do it.”

The two men fell silent, each lost in their own thoughts. Emma looked between them, then cleared her throat. “Do you, uh…do you want me to try using magic…”

“No!” Neal shouted, making her jump. “Look, I don’t know if you have magic or not, but even if you do, I don’t want you to use it.”

Emma gaped at him. “But your father may die!”

“Let him die. He’s destroyed countless lives and killed so many people. Now it’s his turn. You reap what you sow,” Bae said bitterly, then he turned and walked to the port side of the ship, completely ignoring his father’s weak pleas.

Emma turned to look at Hook. “I, um…I understand now.”

“Understand what, Love?”

“Why you sought revenge against Gold for so long. Is that what Cora intended to do to me? Tear out my heart and crush it?”

“If I remember correctly,” Hook said, sauntering toward her, “she meant to rip out your mother’s heart to present it to Regina. You simply got in her way.”

Emma mulled that over for a few moments. Finally, she looked up at him, sincere sympathy shining in her eyes. “I’m sorry about Milah, Hook. That must have been very painful to watch.”

He sighed. “Aye, it was. Even the pain from him cutting off my hand didn’t hurt as badly as seeing the light go out of her eyes as life left her body.”

Her head snapped up. “He…he cut off your hand after he killed her?”

Hook nodded grimly, subconsciously rubbing his hand over the curve of his hook.

“That explains why you call him ‘crocodile’.”

His brow raised in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“You know, like in the book Peter Pan, when Pan cuts off Captain Hook’s hand and feeds it to the crocodile.”

“That book is a work of fiction. Pan is a demon, but he had nothing to do with me losing my hand. However, I am intrigued that my fame is so widespread that I’ve been written as a character in a novel.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “So why do you call Gold the crocodile, then?”

“When he’s in his true form as the Dark One, his skin is scaly and greenish-gray, like the cold-blooded reptile he is.”

She hummed in understanding, then turned her eyes to the deck. Neal was leaning on the ship’s railing, his back turned toward his father. His jaw was clenched tightly and that, combined with the way he agitatedly rubbed his hands together, clearly conveyed his anger.

On the other side of the ship, Gold lay on his side, one hand clutching the wound in his chest, while the other stretched toward Baelfire futilely. Emma could see his lips moving, mouthing the words, “Please, Bae” over and over.

With a quick glance at Hook, Emma went down the steps and over to Neal. Hook didn’t follow, but couldn’t help himself from listening to the conversation. Years of being on the sea allowed him the knowledge that sound carried on the water and most private conversations were anything but private.

“Don’t you think you should go over and talk to him?” Emma asked. “If you don’t and he dies, you’ll probably regret it for the rest of your life.”

Baelfire shrugged indifferently. “I haven’t talked to him for years and I don’t regret it. I could have lived the rest of my life without seeing him again and I wouldn’t regret it.”

“You can’t know that for sure…”

He whirled around, his face contorted in anger. “He fucking killed my mother, Emma! Then he lied about what happened to her and went on living his pathetic life as the fucking Dark One! He chose being the Dark One over being a father to me! I owe him nothing!”

Hook felt a twinge of jealousy as Emma laid her hand on Bae’s shoulder. “This is your last chance, Neal. Ask him why he made those decisions. The man is dying. He may be ready to confess and cleanse his conscience.”

“He wouldn’t be able to cleanse his conscience if he had an eternity,” Baelfire spat.

“Then at least tell him how you feel. Make him understand how much he hurt you. I…I did that with my mom and it helped me deal with my feelings of abandonment.”

Bae glanced over to where his father lay in agony. Hook could tell he was contemplating what Emma said. Finally, he blew out a long breath, gave her a grim smile and patted her hand where it still rested on his shoulder. Then he slowly crossed the deck and lowered himself to sit beside Rumplestiltskin.

After following his movements, Hook looked back at Emma. She was standing with her arms crossed, watching the scene unfolding on the other side of the ship. She must have felt his gaze on her, because her eyes shifted to him for a brief moment, before flicking back. Hook reluctantly turned his attention to the two men.

Father and son sat without speaking for several tense moments. When Baelfire finally broke the silence, it was through gritted teeth. “I’m going to ask you some questions and I want you to do something you rarely do and tell the truth. Agreed?”

“Bae…”

“Agreed?” Baelfire asked again, barely containing his rage.

Rumplestiltskin sighed. “Yes, son.”

“How did my mother die? Did you kill her?”

“You have to understand…”

“Did. You. Kill. Her?” Baelfire bit out.

Rumplestiltskin closed his eyes. “Yes.”

Baelfire clenched his hands into fists. “By tearing out her heart and crushing it?”

“Yes, but she…”

“Save it! Nothing she did was bad enough for her to deserve that kind of death.” Bae pushed himself to his feet and paced back and forth beside his prone father. “Did you kill her before or after you refused to follow me through the portal?”

“After. I was…” He sucked in a sharp breath and clutched at his chest, a wave of pain obviously passing through him. Hook couldn’t help but feel a macabre sense of satisfaction over being the one responsible for the crocodile’s suffering. “I was trying to obtain a magic bean…in an effort to find you. I knew she had one.”

“You planned to find me?”

“Yes. I…I’ve been trying to find you ever since you left.”

“Since I left?” Bae exploded. “You mean since you let me go!”

Rumplestiltskin stretched out a bloodied hand. “Please, son. All I wanted all these years was to be reunited with you. You have to believe me.”

Bae suddenly slammed a fist down on the railing. “How can I believe you? You’re the Dark One! All you do is lie! If you truly wanted to be with me, why didn’t you come through the portal with me in the first place?”

“I was afraid…”

“Afraid of what? Losing your power? Not having magic? What could make you so fearful that you couldn’t even stay with your only son?”

“Bae, I…I wanted to give you everything…”

“I didn’t need everything! I just needed you, Papa!”

“Please…forgive me,” Rumplestiltskin managed to say between labored breaths.

Baelfire studied him for several seconds. “I…I don’t think I can. My whole life has been tainted because of your terrible choices.”

“Bae…please…”

Squatting down beside him, Baelfire looked into his father’s pain-filled eyes. “Let me ask you something. If you could do it all over again, would you still have become the Dark One, or would you have stayed with me, even if it meant being known as the town coward?”

Rumplestiltskin opened his mouth to answer, but seemed to reconsider. When he finally spoke, he said, “I wanted to protect you…and I couldn’t do that…unless people feared me…”

Bae stood up. “That’s all the answer I need. You’ll always choose power over me or anyone else. Now, you’re going to die alone, just like you left me.” With those words, he walked away from his father.

Hook watched Baelfire move to the bow of the ship, then shifted his eyes to the pathetic, sniveling form of the Dark One. He expected to feel nothing but glee over the heartbreak and demise of his nemesis, but to his surprise, he felt a tiny pang of sympathy for him. Hook himself knew what it was like to have Baelfire turn his back on him and walk away.

“Do you think I should talk to him?” Emma asked quietly.

“Baelfire or the crocodile?”

“Bael, um, Neal. Maybe I should try to convince him to give his father another chance. He is dying, after all. It’s the last chance he has to forgive him.”

Hook speared her with an intense look. “He doesn’t deserve forgiveness.”

“I know he’s the Dark One and has done some horrible things, but…”

“That’s correct, and you just heard him tell Bae that, given the chance, he wouldn’t have changed anything.”

“Still…”

“Look, Swan, if you feel sorry for the bloody crocodile, perhaps you should be the one to comfort him in his dying moments. Bae made his choice, and the underworld will freeze over before I give him any sympathy.”

“I understand, but it just seems really sad for him to die all alone on the deck…”

“In the same spot where my Milah died?” Hook growled. “I consider it poetic justice.”

Emma looked back at Gold and chewed her bottom lip. Then, after a quick glance at Hook, she made her way down the steps. Hook watched her go, jaw ticking in agitation.

She knelt down beside the dying man and murmured something Hook couldn’t quite hear. At the groaning acknowledgement of the man, Emma continued in a louder voice. “If we don’t make it back to Storybrooke in time, do you, um, is there anything you want me to tell Belle?”

“Tell her…I wish…I could have…seen her…one last time.”

“Anything else?”

“Thank her…for loving…a beast…like me.”

Emma nodded. Hook could see Rumplestiltskin’s chest rising and falling more shallowly with each breath and knew the end was very near.

“You…and Bae…” Rumplestiltskin gasped. “Do the…two of you…”

Emma’s eyes widened. “If you’re asking if I love him, the answer is no.” Hearing those words, Hook couldn’t help breathing a small sigh of relief.

“But Henry…”

“Today was the first time Neal heard about Henry. He didn’t know I was pregnant when he, um, the last time I saw him.”

The two fell silent and Hook wondered if the crocodile had spoken his final words. Just as he was convinced he had, he heard the man mutter, “Tell…Bae…I’m sorry.”

Before Emma could respond, Rumplestiltskin emitted a rattling breath and went completely still. Emma put two fingers on his throat to feel for a pulse. After a few moments, she announced, “He’s gone.”

At her words, Bae turned and made his way back to his father’s side.

“He told me to tell you he was sorry,” Emma said. “Those were his last words.”

Baelfire shrugged his shoulders. “It’s too little, too late. He had the opportunity to tell me himself, but he didn’t.”

As the two of them stood looking down at him, a swirl of black smoke began rising from his body, causing both of them to jump back.

“What the hell is that?” Emma asked.

“It appears to be the darkness leaving its host,” Hook explained, ambling over to stand beside her.

Her eyes widened. “It…it’s not going to attach itself to one of us, is it?”

They warily watched the haze floating in the air, ducking when it got close to them. After hovering for a while, it drifted away and dissipated.

“Where did it go?” Emma asked. “Is it going in search of the next Dark One?”

“There won’t be another Dark One,” Hook said.

“How could you possibly know that?” Baelfire snapped.

Hook looked at him pointedly. “How is the power passed on?”

“By killing the Dark One with the dagger,” Emma answered.

“Aye, and since the crocodile wasn’t killed with the dagger, the darkness has no one to whom it can attach itself.”

“So it’s just…gone?” Emma inquired skeptically.

“It would appear to be.”

Bae’s eyes shifted from where the darkness disappeared, down to his father’s lifeless form. Squatting down, he brushed some strands of hair away from his forehead. Emma hesitantly reached out to pat him on the shoulder. “I’m sorry, Neal.”

“He wasn’t always a bad father, you know. When I was a little boy, he was the best Papa. But then, the darkness and his thirst for power took over and he…” He hung his head and rubbed his eyes with one hand while the other remained on his father’s forehead. Suddenly, he shouted, “Damn you, Papa! Why wasn’t I enough for you? Why did you have to become the fucking Dark One? Why?”

As sobs wracked his body, Hook and Emma exchanged helpless looks, unsure of what to say or do.

“Bae,” Hook began.

Baelfire jumped to his feet, face contorted in pain and anger. Jabbing a finger into Hook’s chest, he screamed, “NO! Do not say anything! You took both of my parents from me and I hate you!”

“Calm down, Neal,” Emma said.

Neal turned and unleashed his wrath at her. “Are you taking his side? He’s nothing but a selfish, filthy pirate, Ems!”

“I’m not taking anyone’s side, but just a few minutes ago, you made it sound like you couldn’t care less that your father died.”

“That doesn’t take away from the fact that he killed him!” he raged, poking Hook again.

Hook didn’t respond. He understood that Bae had anger he needed to work out. If Hook was the recipient of that anger, he would accept it, as long as he didn’t direct it toward Emma.

“Look,” Emma said forcefully, “we’re gonna have to be on this ship together for quite a while yet, so just try to stay away from each other, alright?”

“Aye, Love,” Hook said. “I think we can do that.”

Baelfire took a step away from Hook and eyed him critically. “Where do you get off calling her ‘love’? Is there something going on between you two?”

“No!” Emma replied quickly. At the same time, Hook poked his tongue into his cheek, before answering, “Perhaps.”

Bae looked from one to the other, eyes squinted and mouth set in a hard line. “Stay away from her, Hook.” Grabbing Emma’s arm, he said, “Come on, Ems. Let’s go below deck.” Before she could respond, he started toward the hatch, yanking forcefully on her arm.

She planted her feet and tried unsuccessfully to pull out of his grip. “I don’t want to, Neal. I’m going to stay up here.”

“With him? You can’t do that. He’s…”

Emma jerked her arm free and glared at him. “Do not tell me what I can and cannot do, Neal! I’m no longer a teenage girl that you can manipulate. I may have helped you with your father, but don’t get the idea that I have feelings for you any more or that we have any chance of getting back together. I’m older and much, much wiser now.”

Hook watched Baelfire’s expression change from anger to confusion. “But you said we have a son…”

“We do, but that doesn’t mean that we’re going to be a family! You set me up for your stupid crime then abandoned me, so I had him while I was in jail and had to give him up for adoption. He managed to find me last year and talked me into going to Storybrooke, the cursed town created by Regina, who is the Evil Queen and his adoptive mother.”

Hook’s brows raised. That bit of information was news to him.

“You let the Evil Queen adopt my son?” Bae shouted.

Emma’s expression became furious. “Let her? I didn’t let her do anything! I didn’t know who was adopting my baby! I had no idea a fairytale world even existed where I’m the daughter of Snow White and Prince Charming…”

“For real?” Bae interrupted. “They really are your parents?”

“Yeah, which makes them Henry’s grandparents along with Rumplestiltskin, and his step-great grandmother, the Evil Queen, is also his adoptive mother. If you tell me you’re actually the big, bad wolf - which would be very easy for me to believe, by the way - his family tree will be complete.”

Hook couldn’t help but smirk at her statement, but sobered the next moment when he realized that Milah was also the boy’s grandmother.

“I already told you why I had to leave you, Ems,” Neal said, his tone almost pleading.

“Oh, that’s right. Pinocchio told you he knew who you were, so rather than face your father, you decided to let me take the fall. It seems being a coward is a hereditary thing.”

“That’s not fair. You don’t know what it was like having the Dark One as my father. I was forced to make that choice…”

Emma took an aggressive step forward, her finger pointed in Baelfire’s face. “You told me you loved me! We could have had a good life together with our son!”

“We still can, now that the curse is broken and my father is gone.”

Emma turned her back, folding her arms over her chest. “It’s too late, Neal. I don’t love you any more. Maybe it would be better if Hook turned the ship around and took you back to New York.”

“I want to meet my son and bury my father. Besides, I would never let you sail back to Storybrooke all by yourself with that pirate.”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I just flew to New York with the Dark One. I think I could handle Hook.”

Hook pressed his lips together to keep from smiling at her words. She had proven more than once that his assessment of her being a tough lass was accurate.

“Emma…” Bae began.

She whirled around to face him again. “Look, Neal. Just because we’re on this ship together until we get to Storybrooke doesn’t mean we have to talk to each other. I’ve said all I want to say. Now, I’m gonna go over there,” she said, pointing to the other side of the ship, “and you can go…wherever you want to go, as long as it’s nowhere near me.” With that, she stomped away.

Hook turned and climbed the steps up to the helm. Standing behind the ship’s wheel, he watched Bae find a piece of canvas to lay over his father’s body. Then he sat down on the deck beside it and unabashedly stared at Emma, who was standing with her back to him, gazing out at the waves.

Hook’s eyes were also drawn to the blonde spitfire, her hair whipping in the wind. He could tell she was still angry by the way she stood stiff and straight. Knowing she couldn’t see him, he continued to observe her openly.

The first time he laid eyes on her, he was struck by her beauty. As he spent more time around her, he admired her fire and determination. Most people who held a knife to his throat would have found themselves on the pointy end of his sword. Then she chained him up in the lair of a giant. Yet he felt himself inexplicably drawn to her.

“I can’t take a chance that I’m wrong about you.”

He had plenty of time to think about that statement after she left him there. It gave him a strange feeling of hope that perhaps she thought of him as more than just a thieving, murderous pirate. Perhaps it was possible for her to see the good and honorable man still underneath all of his leather and bravado.

As the Jolly Roger sailed silently toward Storybrooke, Hook contemplated what he would do now that his quest for revenge was finally over. He had no family and no home, other than his ship. He had already sailed to numerous realms and seen almost everything the world had to offer. Nothing held any appeal for him.

Except Emma Swan.

That’s the moment he made the decision to stay in Storybrooke and try to win her heart.

*********

Thanks for reading!

@qualitycoffeethings @grimmswan @cs-rylie @wyntereyez @kmomof4

@hookedmom @ultraluckycatnd @paradiselady19 @xarandomdreamx @motherkatereloyshipper

@lfh1226-linda @pawshapedheart @vampcoffeegyrl23 @tiganasummertree @bluewildcatfanatic

@eleveneitherway @elfiola @kday426 @julieenchanted-swans @gingerchangeling

@andiirivera @djlbg @jonesfandomfanatic @snowbellewells @anmylica

@booksteaandtoomuchtv @cocohook38 @ilovemesomekillianjones @zaharadessert @lyssapup27

@undercaffinatednightmare @winterbaby89 @jennjenn615 @xsajx @jackieorioncat

@teamhook @soniccat @jarienn972 @softkilly @kymbersmith-90

@apiratewhopines @hollyethecurious @laianely @resident-of-storybrooke @exhaustedpirate

@caught-in-the-filter @stahlop @veryverynotgoodwrites @darkshadow7 @fleurdepetite

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @earanemith @superchocovian @idristardis @captainswan-kellie

@beckettj @killihan-jones

#exacting his revenge #jrob64 #chapter two #birthday fic for krystal #ouat season 2 canon divergent #ouat fanfiction #csff #major cs fic rec ❤️⚓️❤️#such a talented shipmate ⚓️🩷⚓️

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swordgrace · 4 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐑 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐒 — 𝐈𝐈.

༺ jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader.

SYNOPSIS: a library on dragonstone, a flight on dragonback, and a tour of aegon’s garden — your growing bond with jacaerys continues to grow amidst the looming shadow of war.

note: jacaerys is nineteen, reader is eighteen. I took creative liberties with Dragonstone & if you are interested in reading more about Aegon’s Garden, click here.

༺ 𝐑𝐄𝐀�� 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

༆ 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄.

༺ FORMAT: one-shot — series, originally a request.

༺ WORD COUNT: 13.1K.

༺ WARNINGS: SMUT (mdni), friends to lovers, sexual inexperience, risky sex, sex in a public location (the beach), p in v sex (unprotected), missionary position, riding (reader on top), lots of kissing and sweeter antics, srisk of getting caught, handjob, vaginal fingering, clit play, hair pulling kink, neck kissing, tiddy sucking, desperate jace, confession of feelings, romantic rides on dragonback, romantic garden strolls. Mild canon divergence. Again, Jacaerys is a sweet lover who is all wrapped up in the reader.

༺ AUTHOR’S NOTE: We’re back! I am so excited to announce that this will now be a series! I am aiming to push out weekly uploads that will follow the storyline of S2. I am so, SO excited to keep writing and delivering Jace content! Next part will definitely be more angsty, and the angst will only ramp up as the series progresses. Thank you to everyone who is reading and supporting my work, it means the world to me! I hope you all enjoy! ❤️

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐯𝐢𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧, dark curls disheveled and tossed around his head like some halo. The freckles along his back reminded you of a fawn, a tawny hue, hundreds of them smattered across his back.

The warmth of his body nestled to yours, his arm draped across your midsection, fingers idly gripping at your side, as if you might drift away during slumber. He was pretty when he slept, the stress in his face no longer prevalent, muscles no longer coiled with tension.

You didn’t want him to go — you wanted him here, tangled around you, a sight that would be burned into your mind with each passing thought. Yet, duty prevented him from staying, and it prevented you from keeping him here.

“Jacaerys,” You whispered, gently rousing him from his deep sleep. If he were to look inconspicuous, it would be best if he returned to his quarters before the whole of Dragonstone began to awake. “It’s dawn.”

Two words he never wanted to hear — and if the world turned in his favor, he would simply bring you close and fall back asleep. Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option for him. He lifted his head, groggy yet happy, smiling at you as he would a lover.

“I wish that I did not have to leave,” He murmured, reaching for your face, thumb tracing the delicate slope of your jaw. You knew that he was earnest, meaningful in his words — you understood his station. “I should get dressed.” Jace sighed, rolling from the sanctuary of your bed.

You watched, enraptured as he redressed himself, clad in the billowing tunic he wore last night, like a gallant prince ripped straight from a fairytale. You slid into the sleek gossamer of your evening robe, feeling the weight of reality weigh heavy upon you.

He turned, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead. It was tinged with melancholy, with a longing to stay by your side, yet it wasn’t possible — not now. He held you for a moment longer, basking in your beauty, in the brilliance of your presence.

“I will see you soon, my Prince.”

𝐒𝐦𝐨𝐤𝐲 𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐬, 𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐫𝐢𝐦𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞’𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐞.

In the humble glow of your chambers, you stood upon the small terrace, one that overlooked Blackwater Bay, far within the distance. It was a brief respite from your duties — the only time that allowed you proper contemplation.

As tensions grew, bubbling into a seething broil, you often noticed the tenuous frustration etched into Jace’s features — he wore it like a shroud, unable to keep from expressing his own disdain. With the Council urging Rhaenyra to act, to thrust the realm into war with the use of dragons, those closest to her felt the sting of her persuasion for peace.

The forlorn turmoil you felt from Rhaenyra came in waves — after Daemon had departed for an uncharted destination in the fallout of his spat with the Queen, you knew the weight of duty she was under. Jacaerys had adapted in Daemon’s absence, attempting to take the reins of leadership, or what was left of it.

It felt as if you were on a vessel without proper direction, being forced into tempestuous waters by a powerful gust of wind. Whatever came next, you could feel the uncertainty, the mounting stress.

You spent much of your morning in the presence of Elinda and Queen Rhaenyra, tending to Aegon and Viserys. The latter half was spent on the spine of Dragonstone, the massive wall of a walkway that led toward the rest of the island.

The strolls along the ramparts, the Dragon’s Tail, as you’d come to learn, often gave you much to consider, a place to allow your thoughts a clear sanctuary. Saltwater air, the hum of the beach, the clear horizon of a cloud-speckled sky — there was nothing like it.

Through the growing fog of war, your newfound relationship with Jacaerys had kept you afloat. After your tryst two nights prior, the atmosphere had shifted drastically, from cordial and friendly to romantic and intimate. You stole glances at him whenever you could, fleeting smiles reserved only for his eyes.

You hadn’t been able to kiss him since the morning he left your bed, but you had a feeling that an opportunity would present itself. With Daemon’s absence, you feared to leave Rhaenyra alone, but Elinda had offered to take watch should anything happen.

With your father briefly away to Crackclaw Point in order to amass funds for potential armies as the Master of Coin, it left you with only a handful to speak to. The peninsula that jutted out into the Narrow Sea was across the bay from Dragonstone — a fair distance, but not enough to cause you any worry.

The afternoon was uneventful and dismal at best, with those scurrying about the castle grounds. Shipments from Driftmark came in from several of their vessels, bringing food and supplies to Dragonstone. The obsidian castle was a gorgeous place — and you’d only scratched the surface in terms of exploration.

Jacaerys had spoken of Aegon’s Garden during the night you shared together, vowing to take you there should there be a lull in the chaos. You admired his loyalty to his mother, and you watched him brave the encroaching storm that was the Small Council.

Aimless wandering led you to the library within Dragonstone, an impressive architectural feat of scaling ceilings, with great stone staircases and many walls lined with scrolls and tomes alike. It was quiet when you entered through the doors, the halls illuminated by natural sunlight and the flickering of braziers and torches.

A familiar voice made your heart soar, when you realized that Jacaerys was here, too. He was accompanied by Joffrey and a handmaiden, one that patiently waited by the wayside for the princes to finish their time spent together.

The gentle timbre of Jace’s voice brought you a sense of peace, one that became increasingly harder to find with the inevitability of war. He was reading to Joffrey, hovering over his younger brother like a dutiful scholar. With Lucerys gone, his protectiveness was now clear as day, seeping into every bone within his body.

As soon as your footsteps fell across the stone floor, Jacaerys’s eyes drifted from the mountain of texts surrounding him to you — his smile was unmistakable. Something warm touched his gaze when your eyes locked together, prompting you to approach the table with a spring in your step.

“Lady Celtigar,” If it weren’t for the presence of his brother and his caretaker, he would’ve collected you into his arms for a kiss, even if the setting was somewhat risky. Jace couldn’t stop thinking about you — you occupied his every thought, at the forefront of his mind. “You are welcome to join us.”

Joffrey’s sudden excitement flourished to life when he saw you, and you watched as the little boy rushed out of his seat to come leaping into your arms. “I missed you!” He cried, little fists beating against your shoulders as he clung to you, mop of dark tresses bouncing with each movement.

“My Prince,” You beamed, scooping Joffrey up with ease as you held him close, returning his hug as you kept him aloft within one arm. “I’ve missed you too. What are you and your big brother up to, hm? You should be mindful of his lessons. He is a talented teacher.” Jace’s expression turned crimson at your playful compliment.

“I’m reading,” Joffrey explained as any child would, in a whimsical way that made little sense. Jacaerys was attempting to pass on High Valyrian to his sibling, given that he would be the Prince of Driftmark someday — the blood of Old Valyria lived within him. “Reading about dragons.”

Curious, your gaze flickered toward Jace as you approached the slab of stone, lowering yourself upon the benches beside it. Joffrey hadn’t left your lap, grabbing one of the books as he pointed to an illustration of a massive dragon with black scales.

You weren’t well-versed in the history of House Targaryen, though you suspected that Jacaerys would be capable of filling you in. “Forgive me, but I am not familiar with the history of the Targaryens. I assume that this is an ancestral dragon?” You inquired, mostly to Jace.

“Balerion the Black Dread, mount of Aegon the Conqueror,” Jace replied, palm perched atop the open pages of a dusty tome, parchment old and weathered. He enjoyed reading and the histories just as much as swordplay and dragon-riding. “I suppose that’s another thing I’ll have to teach you about.”

Again, you were smitten, unable to hide your flustered smile as you cleared your throat. “Will it come after your lessons in High Valyrian?” You chimed, sitting idly as Joffrey pulled at your hair and draped his head over your shoulder. The boy was a little restless, not that you could blame him.

Jacaerys shared your sweet sentiments, smiling just as you did before he fell quiet. As much as he wanted to regale you with gallant words and compliments, he wouldn’t dare do it in front of the old maid. Instead, he rounded the table, pressing a hand against Joffrey’s head in a comforting manner. “It seems that you’re overdue for a nap, Joff.”

Joffrey whined in protest, brows furrowing together as he buried his face into your shoulder. He seemed to tighten his hold with defiance, peering up at his brother through the frame of his thick, dark hair. “No.” He protested, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“She won’t go anywhere, brother. I promise.” Jacaerys murmured, gingerly attempting to untangle his sibling from you. He was gentle, ruffling Joffrey’s hair in the process before kissing his forehead. “Next time, you can take her to see Tyraxes.”

A string of mumbled, childish ‘no’s’ escaped him, but before he could do anything rash, the handmaiden retrieved him. “Off to bed with you, little Prince.” She mumbled, taking him out of your arms as she retreated from the library with Joffrey in-tow.

The two of you watched her go, and admittedly, you were rather curious about the amount of books he had around him. “Heavy reading day?” You asked, observing in enraptured silence as Jacaerys moved to sit beside you, relocating his books to adjust to his new place.

“Something to keep me preoccupied,” He confessed, shamelessly keeping close to you. His handsome features were basked within orange firelight, reaching his dark-brown eyes. The smattering of freckles across the bridge of his nose seemed more pronounced than ever. “The tension continues to grow sour as of late.”

You couldn’t help but feel concerned for Jacaerys, who had the weight of a kingdom upon his shoulders, including his mother. “With Daemon leaving, it has put a horrible strain upon your mother. She bares it well, but I know how much it worries her.”

Rhaenyra meant a great deal to you. You had come into her service just before the betrayal committed against her by the usurper, Aegon. House Celtigar had faithfully safeguarded the peninsula and the waters near Dragonstone for several decades, you knew that your father would never betray his oath.

Jace felt a twinge of irritation when you mentioned Daemon. He had taken him under his wing, treated him like a son, but he was also impulsive with a raging streak of arrogance and haughtiness. That recklessness often drained his mother half to death.

“He will return,” Jacaerys exhaled, maintaining an aura of calm despite his inner worry. He didn’t want to be afraid in front of you, but deep down, he knew that you wouldn’t judge him harshly for it. It was in your nature to be kind and without an ounce of anger. “He always does. Daemon loves my mother dearly.”

His devotion to Rhaenyra was twisted in some ways, perhaps, but he would always serve her. He pledged her Queen of the Seven Kingdoms before a host of followers, and it wasn’t something Daemon would toss away. Nevertheless, Jacaerys hoped that he would return swiftly.

With a comforting touch, you squeezed his bicep through his tunic, offering him a kind smile. “Whatever you need, I am here for you. I understand what pressure you are under, with Daemon away.” You could not fully grasp the true heaviness of leadership, but you could certainly try, for Jace’s sake.

How fortunate he was to have you — truly, a blessing sent from the Gods. There wasn’t a woman more thoughtful than you, that much he knew. He looked upon your visage with a sweet ardor, leaning inward to press a chaste kiss against your temple. He missed you in these last few days, missed your warmth.

“You can rely on me for the very same,” Jace uttered, planting another kiss on your cheek. It was oozing with affection, an affection that he solely reserved for you. “My heart belongs with you.” His voice was a feather-light caress, overflowing with adoration.

If it weren’t for your underlying fear of someone seeing you so close with the Prince of Dragonstone, you would’ve kissed him. You’d been thinking about it since your last meeting. “As does mine, Jacaerys.” You hummed, noticing his smile — it reached his eyes.

A comfortable silence lingered between the both of you, one tinged with the warmth of youthful amity. Jace’s brown-hued stare bored right into you, crinkles forming at either corner of his eyes. Every detail of you was unmatched, delicate and sublime.

“Are you aware that you are the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms?” He mused, nose wrinkling with amusement when you playfully shoved at his arm. Jacaerys returned to his books, sliding it over for it to sit between the both of you.

A wave of heat flooded through you, reaching your visage as it crawled along your skin. “Jacaerys,” You mumbled, brows knitting together. His softly-spoken compliments were enough to make you swoon. “Just the Seven Kingdoms?” You teased, head canting to one side.

Jace’s lips twitched into a faint grin before he nudged your leg with his knee, his tousled curls bouncing atop his head. “If I must proclaim your allure before the whole of the Realm, I will.” He countered, the atmosphere lighthearted and amiable.

“Be careful, or I might hold you to it.” A fondness crept into your tone, gaze softening as you caught sight of his rose-colored visage. You giggled, leaning over the table to have a look at the book he had strewn about.

“A history of my house, my ancestors,” Jacaerys explained, delighted for you to indulge in all of his old scripts and tomes. He loved to read just as much as he enjoyed swordplay. “It’s easy to become lost in this pile of pages.”

“You do love your histories,” You mused, tapping a weathered image of what Maesters depicted as Aegon the Conqueror. “This is Balerion’s rider, you said?” You inquired, placing a hand beneath your chin.

“Aegon the Conqueror was born here, in this very castle. Dragonstone has seen plenty since the Conquering. Sometimes it amazes me that we sit within the very same halls he once roamed.” Jacaerys’s countenance lit up whenever he spoke of history, something he held a great passion for.

House Celtigar shared the blood of Old Valyria, yet were considered the lowest in nobility from those houses that emerged from the Doom. The power and influence your House held paled in comparison to that of the Targaryens and Velaryons.

“My father used to shower me with tales of our House from before the Doom, to Aegon, and to now,” You replied, flipping through some of the dust-laden pages. The spine rattled in protest, parchment weathered and well-worn from constant use and age. “We are not nearly as noteworthy as dragonriders.”

Jacaerys nearly protested on your own behalf, but you seemed entirely unbothered, smiling to yourself as you roamed through the bulk of the book. Many of the illustrations and ink had faded with time, but you quite enjoyed the content.

He wondered if your father would agree to a betrothal — and his heart immediately sank into his stomach. Jacaerys hadn’t considered how his mother would feel about it, but he couldn’t let that stay his hand from making you his wife.

The thought had crossed his mind a multitude of times since he laid with you, and now, it had taken root, blossoming into more than a dream. It would take plenty of deliberation, but Jacaerys hadn’t felt so certain about anything before.

House Celtigar was of Valyrian descent, but lesser known on all fronts. Dragonriders and masters of the tide overshadowed everything else. “Your House has Valyrian blood,” Jace began, visibly intrigued. “Your father made a point of it during a council meeting.”

A burst of laughter escaped you, nose wrinkling with amusement. “He enjoys reminding everyone with every chance he gets,” You snickered, gaze flickering over the rest of the books present. Many were historical, but one belonged to a Maester — Flowers and Herbs of Dragonstone. “Do not let him tell you any stories, or you may find yourself there all night.”

Jacaerys chuckled at that, pearlescent teeth glittering in the orange light of the library. Little else seemed to matter, save for the both of you — no other soul around to witness your bond. “I will keep that in-mind. My own father liked to tell us sailor’s tales.” He mused, gaze a touch forlorn.

Laenor Velaryon — you knew that Jacaerys wasn’t his trueborn son, but it didn’t matter, not to you. He had mentioned Ser Harwin Strong once during your talks on the ramparts, and from his expression, you knew how much Harwin meant to him.

“You must miss him terribly,” You uttered, brows furrowing together. “Both of them.” The sweetness of your voice aided Jacaerys in not becoming so emotional in regards to his late fathers. They meant much to him in different ways, as equally as important as the other.

“I do,” Jacaerys smiled fondly, as if he were recalling a memory. “Ser Harwin was gentle yet ferocious, and Ser Laenor was humorous and kind. I couldn’t have asked for anyone better.” Lucerys was quite fond of Laenor — and that little memory jabbed at his heart.

You reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze, yet you didn’t withdraw. Instead, you kept your hand there, with Jacaerys tracing his thumb across the delicate ridges of your knuckles. He knew that Ser Harwin loved him, just as Ser Laenor had, too.

“Your father returned to Crackclaw Point,” Jacaerys began, knowing that as Master of Coin, obtaining fees to fund a potential war were important. “How have you fared?” He asked delicately, tone wrought with a soft-spoken concern.

“I love my father, but he can be rather narrow-minded when it comes to battle. He’s never fought a day in his life,” You mused, idly playing with some of the frayed binding on a book. “My older brother, Clement, is heir to Claw Isle. I suspect he also went to see him as well.”

You didn’t speak of Clement often, and whenever you did, it sometimes left a bitter taste upon your tongue. Clement was better than you in every way imaginable — but then again, had you been born a man, you might’ve been, too. You tried not to dwell on it.

“You didn’t answer my question.” Jace replied, noticing the flicker of melancholy that crossed your features. He cared more for your wellbeing than he did most, and to see you saddened, it hurt him, too.

A soft exhale escaped you before you shrugged, adjusting the velveteen sleeves of your gown. “I’m well enough,” You admitted, mustering up a smile. “I do miss home, but Dragonstone has grown on me. Your mother is a good woman, and you are the very best.”

Jacaerys felt the weight of your words, the genuineness behind them, the feeling of true happiness. If he were to ever ascend the Iron Throne, he hoped that you would be by his side. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss atop your knuckles before holding it close. “I am undeserving of your praise.”

“Don’t,” The last thing you wanted was for Jace to feel unworthy, especially during a time like this. He was perfect to you — better than any man in the realm. “You will make a wonderful King, when the time comes. I could not imagine someone better suited for the position. Your mother will make sure of it.”

“I should hope to live up to your expectations,” He chuckled, and before you could scorn him for being harsh upon himself, he stopped you. “I hope to exceed them, with the help of a strong council and a wise Hand.” Jacaerys finished — and a good Queen.

“I know that you will.” You reassured him, dipping forward to press a kiss against his cheek. It was chaste and kept brief for the sake of propriety, but deep down, the both of you were waiting for a moment of opportunity to arrive. If you were patient, it would be soon.

Again, he flourished beneath your praise, head hanging slightly, dark curls framing his visage. He hadn’t a clue of what he did to deserve you, but he thanked the Gods for it. Jace exhaled, cradling your hand within both of his. “Your hand is cold.” He remarked, and the both of you shared a tender smile.

Jace knew that any amount of time spent with you was beyond worthwhile. Despite his desire to be involved in the action, he was beginning to develop a fear of losing you amidst the chaos. He refused to let your flowering relationship break apart.

With a smitten expression, you dipped your head, feeling his hands work to warm your own. “Thankfully, there is someone here to keep me warm.” Your remark was amiable, yet hushed. Part of you still worried that someone would come along and intrude.

“I’ll hold that position with honor, my Lady.” Jace mused, mirth and merriment reaching his eyes. For many days, they had been so forlorn and dour, especially after Lucerys’s passing. Now, there was a renewed spark, a vigor that touched them once again.

You believed him wholeheartedly, feeling warmth crawl across your skin when he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against your knuckles. Jacaerys gingerly kissed each of your fingertips, continuing to bring heat to your icy flesh.

The look you gave him was nothing short of endearment — the sort of stare reserved only for close lovers. Intimacy was one thing, but you adored Jace’s heart more than anything else. Beneath the stress of war and strife, he was a good man, born to rule the Seven Kingdoms with a just and compassionate hand.

“After supper, I want to show you Aegon’s Garden and the bay.” He broke the fleeting moment of silence, digits dancing along the silky plane of your palm. “Perhaps on dragonback.” Jacaerys attempted to smother the bemused look on his face when your eyes widened.

“On dragonback?” You had expressed your fear of flying many times before, but on a dragon? What if you fell, or what if Jacaerys fell? Perhaps your fears were irrational, but you still remained hesitant. “What if something were to happen? What if I plummeted from the sky?”

A brief huff of laughter escaped Jace, who canted his head to one side. “Do you truly think I’d let that happen? We would be secure, and there are places to hold onto. I promise.” He reassured you, but it did very little to quell the onslaught of worry you were experiencing. “I wouldn’t let you fall — I swear it.”

Apprehension muddled your visage, browns drawn together in a look of concern. “I trust you, Jacaerys, but —“ He stopped you with a kiss. The suddenness of it left you surprised yet aching for more, and you failed to take stock of your surroundings. It was just the two of you.

The hand that had been perched within his lap for so long now found purchase against your face, cupping your jaw with the utmost care. As much as he wanted to let it linger, echoing footsteps caused him to pull away. Your smitten expression gave him a sense of relief.

“Then trust me.” Jace mused, a smile toying at either corner of his mouth. He planted another kiss atop your knuckles before releasing your hand. Thankfully, the timing was opportune, considering that a guard had wandered into the warm sanctuary of the library.

“My Prince, my Lady,” He greeted, standing tall with his hand on the pommel of his shortsword. “The council is reconvening before supper.” You recognized Ser Lyonel Bentley as one of the younger members of the Queensguard.

Jacaerys thanked Ser Bentley before turning to you, voice lowering enough so that only you could hear. “Find me tonight at the ramparts.” He murmured, subtly brushing his thumb over your knuckles before he stood, neatly rearranging his many scattered books.

You smiled, giving Jace a nod before standing yourself, rising to offer your farewell with a curtsy. “Good evening, my Prince.” Dropping at the knees, you noticed Jacaerys’s fleeting glance before he departed from the library.

As you watched him depart with the company of Ser Bentley, your heart swelled tenfold — Aegon’s Garden awaited you tonight.

𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐢𝐭 𝐚 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐫𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭. The sun began to descend towards the ocean, casting the water in a blanket of fading embers. The black stone of the castle seemed to catch fire with the setting sun, and it was a beautiful sight.

Supper was eerily silent that evening — no one seemed hungry, and conversation dwindled to a mere hum. The halls of Dragonstone began to calm for the evening, and there was no sign of Daemon’s return. Your father had sent a raven from Claw Isle, reporting an influx of coin, ships, and supplies.

Within your chambers, you wrote a letter to home — to Clement, and to your father. He cited that he would return in two days' time, with the assistance of Claw Isle’s small vassal of ships. It comforted you to know that your father would rejoin the fray once more.

You waited for the hum of the castle to come to a lull before sneaking from your bedchambers, grabbing your cloak from the back of an armchair. Dragonstone was wrought with hidden passages and winding corridors that led to the Dragon’s Tail, or the wall.

Sneaking about once everyone had retired for the evening felt daring and exhilarating, but you feared what would happen if you were caught. You hadn’t a clue of what excuse to muster up should you be found, but you elected not to think of such things.

Torchlight guided your path from your chambers to a tunnel that led onto the ramparts. Twilight was still dancing across the skies, with the absence of dusk. As you entered the outside of Dragonstone, unoccupied by the presence of guards, you began your search for Jacaerys.

There wasn’t a shadow of a dragon afoot, or a man — just the saltwater breeze and crashing of the tides upon the bay and upon rock. You wrung your hands together, looking around for Jace. You approached the bannister, gazing off into the sea as you had many times before.

You were filled with the same wistful feeling — a longing for home, yet tethered to Dragonstone, tethered to Jacaerys. A soft beating of wings reverberated within the distance, accompanied by the hushed chirp of Vermax, who made a downward descent towards the ramparts you stood upon.

Jacaerys sat atop the olive-scaled dragon, filled with the excitement of seeing you there, smiling and radiant. As Vermax landed with an unceremonious thud, he dismounted, sliding down the side of the dragon’s shoulder and onto the stone below.

He hastily approached you with a giddy gait, delighted to see your own springing step as he collected you into his arms. Jacaerys spun you around, holding you close as he pressed a myriad of kisses against the top of your head. It was a blissful moment, full of anticipation and a sweetness that simply couldn’t be matched.

“I was worried that Ser Lorent might’ve caught you,” Jace mused, placing you onto solid ground as he kept his hands atop your waist, thumbs stroking slow circles into your sides. His smile was perfect, freckles catching in the fading sunlight. “I didn’t see you at supper.”

Admittedly, you weren’t very hungry and had opted to take supper in your chambers. The raven from your father had left you melancholy and alone with your thoughts, long enough for you to realize that hope lingered still. He would return, safe and sound to Dragonstone.

“I wasn’t very hungry,” You confessed, touched by his worry. Jace held you close, motioning towards the heavier knapsack anchored to Vermax’s saddle. It was almost as if Jacaerys intended on staying the night somewhere in the wilderness, but you knew that wasn’t the case. “Are you sure that this is a good idea?”

Jacaerys chuckled, head canting to one side. “You still don’t trust me, do you?” He teased, knowing fully well that it would make you unbelievably flustered. Instead, he reached for one of your hands, lacing it with his own. “I would never put you in harm’s way, I promise you that.” Jace reassured you, pressing a kiss against your brow.

A soft sigh escaped you, then. “I do trust you, Jacaerys — wholeheartedly. I suppose it is an irrational fear, falling from the back of a dragon.” You mused, and he detected the slightest hint of playful sarcasm within your tone. “In all seriousness, I know that you will keep me safe.”

“As long as I am with you, no harm will come to you. Nothing will hurt you,” Jacaerys murmured, pressing a kiss upon your knuckles. “Vermax possesses steady wings, and the journey will be short.” He spoke gently, guiding you toward Vermax’s lowered wing.

Without hesitation, your hand reached for the front of Jacaerys’s velveteen tunic, stitched and patterned to resemble faux dragonscales. You coaxed him in for a kiss, one that immediately flickered to life with a flurry of sweet passion and affection, now unrestrained.

He cupped your face, thumb tracing along the soft curve of your cheekbone, ensuring that he reciprocated with as much adoration as he could muster. Jacaerys had been waiting — waiting so patiently to share this moment with you since the previous tryst.

A rather noisy growl from Vermax pulled the both of you from the bliss of the moment, prompting Jace to scowl at his draconic companion. You were giggling, unable to keep from finding some humor in it. “Is Vermax the envious sort?” You mused.

“I suppose he is,” Jacaerys sighed, stepping up onto Vermax’s spiked shoulder and wing, using the leverage to pull himself up halfway. He looked at you expectantly, extending his hand towards you, which you took without an ounce of reluctance. “Move towards me.”

Rocking towards Vermax, Jacaerys finally hauled you up, guiding you onto the bulk of the leather saddle, situated in front of him. The handles were large and tall enough to give him leverage, even if you were sitting in between.

You could feel the warmth of dragonscales beneath you, the accelerating breaths of Vermax himself, every movement causing you to lurch forward. It was strange to feel a real, living dragon underneath you, but you maintained your composure for Jace’s sake.

“Sōvegon, Vermax!” Jacaerys called, patting just above Vermax’s shoulder before the dragon took flight, leaping from the ramparts and into the cool, dusk air of Dragonstone Isle. Saltwater kisses peppered your cheeks, the mist of the Narrow Sea dancing through the night.

The ground became smaller, no longer close as you took flight, prompting you to hunch forward in order to grab ahold of the saddle. Your heart pounded within your breast, like the beating of a drum. Nervousness swelled within you like the rising of the tide, but Jacaerys kept close, chest snug against your back.

A burst of hysterical laughter tore past your lips, inevitably turning into something genuine. “This is incredible!” You gasped, and the world suddenly seemed so vast from the back of a dragon. Jacaerys laughed with you, guiding Vermax past the ramparts and toward the forested part of Dragonstone.

Aegon’s Garden was shrouded in ancient thickets, a grove that swallowed the shrine whole. “Gīda, Vermax!” Jacaerys ensured that his dragon leveled out, grabbing at the reins as he steered Vermax toward the edge of the island, circling around for you to see. “Put your hands here.” His voice softened for only you to hear as he motioned toward the saddle grips.

With shaky hands, you lifted them to the grips, placing them just underneath Jace’s, your grip ironclad. Jacaerys placed his palms atop yours, reins close enough for him to maintain control over Vermax. “Is this what it’s like to control a dragon?” You questioned, letting out a squeal when Vermax dove to the left.

“Exhilarating, isn’t it? I haven’t let you fall.” Jacaerys mused, pressing a brief kiss against your temple. He smiled when you gave him a playful, pointed look, your tresses billowing behind you with the wind. The sun continued to descend, and the sight was breathtaking.

It was something you would only see once in your lifetime — a sunset in the Narrow Sea upon the back of a dragon, watching as bright orange began to bleed into shades of violet, like dusk reaching up to steal the day away. The first inkling of stars twinkled above, faint yet present.

Anxiousness dissipated into joy and wonder at the world around you, no longer clouded by worry and fear. Jacaerys ensured that you were protected, hovering behind you as any dutiful paramour would. After you circled Dragonstone, he eased Vermax toward Aegon’s Garden, spotting the stone statue in its center.

Jacaerys could see the future, then and there — carrying you on dragonback to King’s Landing, to Driftmark and to the Reach and the Stormlands, seeing the world at your side. There wasn’t any other place for him, and he was satisfied with that.

As Vermax made his descent, the beating of his wings stirring the surrounding brush and flora, you held on tightly, watching as the dragon lowered his body towards the thickets. Towering pine trees, thorny hedges, and a meadow of wildflowers surrounded the massive draconic statue in the very center, wreathed in tendrils of prickly ivy and weathered vines.

It was quiet, the grove hushed with the cover of night. A singular column of torches lined the spiraling statue in the middle, said to be eternal flames lit in Aegon I’s honor, never to die out. Bushes of wild roses bloomed everywhere, in varying shades of crimson and pink, scattered around the stone.

With a soft grunt, Jacaerys moved to dismount, retrieving his thick cloak and a small roll from the back of Vermax’s saddle. He grabbed the thick hide strap that secured the saddle, using its leverage to hop onto solid ground.

He extended his arms out to you, nodding reassuringly for you to jump as he did. “I will catch you.” Jacaerys soothed, ensuring that you were secure within his hold as he assisted you in dismounting.

Through the haze of scaling pine trees and the serenity encapsulating the gardens, you could see the castle of Dragonstone looming in the distance, an intricate alcazar. House Targaryen had its roots everywhere, presence grounded within the very flora and rock you stood upon.

“This is beautiful,” You whispered, tone transcendent with awe as you admired the natural splendor of your newfound environment. It was an ancient place, archaic and from a time long before you. “Can you believe that a place like this still exists?”

Jacaerys had come to Aegon’s Garden on a handful of occasions — twice as a boy, in the company of his brothers and nursemaid. Only recently he’d come here, a place to be alone and contemplate without having a thousand eyes pick him apart.

The smell of damp woodlands and faint wildflowers drifted through the air, accompanied by moss and stone. Pine permeated the air, the scent heavy and verdant. Vermax lowered himself into the thicket, warm breath breaking through a line of ferns and thorns.

“This garden was named for Aegon the Conqueror,” Jacaerys hummed, taking your hand within his as he led you away from Vermax and closer to the statue within the center. It resembled a roaring dragon’s head, black scales winding down a spire, wings outstretched. “It is said that his ashes were scattered here following his passing.”

A trickling noise emerged from the statue, with tendrils of water oozing from the maw of the dragon, pouring into a stone basin below. The sun had nearly faded entirely, giving way to a calm nightfall, covered by large spots of clouds. Jacaerys led you closer to the obelisk, his gait slow and exploratory.

Inching forward, you placed your palm against the carved scales of the statue, feeling damp stone and moss beneath your fingertips. This was a place that was hundreds of years old, untouched by war, untouched by the harsh hand of time. “Is this supposed to be Balerion?”You asked, motioning to the statue.

“From what the records of Dragonstone say, it is Balerion.” Jacaerys replied, following in your footsteps as he stood by your side. He had left his scabbard and sword back on Vermax — he didn’t feel the desire to have it here. “My mother showed me this place when I was young.”

Jace’s voice grew wistful at the mention of his youth — sometimes, it didn’t feel like much of a childhood at all. The weight of being labeled a bastard for all his life left him crawling to feel a sense of worth, to prove himself whenever he could. No one could be so vicious here in Dragonstone — he’d left King’s Landing behind.

Leaning into him, you kept your chin tucked against his arm, gazing into the tarnished ruby eyes socketed into the statue. It was a piece of history, of a dynasty that Jacaerys was apart of. You wondered what your place was, where you would fit in, in the grand scheme of things.

“Someday, I will show you Claw Isle,” You spoke softly, harkening back to your younger days, just as he did. “Celtigar Keep is full of treasures collected throughout generations. There is apparently a carcass of a magical crab somewhere in the crypts.” You mused, nose wrinkling with amusement.

A soft laugh escaped Jacaerys, whose vibrant brown hues turned themselves to you, oozing with a warm affection. “A magical crab? Is that your equivalent to Targaryen dragons?” He teased, squeezing your hand when you playfully rolled your eyes.

“I would much rather have a dragon,” A steady exhale escaped you as you held his hand, feeling his head rest atop your own, thick curls brushing against your temples. “Crabs are boring unless they’re freshly-caught and used in a bisque.” You replied, your smile prevalent upon your features.

Jace snickered, finding your beratement of crabs to be incredibly amusing. A steaming bowl of crab bisque sounded delightful — it was something commonly served around most seaside castles. He fell quiet, elated to be in your presence as he pressed a kiss against the top of your head.

You clicked your tongue, still holding onto Jace’s hand. His silence gave you pause as you glanced up at him, a twinkle of mirth dancing within your eyes. “Did my talk of crab turn you away completely?” You hummed, prompting Jace to reach for your chin, digits tenderly stroking along your jaw.

“Absolutely not,” Jacaerys replied, leaning in until your foreheads touched. “I fear that you may be anchored to me for the foreseeable future.” He murmured, voice becoming a touch husky and rich. You savored his embrace, pressing a brief kiss against his chin, causing him to smile.

Whatever affection you felt for Jacaerys seemed to swell in that moment, causing your heart to flutter with excitement. Butterflies pooled within the pit of your stomach, dancing around with glee. “I’m quite content with that.” You whispered, and he kissed you, even if it was kept brief.

The scenery was something from a fairytale, cranberry meadows and wildflower patches illuminated by both moonlight and the glower of fire. Balerion’s stony, ruby eyes gazed down upon the both of you, the blood of Old Valyria standing before him.

“I would never leave this garden, if I could,” You sighed, interlacing your fingers with Jace’s own. He kept your hand close to him, thumb brushing along the ridges of your knuckles. “This means a great deal to me. Thank you for bringing me here, Jacaerys.”

Jace smiled, guiding you toward the thicket until you reached the stone surrounding Aegon’s monument in the center of the garden. “Perhaps we could stay here,” He replied, coming to a halt in front of the statue. He turned toward you, reaching for your waist as he pulled you closer. “Stay a thousand years.”

If only duty would make it so — if only.

You chuckled, keeping your hands interlocked as your palm lifted to perch atop his chest, absentmindedly tracing over the silvery stitching of his doublet. “What would we do? Eat berries and use Vermax as shelter?” A giggle escaped you as Jacaerys spun you in a slow circle, forehead dipping to press against yours.

“It sounds like a pleasant life.” His utterance had dropped into a sweet caress, genuine as could be. Jacaerys eased you into a sluggish dance, one reserved for noble lords and ladies, spun about across a great hall. He pressed a kiss atop the crown of your head.

Jacaerys wanted that with you, a life free of vitriolic politics and bloodshed, free of the cruelty of the crown, the viciousness of power. As he gently swayed with you within his arms, he had never felt so strongly about someone before. You were intertwined with him.

The folly of youth — fantasy and whimsy, believing that nothing bad would ever happen. You wished that it were true, and that you and Jacaerys could live happily together somewhere else, but the possibility was nothing more than a mere dream, one that dissipated as quickly as it had come.

Even if such a life with Jacaerys sounded picturesque, it wasn’t what duty commanded of you — what honor demanded. You knew that the relationship between you and Jace would be fraught with danger and trials ahead, but you were prepared to brave the storm with him.

As Jacaerys gently twirled you around once more, the both of you began to laugh, lips clamoring to find one another. It was saccharine, warm like the first inkling of springtime — there was never a more gallant man that existed than Jacaerys Velaryon.

He cupped your face within his palms, cradling you as if you were a delicate object, cherished and precious. Your hands wandered toward his chest, sinking into the velveteen material that clung to him. The dancing light of Aegon’s eternal torch basked the both of you in its still-burning embers.

It was refreshing to feel so liberated here, not having to hide your affections, look over your shoulder with each kiss. The fire that burned within you, your adoration for him — it intensified, continued to grow tenfold whenever you were in his embrace.

It was a tender dance, your lips — you couldn’t have pictured kissing anyone else after Jacaerys had kissed you. The care and caution he often exuded was more than enough to make you elated, body flush against his own as the entanglement continued for a few moments longer.

When you withdrew, you felt hot to the touch, completely and utterly taken by the Prince of Dragonstone. You felt his thumbs caress your cheekbones, stroking downward towards the curve of your jaw. The silence was comforting, something that you didn’t break just yet, careening into Jace’s touch.

Silvery rays of moonlight soon replaced that of the waning sunset, with a blanket of stars to decorate the skies. Of course, your surroundings were still clear enough, and he had been diligent enough to bring a torch with him, stashed away within the roll slung across his back.

“Shall we?” Jacaerys asked, offering you his hand to lead you through the winding gardens. The path that had been placed before was overgrown and trodden into mere dirt, but it was better than wading through tall grass. “There is a path that leads to the bay.”

The gentle, heavy sighs from Vermax signaled that he had fallen asleep somewhere amongst the thicket, tail curled around his larger frame. He was easy to spot, a massive scaled form slumbering within the brush.

“What of Vermax?” You asked, motioning towards the sleeping beast. It was amusing to see a dragon asleep — whenever you’d seen one, they were always so animated, soaring above Dragonstone or drifting above the Narrow Sea.

Jace smiled, nose wrinkling with amusement. “He will find me, if he becomes lost. Dragons are tethered to their riders,” He explained, feeling your hand slip within his as he slowly guided you down the path. Bushes of roses lined either side, thick from many decades of growing wild. “It is a companionship, a bond.”

“You will have to take me riding again,” You mused, nose wrinkling in amusement. “I must admit, it wasn’t nearly as terrifying as I thought it would be. You can see much more of the world from the back of a dragon.”

With a teasing grin, Jacaerys dipped down to knock his shoulder against yours. “Is that so?” He jested, your sweet scent filling his nostrils. Your concoction of floral perfumes and honeyed scent was warming, to say the least. “Name the day, and I shall take you with me again.” He promised.

Many of the flowers that blossomed within Aegon’s Garden were native to the island, but something caught Jacaerys’s eye — blooms as pale as snow, sticking out amongst the thorny roses. He released your hand to seek it out, traipsing through the bush.

“Where are you going?” You laughed, head canting to one side as you followed him to the very edge of the path. Jacaerys waded through countless roses to find that clutch of Lady’s Lace. Thorns stuck to his doublet and the tail end of his cloak, not that he minded.

“You’ll see,” He called back, kneeling before the patch of pale, silvery blossoms as he collected them all, smiling to himself as he made his treacherous trek back to the path. When Jacaerys returned, he kept them behind his back, as if you were oblivious to his antics. “It doesn’t grow on Dragonstone.”

Presenting you with the bundle of flowers, you nearly buckled, features blazing with warmth. You were incredibly flustered, charmed to your core as he placed them into your hand. “This is Lady’s Lace,” You murmured, trailing your fingertips across the soft petals. “You are endlessly charming.”

Jacaerys chuckled, bristling at such a compliment as the two of you continued your walk toward the pale beaches of Dragonstone. “Endlessly charming,” He parroted, though instead of opting for humor, he became soft in your presence. “It is reserved only for you.” You believed him wholeheartedly when the words left his lips.

You loved him.

The thought immediately slammed into the recesses of your mind like a heavy stone being thrown, and it nearly shattered your composure. Jacaerys was everything that a man should be — he was everything you’d ever wanted, before you knew what wanting truly was. Your breath hitched within your throat, then and there.

His handsome, gentle features and gallant disposition, the kindness that touched his eyes — he was nothing short of perfection. You envied the woman that would become his Queen, become his wife. They would have only the best — Jacaerys deserved nothing less.

“Everything you do drives me to madness,” You confessed, and before Jace could express his confusion, you pressed a hand against his lips. “You are good — truly good, Jacaerys. I daresay, you are perfect. You cannot begin to understand how incredible you truly are, and your mother would be proud.”

He hesitated, gazing down at you through the haze of moonlight, capturing your doe-eyed stare. Whatever you felt, he did too — only stronger. Jace felt his heart beat again, mirroring the same sentiments he experienced the night he first laid with you.

Jacaerys nearly asked it of you, asked you to be his wife, his future Queen. If it weren’t for the onslaught of boyish nerves that suddenly gripped him, he would’ve asked you — he wanted you to marry him. The advantages of allying two houses of Valyrian descent were vast, but Jacaerys knew to seek the approval of your father upon his return from Claw Isle.

No matter the swiftness of the decision or the reproach it would potentially receive, any repercussions, he didn’t care. How could he, when he had you there to tell him how much he meant to you, how good he was?

He was occasionally quick to anger, desperate to be of some use in his Mother’s fight to regain her crown, but you made him feel more than that. Those flaws dissipated, and he happily drowned within your perfect light, the beacon of beauty that you were.

“Whatever I am, you are so much more.” Jacaerys uttered, politely removing your hand from his lips, but not before he could kiss each of your fingertips. “There is no one in this world quite as perfect as you.” He smiled, and it melted your heart completely.

Your lips parted, a soft exhale escaping you, yet no words emerged, turning to ash upon your tongue. “Jacaerys.” You exhaled, and before you could convey what you felt into words, Jacaerys stepped forward, capturing your mouth in a passionate kiss.

It was fiery, far more charged than any entanglement you had before — and it was incredible. Passion, desire, devotion, love — it all began to roll into one sentimental conglomerate that flared between the both of you. Your hand clenched around the stems of Lady’s Lace, the other draping over his shoulder.

Jacaerys felt a tightening within his throat, canting his head to one side, deepening the kiss with a trembling exhale. Anticipation and exhilaration flooded through him, stirred to arousal when your fingers curled into the shoulder of his tunic.

He was the one to pull away first, ardor written all over his handsome features. “Come with me.” Jace whispered, taking a hold of your hand as he led you down the path from Aegon’s Garden. The land turned from towering pines and bogs of cranberries to an endless expanse of pale sands and gentle waves that lapped at the shore.

With a spring in your step, you trailed after Jacaerys, feet sinking into sand instead of dirt. The sight of Dragonstone in the distance was breathtaking — an obsidian citadel, your home. On your end the stretch, rocky formations and jagged cliff sides arching from the island, dark rock imbued with flecks of crystal.

Unveiling the torch from his light knapsack, Jacaerys struck it with flint and steel, enough of a spark to set it ablaze. Along the strand, moonlight touched the Narrow Sea, basking it in a wave of silvery light. The gentle ambiance of saltwater kissing sand made you feel at-ease.

In his time spent exploring Dragonstone, much of it done in his youth, he discovered many natural alcoves and caves, but none so mesmerizing as the one beneath the watchtower. The tower itself sat atop a large rise of rock, but it was rarely utilized, given the lack of military presence.

The soft sand began to run into walls of rock, surrounded by brush upon an incline and scattered pine trees. You stopped close by, gazing out into the ocean, the sight beautiful from where you stood.

Jacaerys joined you, placing the torch and bedroll along the ground as he joined you, finding the view to be nothing short of perfection. Only the ambiance of crashing waves resonated around you, and you reached for his hand, offering him a gentle smile.

You noticed the cozy resting place constructed by Jacaerys, something that caught your attention. Part of you hoped that it meant what you thought, but you never wanted to assume. As you turned to face Jacaerys, he seemed prepared, visibly steeling himself.

“Are you intending on sleeping here?” You murmured, voice tinged with a sweetness to it. His features turned from pallid to rosy, and he seemed to clear his throat and straighten his posture. “Unless you’ve no intention of sleeping.”

It caught him off-guard, features flushing with scarlet. “I would never pretend to assume,” Jacaerys shook his head, thumbs caressing your knuckles. Admittedly, he brought it all with the intention of simply being in your presence along the coastline, but your innocuous comment had planted ideas into his head. “I only thought it would keep you comfortable.”

A smile spread across your features, one that held nothing but affection and tenderness. “We can,” You had thought about it quite often since he last shared your bed. Here, in the gloom of the rock and moonlight, you didn’t need to be so cautious. “Only if it’s something you wanted too.”

Jacaerys blushed, cursing himself for allowing his expression to give him away so easily. He lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the soft skin there before he cleared his throat. “I’ve thought about you at every waking moment,” He whispered. “I am not ashamed to admit that I want you terribly.”

It transcended want — Jacaerys wanted you conventionally, as a man desired a woman, but it went beyond that. He wanted everything — your heart, your captivating mind, every fiber of your being.

That was love — and it was a dangerous thing, perilous within times of such uncertainty, but Jacaerys was a man of action, and he no longer wanted to wait in the gallows for you. He wanted to love you while there was still time left, while some peace still clung on by a thread.

Before you could speak, he stepped closer, swallowing the growing lump within his throat. He wasn’t a boy — he was every bit a man, and he would make his intentions known like one. “I feel more than just want,” Jace uttered, keeping your hands tethered together. “That is not adequate enough to describe what I feel for you.”

You shivered, feeling goosebumps rake across your spine in the wake of his confession. Knowing that Jacaerys wanted you just as much as you did him was reassuring. “How do you feel?” You whispered, voice barely above a whisper, as if yearning to know the inner machinations of his mind, know exactly how he felt.

“I love you,” Jacaerys felt a bit of a weight lift from his shoulders. He wanted to ask you to marry him — but it felt sudden. This confession needed to linger before he asked something so monumental of you. “I love you.” He said it again, to ensure its meaningfulness.

Words turned to ash within your mouth, and you could think of nothing else to say — only that you loved him, too. “I love you, too.” Those of an older age would label it puppy love, a fool’s errand — but not you, and not Jacaerys. There was no sweeter love than that born of friendship and devotion.

“Kiss me, Jace.”

That was all it took, all it needed to take — he was yours, unconditionally so, and he would be until his last days.

Without hesitation, Jacaerys captured your lips in a searing kiss, his mouth emblazoned upon yours. The bouquet of Lady’s Lace you held had been placed to the wayside, amongst Jace’s belongings to ensure that you would have it upon your return to Dragonstone.

Everything had seemed so fleeting and cautious before, as if the two of you were caught within a slow dance, hesitant to fully act upon desire. Lust was something different entirely, different from the love you felt for him, the carnal passion. Your arms tossed themselves around his neck, threading against the nape of his neck.

His arm hitched around your hips, bringing you flush against his chest as his mouth tangled with yours. It was a delicate duel of lips and fervor, his hand grasping at the fabric of your gown. He wondered what you would look like, bare and bathed by the gloom of moonlight.

There, on the pallid shores of Dragonstone, your love blossomed yet again. It was similar to the emotions felt the first time, the excitement and anticipation, the flourish of nerves that followed suit, only with the added familiarity. Jacaerys knew what he wanted — he wanted you.

“Are you certain?” Jace asked in between kisses, breathless and wanton as he swallowed the lump within his throat. Despite you having expressed your desire moments prior, establishing clear consent was appreciative on both ends.

“Yes,” You exhaled, eyes glittering through the dusk. “More than anything.” You sealed your statement with a kiss, one that Jacaerys happily reciprocated. He coaxed you closer, leading you toward the thick, furred bedroll atop the sand.

Jacaerys was the first to descend, unclasping the draconic sigil that kept his cloak upon his shoulders, letting it drape across the bedroll. His breath hitched slightly when you crawled into his lap, bringing your hands to his chest, digits sinking into the velvet of his embroidered doublet.

He kissed you tenderly, yet passionately — not an ounce of roughness in his movements, nor a desire to manhandle you. Jacaerys treated you as if you were sacred, a goddess to be worshiped, and he wanted to ensure that he was worthy of you.

It was a beautiful sight, surrounded by the shadowed gloom of pine trees, massive cliffs, and the calm lapping of the ocean’s tides as they swayed into the shore. The flickering of torchlight provided some illumination, but the moon was plentiful.

You were beautiful, prettier when you sat within his lap, gowns pooling around you. Jacaerys brought his hands to the small of your back, finding the ties of your bodice as he loosened them, watching the fabric sag upon your physique. His fingers wandered, curling into the front of your dress.

“May I?” He always asked — you never expected it of him, but the effort he put forth was always appreciated. You nodded, shrugging your arms enough to free yourself from the upper half of your gowns, breasts exposed to the cool, dusk air.

Jacaerys was constantly beguiled by your beauty — he would never tire of it, nor did he want to. He was less shy this time, but reserved about how he touched you, hand skirting along your naked back. The other cupped beneath your jaw, lips colliding with yours once more.

Your hands found purchase atop his broad shoulders, seeking to free him from his doublet. Admittedly, he looked so painfully handsome in it, adorned in the ancient colors of House Targaryen, but you wanted to see him, freckled skin and taut muscle.

Each kiss was like wildfire, spreading with a heat and intensity that threatened to consume you both. Goosebumps cascaded along the length of your spine, body shivering when he gripped you tightly, mouth moving in a blissful tandem with yours.

His lips began to roam, reaching for the soft slope of your jaw, peppering you in delicate kisses as he found your neck. Jace savored your taste, like honey and warmth upon his tongue, skin soft and silky. He wondered how you were real — perfection made living and breathing before him, his heart belonging to you.

“Jacaerys,” You sighed with passion, hands carding through his soft, dark curls. They were perfect to trace your fingertips through, giving you something to grip as his mouth traveled lower, showering you in kisses across your collarbone. “Please, I need you.” A groan escaped you as he dipped close to your breasts.

Arousal stabbed at his gut like a hot knife, a good sort of torture as his cock twitched within his breeches. It wasn’t foreign to him — yearning for you was no longer foreign. His hand fell away from your jaw, gathering at the hem of your gowns as he pushed his palm beneath the fabric, fingers dancing along your leg.

Again, you insistently pushed at his tunic, unbuttoning the silvery clasps to the left, situated beneath a layer of embroidery and velvet. He shuddered at your enthusiasm, his own delight present when your soft hands embraced his chest, gliding over bare muscle.

You nudged his doublet into the bedroll, able to feel all of him now. He was so handsome, layered in a smattering of freckles, still growing into himself, not that you minded. Jacaerys was broad-shouldered and lean, muscle defined and glistening with silver from the moonlight.

His hand continued its ascent, gripping your thigh to signal where he wanted to go, and all you could do was encourage him. “Please.” You breathed, parting from his kiss for just a moment. Jace watched you closely, kissing you wherever he could as his fingers dipped into the warm apex between your legs.

Jacaerys deftly pressed his digits against your cunt, tracing the line of your slit with a feather-light embrace. You gasped, faces pressed closely together, breath hot, bodies aching for more. He found himself enticed by your pleasure, brown hues transfixed on the way your body bent to him.

He sometimes wondered how such a thing was even possible, but the logistics mattered little — he was simply delighted to please you. Jacaerys mimicked his movements from the previous tryst, thumb grazing against your clit as the other two stroked around the rest of your cunt.

Gods, he loved you — it nearly overwhelmed him, then and there, but he held his ground through the onslaught of sentiment he felt. Jacaerys pressed another kiss against your mouth, lingering and intense, digits sinking themselves into your cunt.

Your lips clamored for his, breathy and hot as you moaned into his mouth, hips rolling into his hand. His skin felt soft beneath your fingertips, gripping tightly into his shoulder blades as you allowed pleasure to overtake you. He gave you everything you needed, thumb continuing to circle your clit.

There was no greater sight, Jacaerys thought, seeing you half naked on the beach, cast in silver from the moon. Each glimpse rendered him breathless, heart hammering within his chest, afraid that it might simply rip open.

Breathy, warm pants escaped the both of you, lips occasionally reaching for one another, a moment of bliss and pleasure before Jace gently moved away, showing you affection elsewhere. He bent his head as one would in reverence, finding your breast as he pressed strings of kisses all around your pliant peak.

A sweet moan arose from your lips, a cry of delight as your Prince pleasured you. Part of you felt a pang of guilt for not reciprocating, but he was often insistent on letting it all revolve around you, something you would have to rectify in the future. His arm locked around your back, the other still happily wedged between your thighs.

Your fingers found his hair again, holding at the base of his skull as thick, dark curls threaded themselves through your grasp. Jacaerys groaned at the pleasurable sensation, lips drifting from one of your breasts to the other, taking your nipple into his mouth. He kissed and nibbled around the bud, causing you to shiver.

“Will you let me touch you, too?” You asked, in between throaty pants and needy whimpers. You didn’t want him to stop, and simply wanted him to share in your ecstasy. Jacaerys nodded, feeling your hands release his tresses to tug at the leather ties of his breeches, loosening them up enough to free his cock.

His hips stuttered slightly into your hand, a low groan tearing past his lips as he resumed his focus, allowing two of his fingers to tease your entrance. The warm, soft sensation of your palm closing around his hardened length made him grit his teeth, attempting to maintain his composure.

Just as Jacaerys handled you with adoration, you reciprocated such a notion, stroking from base to tip, finding it somewhat difficult to focus on yourself and him. Nonetheless, the shared bliss was exhilarating to behold, between your pleasured countenance and Jace’s unrestrained grunts and sighs.

The threat of war mattered little, as if it simply ceased to exist when he was in your presence. Duty died then and there, love took its place, like a blossom amongst the rubble — whatever fear he thought he had abandoned had been restored anew.

What was duty compared to that of your touch? What was honor? His honor had been hanging by a thread since your last tryst, and he feared he had lost it altogether by indulging in this, but he was wrong. It was loving you, devoting himself to you, proving to all that he was the heir, the succession.

He kissed you hard, as if he were pouring every ounce of his being into you, as if it would make you both one. Jacaerys savored the feeling of your lips, soft and plump as they returned that passion tenfold. Your ravenous state was born of ardor, and nothing more.

Between the rhythmic rocking of his hand into your cunt, thumb continuing to caress your clit, and the shy strokes of your hand against his cock, the both of you were well on your way to a shared release. He wanted to be inside of you, taste you if he could, but perhaps that would be saved for another day.

You mewled a string of delicate praises, wanting Jace to hear just how perfect he felt. A gentle breeze brought with it the mist of saltwater, peppering itself across your back, a soothing feeling amidst the feverish onslaught of warmth brewing between you and Jacaerys.

“I want you.” He groaned through half-gritted teeth, jaw tensing as his hips jutted forward into your palm. You nodded several times over, adjusting your skirts as you ensured that they wouldn’t be as much of an obstruction. Jace sluggishly removed his fingers from your weeping core, feeling you hover closer.

Aligning his hardened cock with your cunt, you shakily lowered yourself onto him, gasping at the sudden intrusion and stretch. Jacaerys grunted, forehead pushing into yours as one arm encircled you, fingers kneading into the plush flesh of your hips.

The newfound position was unfamiliar to the both of you, but you were so lost within the ecstasy that neither of you voiced any displeasure. It was quite the opposite, in fact. His length throbbed inside of you, aching with a burning want that simply refused to be extinguished.

You were unsure of how to proceed, acting upon instinct and what felt right, rocking your hips back and forth in a rhythmic motion. It was good, but you tried again, finding your pace with uncertainty. When you began to lightly move up and down, thighs stinging with a burning sensation, you knew that was perfect.

“Jacaerys,” You gasped, feeling his hand clamp down into the swell of your hip, guiding you along as best as he could. Each rock of your hips atop him sent him into a sea of bliss, savoring the warmth and tightness of your cunt. His head dipped down, finding the column of your throat. “Jace!” A whine escaped you, needy and wanton.

He pressed needy kisses into your neck, savoring the taste of your skin, sweet and heady. You continued to adapt to the newfound position, gently moving your hips in a rhythmic motion. Your body felt feverish, as if it had been set ablaze, stomach swirling with molten heat as arousal pooled between your legs.

Despite the sight of you, resplendent and glowing atop him, Jacaerys wanted to feel it all — and there wasn’t much that he could do like this. His hand gently coaxed you to the side, wanting to ease you down into the furs beneath you.

Much to your shared delight, you quietly obeyed, breath hitching within your throat as you moved to your back, with Jacaerys reassuming his position between your legs. His veined hand gingerly traced along your thigh, the other rooted near the sand to keep himself afloat.

Carnality festered between the both of you, like a smoldering flame, unable to be controlled. You gazed up at him, doe-eyed and devoted, an intimate look that was reserved only for him. Jacaerys gently pushed your skirts up enough to allow him movement, the head of his cock kissing your entrance.

His chest rose and fell with heavier sighs, and he nearly groaned when you peppered light, fleeting kisses along his sculpted jaw. “Are you alright?” He asked, voice strained with desire, having dropped to a delicate octave that stroked at the back of your mind.

It was bliss and ardor you felt, no longer clipped by the sting of discomfort or the uncertainty of your actions. You knew exactly what you wanted — whom you wanted, who you loved. “I am,” You reassured him, feeling his hand caress the inside of your thigh. “I love you.” Your smile spread quickly across your features, like the first inkling of daybreak.

Jacaerys moved forward then, deliberately sinking his hardened length into you, letting it fill you, bit by bit. The sensation was euphoric, aided by your shared sentiments and declarations of love. “I love you.” He hummed, a smile toying at either corner of his mouth as he dipped down to kiss you.

There was a poignant seriousness about the first time you lay together, and that same feeling was felt here too, only less intense. Instead, you felt the thrill of being with him, the desire, love — perhaps a touch of lightheartedness. He made love to you as if you’d been lovers for a thousand years already.

He began to adopt a passionate pace, one that filled your body with a pleasant buzz. With each thrust, he bottomed out inside of you, withdrawing his cock just enough to make the next movement count. A myriad of husky groans and excitable exhales escaped him, coupled with your own sweet moans.

The hand that had perched against your thigh began to drift toward the warmth between your legs, thumb seeking your clit again as he rolled his hips into you. You sighed with passion, hitching one leg around his hips, the other bumping into his side.

“You’re perfect.” Jacaerys murmured into the hollow of your throat, his tousled mane of curls within perfect reach of pulling and tugging. His lips showered you in untold amounts of affection, traveling from your slender neck to your collarbone, hot breath sinking into your skin.

Goosebumps crawled across your flesh as a brisk, oceanic breeze swept over you, but Jacaerys kept you warm, shielding you with his fire. You traced your fingers over the freckles dusted across his shoulders, one hand gripping at his shoulder, the other tangling into his thick tresses.

Your back arched slightly, careening into him as he circled your clit with his thumb, letting it meld into the rhythm of his thrusts. His cock throbbed with a lustful ache, on the verge of release, losing himself within you. Everything felt so euphoric, as if time stood still, the both of you tangled together on the beach.

A vigor began to take hold, boldening his strokes and furthering his ministrations, driving himself deep inside of you with every breath he drew. It was loving and gentle, the sort of tenderness shown in true acts of intimacy. It was difficult not to become so overwhelmed that he became sporadic — Jace wouldn’t subject you to that.

The feeling of his mouth hungrily swirling across your body made you whimper, arousal sinking like a pleasant weight within your stomach. His thumb caressed your clit, wanting to bring you to a release with him, if he could.

His name fell heavy upon your tongue, an incantation that only you could cry, laced with ardor and reverence. Jacaerys never tired of hearing you say his name — if it were up to him, he would have you say it a thousand times over. You tugged at his curls, coaxing him in for an open-mouthed kiss.

The coil that furled within you began to loosen, bliss following suit as your hips writhed beneath him, rolling into each thrust. Jacaerys groaned at the friction, brow dappled with a sheen of perspiration as he kissed you back, hand curling into a fist within the furs.

It was all tongue, mouths, bodies pressed together, heat — desire laid bare, and you gladly drowned yourself in it. You moaned into his mouth, foreheads pressed together as you shuddered, the dam breaking within your stomach. It all unfurled, reaching your peak in-tandem with Jacaerys.

He buried his face into yours, brows furrowing together, countenance one of sheer bliss as he released, seed spilling inside of you before he pulled himself out halfway through. Jacaerys felt that tide of bliss soon afterwards, attempting to make himself somewhat decent.

He didn’t leave you, composure regaining itself as you rode your release, body shivering with delight. You felt him lay next to you, still damp with inklings of sweat and saltwater mist. You exhaled, your skirts thoroughly ruffled and rucked around your hips.

You sat up, peering at Jacaerys through your lashes, your smile affectionate and smitten. His fingertips traced along the soft plane of your back, drawing delicate patterns there. “I’ll never grow tired of that.” You confessed, and it lightened the moment, prompting him to laugh.

A shade of rose coated his visage, brown hues sparkling with admiration as he caressed along your spine. “Neither will I,” Jacaerys agreed, sitting up enough to help pull your gown back into place. He didn’t know anything about lacing a bodice back together, but he could certainly try. “I cannot get enough of you.” He murmured, pressing a kiss against your shoulder.

A blossoming warmth flooded through you, accompanied with a feeling of pure bliss — he was sweet, and it made you feel incredibly fortunate. You felt his fingers find the ties of your gown, carefully maneuvering them back into place, kissing along your spine as he did so.

“We don’t have to leave.” You crooned, feeling his chin perch atop your shoulder, lips delicately peppering themselves along your neck. Your tone was a touch melancholy, knowing that when the dawn began to spread across the horizon, you would have to return to the realm of being apart again.

You could stay a thousand years, just as he had told you in Aegon’s Garden.

Jacaerys’s jaw tensed slightly — he wanted to ask you. It was opportune, and he wouldn’t have to be apart from you again. It would be so effortless, taking your hand and asking for you to be his wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, but he couldn’t.

The silence made you somewhat concerned, and you turned enough to face him, head canting to one side. “Is something on your mind?” You inquired, cradling his face within your palm. You could see the storm behind his eyes, the curtain of contemplation.

Ask — ask her to be your wife.

Jace’s proposal turned to ash within his mouth. It would be a disservice to his mother and to your House if he simply acted. He wanted to ask your father, ease his mother toward the subject, go about it the proper way. This was the right way, asking you out of love and passion, but he couldn’t.

Not yet, at least.

“Nothing,” His lips twitched into a genuine smile as he reached for your hands, cradling them within his own, thumbs stroking your knuckles. “Know that I would go anywhere with you, if I could. I love you,” Jace assured, and you knew it to be true. “I am yours.”

You smiled, wanting to hold onto the moment for as long as you could. It was disheartening to have another wonderful evening shattered by reality, by the duty that bound the both of you elsewhere. “I love you, too.” You murmured, pressing a kiss against his jaw.

His countenance glistened with disdain at the idea of having to return to the castle — to separate rooms, to two different lives. Jacaerys wanted you by his side, and if fate would have it, he would not have to wait for much longer. Temperance and patience would endure.

There would be no staying together until dawn arose — no chance to hold you throughout the night, shield you from any shadows that might harm you. Jacaerys felt the weight of it sink into his stomach, and it made him treasure these moments with you even more.

“We should return to Dragonstone.” You uttered, as if the statement itself was a damnable curse. Your throat tightens slightly, but you maintained your composure, helping to collect his scarce belongings and clasp his doublet back into place.

Jacaerys could see the dismay upon your face, and it only made him ache with yearning, a desire to wipe away all of your melancholy. He pressed a kiss against the top of your head, and when the both of you stood in the sand, gazing at one another with a look of longing, he wanted to prolong your return for as long as he could.

“Not just yet,” Jacaerys uttered, reaching for your hand as he held it within his own, his forehead dipping to rest against yours. “Not just yet.” He whispered, tenderhearted smile reaching his eyes before he leaned in for a kiss.

#house of the dragon #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys targaryen x reader #jacaerys targaryen x you #jacaerys velaryon #hotd x reader #house of the dragon fanfiction #house of the dragon smut #jacaerys x reader #jacaerys x you

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sunrizef1 · 3 months ago

Text

big reputation pt 3

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x fem!reader

Warnings: Kelly piquet? Slight violence, canon divergent (Logan has a seat lmfao)

Authors Note: from now on every fic I post will be considered a period piece because I am NOT taking Logan out of that seat.

Pt1 Pt2

yourusername

📍Cardiff, Wales

liked by lewishamilton formulaone and 25,888,007 others

yourusername Cardiff, you were wonderful!!!!! We had never played a show in Wales before but we will definitely be back again! We all had a great time ✨ Thank you so much for coming out and having the night of your lives with me, I'm so grateful for every single one of you! 🖤 I’ll see you soon, Edinburgh…📸

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user1 I love you queen

user2 guys… I miss the drivers

user3 they miss one show like every two weeks and y'all say this every time 😭😭😭

user3 and they'll probably be back next week in Hungary anyway! 😭

user2 but that's like only one or two drivers or just their girlfriends or just f1-related people, its not the same 😭 I need them all together again 😭🙏

user4 my show 🥰

user5 we need more shows in wales…

yourusername ...✌️

user5 TWO??? AS IN LEG 2??? MORE CARDIFF SHOWS NEXT YEAR???

user6 RATATATATATATATATATATATA

user7 the camera emoji after Edinburgh??? And the dots?? …Ready for it? Music video announcement in Edinburgh???

charles_leclerc ✨🖤

liked by yourusername

user8 Logan going out of his way to make it to Cardiff... Not beating the boyfriend allegations

user9 THIS WAS MY SHOWWWWW

fernandoaloofficial Very good!!! 👍 🖤

yourusername thank you, Nando 🫶🏻

user10 🐍🐍🐍

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yourusername added to their story

oscarpiastri

damn he really is down bad

I'm assuming you mentioned the flowers once and he immediately bought them for you?

yourusername

That would be correct, yes

oscarpiastri

thought so 🙂‍↕️

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yourusername

📍Antwerp, Belgium

liked by landonorris killatrav and 15,888,777 others

yourusername Antwerp!!! This was one of the greatest shows of my life, the crowd was absolutely electric!!! We also got a rain show, which are always my favorites ☔ We also introduced my new favourite idea, mashing-up surprise songs, which is something I am so excited to continue and you all seemed very excited so I am thrilled!! 🫶

Next up, Amsterdam ☝️ 🇳🇱🇳🇱

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user11 WOOOOOOO

user12 I was there 🙂‍↕️🙏

landonorris ✨

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user13 guyssss I got mine x stay stay stay!!!! We won! 🥰

user14 I 🫶 rain shows

user15 guys notice how there's three exclamation marks… twice… 3… 3… 33… max’s old number… and then the ☝️ emoji… its a 1… max’s current number… Netherlands is next… she uses two exclamation marks at the end… two Dutch flags… Logans number is two…

user16 are you mentally okay

user15 no

user17 no drivers… what if I kms

user18 but we got the wags!!! 🥰

user17 and if I said y/n was the one true wag

user17 what then

user18 you would be correct 🙂‍↕️ 2️⃣🇺🇸

user19 wait the surprise song thing is so cute!!!!

user20 she's so prettyyyyy

lilymhe 💋💋💋

liked by yourusername

user21 I was here!!! When I tell you everyone gasped so hard when she started singing stay stay stay in the middle of mine, we were all screaming!!!

user22 LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO

alexandrasaintmleux ❤️

yourusername ❤️

user23 girl I did not know mash-ups were an option 😭

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alexandrasaintmleux

The best trio 🥰

yourusername

Correct 🤭🙂‍↕️

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lilymhe

I'm so glad you're here 😭😭😭

yourusername

Me too 😭😭😭

lilymhe

I need you back in Williams ☹️

yourusername

Soon…🤭

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yourusername added to their story

logansargeant

Repping Ferrari today….

Betrayal doesnt look cute on you

yourusername

you'll be okay darling 💋

logansargeant

No ☹️

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INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

fernandoalo_official

Stay safe mija

you're going behind enemy lines

yourusername

Lol, thanks Nando

I'll be safe

fernandoalo_official

Just look out for anyone in orange….

They're a suspicious bunch

yourusername

I will 🫡

fernandoalo_official

Good 👍

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MESSAGES

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Amsterdam, Netherlands

liked by alex_albon alexandrasaintmleux and 21,008,008 others

yourusername Amsterdam, you were so lovely!!! I'll admit I was a little nervous for these two shows but you all showed me so much kindness and these crowds will definitely go down as two of my favourites of all time 🫶 I had a really great time and I really felt so connected to every person in that stadium, I can't thank you enough for everything 🤍

But these shows made me realize how much we've grown this past year. Reputation was such a scary project for me and the reception from you all was so much better than I expected. Its been a year of love and I'm so thankful that you've stuck by me, you don't know how much it means 🤍🫶

So thank you to the drivers, to my friends and family, to the crew, to Jack, to Lewis, Charles and Logan and, most of all, to you, the fans. I love you 🤍

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user24 wait night one was wild

user25 as someone who was night one, the atmosphere when people found max was crazy 😭😭😭 so much yelling 😭

user26 RIGHT like I was upper bowl and had no idea what everyone was yelling about 😭

user27 IS THAT LAST PICTURE HER BF

user27 FOLLOW UP QUESTION: IS THAT LOGAN

user28 LMAO the middle finger in the last picture, she really hates max 😭

user29 why did she talk about love so much during the show and then in the caption…

user30 conspiracy theory: its their anniversary

lilymhe 💋💋💋

liked by yourusername

user31 that second pic is so cute 🥹

lewishamilton thanks for the shoutout 😎

yourusername thank YOU for everything lew 🤍

user32 out of all the drivers she chose to name three specifically: Lewis (who featured on the album and also has producer credits), Charles (who featured and has all the piano credits), and Logan, (who…. Was the muse for the album???)🫣

user33 wait why is no one talking about how crazy the max thing is

user34 yeah every ones talking about Logan but the m*x appearance is actually insane behaviour

user35 girl I read jack and fully thought she meant doohan 😭

user36 WAIT who did she mean??? I also thought she meant doohan 😭😭😭

user35 jack antonoff girl 😭

fernandoalo_official proud of you mija ❤️

yourusername thank you Nando 🤍

user36 I adore them 😭

——

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍Las Vegas, Nevadaa

liked by logansargeant charles_leclerc and 32,008,998 others

yourusername about a year and a half ago, I thought my life was over. I was betrayed by the very same people I thought were my forever.

But, after months of hiding, I ran into you at a dive bar deep in the city of Miami and suddenly my forever was you. You were in your buzzcut phase and I had just bleached my hair. You recognized me, of course. We'd met a couple of times and I'd always thought kindly of you. We started to talk and hours passed without us even noticing. I'm not sure where your friends had gone but looking back at it now, I'm glad they left because I can't imagine the conversation we had being joined by other people. It was already vaguely awkward enough.

I wasn't exactly lighting up the room that night. It had been a rough couple of months and I'd only gone out in hopes of finding a sliver of happiness. Thank god I did because it brought me to now, where I'm the happiest I've ever been. It brought me to you.

You, my love, are so wonderful and beautiful and talented and I honestly can't believe you're mine. Thank you so much for sticking beside me and becoming my forever muse. I could go on and on about the lyrics I've written about you but I think I'll just keep that for the next album 🫣

We went from hiding out in hotel rooms, curtains drawn tightly so paparazzi couldn't see and taking back roads to the studio to avoid anyone who might recognize us to you coming to every single show and me getting to sing to you and every single night.

From the new years parties in New York to the bouquets in Dublin and to the rings in Las Vegas 💍, I love you forever, Lo 🤍

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user37 AWWWWWWWWWW

user38 THIS IS INSANEEEEE

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user40 WAIT WHAT

lilymhe congratulations love! No one deserves this happiness more than you 🤍🥰

yourusername lilyyyy 🥹🫶

user41 IM SOBBING MY PARENTSSSSSS

user42 THE CLIP OF CHARLES CRYING AFTER SHE SHOWS THE RING?????? MEEEEE

charles_leclerc congrats ange, so happy for you ❤️

yourusername forever grateful for your super secret spy work last year, none of this could’ve happened without you 🤍

charles_leclerc 🫡

user42 OHHHHH Charles was digging for info on max that’s why he was friends with him last year 😭

lancestroll 🥳🥳🥳

liked by yourusername

user43 this is adorable 🥹

alexandrasaintmleux me and Lily are planning the bachelorette party as we speak 🥳🎉

yourusername as long as you guys are there it will be perfect 🥹🤍

user44 AWWWWWWW OMG

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liked by yourusername

landonorris LETS GOOOOO

liked by yourusername

oscarpiastri now that you're engaged I can finally yell you that he's legit had a crush on you for years. I couldnt get away from the sound of him playing Fearless over and over and over again

yourusername he's adorable. And it sounds like you're… complaining????

oscarpiastri nope ofc not, fearless is great, aoty for a reason, best country album of all time, I'd never complain 🙂‍↔️🫡

yourusername thanks osc 🤍

alex_albon did u like ur proposal…? 😽

yourusername I've been informed of your involvement and am pleased to tell you that the proposal was wonderful. Thank you Alex 🫶

alex_albon well flowers can't arrange themselves 🫡 congrats y/n

alex_albon we’re grateful to have you in the Williams family 🤍

user45 my forever muse 😭

user46 the parallels between this caption and the five year one for m*x 😭

logansargeant you’re the love of my life and I’m so grateful for the time we’ve had together 🤍 I love you so much darling and I’m so proud to get the honor of calling you my wife 🤍🤍🤍 😊

yourusername love you lo 🤍🥹

user47 oh my god they’re so in love, I’m so happy that y/n got to have this relationship after everything with max 🥹🤍

——

logansargeant added to their story

yourusername

My forever boy 💍

logansargeant

I love you baby 🤍😊

yourusername

I love you too 🤍🥹

——

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader #f1 x y/n #f1 x you #logan sargeant x you #logan sargent x reader #logan sargeant fluff #logan sargeant fanfic #logan sargent x fem!reader #logan sargeant x fem!reader #logan sargeant smau #logan sargent fluff #logan sargeant x reader #f1 x fem!reader #f1 smau

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randomdragonfires · 8 months ago

Text

Pieces of a Woman | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

SUMMARY | Even when his life takes a turn for the worse, Aemond Targaryen endures.

WARNINGS | 18+; Canon Divergence AU; Smut; Insanity; B&C; Gore; Delusions; Miscarriage; Yearning; ANGST

WORD COUNT | 7.2k

A/N | This is my personal favourite out of all the stories I've ever written, reposted with a new header and all that fun stuff! Beta read by the lovely @ewanmitchellcrumbs ❤️

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins.

They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment the madness had sunk its claws into his wife. He had watched as her once bright and hopeful eyes became empty and devoid of emotion. He had watched as she was pulled into the darkness completely, becoming a shell of the woman she once was.

As much as he wished he could turn back time, he had accepted his fate. He accepted that he would never have his wife back. He would never hold her in his arms again and never get to lay his head on her lap as she embroidered. She would never read to him in her mellifluous voice ever again, despite the fact that he would give everything he had to have her with him once more.

What good was all this power and wealth, if he could not protect his own family? What good was his title as Prince Regent, if he did not have her to stand by his side? If he could not protect his little boy?

His hair, once braided to the side by her deft and nimble fingers with love, remained uncared for, left loose in all its glory. Training his one dark-rimmed, tired eye at the crypt that held the ashes of his heir, Aemond Targaryen let the sadness take him - for when his son’s life was brutally snuffed out, his wife’s very soul had been too.

There was nobody to blame for it all apart from himself.

Ever since their wedding, she had been a steady and calm presence in his life. She was the quiet to his rage, the water to his fire. He had always been a sullen and lonely child that harbored resentment for those who had wronged him, but he felt his heart steadily calm down with every moment he spent in her presence.

It wasn't until he met her that he realized he was lacking love and consideration, both of which he believed had never received before - not like this. She gave him an opportunity to be a better man; one that he took eagerly with both arms.

In return, he was a respectful husband who did his very best. He wasn’t adept at great gestures of love, but he always made sure that his wife woke with a kiss to her hair and his arms enveloping her body. He wanted her to never know loneliness for as long as he lived, he would make sure of it.

For all his reading and knowledge, Aemond was not good at making his appreciation known verbally. Instead, he would bring her huge tomes from the library so he could read to her. These books covered topics that he was passionate about, so everytime he brought one, he was offering up a part of his soul. Who better to give it to than the woman he has sworn his heart, soul and loyalty to?

He needed her. He needed her from deep in his soul, and he needed her carnally, always. She was all that was missing in his life, and now that he had her, he would always need her.

But right now, as her screams erupted through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, Aemond’s heart lurched in his chest, becoming heavier with each passing moment. The babe was arriving, and it would seem that the child was taking her for all that she was. Everytime she groaned in pain, he held onto the railing tighter than ever, as though it would make her pain go away.

They would not let him in, no. Childbirth was a woman’s fight, and the men would have to wait outside - much like the women did when the men went to battle. There was nothing he would not give to hold her hand right now; to tell her that she would be an absolutely beautiful mother, and that all she had to do was summon all her strength and emerge victorious.

As though she had heard his thoughts, her pained wails slowly died down, replaced by the first cries of a newborn. Boy or girl, the babe had an incredibly strong pair of lungs on them, their mighty cries could overshadow even the loudest of thunderstorms. The cries echoed through the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast, and the servants outside immediately jumped to work. A new royal babe had been born after all - there was work to be done, celebratory feasts to be organized, chambers to be prepared, nothing but the best for a Targaryen.

His mother stepped out of the chambers and laid a hand on his back in comfort. She kissed him on the cheek and smiled in congratulations. “Mother and babe are well, my son. She has made me so proud. The little one is beautiful, he would go on to achieve many great things. Just like you.”

A son. She had given him an heir to carry his bloodline. How would he ever repay her?

He walked into the chambers with speed that he did not know he possessed, his purpose made clear with each stride. The midwives and maids moved to make way for the One-Eyed Prince, and in he went.

She laid in the middle of the chambers, looking like she had braved the worst experience of her life. Her hair was askew, with sweat coating her entire body, her fatigue was palpable. Blood and waters coated the floor, and the chambers smelled like death. The bloody spots on her shift alarmed him, and it concerned him to see his usually happy and energetic wife look so thoroughly worn out. But then she smiled.

Through all her weariness from the challenges of the birthing bed, she had meekly smiled at him - and all was alright in his world again. He held her cheek in his palm and kissed her forehead, heart full from knowing that she was alright. She reached for his other hand, holding onto it like it was the last thing that kept her tethered to reality.

“Are you well, wife?”

The seemingly simple question certainly did not project the waves of concern that had plagued him outside while he waited with bated breath, but she knew. She saw it in the crinkles on his forehead and the widening of his good eye.

“I am now.”

She had braved battle, and had never looked more beautiful to him than she did now. Her voice was hoarse from all the pained screaming, and she certainly had no business being awake right now - but by the Gods, he was the happiest man in the realm.

The maids were done with wiping the blood off of the babe and had handed the boy to her. Aemond knew right then that he would have to compete for his wife’s attention from then on, for his little son had clearly stolen her heart, and his, within moments of his birth.

Her weak voice called out to him once more. “Aemond, husband… look what we made.”

He was exquisite. Aemond reached out to the babe, his son, and his son's pudgy rose finger latched onto his long, sturdy one as he continued to cry. “He has a strong grip. He shall be a storied warrior." She smiles at the possibility, and he cannot help but kiss her hand once more.

"You’ve given birth to a boy as strong as you are, wife.” He watched as she nudged her nose to the babe’s and smiled, her face glistening from sweat and tears. His newborn son’s cries got louder with each passing moment, but despite being a man of silence and solitude, Aemond had never felt more at peace.

“Thank you.”

Aemond would be the first to deny that he was a doting paragon of a husband that the bards would sing about, but he certainly was a good man who loved and respected his wife.

In the days that followed the birth of his child, he had spent every waking moment that he could spare with the pair of them. Both mother and son had the fierce One-Eyed Prince wrapped around their fingers. Between sparring sessions and battling his family’s idiosyncrasies on the daily, his little family had given him quite the reprieve, one that he was infinitely thankful for.

But now, his son is gone, and his wife is too.

“The heirs need to be kept safe. The twins, little Maelor, all three of them,” his mother said.

He may be in the middle of a war, but it was moments like these that seemed hardest to him. Aemond sat quietly by the hearth, in the very same chair where he always rested. His wife used to sit by him or at his feet as she embroidered. Now, her absence was a gaping hole each time he sat.

“Aemond…”

He turned to the sound of his grandfather calling out his name, looking cold and calculated. It did not escape Aemond that he was discussing the safety of his brother's children while he had lost his own child. The irony of it all was stark and jarring.

“Yes,” he curtly responded.

“It is in our best interests that you…” His grandfather paused midway through his words, and Aemond knew well that the man did that only when unsettling news was to follow. “...that you take a new wife. We’re in need of an alliance, and she can be sent to the motherhouse at Oldtown. She will be cared for, she will be fed-”

He saw red. “My son is dead!” The words tumbled out of Aemond’s mouth like shards of glass before he could even comprehend the gravity of his grandfather’s heavy, cutting words.

"My son’s death is on my conscience, his blood is on my hands. I did not do the deed myself, but it certainly feels like I was the one who wielded the knife that killed him.” The people had taken to calling him a kinslayer, and Aemond felt it in his bones everyday - not because of Lucerys Velaryon, but because of how his rash actions had resulted in the death of his little boy.

“My son is dead, and my wife has not been the same ever since. How do you think I can start a new family, with a new woman, when I know very well that I have caused all the grief that has driven my wife to madness? When I caused the death of my own child?”

Aemond Targaryen always made for a menacing sight, but his grandfather was not prepared for the kind of anger that his grandson had kept stored in him - for himself, his wife, and his son. They were not here, and he was angry enough for all three of them.

The Dowager Queen watched the entire conversation unfold, and she held her hand to her chest, feeling her heartbeat become frantic with each moment that she saw her son in distress. She knew how content he was in his wife's presence, and how much he loved her. To watch a child grow and fester in his own resentment - no mother should have to witness it. And yet, the Gods saw fit to give Alicent Hightower the closest view to her son's heartbreak.

“Get out,” he seethed. Otto Hightower took Aemond’s raw and angry words in stride before walking away, his head still held high.

His mother stood in front of him, held his hand and kissed him on the cheek. “I’m sorry, my boy. I’m so sorry…”

She wept until she could not, and it took everything Aemond had in him to not do the same.

When he tossed and turned in his bed in the middle of the night, he would always reach out for her.

She would always welcome his touch and curl into him, her forehead resting on the smooth planes of his chest and her warm breath making goosebumps rise on his skin. He would hold her tight until neither could ascertain where one ended and the other began, and sleep that normally eluded him would come to him faster than anything else.

Tonight, her spot on the bed is empty.

When he woke in a hurry, he noticed the crumpled sheets and the pillows left askew, the only evidence of her having retired to bed alongside him. He quickly rose from the bed and tried to calm his rapidly beating heart, wondering as to where she could have gone at this ungodly hour.

Gods, was she hurt?

He did not have to wait for the divine deities to answer, for his answer came in the form of the sweet humming sounds that he had grown to love. He followed her voice as he walked through their apartments, and it led him to the chamber where his son’s crib was kept. She was sitting next to it in her white shift, her head peeping in as she let her hands rest on the crib. She hummed softly and happily, marveling at how beautiful her little boy looked as he slept - looking much like the man she shared her bed with.

Aemond wanted to ask her to come back to bed immediately. The maesters had advised lots of rest for his wife, given the stress of the labors and the damage her body had taken. But as he watched her and his boy, he knew he couldn’t. He needed a moment to drink in the sight of his wife and son - his entire world, all in one chamber.

He held so much love in his heart for them both despite seeing them only with one eye. Perhaps he’d be able to love them more if he could see them with two.

“He’s going to be there when we wake, wife. Come back to bed.”

She turned to him and smiled, a warm smile that he wished he could brand into his mind for all eternity. “Did I wake you?”

“You did not. Your absence from our bed did.”

She chuckled softly, and he walked over to her. He positioned himself behind her chair and kissed her temple, letting his hands rest on her shoulders. “I don’t think I shall ever tire of looking at him,” She said.

“Hm.” His gaze rested on the sleeping babe, tired from all his crying throughout the day.

“My son, a dragon prince,” She mused. “He’ll be charming, strong and intelligent, just like his father.”

At that, he chuckled darkly and she rose, turning around to face him. Her hand found his cheek and he leaned into her touch, leaving a light kiss on her wrist as he held her hand in place. “What’s so amusing, husband?”

“Charming is not the first word anyone would use to describe me, wife.”

“Well, you are. To me.” Her whispering siren-like voice was like music to his ears.

She reached up on her toes and left a light kiss on his brow, and Aemond was quick to hold her to him by the waist, wanting to have this - this quiet solace - all to himself for a time.

Who was he to argue with the woman around whom his entire world revolved? The very one that held his heart in her hands?

He stands in the middle of what used to be their shared chambers and sighs.

The entire room is covered in pieces of her - fragments of her that he desperately clings to for dear life. Robes and dresses that she had not worn in a long time, but still manage to somehow retain her scent. Quills and ink that she used to write her correspondence with, now left to gather dust. Ten Thousand Ships, her favorite book, one that he had given to her as a name day present, laid abandoned on the bedside table.

This was the very same chamber where he had claimed her. This was where he had first admitted to loving her. This was where she had told him that she was with child. This was where they had spent countless nights talking well into the night, their bodies entwined and voices coming out in hushed whispers and low giggles. This was where they had discovered and learned of the passions of the marital bed, together. This was where their marriage had grown and bloomed.

If he walks a little further, his feet will take him to the adjoined room where his son used to sleep - but try as he might, he does not have the strength for that. Not yet.

He sits by the edge of their bed, the sunlight passing through the windows in streaks of yellow gold. He closes his good eye, hoping for a little time to adjust to the light. Perhaps if he closes it hard enough, he will be able to picture her sitting by the window with her focused eyes trained on her embroidery or one of his books, waiting for him to come back to her after his daily duties.

His nose flares at the unearthly reminder that his wife is no longer his by side. She had been full of happiness and life, and she had brought light into his life. He welcomed it for as long as she was around, but now that she was gone, he closes his eye and avoids it like the plague, much like he does with the sunlight that now warms his skin.

Her world has become dark because of him. How can he sit in the light in good conscience, when he knows he has lost all right to it?

The waves crashed by the shores of Blackwater Bay and she sat on the sands, watching them. She had a book in her hands, and a basket of food that she had the maids prepare for them to take.

Her eyes closely followed her husband as he held their baby son’s hands upright, his little pudgy feet resting over his huge boot-clad ones as he led them forward. The little boy’s gurgling and laughing echoed through the wind, and she took a bite of a juicy apple while holding a book in her other hand.

They were the picture of a happy family, the stories of whom may be immortalized in songs for years to come.

He had not yet begun to walk, and his words were all a blubbering mess - but Aemond Targaryen was not known for being patient. He insisted on guiding his son to his feet so his first steps would come to him quicker, and spoke to him in High Valyrian in hopes that his first words would be in his native tongue.

Her boys had walked all the way toward her with her baby’s toes pressing onto Aemond’s feet harshly. He picked him up and held him then, and his son’s hands landed on his eyepatch. It had become his favorite little plaything these days - the boy took to wrangling it off his father’s head and swinging it with his two fat fingers until he grew tired - that was if he did not notice the sapphire first. By the Gods, if he did, he would insist on taking that off to play with too. His son, like him, had a taste for the finer things in life, it would seem.

“He’s taken well to the waters, I think,” she said. Her fondness for the little lad and her husband was evident in her face as she watched them. Her son had taken to swinging his arms in all directions, occasionally hitting his father’s face.

“Water does not mix with fire and blood. He should not be taking so well to the waters.”

“Suppose he can embrace it all then. Perhaps he’s… special.” She rose to meet her son’s eyes, leaving a kiss on his cheek. The boy smiled, a handful of his father’s alabaster hair in his hands as he pulled. Aemond winced, and she giggled.

“Zaldrītsos…” Aemond murmured, a quiet plea to his son to stop. It fell on deaf ears, but he did not mind. [Little dragon]

A maid had come to inform them that their presence was requested in the keep, and Aemond handed the boy over to her before walking back to give his wife his hand. He pressed a kiss to her knuckles and rubbed her hand with his before leading them away, their steps slow and relaxed.

“We should have another,” she said. Her smile, the source of all his content, was as bright as the sun. “You should take me tonight,” she murmured then, eyes quickly blackened by lust. He watched as the girl with childish wonder transformed into a seductress, and he lost even before he tried - defeat had never felt sweeter.

He could never deny her anything she wanted.

“Do you want me, wife?” He muttered darkly as he halted his steps, turning towards her. He held her by the waist and kissed her brow, waiting for her to respond.

“I always want you,” she murmured, eyes fluttering at the closeness of his lips. Her bright eyes sought his lilac one as the sound of the waves rippled through the air. “I also want to bear you another child. Would you like that, husband? Another little babe for us to love…”

He nodded and kissed her, pouring all his passion into it as he devoured her lips. “You do look beautiful, belly round and full with my child.”

That night, he choked her name out like an urgent prayer while he spilled into her, his peak following soon after hers. He then peppered kisses across her face and neck as the smell of sweat and coupling engulfed them, while she held onto his hair and let her hand wander over it in a soothing manner. He rubbed a hand over her belly, praying that his seed had taken. If not, he would seek her out and touch her everywhere once more - he would never be tired of her.

If another child was what she desired, then she shall have it - for how could he ever deny her?

The burns and injuries had ruined any spirit Aegon may have had as King.

He had watched his brother as he grew into a fierce protector of his family soon after being crowned. Ser Criston had made clear the dangers that they posed to Rhaenyra with their very existence, and it was all Aegon needed to grow into his role as the rightful monarch. However, he had gotten ahead of himself and underestimated his skills as a dragonriding fighter and gotten himself hurt.

Aemond’s role as Prince Regent was something that he slid into seamlessly - he had always known that he was the better fit for the throne after all. His first action was to ensure the safety of his own wife, Helaena and her three children.

“They’ve been moved to our father’s old chambers. Deep in the Holdfast, far away from any possible intru-”

“I know where the chambers are, Aemond. Will you shut up? You’re giving me a headache.” Aegon interrupted, words slurred as he sipped on Arbor Red. The wine sloshed in the cup as it moved in his unsteady hands.

His eyes were trained on his brother, a tired and tested man who was now incharge of running a Kingdom. Aegon knew that the crown was heavy, but it did not compare to the weight of the world that Aemond always carried on his shoulders. It only seemed to have gotten worse since his son’s death and his wife’s isolation.

“Does she fare any better?”

“No.” It is all Aemond wishes to say on the matter.

While he may not want to speak of the family he had lost, Aemond knew that he would protect those he was left with every breath in his body if need be. He may not have been there for his little boy, but he would die before he let a hair on any of his remaining family members’ heads be touched. The regret of being an inadequate husband and father pricked at him like the heat from the bright blaze of the fire in the hearth, and he walked out with purpose.

He knew where he was going next. After all, his feet always carried him to her at nightfall.

When Aemond came home dripping wet from the rain that had drenched him at Storm’s End, he was convinced that he had ruined everything good that he had. He could not imagine a simple scratch on his little boy without feeling angered - how could he expect Rhaenyra to simply accept her son’s death?

He had to get them safe. He had to keep them safe. He had to keep them safe. Safe, safe, safe.

She had just left the babe with the nursemaid and come to their chambers to find a moment of quiet before her son’s inevitable crying began again. Her eyes widened when she opened the door to find her husband completely drenched, looking like he was inviting death with open arms. He may as well have.

“Aemond..” She rushed to him immediately, hands going to his damp hair and clothes. “Gods did it rain on your ride back home? Let me fetch you some clean clothes and something to dry yourself with.” He reached out to her before she could go too far, and she gasped at how cold his touch was.

It was always warm, and tonight it was not.

“Stay, please.”

“I need you to put on something warm first, Aemond. You’ll catch a chill.”

She was too distracted by his wet state to notice the tears mixed with the raindrops. He said nothing as she walked away and brought back fresh garb for him to change into. She quietly bade that he raise his arms and he obeyed, not having the strength to do anything else. Slowly, each garment fell with a wet thwack to the floor and she took to wiping all the water off of him.

His grave silence unnerved her immensely, and she knew something was wrong. She would wait for him to say it.

She dressed him in a linen undershirt and breeches and took him to his beloved chair by the fire, in hopes that it would warm him up and encourage him to tell her of what plagued him. He sat in silence for a long while as she sat cross-legged on the floor, her forehead leaning on one of his thighs while her finger drew mindless patterns on the other.

His hand always reached for her hair when they sat like this, but tonight, that was not the case. She looked up at him with inquiring eyes, and as he caught her vision with his one eye, he did not have the heart to tell her what he had done, but he had to.

“I killed Lucerys Velaryon.” His voice is hoarse and the words are choked out with difficulty, and while the weight of his actions hit him hard, it was harder to watch his sweet wife’s concerned face morph into something else entirely.

“What?”

“He was sent as an envoy. I only meant…” He gulped, and the tears fell freely once more.

She quickly lifted herself up and straddled him, holding his face in both her hands. Her fingers caught every tear that fell in quick succession. “Tell me, go on.”

“I only meant to scare him. I need you to believe me, I did not mean to kill him.”

Her husband was a proud man, and it made her stomach churn to see him sound so broken. She feared that she may not like what she was about to hear, but she had promised to be his other half for all his life, and now he needed her.

He may be fearsome, but he was not a cold-blooded murderer. He did not mean to kill him - but how much weight did his intent hold, now that the boy was dead?

“I believe you. Go on.”

“The dragons…” He let out a hoarse breath and she continued to wipe at his tears with the tips of her thumbs - softness that he right now felt very undeserving of. “Arrax breathed fire at Vhagar and she retaliated, she bit into the dragon’s neck and Luke fell, so did Arrax.”

She felt light headed with worry. How could she stomach the thought of a young boy falling to his death from the skies? How could she, when she was a mother to a little boy herself?

His uncle, Daemon, was going to come for them, Aemond was sure of that. But he could not bring himself to think of much else as he watched his wife digest all that he had told her, never once ceasing to remind him that she believed him, even if nobody else would.

When they rose, Aemond’s anger knew no bounds. The possible consequences ran through his mind as he pushed his desk onto the floor with brute force. The sharp edges of her vanity had drawn blood from the back of his hand as he moved in frustration, and she was quick to hold onto him and remind him of her presence. He was not alone, he had her.

“Take me. Take it out on me.” Aemond could not think straight, and she could not bear to see him hurt himself, any more than he already has. It is this very thought that drives her to take his hand and lay it upon her clothed chest.

He took her from behind that night, hands clutching onto her bouncing breasts. Every string that was stretched had snapped with each rough thrust into her, the sounds of skin slapping skin somehow seeming too rough that night. “We’re going to be fine, wife,” he groaned - and she did not know whom he was trying to placate - her, or himself?

“I will keep you safe, the both of you.”

When he was done with her, she was left looking ragged with dried tear tracks on her face. He wanted to apologize - it seemed as though he hurt everything he touched, and after his now dead Stong nephew, his own sweet wife was his latest victim.

She held him between her breasts that night as they both wept, at a loss for words at what he had done. She did not know how to comfort him or rid him of the guilt or paranoia that his mind now played host to.

What she did know is that her husband needed her, and that she was not going anywhere. So when he suggested sending her and their son away, fearing for her safety, she begged him to let her stand by his side.

“If something were to happen to me, there would be nobody to protect you and our boy.”

“If something were to happen to you, our son and I would much rather follow you than brave many years alone.”

He reluctantly gave in, thinking that an increased guard and his constant presence around them would be enough to keep them unharmed.

How wrong he was.

He had walked away only for a moment.

His wife had wanted to eat some cake during the night - he suspected that she was with child again. Little did he know that it was the last moment of their happy marriage. The sight that he had walked back into was something that would never fail to haunt him.

Dead guards, a whole litany of them. His wife in her bloodied white shift, holding onto their son’s decapitated body. All the light in her eyes had dimmed as he stood frozen in place, his eye widened at the harrowing sight before him.

She wailed as she clutched the corpse to her chest, with no care for the injuries on her own body, or the blood of their babe that was now mixed in with her own.

“My boy, my precious boy…”

The rest of the royal family soon followed and his mother pulled her away from the babe’s lifeless body. He fell to the floor with no one to hold him, and Aemond could do nothing but watch. Aegon’s angry calls for his nephew’s head to be brought back along with the killers slipped into one ear and slipped out the other, and he went numb as he realized that the consequences of his actions had caught up to him.

Him, he could understand. But his sweet wife, his little son? What had they done?

A son for a son.

The rational part of his mind would have argued that Luke’s death probably left Rhaenyra feeling the same tragedy that he was faced with - but he was anything but rational in that moment. His fists clenched as his knuckles met the wall, and Aegon had to physically restrain him from walking out to catch the rats himself.

“She needs you. She needs you. She needs you. Listen to me, Aemond!”

Helaena had collapsed onto the chair entirely, repeating ominous words that he did not register at all.

“Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese. Blood and Cheese.”

Aegon had gone to join in the hunt for his nephew’s killers, and she kept rocking herself back and forth at the sight of the blood that now painted the walls and floors of her brother’s chambers until she was led away. Aemond stood, all alone in a pool of his son’s and wife’s blood.

When the Silent Sisters were led into the chamber by his grandfather, Aemond froze. His wife had held their lifeless son to her breast as she cried, but he could not bring himself to look at him, much less touch him.

Hours later, with patches of his own son's blood soaked through his clothes, he had gone to see her. He held her in his arms as she sobbed through the night, trying to push him away with each firm hit to his chest. Aemond shushed her over and over to no avail, holding her closer each time she tried to separate herself from him. Sometime during that night, her eyes had become lifeless; a deep abyss. The sight of it finally drove him to tears too, with his good eye becoming a glistening violet ring floating in a sea of angry red.

They say madness is a slow disease, and that nobody truly knows when it begins. They were wrong. Aemond Targaryen knew very well the exact moment when the madness had sunk its claws into his wife.

It was right then as he held her, comforting her and apologizing like a madman for tainting her life with his presence.

The moonlight diverged through the stained glass windows that directly faced the room where she now resided. She had been kept in these chambers before their wedding, and she often spoke of how beautiful the lights were when they fell directly onto the corridors, reflecting the colors of the glass that they slid through. He wondered if she still thought the same. He wondered if she even looked.

In the day that followed their son’s death, they had burned their little boy and watched as his body was wheeled around the streets of King’s Landing for their benefit. Aemond had wanted to retch then, but he held his wife tight as the people empathized with the kind princess whose time as a doting mother had been brutally cut short.

She fared worse - she looked dead in her eyes, and he was sure she was lost on the inside too. He did not know if she even sensed his hold on her as she kept muttering their dead boy’s name in a series of weak whimpers.

Two days later, she had lost their second child. He held her from behind and rocked her gently as the blood flowed from between her thighs for hours, the babe coming out in clumps of bloodied skin, having never drawn breath. Every moment of his wife’s torture plagued Aemond’s existence, and he questioned his abilities as a protector while grieving his son and his unborn child all alone.

The Gods were cruel to him in their games. They made him watch as his son’s life was taken, and they took bits of his wife’s mind and soul with each passing day. He supposed that this was the hand that kinslayers were dealt.

It was a slow death for Aemond, and it had begun the day his son was killed. Now he had to watch as his once vivacious wife completely lost hold over all her senses, and lived in a world where he could not reach her.

On some days, she would receive him with love, as though his presence in her life had not destroyed her completely. He would be able to revel in her touch once more, if only to simply be able to remind himself that she was still alive - in body, if not soul. He missed her, his wife, his woman, his entire heart. But his actions had killed her from the inside - did he have a right to his yearning anymore? He did not want to know, for he feared that he may not like the answer.

On other days, she would be the complete embodiment of madness. She would fight the maesters and scream at them, begging for them to let her die and throw herself off the window. She would pull at her beautiful hair, blame him continuously and shriek, mourning the loss of their child.

When she was done, she'd lower her voice and murmur words into the air. Speaking to no one in particular, almost like a ghost, she'd fidget with her dress and say, "His body twitched after they hurt him. My baby boy suffered. Oh, my boy!"

He may not have wielded the knife that removed his head, but his actions caused it. He may as well have killed his son himself. Guilt was not an emotion that Aemond Targaryen knew well as a boy, but it was all he now knew as a grown man.

She would bawl and cry at him to go away. She would scream at him to leave her alone, and blame him for killing her children - and rightfully so. And though it pricked at his heart, he would come back every night.

He wonders how she is feeling tonight. He wishes she was ignorant and unaware, for he is desperate for her touch, her company. It has been weeks. He is brought back to reality when the Maester’s gown billows behind him in the night wind.

“Your Grace.” he bows.

“How is she?”

“Somewhat calmed tonight and not lucid, my prince.” The old man sighs before continuing. “The Princess continues to ask for her little prince. We have given her milk of the poppy, so she may fall asleep soon enough.”

“Hm.”

He is mildly relieved to hear that she is not herself tonight - for it allows him to relive some of their happier days.

In his hand is a book - Ten Thousand Ships, the very one that he had gifted her. He dismisses the maester and his stewards follow behind him. Aemond walks into the room with his mind steeled, ready to be brave - for himself and for her.

“Husband! Come, come!” Her cheery voice is not quite hers, and it unnerves Aemond - her words are not from her heart, and it takes everything in him to not fall to his knees and apologize once more for what he has done to her. “The Maester said our boy’s learning to walk! Did you see him? I was promised that you would bring him tonight! Where is he?”

Gone, where we cannot see him, he wants to say. But how could he, without wanting to throw himself at her feet in regret? “He is tired. All that walking has exhausted him.”

“I suppose, yes! They tried to force me to take that vile concoction once more tonight, I managed to push it away and evade them! Look!” His gaze follows her hand and sees the spilled milk of the poppy on the floor. His wife was a calm and steady woman, and now she was behaving like a child and mistreating maesters.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

“You should not do that, wife. It is not proper.”

He holds her hand and kisses her knuckles, before leaning his head back to look at her. Her hair has not been combed today, and he gently turns her around to run his fingers through her hair, digits trembling at touching her once more. She could come to at any moment and remember who had caused her such distress, and then she would cry until he walked away - the very real possibility rakes at Aemond, so he remains prepared for her to push him away any time now.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

"I know. I drank it the second time. I'm sorry."

He then turns her back to face him and notices the dark rims around her empty eyes. He sighs and lets out a long, heavy breath. If he was drunk enough and she was unaware, he would fool himself into thinking that they were alright. But they aren’t.

“It is time to go to bed, wife. Will you come with me?” I love you, I miss you and I am sorry. Will you come back to me? Please?

He kisses both her eyelids and leads her to the bed in her shift. He gently helps her lay down, following her immediately as he lays next to her. She leans into his hold seamlessly and he tightens his arm around her - it hurts him how despite her madness, her penchant to seek out his touch never changes.

He takes the book from the bedside table, and she squeals. “Will you read to me tonight, husband? I do love it when you read to me. Perhaps a quiet moment between the both of us before the maids bring our son back? You know how he makes a fuss and refuses to give us a moment of quiet!” She laughs, and Aemond holds his tears back once more.

“Of course.” He kisses her temple.

He begins reading and the dry sounds of his throat lull her to sleep in his arms as he rakes his fingers through her hair. When she has completely drifted away from him, he allows himself a moment of thought and kisses her on the lips - watching as she murmurs his name.

He had taken her to wife, and sworn to protect her from any harm that may come her way. In the end, the only one she had to be protected from, was himself. He failed her, and now, he would not rest until he picked up all the pieces and put her back together.

When morning comes, she may still be unconscious of her surroundings and allow him some more time, or she may be lucid and scratch at his face until he leaves her alone. The uncertainty kills him, but he will allow himself to enjoy her tonight.

It was on this very day that he had kissed her for the first time, in the Sept, between the statues of the Mother and the Father. On this day, four years ago, they were married.

And on this day, he continues to read to her because she had asked, even when she had fallen asleep - for how could he ever deny her?

BONUS CHAPTER FOR THIS FIC, HERE.

NO TAG LIST. Please follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifications for all my fic updates!

MASTERLIST

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milkyplier · 6 months ago

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Nsbfhdhsgahndhdhshshjdjdbd I laughed 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

This is amazing, Four looks so intelligent but truly he is four idiots in a trench coat 😂 i love him

Forging a New Dawn

A fic based on the Dawn pt 6 update and this post by @thepinklink!

Read on ao3

(Note: This is mildly canon-divergent. I know Jojo said that Four doesn’t hear individual conversations in his head. But his faces in this update were too good not to expound on!)

Four walked back to the inn, content with the morning's work. Blue had been ready to argue with the town's blacksmith about his “fires of Death Mountain" comment, but when Hyrule, Wind, and Warriors showed up, they’d helped him convince the man to let them use the forge.

Red was still giggling over Warriors' teamwork comment.

Now, with his brothers' help, Wild's new sword was finally ready. They’d told him how Wild had broken it the first time, and he took that into account during the reforging process. It had gone through quite the trial, just like its wielder, and it likely could still use some protective runes, but it was strong and sharp, and should withstand anything their wild hero could throw at it.

As long as no rocks are involved. Blue groused quietly.

Four flinched at the thought, making a mental note to remind the Champion of that fact.

Thanks Vio!

Good call.

He’d asked Hyrule to send Wild his way, so all there was left to do now was wait.

He rubbed carefully at Epona's nose, Red marveling at the velvet softness, until he caught quiet footsteps in the courtyard’s entrance, directly behind him.

Four turned quickly, each of the colors rejoicing when Wild stepped through the arch.

“I know why you wanted to see me,” Wild began as he approached, and the rejoicing stopped, as suddenly as if he’d run into a wall with his Pegasus boots.

Wait, how could he know?

I’m still not sure how Wars, Hyrule and Wind knew.

We did tell Wars we had something to fix. Maybe they watched us leave and followed us.

Guys shut UP he’s still talking!

“And I’m ashamed…” Wild continued.

Four's face went blank as the other three colors mentally shoved Red to the front.

What? Why me?

He said he was ashamed.

He’s displaying uncharacteristic emotion.

Yeah, that’s more your area of expertise, figure out what he’s talking about!

“…that you’re the one who had to initiate.” Wild finished his thought.

Wild paused; Blue, ever impatient, took over, raising Four's eyebrow as he continued to stare at the Champion. C'mon man, spit it out! Initiate what?! I just wanna show you your new sword!

Blue, calm down, he’ll tell us when he’s ready.

“Before anything, I need to formally apologize.” Wild placed his hand on his chest in a gesture of earnestness.

Wait guys, listen, he said apologize.

What does he have to apologize for?

Four thought back to the events of the last few days, until it finally clicked for Blue. His eyes widened involuntarily. Oh yeah! He pushed us! I almost forgot I was still angry about that!

OOOOOHHHHH!

Blue, move over before you say something you’ll regret.

Vio took over, folding Four's arms and adopting an unimpressed expression. “I’m listening,” he said out loud.

Wild nervously rubbed the back of his neck before he forged ahead. “Look, I’m sorry for shoving ya,” he said, gesturing at Four as he spoke. “Honestly, that warranted an all-out brawl.”

Yeah it did.

Hush, Blue, he’s still talking.

“Thanks for going easy on me,” Wild finished, although his expression was still wary.

Ha! He’s scared of us, Blue mentally crowed before he slipped in next to Vio to get his two rupees out. “Just don’t let it happen again."

“You knew he was in rough shape…” Wild looked tired, worn-down. “…we had no idea…last we saw he was down, but…” he took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. He closed his eyes and shook his head before continuing. “Sheesh…not like that…nothing would have prepared me for that.”

A flicker of empathy rushed through Four, Green taking primary position as he usually did when no particular emotion was running high. “It was a close call,” he agreed.

“I’m sorry too,” Four said, kicking a pebble he found by his boot. “Turns out you knew how to motivate him – well, really ALL of us.”

Wild's outstretched left hand surprised him. He followed the arm up to Wild's face. His expression was hard to interpret.

Friendly!

Trusting.

Reconciliatory.

What does that even mean, Vio? Forgiving.

Four snickered to himself before grasping Wild's hand and giving it a firm shake. “Teamwork is…a different sort of journey, isn’t it?”

Wild's expression turned incredulous and maybe a bit accusatory. “One you’re accustomed to?” he asked, eyebrow raised.

The colors remained silent for a moment, processing…whatever Wild meant by that.

Oh.

What, Vio?

He means us splitting.

Red and Blue shared Four's grin, resulting in something the rest of the Chain would consider peak gremlin energy. “Yes.”

Wild looked around…well, wildly…causing Four to burst into laughter as he asked, “I just want to know…That was magic, right? There isn’t three more of you hidden somewhere, right?” He looked desperate to understand. “Or has there been quadruplets this whole time?”

“No!” Four was quick to reassure his brother, placing his own hand on his chest. “I am one. No different than the rest of you.”

“Phew!” Wild exclaimed, scratching his face. “You’ll have to explain that one to us all.” He chuckled a bit. “Well, I’m thinking the sword name makes sense now.”

Ha! Perfect opening, thanks Champ! Blue took over, excited to finally share what they’d been working on. “Speaking of swords…” he turned to rummage through his pack. “This is the real reason I wanted to see you.”

He turned back to Wild, catching the tail end of Wild's dumbfounded expression as he held the newly forged sword forth.

Here you go, Champ.

Hope you like it!

We had fun working on this.

Please. No rocks.

Externally, Four stayed silent, enjoying his brother's wonder.

#I would like to make a disclaimer and day #I understand this is a purposeful divergence from canon Four #for the sake of comedy #not because it’s a problem!#but because I’m a snob about the canon 😂#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu four #lu wild #ashie child ❤️

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navybrat817 · 10 months ago

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Dark and Light

Pairing: Winter Soldier x Female Reader, Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: You learn the real reason why Hydra wants to keep you.

Word Count: Over 2.65k

Warnings: Threat of dubcon/noncon, minor character death, violence, canon divergent, captivity, brainwashing, slight feels (it's me, okay?), Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: It's been almost 3 years since the last part of Soldat and Sparrow. Are you lovelies still interested? ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @silkholland . Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

The cell they kept you in this time was larger than your last. It didn't make it any less uncomfortable. The thick gray walls surrounding you made the room suffocatingly quiet and hollow. You only knew the color thanks to the singular lightbulb in the center of the ceiling, too high for you to try and make a weapon out of the glass. Without windows, you didn't know it was dark or light outside.

There was no escape, but you couldn't give up hope.

It was maddening not knowing the time of day as you played the waiting game on the worn mattress in between meals and sleeping. The screams of your lover played on a morbid loop in your mind and you had to will yourself to not let tears surface. Other than temporary relief for your emotions and aching heart, crying would do you no good. It never did.

What you needed to do was focus.

The man on the bridge.

He triggered something inside of the Winter Soldier. Something Hydra wanted to keep locked away. But what was it?

Bucky. He called him Bucky. He knew him. But how?

Two hard knocks on the door pushed the thought away before it swung open. Narrowing your eyes as Brock walked in, you wondered if he could’ve been a good man in another life and fought for the people who needed it most the way he pretended to. This wasn’t that life though. He chose his side.

The wrong side.

“You know, I don’t get it,” he said, crossing his arms as he stood in the doorway. He didn’t hide the lust from his eyes as he looked you over. “I mean, the Asset does his job well, but it’s like he forgets all about being a soldier when he’s deep in your pussy.”

“What can I say? I guess my pussy’s just that good,” you sneered, not in the mood for his taunts or anything else.

“Is that right? Maybe he should fuck your ass next to get the stick out of it,” he snapped back. “Or are you too stuck up for that?”

Pierce had a range of prostitutes lined up to satisfy his soldiers, but Brock didn’t hide how pissed off he was that you were “given” to the Asset after that fateful training day. He claimed it was special treatment. He dropped the issue almost as quickly as it was brought up, which led you to believe he was either reprimanded or given something to shut him up.

“Is that what bothers you, Rumlow? That I'd rather fuck him than you?” You asked, tilting your head as you regarded him. “And just so we’re clear, I’ll never want you.”

Brock clenched his fists as he took a step forward. “You really are a fucking-”

“Let her be,” a melodic voice ordered behind him, making you stiffen as he moved out of the way.

The doctor, or Doc as most called him, stepped into the room with a kind smile on his face. Unassuming in stature, you knew better from the start than to judge him by appearance. The man was a snake in the grass ready to spread his venom to unsuspecting victims.

“How are you?” He asked.

You kept your eyes on him as he moved closer, doing your best not to show any emotion. The doctor somehow made you more uncomfortable than Rumlow and that said something. “How do you think I'm doing?”

“Hmm. Not well, I'm sure.”

“You guessed correctly,” you said.

You didn’t know why he bothered asking. Maybe he thought he was better than the others because he didn't physically hurt you. If anything, his indifference to the evil around him made it worse. It told you that he either justified or accepted it.

Either way, he disgusted you.

“Don't worry. You'll have the Soldat back soon and I’m sure you'll feel all better,” he assured you.

“You wiped him,” you reminded him, your voice cracking.

His screams echoed in your mind again, your heart aching as you tried to block it out. When pain knocked on the door, it didn't wait for an answer. It broke it down and made itself at home. But in the pain Hydra inflicted, the soldier found solace with you and you found the same with him. The light for each other within the darkness.

While you failed to protect him and couldn't stop what they did to his mind, you had to believe you’d help heal his soul once you had him back.

“We did indeed as we have many times.”

You knocked his hand away as he tried to place it on your shoulder, your stomach turning from his words. “Don't touch me.”

He held his hands up in surrender as he took a step back. “I mean no harm.”

“All of you mean harm,” you whispered.

The Soldat was your only bright spot in this nightmare. Ironic that he thought you were fire, bright and warm. The truth was you burned because of him. He was your eternal fuel that made the flames grow.

“I only want what is best for you,” Doc argued, his eyes void of any emotional depth behind his rimless glasses.

“Liar,” you whispered.

An exasperated sigh left his lips. “Now, now. I really do want what’s best for you. Don't you realize how important you are?”

“I'm not important,” you said. You never were. “Pierce made it clear that I don't have a purpose.”

But if that was the case, why were you still alive?

The doctor's chuckle made your blood run cold. “That's what he wants you to think. You see, the more they cut you down and make you question your worth, the easier it becomes for you to comply. Because by that point you’re so desperate for survival you'll do what is asked of you,” he explained, pushing his glasses up. “Yet you still only comply to an extent. It’s rather fascinating.”

He stared at you like you were a bug under a magnifying glass. And wasn’t that what you were to him? An experiment or something for him to study? “I haven't complied. I won't.”

“Oh, but you have,” Brock chimed in. You almost forgot he was still in the room. “Those missions you completed. The lives you took.”

Bile rose in your throat as images of violence and blood flashed in your mind. They would haunt you for the rest of your days. “No, I didn't want to hurt anyone.”

“Of course, you didn't. It’s as I said: desperation. You did what you had to do to survive,” the false sympathy from Doc grated on your nerves. “Don't let the weight of those souls wear you down. They were meaningless. But you? Oh, you are meant for more.”

He attempted to touch you again, but his hand moved toward your stomach this time instead of your shoulder. “I said don't touch me!” you snapped, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you. As much as you wanted to hurt him, Brock was still there and could do a lot of damage.

The doctor pressed his lips together before he smirked. “Pierce and Rumlow are right. You have a hold on him. Even with his programming and orders, it all comes back to you,” he said, your body going rigid. Where was he going with this? “And it’s you that we want to carry his child.”

Your stomach churned again, but you weren’t sure if it was more at the thought that he wanted to force a child on you or that he’d try and force your soldier to impregnate you. “Care to repeat that?”

“You’re going to carry his child. You’re going to give birth to the perfect soldier. And you’ll keep doing so,” he said slowly like you were a petulant child, standing tall and proud as your mouth fell open in horror. “You’re the perfect incubator.”

Your stomach sank as you looked between him and Brock, wishing it was a sick joke. “No, I won't.”

“You think you have a choice?” The doctor questioned nonchalantly, like he was asking what you wanted for dinner. “And do you think the Asset needs to remember exactly what you mean to him to fuck you? I guess we'll see if he does. Science versus instinct.”

The room became eerily silent as the doctor gave you his first genuine smile since he walked in. You struggled to get your bearings and process the words. That was why you were still alive. They were going to make you an incubator. Force your soldier to breed you. They would take another choice away from him. And raise your children in captivity.

In Hell on earth.

“Well, that shut the bitch up,” Brock chuckled.

Before you could think, you launched yourself from the bed. The doctor’s eyes widened as you tackled him to the ground, unable to brace himself as you landed the first blow to his face. You straddled his waist, the second hit knocking his glasses away as fury rushed through your veins like a wildfire. He didn’t try to fight you off.

You could’ve cried. Screamed. Anything to keep him from making his twisted plan a reality.

The sound of a gun cocking stopped you from hitting Doc a third time.

“I won’t kill you,” Brock said, your fist frozen in the air as you looked toward him. Your chest heaved as you stared down the barrel of the gun. “But I’ll make it hurt if you don’t get up.”

“Go ahead,” you said through clenched teeth.

The doctor coughed, but held up a hand. “No shooting,” he croaked as you looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “No harming her.”

Brock’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of his head. “She can still lie down and take a cock if-”

None of you could have foreseen the metal hand punching through the wall. Before you could blink, the hand closed around Brock’s shoulder and pulled him through, his cry of pain silenced almost immediately by the sound of a gunshot. The doctor beneath you was long forgotten as you scrambled to your feet just in time to see your soldier step into the room through the hole, his face obscured by his typical mask and goggles.

But you felt his gaze on you as he stood like a dark angel ready to avenge you.

Hope launched into your chest like a shooting star as you smiled. “Soldat,” you whispered.

He came for you. Found you. But the star that filled your heart quickly faded when he didn’t move toward you or say “Sparrow”.

The dread grew stronger when he holstered his gun and took out his signature knife.

Was this the beginning of the end?

The doctor smiled as he wiped the blood from his lap and slowly stood up. “You really think he’s here to save you? Oh, no. He just doesn’t want any competition near his breeding partner,” he taunted as your eyes stung. “Back from your assignment early, Soldat? Good. Now you can complete your mission.”

The Winter Soldier tilted his head before he took a step forward.

You remained rooted to the spot, casting your fear that he’d force himself on you aside. “Bucky,” you said, using the name you heard. His real name. A tear rolled down your cheek when he flinched and tightened his fingers around the handle. “I’m not going to fight you. Or hurt you. Do you know why?”

Another step forward, your heart pounded as you stood as still as a statue. “Why?” He asked, the word clear to you through his mask.

The tears flowed freely as he stopped in front of you and slipped his goggles off, your heart breaking when he dispassionately looked at you. “Because I’m your Sparrow. Remember? My fire burns for you and you only,” you told him and pointed to your chest. You needed him to remember. “We swore we’d be free together. Somehow.”

“Don’t listen to her. Breed her and be done with it,” the doctor ordered.

The soldier’s brows furrowed before his metal hand came up around your neck, not squeezing or bringing you any harm.

But it felt like a warning.

“You won’t hurt me,” you breathed out, placing your hand on his arm as you kept your panic at bay. “They won’t break me. And I won’t leave you,” you promised, echoing his words when he took you the first time. “I’m yours.”

No matter what they forced him to do to you, he would never be to blame.

The doctor had the gall to smack the flesh arm when he made no move to shove you down on the bed or remove your clothes. “Finish your mission. Now.”

“It’s okay,” you mouthed.

Somehow, it would be okay.

“My mission…” the soldier began mechanically, not taking his eyes off you as he plunged the knife into the doctor’s jugular. You weren’t sure you could breathe. “Is to keep my Sparrow safe.”

An intake of air caught your sob as the metal hand fell away, the doctor collapsing as he tried in vain to stop the blood from leaving his body. It was useless. And a kinder death than he deserved.

“Hail,” he gurgled, his fingers stained red. “Hydra.”

“Just shut up and die,” you snapped as your soldier ripped his mask off. “Soldat,” you said, softer, almost crying all over again.

“Sparrow,” he whispered.

There was nothing gentle or sweet in the way pressed his lips to yours, but it was warm and safe as he pulled you against you. Your arms slipped around him as you returned the kiss, your cheeks still wet from crying. For a second there, you thought you’d lost him. For once, fate decided not to be cruel to you.

It brought you back together.

“I’m sorry I couldn't get to you sooner,” he said when he allowed you a moment to breathe, quickly scanning as much of you as he could. “Did they hurt you?”

“No, I’m okay. I just thought…” you trailed off with a shake of your head. “You came back to me.”

But how?

“I’ll always find you, Sparrow,” he said, touching your cheek as your heart swelled. “Steve helped me remember a lot of things. Including you.”

“The man on the bridge? You saw him again?” You asked before an alarm sounded, the blaring force echoing in the room.

“Yes. And his friend is sending reinforcements, so we need to go,” he said over the noise, nudging the doctor’s body with the toe of his boot before he stepped on his glasses.

“Where are we going?” You asked.

Where could you go since you no longer had a home? You had so many questions, but understood that you’d have to wait for answers. Getting out of there in one piece was your priority.

“Somewhere safe,” he answered, fear flickering in his eyes for a moment. “Do you trust me?”

“With my life,” you promised without hesitation. And anything else you had to offer him.

The next kiss was one of gentleness, relief, and thanks. “One thing before we leave.”

“What’s that?” You asked as he took your hand.

Love and determination filled his eyes as he glanced back at you and put a gun in your other hand. “We burn it down.”

You could hardly contain the fire inside you as you smiled. “Together.”

You didn’t know what the reinforcements would do or what would await you once you got out. It didn’t matter. Your soldier found his way back to you and you would follow wherever he went. The two of you would finally leave Hydra behind.

In a pile of rubble and ash.

But you’d find out soon enough that the man on the bridge wouldn't let your soldier go either.

I'll try not to let so much time pass before the next update. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

931 notes · View notes

wangxianficfinder · 2 months ago

Text

In the mood for...

Sep 23rd

~*~

1. Hi! This is for ITMF. Is there a fic where WWX's friends and family throw children to him either to cheer him up/to calm him/to make him stay put? Its okay if its just mentioned once. Please dont make the children as hostages. Thanks

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence) The Wen throw A-Yuan a few times so he can keep still & recover from injuries

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) people use A-Yuan to make WWX calm down when he's struggling with his temper post-war

Go Hiking With a Blindfold On by Hauntcats (Not Rated, 12k, WangXian, WWX & JC, WWX & WQ, Not JC Friendly, Time Travel Fix-It, No Golden Core Transfer, Canon JC Characteristics)

we’re starting at the end by Miss_Enthusiasimal (M, 92k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Golden Core Reveal, Burial Mounds, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Starvation, emaciation, Cannibalism, Self-Harm, Amputation, Suicidal Thoughts, Sunshot Campaign, let JZX and WWX be friends club) chapter 7 onward

leave all your love and your longing behind by ScarlettStorm (E, 143k, WangXian, Modern AU, no magic, Meet-Ugly, Panic Attacks, autistic lwj, neurodivergent wwx, the neighborhood asshole dog, if you’ve met one then you know, Hurt/Comfort, Pining, Minor Angst, major shenanigans, Happy Ending, for everyone including the asshole dog, Eventual Smut, switch rights, Sex Toys, horny yearning, Masturbation) Wwx is homeless and crashing with wq and wn and about to bolt again when wen popo puts a crying a-yuan in his arms so she can cook. Wwx tells this to lwj about his past and how he came to be a parent in a sort of queer platonic arrangement with the wens! Love this fic ive reread it so many times 🤩

~*~

2. hello! Are there any junior quartet shenanigan fics? I want a fic where they are the main or secondary focus :))

matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match by mowochi (T, 21k, LJY & LSZ & OYZZ & JL, JC/NHS, post-canon, outsider pov, canon compliant, matchmaking, fluff, junior quartet dynamics, family bonding, JL pov, getting together)

Lan Sizhui’s Guide to Courtship by Kimblydot (T, 22k, ZhuiYi, WangXian, Friends to Lovers, Falling In Love, Courtship, Misunderstandings, Aged-Up Character(s), Post-Canon, Ensemble Cast, 5+1 Things, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Light Angst, Confessions, Junior Quartet, Fluff)

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, WWX & the Junior Ensemble, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, background wangxian, BAMF!WWX, Humor)

🔒 best friends forever by varnes (T, 16k, WangXian, JL/LJY, JC & WWX, Arranged Marriage, Yungmeng Sibling Reconciliation, Juniors shenanigans)

Onomastic Exercise With The Juniors by ssuibian (G, 1k, Humor, Underage Drinking, (but no one gets drunk), JC has had enough, lots of teasing, Junior Quartet Dynamics, The Juniors are OT4, Перевод на русский | Translation in Russian available)

🔒 For Great Justice by aubreyli (G, 8k, WangXian, Humor, Teenage Rebellion, Social Justice, Vigilantism, JL is ancient Chinese Zorro, WWX is everyone's favourite qianbei, The ducklings create the Justice League, OYZZ will probably take over the world one day, Friendship, There should be more fics about friendship, Post-Canon, Podfic Available)

Time, Time, Time by skeletonofaplant (G, 44k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LSZ & WWX, JYL & JL & JZX, LJY & LSZ, Time Travel Fix-It, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Identity Porn, Identity Reveal, Angst, Fluff, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Time Travelling Junior Ensemble, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, Humor)

🔒❤️ kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by AlfAlfAlfAlfAlf, tardigradeschool (T, 75k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Eventual Happy Ending, Getting Together, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Inspired by The Parent Trap (1998), Kid Fic, teen shenanigans, two a-yuans, Fluff and Angst, [Podfic] kick at the darkness ‘til it bleeds daylight by contributor-sky (deepestbluesky), esbielle was also here (esbielle), glittercracker, GodOfLaundryBaskets, jellyfishfire, kisahawklin, Koontyme, Rionaa, semperfiona))

House Named Whatever by liverbiver9 (T, 17k, LJY & WWX, WangXian, ZhuiYi, Modern AU, Modern with Magic, Trans WWX, Found Family, POV LJY, Hurt/Comfort, mild body horror, suibian as a house, Magical Realism, Fairy Tale Curses, Cursed WWX, Smitten LWJ, Lesbian WQ, Trans WN, witch wq, Witch WWX, Fierce Corpse WN, Bad Parent YZY)

🔒 how to make your dad fall in love with your high school teacher in five steps; the complete and bulletproof guide by ravenditefairylights (T, 90k, wangxian, modern, coffee shop au, nonbinary LSZ, hurt/comfort, trauma, past abuse, past domestic violence, healing, hurt WWX, found family, hospitalization, therapy, single parent WWX, pining, teacher LWJ, unreliable narrator, chronic pain, queer platonic relationship, genderfluid WWX, autistic LWJ, fluff & angst)

Lan Jingyi and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Road Trip by scribblemetimbers (T, 26k, Junior Ensemble & LWJ, WWX & Junior Ensemble, Magic, Creatures & Monsters, Demonic Cultivation, Modern, Action/Adventure, Hijinks & Shenanigans, YLLZ RIGHTS, The Junior Ensemble Love WWX, Identity Reveal, Secret Identity, but only bcoz in any universe ever these kids r always gonna look at wwx and go'wow he's shaped like a dad', and imprint accordingly, Pre-Relationship, for wangxian specifically bcoz listen, if ur life's work is RIGHT THERE and he's like ur soulmate, why would u NOT be with him?? Yes?? Yes)

~*~

3. Hello I was wondering if you could make a comp of WWX becoming a god? Like after the siege he becomes one.

🔒💖 Calling Heaven by mondengel (Not Rated, 2k, WangXian, God AU)

In the end by apathyinreverie (T, 4k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, WWX & WN, Canon Divergence, God WWX, WWX ascends, the cultivation world hates it, but they don’t get a say, LWJ is done with the cultivation world, cultivation sect critical)

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn’t kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ)

🔒 Of Destruction and Rebirth by demoniqt (M, 88k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, major character death, rape/non-con, underage, graphic depictions of violence, Slow Burn, Canonical Character Death, God WWX, God Verse, BAMF WWX, Grieving LWJ, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon Divergence, Gods & Goddesses au, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Rabbits, Fix-It, Attempted Sexual Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Gore, Castration, Lots of it, repeatedly, Punishment, Hell)

🧡 Vow by draechaeli (E, 216k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BeliefGod!WWX, Adoption but WWX birthed them all, Pregnancy Kink, Mpreg, minor male lactation, Consensual Non-Consent, Light Bondage, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con because JGS, Mentions Canon Typical Incest, Canon Typical Violence)

💖 Somewhere Sits an Empty Throne by Siamesa (E, 19k, WangXian, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, tgcf fusion, Gods & Goddesses, Ghosts, Romance, vengeance, Dark LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Explicit Sexual Content, Angst with a Happy Ending)

~*~

4. for the next itmf: looking for some canonverse, post-canon established relationship wangxian porn without plot. ideally less than 15k, nothing going on except them filthy fucking <3 no mpreg though pls

~*~

5. Hey can you recommend some good and angst with happy ending type of nielan works but not modern please.

~*~

6. Hello ! I am looking for fics where Lan Xichen travels back in time, thank you for everything you do! @ayellenne

To Fix Your Twisted Reflection by Dgcakes (ficsnfun) (M, 167k, 3zun, time travel fix-it, slow burn, trust, healthy relationships, or at least trying) 3zun time travels

🔒💖 The blame game by apathyinreverie (T, 13k, wangxian, LXC & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WWX & WQ, LXC & WWX, canon divergence, time travel fix-it, possessive LWJ, oblivious WWX, fluff, siblings, romance, golden core reveal, golden core fix-it)

Intriguing by nirejseki (G, 6k, JGY/NMJ, NHS/LXC, Matchmaking, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Crack, a look inside NHS's brain, oblique reference to ADHD)

🔒💖 Drag Me Into Your Coffin (I Will Drag Your Sins Into the Light) by the5leggedCricket (G, 2k, canon divergence, temporary character death, time travel fix-it, BAMF LXC)

🔒💖 Alternative Choices by StarClearWaters (Readoutloud) (T, 20k, wangxian, time travel, butterfly effect, LXC pov, protective LXC, temporary character death, mpreg, panic attacks)

And Time Is But a Paper Moon by sami (M, 138k, WangXian, XiChengQing, Time Travel, Fix-It, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Healing, Mental Health Issues, PTSD, Hurt/Comfort, Depression, BAMF WWX, BAMF JC, BAMF LWJ, BAMF JYL, Getting Together) link in #1 this is similar. WWX is the one to actually travel in time, but LXC uses something similar to empathy to share his memories so he also has experienced the original timeline

3Zun Fixit AU Series by Eleanor_Fenyx (E, 132k, 3Zun, Angst with a happy ending, Time Travel, Established Relationship, Hurt/comfort, Fluff) is one where LXC isn't actually the time traveler but has him waking up in the altered timeline (at an earlier point) with all his previous memories intact so it's similar-ish?

Melody of the Lost and Found by esama (T, 48k, WIP, XiXian, WangXian, Time Travel, Canon Divergence, Grief/Mourning, YLLZ WWX, There are two WWXs in this) has both LXC and WWX time traveling to the Gusu lectures

~*~

7. ITMF: WQ and JYL bullied WWX so he can take care of himself better. If you can, where WQ and JYL worked together or they are friend (i just want WWX has his older sisters together where they are not enemy or jealous of each other, please). It doesnt have to be the focus of the story. Thanks

A Bell That Tells Us to Rise and Fight by DeerstalkerDeathFrisbee (T, 120k, WangXian, ChengQing, XuanLi, SongXiao, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Everyone Needs A Hug, Women Being Awesome, BAMF Women, Minor Character Death)

~*~

8. Hey, I'm looking for fics where it's pointed out that just because Wei Ying is smiling at someone and laughing with them and talking sweetly and complimenting them, doesn't mean he's flirting with them and trying to send signals.

Not trying to rant but I'm fed up of lan zhan accusing him of leading on people and madam yu and Jiang Cheng's opinion doesn't help.

I just need someone to point out how wrong it is.... @constellationdks

~*~

9. wangxian fix where Wei wing is a omega and lan zhan is the emperor and it’s a omega verse and af the end lanzhan turned dark @you-saidwhat

~*~

10. Hello! Thank you for all your work! I’m ITMF some cute kid fics!! I read The Simplest Way Forward by harriet_vane and I loved it so much, I need more!!

🔒 so take my hand (take my whole life too) by cicer (E, 92k, wangxian, Modern, Accidental Baby Acquisition, oh my god they were roommates, Idiots in Love, Mutual Pining, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, this fic is not about trauma, it’s about the yearning, slowburn, some characters have a pretty strong bias against folks with drug addiction, (this does not reflect the author’s opinion of people with addiction disorders!), none of the really grim abuse/drug use affects our main characters, and it takes place offscreen)

box your errors by mellowflicker (T, 42k, WangXian, Modern AU, single dad lwj, Domestic Fluff, Family Issues, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, let lwj have friends agenda, Hurt/Comfort, Pining)

my little love by mellowflicker (T, 54k, WangXian, Modern, Single Parent WWX, kindergarten teacher LWJ, Kid Fic, Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Pining)

The Late Great Custody Debate by stiltonbasket (G, 9k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, LXC/NMJ, JC & WWX & JYL, modern, Domestic Fluff, baby a-yuan, Single Parent WWX, LWJ is a confused rabbit owner, nielan are married, nhs is: xoxo gossip girl, Custody Arrangements, engagement, Confused WWX, WWX voice: if i’m the one with the kid why are you suing ME for child support?, LWJ kills his own love life in the worst way, Happy Ending)

Accidental Uncle Acquisition series by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 13k, LQR & WWX, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, Modern, Single Parent WWX, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Uncle Acquisition, Found Family, Fluff, Podfic Available, Kid Fic, Soft WangXian, Matchmaking, Humor, shark week)

🔒 Lost Boys by raitala (E, 115k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, LSZ & LWJ, Modern, Kid Fic, Gen or Pre-Slash, hints of wangxian, finding your found family, A-Yuan is a sweetie, Emotional Baggage, LWJ is on the Asexuality Spectrum, Neurodivergent LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, sugar daddy LWJ, LSZ is the bestest boi, LWJ is trying his best, WWX needs a hug, background societal homophobia, Grief/Mourning, Under-negotiated Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Mild Painplay, Sharing a Bed, Family Feels, Nice LQR, Adoption, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Spit Kink, Slow Burn)

🧡 Where’s Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending) link in #12

🧡 Yiling Salon: Hair, Nails and Piercing by TriviasFolly (T, 22k, WangXian, Modern AU, Hairstylist AU, Hairstylist WWX, 5+1 Things, Fluff, Experimental style)

🧡 your heart, two doors down by ghostsgf (G, 9k, WangXian, Modern AU, Pining, Parenting)

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11. Hii, itmf fics, definitely Canon but with additional powers other than cultivation, like elemental control and such , ( bonus if its just wwx or lwj that achieve these things) thx!

~*~

12. Hi! I don’t really know how this asking thing works but I really liked paint smears on sunny days and was wondering if you could recommend fics with similar premise or vibe? Also thank you for your hardwork in general.

我爱你 Collection of the_marathon_continues, multiple bookmarks

three stories from trippednfell have a similar vibe (but tend to have more angst than Paint Smears): 🧡 Where’s Your Emergency? by trippednfell (M, 64k, WangXian, 911 Dispatcher WWX, Single dad LWJ, Kid fic, Modern AU, D&D Games, Angst with a happy ending)

Come Around and Stay by trippednfell (M, 160k, WangXian, NieLan, Slow Burn, Kid Fic, Found Family, Modern AU, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, PTSD, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Angst with a Happy Ending, Musicals, POV Alternating, Baking, Yunmeng reconciliation (eventually), Friend Zoning, Literal Sleeping Together, Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks)

Ornaments Under the Stars by trippednfell (M, 62k, wangxian, Modern, Inspired by Hallmark Christmas Movies, the wangxian Hallmark Movie AU no one asked for, plot and title were randomly generated, Kidfic, Disabled Character, debilitating injury as substitute for missing golden core, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Angst with a Happy Ending, Guest starring Lan Zhan’s sky blue coat, The Coat deserves its own tag, disordered eating habits - not a major plot point, WIP)

~*~

13. Are there anymore fics out there like By Any Other Name by ShanaStoryteller? Fics with the premise that WWX is in MXY’s body and sort of side steps the plot? Thank y’all for all your hard work!!

~*~

14. Hiiiii, thank you for the help. I have a few different ITMF if that’s ok. A) fics about reborn WWX getting his old face and body back. It can be sudden or slowly. B) abusive Madam Yu fics where WWX is abused. C) fics where WWX has severe injuries or chronic pain from burial mounds or the war. @plzloveme

14A)

Saw My Life in a Stranger’s Face by timetoboldlygo (T, 27k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, wwx’s face changes post-canon to look like his original face, Slight Panic Attack, because lwj doesn’t recognize his husband, the mortifying ordeal of not knowing your own body, the terrifying inevitability of change, taller!wwx theory)

14B)

so i cut the shackles and changed my name by MichelleFeather (T, 30k, WangXian, LQR & LWJ, LQR & CSSR, LQR & WWX, CSSR/WCZ, WWX & The Lan Clan, WIP, WWX Leaves the Yunmeng Jiang Sect, WWX is a Lan, Good Uncle LQR, Supportive LQR, Protective LQR, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, JFM & YZY Bashing, Jiang Family Bashing, Abusive Jiang Family, Running Away, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Hurt WWX, Genius WWX, No Sunshot Campaign, Gusu Lan Sect Rules, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Cultivation Sect Politics, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Canon Divergence, Protective Gusu Lan Sect, WRH isn’t a power hungry tyrant, mostly)

Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort)

🔒💙 Holding shreds by barisan (T, 5k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, No Sunshot Campaign, Body Swap, Not for sexy shenanigans, Chronic Pain, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Abusive YZY, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Good Uncle LQR, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Inaccuracies, POV WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Jiāng Family Bashing, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Getting Together, Smart WWX)

Dispersing Clouds by dreamingofcake (E, 283k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Genius WWX, Inventor WWX, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Abusive YZY, Canonical Child Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Eventual Sex, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm (Background Character), Background Character Deaths, child deaths, Canon JC, Good Uncle LQR, Accidental Baby Acquisition, Cultivation Sect Politics, Homophobia, Heteronormativity, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Oblivious)

🔒🧡 Company by WithBroomBefore (T, 29k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, POV LWJ, Fix-It, Pre-Canon, at least to start, WWX goes to Cloud Recesses, But Not In The Usual Way, fear of character death, Everybody Lives, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Light Angst, good teacher LQR, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, brief discussion of past minor character suicide, Kitten, Not YZY Friendly)

🔒🧡 rain falls and soaks into the earth series by RoseThorne (T, 60k, WangXian, WIP, Near Death, Depression, Psychological Trauma, Justice, Fear, Angst, No War AU, Attempted Murder, Bad Parent YZY, POV Third Person, POV LXC, Podfic Available, Hurt/Comfort, Crying, Romantic Gestures, Recovery, POV LWJ, Trauma, Dissociation, Courtship, Courting Rituals, Eventual Happy Ending, Panic Attacks, Vomiting, Protective Siblings, Soup, Triggers, Protective LWJ, Protective LQR, Yúnmèng Siblings Dynamics, reference to poisoning, reference to assassination, Reference to chronic illness, reference to infanticide, Minor Injuries, Painting, Gift Giving, WWX Has a Fear of Dogs, Good Sibling JC, Good Sibling JYL, BAMF WWX, Jealous SS, WWX Protection Squad)

A Star Fell by CordialCoroner (CordialCrow) (M, 76k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, POV Multiple, Bad Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Not JC Friendly, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies, Slow Burn, Sunshot Campaign, WWX becomes a medic, Mutual Pining)

🧡🔒Truth Will Out (when caught on video) - End_OTW_Racism! by KizuKatana (E, 179k, wangxian, WN & WWX & WQ, graphic depictions of violence, modern cultivation, canon divergence, YZY abuses WWX, caught on camera, partial core removal, WWX kicked out of Jiang sect, livestreamer WWX, meet ugly, dual cultivation, smut, no war)

in case you ever foolishly forget by RavenclawLoki (E, 19k, WangXian, Arranged Marriage, Engagement, fast burn, Fluff, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Bad Person YZY, YZY Bashing, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LWJ & WWX are decent at communicating hense the fast burn, Good Uncle LQR, Canon Divergence, First Kiss, Established Relationship, BAMF JYL, she has given up on defending bad parents and we simply must support her, it's yanli's world we are just living in it, Demisexuality, Asexuality, Sex Positive Asexuality, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Soft WangXian, Implied Switching, LWJ shows love by slow blinking, Loss of Virginity, First Time, gonna add Out of Character tag to be safe regarding YL)

14C)

🔒 How to Treat Your Injured Yiling Laozu by merakily (T, 3k, wangxian, Chronic Pain, Whump, Love Confessions, Literal Sleeping Together, Burial Mounds, Golden Core Reveal, LWJ has a lot of feelings about WWX being in pain, Hurt WWX)

🔒 the thread may stretch or tangle but it will never break by RoseThorne (E, 96k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Soulmates, Self-Esteem Issues, Fix-It, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, PTSD, Handfasting, Panic Attacks, Getting Together, First Time, Aftercare, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, /Referenced Torture, Scars, Chronic Pain, Golden Core Reveal, First Time, Switching, sex-related injury, LWJ Stays at the Burial Mounds, LSZ is a Wèi, Good Sibling JC, Dissociation, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Disability, Scheming NHS, Disabled Character)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence) link in #1

Rest and Care series by meyari (T, 62k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, very little hurt, lots of comfort, Chronic Illness, Serious Injuries, Self-Medication, Disability, PTSD, Depression, Self-Worth Issues, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aftermath of war, Aftermath of Violence, Prisoner of War, Identity Issues, Warning: JGS enslavement (discussion of), abuse (discussion of), actually very fluffy, despite the warnings, Fluff and Crack, dubious academic writing, Historical Research, Modern Era, Good YZY, Good Person SS, Reincarnation)

Smoke and Mirrors by mrcformoso (T, 5k, wangxian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon, WWX Has Chronic Pain, WWX Has Issues, WWX has Phantom Pain, WWX was Malnourished, Sad LWJ, POV WWX, WWX is always cold, Chronic Pain, Phantom pain, migraines, Malounirshment, Suicidal WWX, Suicidal Thoughts, Implied/Referenced Suicide, mirror therapy, Minor Original Character(s), Good Friend NHS, Protective LWJ, Regretful LWJ, Crying, Happy Ending, Hopeful Ending, WWX’s body is normal but he still feels as if it isnt, Made up Nie Clan lore)

Elder, an Aesthetic by MarbleGlove (G, 8k, JC & WWX, Fix-It, Post-Sunshot Campaign)

~*~

15. I have been into serial killer Wangxian fics recently but I can’t find many so I was wondering if you had any @wrappedaroundxielian

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16. Hi, I'd like some recommendations for fics that have the juniors meet teenage wangxian! Whether it's time-travel or wangxian reverting to their teenage forms, it's all good- so long as it's NOT a fix-it! Just plain 'ol fluff, please. @a-fire-that-isnt-burning

Time Travel, Obviously by nirejseki (Not Rated, 1k, Time Travel, Crack) the Juniors only meet Wei Ying in this one

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17. Hello! For itmf could you help me find any fic (au or canon) that focuses at least somewhat on lwj realising he is in love?

Like at first he finds wwx annoying but quickly notices he is attractive. Then he notices that wwx is annoying hot and charming. THEN he notices that he is annoying, hot, charming and brillant. And when he finds out wwx is also KIND on top of all of this he is like fuck i am in love and not just weirdly attracted to this other dude!

Thank you!

🔒in the shadow of moonlit flowers by Reverie (cl410) (T, 56k, wangxian, LXC/NMJ, Cloud Recesses, LWJ & NHS Friendship, Developing Relationship, POV LWJ, Minor Injuries, Autistic LWJ, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, aka the Madam Yu warning, Genius WWX, Light Angst And Hurt/Comfort, WWX Protection Squad, Gusu Lan Sect, Slow Burn, Protective LWJ, LWJ-centric)

soften you by Solarlwj ( M, 14k, WangXian, WIP, Canon Divergence, Touch-Starved LWJ, Mutual Pining, Hurt/comfort, Light angst, Friends to Lovers)

🔒Tangible by apathyinreverie (T, 2k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Canon Divergence, Fluff, Humor, Possessive LWJ, First Kiss, Getting Together, the library scene)

Three changes. by orange_crushed (M, 18k, wangxian, fluff, hijinks & shenanigans, cloud recesses shenanigans, no war au, everyone lives au, romantic comedy, fade to black, friends to lovers, falling in love, harm to animals, non-graphic violence, sparring, developing friendships, hurt/comfort, first time)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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housetargaryenloyalist · 3 months ago

Text

From a seed grows

Chapter II: Petunia

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x reader

Synopsis: To claim a dragon one must be prepared to give up their life, yet this is the one thing you never wished to give up.

Wordcount: 9.6k

Warnings: Canon divergence!! This will not follow canon completely and will mix book with show canon (because I can ❤️), bastardphobia, mention of death and killing, yelling, Jace is a bit hot tempered but so is reader.

Author's note: I'm a bit insecure about this chapter with all the recent happenings in the Jace, plus it's my first really writing this much for one chapter. so I hope you'll like it. Also feedback is super duper appreciated as well as likes and reblogs!

(Future chapters will most likely also be around this lenght)

English is not my first language, apologies for any mistakes.

Happy reading <3

♡Chapter I: Thyme♡

Dragon fire burned hotter than anything else known to man. Bards all throughout Westeros have sung of how the dragon fire of Balerion the Black Dread melted together thousands swords and create the Iron Throne. A testament to the strength of dragons and their riders. It was meant to intimidate enemies and inspire reverence in allies.

Everyone knew that dragonfire burned hot, and now you would experience just how hot firsthand

A most horrid end, yet one fitting for a bastard of Targaryen Lineage most would say. No pyre would be made for you, your body instead burned to ash on the cold beach of Dragonstone, with not a soul to mourn you.

Your eyes were closed as those thoughts surged through your head. It terrified you to be of so little consequence, to be so mortal.

Someone once told you that when death was near you would think back onto your life and all your most important memories.

You would be filled with happiness of your most joyous moments before the Stranger would give you their kiss. Death would be warm, warmer than your bed in Flea Bottom, warmer than a mother's embrace.

At the time you had smiled and cheerless smile , eyes looking into the distance as your hands gripped a black shroud, “that would be nice” you had whispered.

Now you cursed them quietly in your mind. There were no memories drowning you in happiness, no memories to distract you from the ice cold terror that had settles in the pit of your stomach and spread throughout your body. You waited with abated breath for the beast to devour you, you waited for low rumbling followed by a bright burst of flames and then indescribable pain would consume you until there was nothing left to consume.

Silence.

Slowly, you opened your eyes, expecting to see large teeth and open mouth waiting to devour you. Instead, you were met with an intense gaze from emerald eyes. The creature’s gaze was locked onto yours, and for a moment, you could have sworn there was a flicker of recognition, almost as if the dragon was studying you, trying to understand. You didn’t know what to do, lying there, coarse sand digging deeper into crevices of your body and etching more scratches into your skin.

The dragon remained unmoving, letting out an occasional snort as it studied you intensely. Trapped partly underneath its snout you do nothing but observe the creature in similar fashion. Both of you started at one an another, a weird feeling flourished within your chest.

“Why aren’t you killing me?” you whispered, voice hoarse and exhausted. The dragon only coked it’s head slightly, as if to convey they did not understand. You tried to stand up, slowly, with uncertainty tainting every move. First you scooted further away from the dragon’s snout, careful not to touch it and startle it, then you pushed you against the sand to try and stand.

Unfortunately you overestimated your own strength, because as soon as you stood you could feel the unsteadiness of your legs. In a matter of seconds you feel them give out. Out of instinct you reached for something to hold onto.

Callused hands met rough, burning scales. The heat beneath your fingers felt like touching a warm bowl of soup, hot enough to startle but not enough to burn. You let out a shaky breath when you realised what you had done, leaning on the snout of the dragon.

Once again the beast let out a loud snort, much like a horse would make. It startled you, making you release its snout the moment its hot breath engulfed your body.

Your cold body felt cold no more, heating up just from being close to the dragon. Your brows furrowed, confusion settling in your mind. What had happened to the intense fear and terror you were feeling mere minutes prior, yet now you felt a strange comfort wash over you. As if this creature would never hurt you, as if they liked you.

Something primal hidden within you took over, as if centuries of dragon riders that had come before you took your hand and put it on the dragon's snout. First it burned, seared beneath your finger and then it shifted. Fear ebbed away from your being, slowly being replaced with a feeling much like veneration and somehow, you knew what it meant. There, in the dragon’s emerald eyes glistening in the late afternoon sun, you saw yourself.

A bastard with silver hair.

A dragonseed.

A dragon rider.

Beneath your fingers the heat had dissipated, yet there was still power beneath them. You were able to feel it's breathing, knew that with one wrong move your life would be forfeit. Power reverberated beneath the scales, dragon fire of unknown heat was now yours to command.

The longer you held the dragon into submission, the more you felt yours souls intertwine. A rumble resonated from deep within its chest as if acknowledging this newfound bond. Your feelings became more than your own, the paranoia from growing up in Flea bottom became shared with a fear of being hunted by other dragons. Everything you once felt now held a dragon counterpart. You were no longer your own. You were one half of a whole.

And for the first time since gods knows how long,

you were not alone.

The moment did not last, for soon you heard a distant roar much softer, and higher pitch than the one that came from the dragon before you. You whipped your head around towards the direction of Dragonstone castle. There beyond the sand dunes that covered much of the castle from view, you saw a dragon flying towards. Although a much smaller dragon, it was a dragon nonetheless. Behind you your dragon rumbled, raising its head and standing tall behind you. You were but a mere speck in comparison once it stood to its full height.

The dragon roared loud, a warning or a threat, you did not know. The other dragon landed in the distance, far enough not to be immediately eaten and far enough that it would not be consumed by fire.

To see that far you squinted your eyes, the afternoon sun low and bright making it difficult to discern what the dragon looked like or who the figure was walking towards you. As the figure got closer, you readied yourself, hand near your dragon in an attempt to keep it calm.

“Who are you?!” you screamed, your dragon let out a loud snort, dipping its head. The figure did not reply, instead they kept walking closer, their features becoming clearer the closer they got. You saw some hesitation as they got closer, their head turned towards to dragon’s snout. Gauging whether they could get closer or not. You looked to the dragon, “stay calm,” you said, turning back to the man in front of you.

“He won’t understand you,” the man said, his face not an unfamiliar sight. His brown curls were more ruffled than how they had been hours prior, the wind most have messed them up. His hands were once again crossed over the pommel of his sword and his tunic still the same black and red. Jacaerys Velaryon stood there just as arrogant as before, yet there was a fear within his stance.

“what do you want?” He cocked his head to you, perhaps not used to such a blunt way of speaking, “Her grace wishes to speak to you about your”- his eyes went from you to the black scaled beast-”dragon.” He spat the word dragon out as if it was a curse, as if it was something he did not want to say. “What does her grace want with us?” “The queen does not need to explain herself.”

His tone was clipped and you watched as he tightened his grip on the sword. You let out a snort, at the same time your dragon did. Eliciting a most lethal stare from the crown prince. There was no point in arguing you found, he did not like you and he would come to like you any day soon. Besides, you were fatigued, hungry and in pain.

You could not return home to Flea Bottom with a dragon in tow, nor could you stay here on the beach. “Apologies, my prince” you smiled an overtly polite smile as you empathised the words. “I shall gladly speak to the queen.” Sacarsm dripping with every word, even if there was some sincerty in them. His sour expression did not change, he only nodded in response.

“Follow me then,” he said and turned around. You bit your lip to keep laughter a bay, for some reason, you were terribly amused by the sour mood of the prince. “What of the dragon?” you asked as you looked back at the magnificent beast, a part of you already feeling wistful at the notion of parting from it. “Leave it,” the young prince said, “it can fend for itself.” He did not await a response, instead taking off to the same place he came for. “I will see you soon,” you whispered to the dragon, hand reaching out to caress the part of its torso that was closest to you.

The dragon let out a rumble, and in your mind you felt that it was trying to reassure you. With one last pet, you took off to join to prince who had already walked quite far. “Wait for me!” you shouted, and you only got a look of utter annoyance in response.

The prince had walked with you all the way to castle, his dragon flying above you both. His sour disposition did not change, even as you tried to engage him in conversation his replies would be short and clipped which irritated as much as it amused you. “So... what did you mean earlier?” he looked at you with cocked brows, “when you said my dragon could not understand me?” He rolled his eyes as if the answer was as obvious as saying the sky was blue.

“Dragons don’t understand the common tongue.” “Then what do they understand?” you asked, genuinely curious, yet you were able to see that it annoyed him from the way his jaw was set, “They only understand Valyrian.” “That old language?” “Yes," he gritted out.

You hummed in response, “can I learn Valyrian?” He looked sideways as if pondering it before saying, “Perhaps,-” he looked to you, looking over your frame, scrutinising you no doubt-” in due time.” You nodded slowly, not knowing how to respond.

The conversation ended like that, and although you were brimming with questions, you knew that he was not likely to entertain him. Instead you opted to continue forth in silence. Dragonstone grew larger and closer with every step you took. Soon enough you would have others who might be able to answer your questions answers.

Upon entering Dragonstone various guards had flocked to the young prince, awaiting commands, yet the prince turned them all away. He declared that he must escort you himself as the queen wished. You had to restrain yourself from rolling your eyes, all this pompousness was not something you were fond of.

This constrained way of talking, hiding all that you really felt behind petty facades and poisonous words. In Flea Bottom things were brutal, harsh, dangerous, yet when someone disliked you, they made it known. Here it felt as though every step you took was a tender balance between chaos and peace. One wrong word, and you would be ousted from the castle forever. You knew that within these walls you would need to be careful. Play the game, or die.

Your second time walking through Dragonstone felt much different than the first, now you knew what happened underneath the stone floors, knew the bodies that laid in the Dragonpits, perhaps not by name but you had seen their faces. Hope, fear, pride, all human, all mortal and most were now dead.

You wondered how to prince seemed to unaffected, knowing the lives taken. One more reason to add onto your list of “royalty sucks.” The prince walked in front of you which allowed you some leeway to openly gawk at the tapestries and statues you were not allowed to gawk at previously. Death payed well you thought.

Candles illuminated the hallways, casting shadows that danced around your feet as the wind blew the flames into every direction. A storm was brewing the young prince had muttered under his breathe, not meant for your ears to hear.

Storms didn’t scare you, not when you found yourself sheltered between ancient stones that had withered centuries of storms, yet anxiety was a funny feeling. It started clawing its way from the back of your mind all the way to the front. Haunting your mind with the most horrific of scenarios, from the castle collapsing in on itself to a deluge bursting through the heavy doors, drowning all within.

As you passed the occasional window you saw the weather worsen, at first the sky clouded over, the next window you passed had already been stained by drops of rain, and at last window you could no longer clearly see the outside, the rain pouring down hard enough to obscure everything.

Soon the prince came to a standstill in front of large oak doors, opening it with little effort, and you see now how much strength the young prince had. He stood there, in silence, looking at you. Beyond the doors were long, spiralling stairs, the end of them you were able to see from where you stood. You stepped forward with some hesitation, eyes looking up a head to see where the stairs led.

“You are expected on the top floor,” he said, closing the door behind you both. Here within this tower, you could clearly hear the thunder and rain raging outside, adding to the terrifying nature of this place in particular. The prince stepped around you and made his ascent, not bothering to look back to see if you were following. After the prince turned around the first round corner, you snapped out of you slight reverie, quickly hurrying after him.

The walls of the tower were bare, no tapestries or intricate carved design, the only thing you saw were old stones. It was a long ascent, occasionally the stairs would halt and change into even floor and on those small patches of floor there would be two heavy doors. The prince told you those led to private quarters, the higher up the more important the inhabitants.

“Where do I sleep ?” you asked as you passed what you assumed to be the fourth floor, the prince looked to you, down his nose and truly looking down on you., “the queen shall decide that.”

You hummed in response, a part of you not to keen on the prospect of residing in this looming tower, with the way the thunder roared here in a way you had never heard thunder roar.

Soon the stairs came to an end in front of a small door, leading into a hallway with only candles to light your way, the hallway was not long and at the end of you were once again faced with a set of doors. Two Queensguards, silver armour shimmering in the candlelight, stood on either side of it. As the prince moved forward, the guards rushed to open the door. The doors creaked and groaned, alerting all behind them of the impending intrusion.

A grand chamber was revealed to you as the doors opened. In the middle of it stood a large table in an unusual shape, candles were scattered on top of, coating parts of the table in wax. It was a marvellous piece of craftsmanship, with intricate lines and drawings carved into it in way that allowed for them to be illuminated by placing candles underneath it.

The prince stepped forward, “I have brought her, your grace,” he said before making his way towards his mother’s side. Sparing a single glace to you which you replied to with a smile, something the young prince seemingly did not appreciate for all you got in return was a scowl.

The queen extended a soft smile to her son as he made his way to stand closer to her, bypassing all the other lords in the chamber. The mother and son pair whispered briefly amongst themselves, eyes occasionally glancing to you while you pretended you didn’t see it.

Their eyes weren’t the only ones on you, the entire room had made you their object of intrest. Some wore scowls of displeasure, others regarded you with intrigue. After growing up in Flea Bottom where shadows were you best friend, being this visible was unsettling. They looked over your entire garb, your entire being. Examined you silver-blond here, unruly and no longer in the shape of a braid, they scrutinised your lack of violet eyes and most of all, detested that you were not of high born blood. They did not need to speak it aloud, their gazes were enough.

“My lords,” the queen raised her head, her quiet conversation with her son over, “I kindly ask that you leave this chamber.” The words left the room abuzz, some muttered protests under their breaths, other had no such shame. “We shall reconvene on the morrow,” she smiled once again, but it was not a smile of affection, but a smile that screamed not to oppose her, “enjoy your evenings.”

You stepped away from the doors as the hoard of lords approached, talking amongst themselves while glancing at you and the queen. No doubt they felt spurned for not being allowed to be present for the upcoming conversation.

The queen approached you, as her son stood back, eyes watching your every move. “Please sit,” the queen motioned to one of the chairs scattered around the weird table. “My son told me something quite fascinating,” you furrowed your brows, sparing a quick look to the man in question. “He told me that The Cannibal approached you,” as she spoke she filled two goblets with a ruby red liquid, most likely a very expensive sort of wine.

She placed one goblet in front of you, afterwards, taking a sip of her own. All the while her lilac eyes observed you. You had never found yourself in such a scenario and were admittedly at a loss. Before uttering any words, you decided to take a sip of the wine, you couldn’t remember the last time you had any beverage that was not sea water. It tasted sweet, thick and sweet, unlike any other wine you had ever tasted.

As the wine warmed your body, and softened the aches of your bones you spoke up, “If by The Cannibal you mean the black dragon I met, then yes, it did approach me.” The queen looked at you, nodding and taking another sip, then placing her goblet on the table. Her son still boring holes in your figure from where he stood.

“What was the encounter like?” She eventually asked, her eyes brimming with curiosity. Her kindness and patience were unusual to you, for her, the queen, to speak to you with even the tiniest bit of respect was unheard of. It is no wonder she commanded the other lords to take their leave, they would not stand for this familiar sort of talk.

They would pass out to know that you sat on their honourable chairs, imagine what they would think if they knew you had the opportunity to partake of their wine. They might die on the spot. You had to keep yourself from letting out a chuckle at the imagine your mind conjured, instead bringing yourself back to conversation at hand. You looked towards the queen, the awkwardness palatable as she looked at you with expectation.

“The encounter was life altering,” in the distance you heard the prince clear his throat, commanding your attentions. You raised your brow at him, as did his mother. “you are to address the queen by her rightful title,” he said, looking at you as if you had committed the greatest of offence, which you suppose, you kind off did. You huffed out a breath, “Apologies your graces I am not used to the manners of court.” The queen nodded in response, “It is alright,” she picked her goblet back up and drank of it once more.

God you hated this, the silence, the awkwardness, the forced politeness. It made you feel stifled, trapped. However you persisted, there was something they wanted, you could feel it hanging in the air like you could feel the heat from the heart. “So,” the queen continued, “we are to understand that you claimed that dragon?”

You gulped, and nodded, “I suppose that is what happened your grace,” you chuckled lightly after having said it, the notion of having claimed a dragon was still a bit foreign. The queen nodded, as she casted a look towards her son. You looked to her and saw that she was clearly mulling something over in her head, debating and weighing the options in front of her. As she thought, you took another sip of the wine, letting the liquid further ease your mind and buddy. The queen’s eyes soon turned back to you, her mind made up,

“You understand that we are fighting a war,” she asked, looking at you with a gaze full of expectations and a lingering hurt,”we need fighters.” You nodded slowly, knowing where the conversation was going.

“I want to you to fight for my claim with your dragon.”

The words were spoken, the proposition laid bare on the table. You took another sip of the wine, the sweetness of it had faded, coating your tongue in bitterness. Placing the goblet on the table, the thud echoing in the empty room as the queen and her son looked at you, one with expectation, the other with a dull fury.

“What would be in it for me your grace?”

The queen smiled.

Night had come early, partly thanks to the storm that still raged outside your rooms. Rooms that were placed two floors down from those of the royal family, in the middle of the tall tower. A show of gratitude from the queen, you were far enough up in the tower to be respected but not too far up that it would be deemed inappropriate. It suited you perfectly.

The goose-feathered bed was a comfort to your sore, aching and bruised body. The medicinal oils the maids had used for your bath had helped, but now it was up to you to heal yourself.

Being aided in your bath was a most unusual experience, hands different from yours rubbing and scrubbing the dirt off. You soon excused them, feeling to exposed for you liking and although they did an excellent job, you were not one who particularly enjoyed the lavish attention. By now the maids had already come to empty the bath and put it to the side, before asking you whether you desired anything else.

You had sheepishly asked for some food, and they happily obliged. Some moments later you were laying on your bed, with a tray of food placed on your nightstand; bread, cheese, grapes, a goblet and small carafe of water were there to fill your very empty stomach. As you laid there munching on a piece of bread, the events of the day truly dawned on you. What you had done, what you witnessed, the promise you had made.

You closed your eyes, savouring the piece of bread, remembering a time where the only bread you ate was either stale or partly mouldy, gods things have changed. The moon shone throught

With your old dagger you cut through the hard bread, trying your hardest to cut off the part of it that had been tainted by mould. The boy at your table eager to finally have something other than gruel for food. “How were you able to get bread?” he asked as you put a plate in front of him, alongside a bowl of bland soup that was more lukewarm water than anything of sustenance.

You weren’t too keen on replying, knowing that what you did wasn’t exactly lawful. “The baker no longer wanted it,” you replied clipped, as you dipped the bread in the soup. The boy didn’t reply, to busy devouring his bread. Hunger was a nasty feeling, and he had known too much of it. You smiled softly at him, and although the bread wasn’t procured honourable, it was able to feed him which is all that mattered to you.

“The madam has another job for me,” he said in between bites, causing you to pause your eating. “Really?” you furrowed your brows,” she was happy then? With your performance?” He nodded proudly, “very happy.” You smiled at him again, this job would surely put more money in both of your pockets. Money you desperately needed.

“She asked if you considered her offer,” he looked at you, soft lilac eyes filled with expectation. Eyes you never could resist. “I did,”- you took another bite-”I think I’m going to accept.”

You awoke the next morning with knocking at your door, the maids from the previous night entered your room. They carried clothing, fresh water to fill a small basin, and tray of food. First they helped you out of your bed, in your tired state you didn’t say anything as they helped you out of you night shift and into what they described as riding clothes.

They sat you down at the table in front of the hearth, the food to break your fast that was on the tray now laid spread out before you. As you ate, one maid started to straighten your bed, as another cleaned up the tray you had requested the night before. Soon you were left alone, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you took a bit from a piece of bread with jam.

It tasted amazing. You had seen jams in the homes of others, had even been able to taste it years ago yet you never had the luxury of affording it for yourself. Even the juice that accompanied your breakfast tasted expensive, especially due to the fact that the goblet you drank it from seemed to have gold embellishments. If you took one of those goblets and sold it, you would be set for life.

Your mind flashed to the little boy with lilac eyes, how much he would have loved all of this. You took a deep breath and tried to change your train of thought, a difficult tasks but one you had to undergo if you wished to leave the room with your sanity in tact. You grasped at the necklace you found yesterday, tracing over in an effort to soothe yourself and it proved effective. Soon you were out of your room, headed off to chamber of the painted table as the queen had requested last night.

It did not take you long to reach said chamber, having memorised the path when you were traversing it with the prince yesterday. Guards opened the door for you once more, and inside you were met not with councillors, but with three man of various age, the queen, the prince, a knight and men you remembered from the dragonpit. You were the last to arrive.

“My apologies for my later arrival,” you bowed your head, eyes darting up to meet ones of a soft brown. ”your grace.” you added as you saw the fiery glare form, he looked away with you with anger set in his jaw and you had to resist the urge to roll your eyes. The queen nodded, “Apologies accepted.”

you hurried to join the other three, standing next to who you thought to be the youngest. He was a handsome young man, tall with ebony hair and dark hair, and with a beautiful smile he extended towards you as you stood next to him. “Now that you are all gathered here, I thought it imperative we discussed some things.” The man furthest from you with hair half up and a messy beard nodded dutifully, while the one next to him looked bored out of his mind.

The prince standing next to his mothers looked at the man as though he wished to have him burned with his gaze. “You are to train with your dragons, learn the commands so that soon you will be ready to fight.” You gulped, a sliver of anxiety settling in on the bottom of your stomach.

“Y/n,” lilac eyes looked at you, “you will train outside with prince Jacaerys, a dragonkeeper and a few knights. I trust my son will be a great teacher to you,”she smiled as she continued to discuss and divide the roles of the others, however you’re attention was taking. The brown haired prince stared at you, his attention equally diverted. His gaze on you made you want to thwart your own, however your pride would not let you.

Instead of averting your eyes, you looked him in his beautiful brown eyes and smiled. An action that angered him for he immediately looked away, back to his mother. Anger rolled off him in waves, hands clenched on top of the pommel of his sword, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. A small victory for you, but a victory nonetheless. The meeting concluded shortly thereafter.

;With some words of caution and well wishes you were dismissed. Your anxiety had momentarily settled thanks due to your little staring contest, but now it was back tenfold as you followed the prince. “Where are we training?” you asked as you tried to keep up with his fast pace, “somewhere far away from the castle with enough space.” You nodded, “will you be the one to teach my Valyrian?” He looked at you with an annoyed expression, his new role as teacher must not have been one he accepted with much happiness.

“Only the most basic commands.” he looked you up and down,” I doubt you will have much use for more.” At his words you scoffed, “Perhaps I wish to write Valyrian poetry, I can’t very well do that with only basic words” you spat at him in rebuttal, causing him to laugh in disbelief, “Someone like you is not capable of that.” Your nostrils flared at that, “And what is that suppose to mean?!” “It means that you are not a Targaryen” he spat the words out, looking at you as if you were a stain on his shoe. “So what?! You think the non Targaryens don’t write poetry?” “Perhaps they do, but it certainly isn’t in Valyrian.” he stated as though it was a fact,

“And how would you know that my prince?” you asked sarcastically, “I doubt you spent enough time with any non Targaryens to know.” At that he tutted his lips in response, angry at your response. “I don’t need to spend time with them to know,” he said and it made you laugh. “You people have no education. What would you know of poetry, let alone Valyrian poetry?!” You stepped closer to him as a challenge, “And who’s fault is that,” you looked him straight in the eyes, “My prince.”

He did not reply, stunned at your actions. He retreated, seething and walked away from you. What a waste of a gorgeous face, you thought, for it to be wasted on such a personality. You looked to him and saw the distance he had already put between you, anger was a great motivator apparently. You took a deep breath to calm yourself before following in his direction.

“Drakares!” you shouted with full confidence, and the prince tsk’ed at you once again. “Wrong. it’s Drakarys, it has a y sound not an e,” he was annoyed as he tried to teach you the commands, growing more impatient with every mistake you made yet you tried again.

“Draakarys!” He sighed and tsk’ed again, “wrong again, your first a vowel should be shorter, listen closely,” he looked towards where Vermax stood, a safe distance away from you both “Drakarys!”

He said it with great confidence and you both watch as Vermax released fire upon the ground, burning away the grass and insects. The prince looked towards with a smug smile, before saying you should try again. You turned towards where your dragon stood, even further away from you both and also a safe distance from Vermax. You took a deep breath and readied yourself,

“Drakarys!” you commanded, and you watched with pride as the cannibal unleashed a large fire onto the field, you had not felt the heat of Vermax’s flame but the heat of the cannibal’s was unavoidable. You let out a gleeful laugh, proud to have finally done it.

“Did you see that?” you looked at him with happiness and pride, “It worked!” he only spared you a small glance before saying, “it took you long enough.” In an instant, your happiness and pride were trampled upon, and anger surged within you.

“Well fuck you,” you said, walking away towards your dragon, eager to be away from the prince. He stormed after you, “How dare you?!” he shouted as he neared you, “Need I remind you that I am a prince of the realm?!”

You turned to face him, rolling your eyes. “Do not roll your eyes at me!” He shouted, eyes filled with a burning fury. “Why not?” you asked as you stepped closer to him, so close that you were nearly touching his nose with your own, breaths becoming mingled. Your heart beating ferociously due to the proximity, “Will you chop off my head? Feed me to your dragon?” You knew it was reckless, to taunt him so, but this man brought out the worst within you. He did not reply. “Thought so,” you said, ignoring your racing heart.

Breaths uneven as you stood there so close to him, looking into his eyes. His beautiful brown eyes, framed by gorgeous brown curls. Gods, he was unfairly beautiful. It made your heart race and your mind desire things it should not. You almost reached out to tuck away a stray piece of his hair that had blown in his face. The moment broke however when he cleared his throat and took a step back, “perhaps we should take a break for now.” You dropped your hand, hoping he hadn’t noticed what you were thinking of doing.

“Perhaps that’s for the best,” you agreed and walked towards your dragon, as did he. You patted the part of the Cannibal you were able to touch, cooing to him as you felt him growing restless. He was unused to this, the sitting stil, being commanded, everything. It had been a great challenge to get him saddled, it had almost ended with one of the dragonkeepers dying. Yet the bond you shared, however short, was strong. You felt the fear that he held within, and knew it well.

“Just a bit longer big guy,” you smiled up at him, but couldn’t not look him in the eye “I’ll ask if we can try flying now. ” You could almost swear that he responded when he let out a few clicking sounds and rumble from within his chest, near your hand, “Good boy,” you whispered as you gave him one last pat before making your way to the prince who was in deep conversation with his own dragon. “ziry amīvindī nykēla Vermax.”

The language he was speaking sounded strange in your ears, and you knew it must by High Valyrian because he spoke it to his dragon. His tone sounded annoyed, and you thought that whatever he was talking probably pertained to you. “ugh Issa kesīr,” he muttered as he noticed your approaching.

“The Cannibal wants to fly,” Jacaerys looked at you and sighed, ”Very well, let’s try flying.”He walked with you to your dragon and he was even so kind as to stabilise the netting you had climb up. Before you had started training the commands, you had practised sitting on the dragon, when the saddle was still on the ground. He had showed you how to strap in, how to use your buckles and the best way to hold your reigns, even if it was often with annoyance, he still did it.

He had told you to wait for him to fly to you before you were to even attempt the fly command, but you couldn’t wait. Anticipation bloomed within you alongside anxiety and you could feel the dragon brimming with a fiery energy. He wanted to fly, did not even wait for a command before reading himself. As he stretched out his winds you exclaimed “Sōvēs!”

You felt your heart hammer within your chest as the beast moved beneath you, breathing in and out at a rapid pace. It almost felt as though your heart would move so fast as to rip out of your chest. It was exhilarating. The moment your dragon set off, you let out a loud shriek before falling into a fit of hysterical giggles. Soon you were above the sky, holding onto the reigns for dear life as your mighty beast flew through clouds.

A smile was plastered on your face, your heart still beating miles per second. You felt invincible. With a few deep breaths you tried to steady your heartbeat, but it didn’t help much. Adrenaline filled your body and you could feel your hands shake slightly because of it. This ride you let yourself be guided by the cannibal, forgetting the young prince who had just saddled himself.

He was hurrying to get himself in the air, and although he didn’t personally mind if you fell to your death. His mother certainly would. Soon he was chasing after you, his small, young dragon much faster than yours, but you didn’t care. He saw you as he rose above the clouds. Beautiful silver blond hair shimmering in the sun with a wide smile unlike any he had ever seen.

For a moment he allowed himself to look at you unashamed, no other eyes observed him. There in the sky on top of the mighty beast, with the sun shining on you, you looked ethereal. There on his own dragon, he could momentarily shed the burdens on his shoulders. He could almost see all his worries and duties drift away in the wind. His eyes were focused on you, your gleeful laughter, your beauty, and for a moment you were not a bastard and he was not a prince.

You were dragonriders.

Yet reality never waited long to crash back down, he saw your head turn towards him but was not fast enough to turn his own. You were looking at him, and it felt like he was falling through the sky. Your smile fell and you waved at him awkwardly, which he reciprocated equally before turning to face forward, hiding the small hue of pink now dusting his cheeks.

Both dragons flew relatively close to the other, not too close you would be touching on another, but close enough that the riders could see each other. Your heartbeat had calmed down quite a bit, but you could still feel it beating furiously. Never had you ever been so free. If you so desired you could take your mount and fly away, away from this war, away from the arrogant prince. You could fly to Braavos, or Pentos. Anywhere and everywhere was now within your reach.

You looked back to the castle and knew that those thoughts were pretty dreams, you had made a promise. A promise that you would fight in this war, that you would fight for the queen and you knew you couldn’t not break it for it was a promise made to more than Rhaenyra Targaryen, it was also a secret promise you made to him.

“I wonder if you were looking at me now,” you whispered as you looked up further into the sky, hands tight on the reigns, “what would you say?”

No response came.

You had underestimated the strength that dragonriding demanded. The moment your feet touched solid ground, your legs started wobbling whether because of the leftover adrenaline or the simple fact they used more muscle than expected. Jacaerys Velaryon had descended with every grace expected of a prince, and made his way over to you.

No doubt to scold you over your disregard of his direction, or because you didn’t fly as pretty as he did. Whatever it may have been, it didn’t matter. The moment he reached you, your legs gave out and simple fell to the ground with a loud thud. All the scolding he was going to do was forgotten as he tried (and failed) to surpass a laugh at the scene.

“Ha Ha very funny,” you said as you looked up to him, slightly embarrassed at your predicament. “Could you help me up?” you asked, extending your hands to him. He nodded while trying to suppress a smile. He looked pretty like that you thought, he had looked prettiest in the sky with his curls flowing in the wind, the sun casting a glow around him like a halo.

He helped you up quickly, even holding your hands as you steadied yourself. Although both your hands were hidden beneath leather, you could’ve sworn you could feel their warmth. The moment the thought crossed your mind, you pulled them back. “Thank you,” you said, turning away to look at The Cannibal, as he was being unsaddled by a few dragonkeepers, with great effort on their part. They were terrified of the beast, and he was equally as terrified of them.

You could feel it, and even hear it in the tone of his shrieks. “Where will he go now,” you asked to the prince, eyes focused on your beast. “If he wants he can follow us to the caves, but most likely he has his own cave somewhere,” he looked at the beast briefly before turning his eyes to the back of your head, “perhaps he will take you to his lair someday. “

You turned to him, catching his eyes. “I hope so.” He was about to say something when a loud gurgling interrupted him, embarrassment crossed over your features when your realised that it was your stomach. Whatever he was going to say was lost as he laughed once more. “Don’t laugh,” you say, hardly able to suppress your own smile, “Dragon riding is hungry business!” A sentiment that caused him to laugh even harder.

For a moment, all previous hiccups were forgotten and only laughter remained. However the moment did not last long, a knight came from the castle summoning the both of you for supper. Perfect for your gurgling stomach, less perfect for what you thought was a budding friendship between you both. His laughter and smile faded, leaving behind the stoic prince from before. “

We should get going,” he said, “the queen does not like to be kept waiting.” You nodded and followed after him, his shoulders were tense and from the way his lips pursed you could assumed his jaw was equally as tense.

Dinner with the queen was a grand affair. The moment you set foot in your chambers the maids pounced on you to get you ready, your riding garb was thrown off and replaced with hot bath water. They did not give you time to protest, as they scrubbed your body clean and replaced the smell of dragon with the smell of lavender. They then dressed you in a fine dress of dark red fabric, with small dragon details around the cuffs and neckline.

“Curtsy from princess Baela,” one of the maids had said, before starting on your hair. By the end of the full makeover you looked unlike yourself. Dressed in such fine clothing, your hair was let half up and half down, a small braid in the back keeping long tresses out of your eyes. They tried to adorn you with a beautiful necklace made of small rubies, but you refused in favour of the silver necklace you brought from home. A reminder of your humbler beginnings, yet also a harbinger of the new things that came.

Soon you were seated at a grand table, not remember how you even got here with how fast it all went. On your right the seat was empty, on your left was the tall handsome man from this morning. In front of him was another dragonseed, with his hair in a half up ponytail and in front of you was the man with the beard.

“Good evening,” you muttered as you looked to them, your fellow dragonseeds. “Good evening,” the man on your left said, smiling brightly. The man in front of you smiled as well, “Good evening.” However the other man was too occupied with his cup to ever pay attention to the other. The man to your left leaned in closer to you, “my name is Addam,” he said, then motioning towards the man in front of him, “That’s Ulf, and the one next to him is Hugh,” You nodded, “I’m Y/N,” nice to meet you,” Addam smiled even brighter at you, “You’re the one that claimed The Cannibal right? We’ve all been very eager to meet you.”

You nodded at that, “Indeed. And what about you? Who did you claim?” “Seasmoke,” he said, his voice filled with pride, you looked towards Ulf, who now had tuned into the conversation. “I claimed Silverwing! Fast little thing she is,” he smiled smugly at you.

You turned to Hugh who had looked at Ulf with annoyance, before turning to meet your eyes. “Vermithor,” he spoke and he saw as your eyes widened. “The bronze one in the dragonpit?” You asked, bewildered that someone managed to claim that ferocious beast. He smiled a little shyly and nodded, “Yeah that’s the one.”

The conversation came to standstil as the doors opened to reveal the queen herself, wearing her golden crown. Behind her were her son and a young girl you didn’t know, with white curls and dark skin. She was pretty and as she walked you could tell she was a princess. You, Addam and Hugh immediately rose to your feet, whereas Ulf was still to busy examining his cups.

You gave him a pointed look as Hugh muttered “get up.” With clumsy feet he rose from the chair, almost knocking it over. All bowed before the queen and her entourage, although it was with little grace and wobbling knees.

As the queen was seated you were all allowed to sit down once more, servants delivered plates of food. Fruits and vegetables you never had to opportunity to taste, there were even these little bird like things. You had seen them before, but no longer remembered the name.

Ulf was quick to dig in, not waiting for anyone, or for a prayer. A part of you felt slightly annoyed at his rudeness, another part of you wanted to follow his lead. Never in your whole life had you seen this much food. He ate messily, yet you could not really blame him. It was not as though there were schools of etiquette back in Flea Bottom.

Due to Ulf’s impatience the order of things had been slightly altered and you noticed how it didn’t go over well with the royals at the table. The prince looked as though he would rather be dead, and the princess in front of him tried her hardest to remain neutral. The queen smiled tensely as she asked everyone to please dig in. On your plate you had stacked a variety of food, a little bird, beans, some potatoes. You wished to have a taste of everything, to savour every piece, because you knew that this opportunity was a rare one.

“You’ve got to taste the fish,” the man next to you excitedly said with a warm smile. You smiled back at him, “I will,-” you motioned towards your small bird-”but first this.” He nodded, before nudging your shoulders, “Look’s like Ulf is enjoying them,” he laughed along with you as you both watched Ulf absolutely devour the birds. Your laughter drew the stare of the prince, his big brown eyes focused on you and Addam as you conversed with one another.

The staring resulted in a nudge to the foot by the princess in front of him who looked at him with puzzled brows. “More wine here!” Ulf proclaimed, interrupting the conversation between Addam and you, “taming a dragon is thirsty work.” As he said that you rolled your eyes, but you soon regained your composure as you saw the queen grab her cup and stand. Your eyes turned to her, but not for long for Ulf once more spoke up “Oh, and some of these little bird.”

You looked at Addam who was looking at his food, head bowed slightly letting out a sigh. You could tell his was embarrassed in Ulf’s place. You eyes then went back to the queen who looked most displeased.

“A toast,” the queen spoke, “to our new riders.” The whole room fell silent at her words, eyes upon her, cutlery laid to rest. “The four of you are not of noble birth but you have done a thing never dreamed of before now,” All at the table rose their cups, some more enthusiastically then others you noticed as you finally dared to sneak a glance at the prince.

The queen sat back down, and drank the wine, a silent permission of all to do the same. She was however not done with her speech, “I have entrusted you with a power only few have known. And I charge you to take it up with fealty and respect,” she smiled at the four of you, “Serve me well and I will you knights and lady of the realm.” All eyes were on her, before Ulf opened his mouth, much to everyone’s annoyance. “Huh? What do you think of that, boys?” he asked in a slightly mocking manner, “We’ll be knights…just like that.”

The smile on his face made you uncomfortable, the food visible in his mouth. Hugh and Addam did not respond to his words, the later responding only to the queen, “we will not fail you, my queen,” he said, looking away from Ulf and instead towards her.

After Addam, Hugh also spoke up, “What must we do?” He asked nervously. The queen darted her eyes to the side, thinking over her words before responding, “I had thought that the mere fact of you might stay the enemy’s hand.” Her eyes roamed over you all, a slight tone of regret seeping into her voice, “but lord Corlys is right. We must strike while we have the advantage,” she looked briefly towards her son, before returning her gaze to the other, ”and end this war.”

You nodded at her words, knowing that she was right. The enemy might be deterred for but they won’t be for long. If you didn’t strike now, they will. You looked to others, saw as the princess leaner forward slightly in her chair. Her features were covered in slight surprise as the queen continued, “learn your beasts and your commands. You will fly in two days time.”

You took a deep breathe in, gnawing at your bottom teeth. The appetite you had suddenly disappeared with growing anxiety taking its place but she was not done speaking yet. “The strongholds of the usurper, Oldtown and Lannisport, and their armies, all must be subdued,” she put great emphasis on the last words, as she looked each of you in the eyes.

“Alone, without allies, he will have no choice but to surrender.” You understood her reasoning, yet her words implied you would be putting to death hundreds, thousands of people. Innocent people. A thought you apparently shared with the princess, “you wish for us to kill innocents.” “And so many,” Hugh added, a look of disbelief on his face. “It is hard,” the prince interjected,”but it cannot be helped.” The way he spoke about it so calmly made you mimic’s Hugh’s look.

You were no stranger to death, nor to what causes death, yet to have such a responsibility upon your shoulders. It was nauseating. You didn’t speak up, you knew this was expected, you had made a deal after all. In the background you could hear Ulf grunt as the prince and queen exchanged a look. “We must break the will of our enemy,” the queen spoke, “or more will die in a struggle that stretches on without end.” What she said was true, but didn’t ease the guilt that was already weighing on you.

“What about Vhagar?” Addam asked, knowing that none of your dragons were a match for her, safe for maybe The Cannibal but he was not battle trained, not in a way that Vhagar was. The queen leaned forward a slight smile on her lips in an effort to reassure him, “she is fearsome… but she is one dragon. The prince regent cannot defend against all of us.” You wanted to say something, ask about who should face her. You were readying yourself to speak up, but were too late. “I’ll take him on myself,” Ulf said, drunk on wine and good food, “Silverwing’s a goer, she is.”

He waved around his finger to mimic a dragon flying, “we’re afraid of nothing.” Addam looked at him disapprovingly, but Ulf continued, “even if you are.” A sentence that you knew agitated Addam, you could see it in his posture as he spoke, “there will be time enough,”- he turned his head to look Ulf directly in the eye-”to see which one of us is a coward.” Ulf only smiled in response, before turning towards where the servants stood, raising his cups and demanding once more that they bring him more little birds. An act that greatly displeased all the others at the table. The queen tried to reprimand him softly by stating, “A knight will comport himself with grace at the queen’s table.” It didn’t work on Ulf however, who responded, “best make me a knight, then.” A statement that earned him sharp glares from the princess.

“You forget yourself,” the prince stated, “friend.” It was said in a tone that indicated he did not want to be messed with, his jaw was set once more. However the statement had another emotiong to it, as if it was a follow up to a conversation none of you were aware of excpet the prince and Ulf.

Ulf scoffed in response, grabbing his goblet. “ Sense of humour would do you all good,” he said before taking a big swig. You could cut the tension in the room with a knife, and you hoped that the dinner would soon come to an end. A prayer that was answered quickly when the maester entered to room to whisper something into the ear of the queen.

The queen rose from her seat once more, but this time it was not to give a toast. You glanced towards the prince who was staring at his mother, for the first time this evening you really looked at him. His curls had been styled, his tunic a different one from before. This time he had no cape nor any red embellishments.

He looked handsome you thought, and as soon as the thought crossed your mind you looked a way. In the meantime the queen was in deep conversation with the maester and you could only pray that the new was good, but from the looks on either faces, that did not seem the case.

The queen soon turned back to the table, “Addam,” she called, the man looked startled upon hearing his name, “come with me.” In silence Addam followed after her, and you watched them both leave. Ulf finally received his birds, yet your appetite was long gone.

You pushed yourself off your chair, and bowed to the prince and princess, you knew was expected. “I wish to retire to my room,” you said, watching the both of them exchange glances before they nodded. The princess smiled at you, “you may go,” she said and you nodded to her in response.

You walked towards your rooms, your stomach twisted and turned as you mulled over all that had just happened. The inevitable was soon to come. Westeros was at war, a war in which you swore you would participate. A promise you had perhaps made too quickly, yet could not take back.

Blood was already on your hands, were you truly ready to add more?

Tagslist (open)

@madame-fear, @/corruptedcruiser, @rav9n-16, @/blackravena, @kaymej, @burningwitchobject, @/vee-mage, @thenotesapppoet, @benjinotes, @/kitkat1sstuff, @/cxcilla, @alyssa-dayne, @i-padfootblack-things, @seaheaded

(A dash after the @ sign means that I wasn't able to tag your blog for some reason. Sorry💔)

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piastree · 10 months ago

Text

Take a Chance with Me | OP81

oscar piastri x reader (fc: huh yunjin)

— Part 3

Previous Part Next Part

Summary : They are a couple caught in the chaos of a love filled with randomness and quirks. Their relationship is marked by funny and unpredictable moments, where each day feels like a new adventure. Despite frequently engaging in amusing and spirited bickering, beneath the banter lies a deep and meaningful romance. Disclamer: This is a story created for fun without any hate towards anyone. This work exists in a realm separate from the original canon. Characters may be divergent from their established personas. So, just enjoy the rollercoaster ride.

f1updates

liked by user1, user2, and 95,390 others

f1updates spotted chart-topping sensation Sierra Turner hanging out in the McLaren garage at the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix. Having a blast and sharing some race-day tales with the McLaren driver, Oscar Piastri!

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user hold up, sierra turner in the mclaren garage?! this race just got a whole lot more interesting

user sierra always bringing the good vibes wherever she goes! McLaren garage just got a major upgrade<3

user y/n, better keep an eye on your man

user lmao y/n's the one catching all his attention

user OMG, sierra talked with oscar??? my two worlds collided

user this is what dreams are made of! sierra, lando, and oscar, the dynamic trio we didn't know we needed

sierraturner

tagged oscarpiastri, landonorris, mclaren

liked by landonorris, mclaren, oscarpiastri and 505,397 others

sierraturner this was all one day. Thankyou for having me❤️ @/mclaren

view comments

user SOO GORGEOUSSS

user sierra turning the race into a concert❤️

mclaren thankyou for coming, Sierra!🧡

sierraturner the pleasure is mine! I'm truly looking forward to another invitation

user sierra interaction with landoooo?? I LIVE FOR THIS

user whoa mclaren garage is filled with beautiful women!! imagine 2 gorgeous women y/n and sierra at the same place

landonorris great to see you here! Thanks for coming to the race

sierraturner looking forward to the next year races!

user is someone notice she seems to be getting cozy in Oscar's garage???👀

user i think u should stop overanalyze ://

message

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, mclaren, sierraturner and 174,041 others

oscarpiastri Last day of term completed. Podiums, a sprint win and your 🧡 made 2023 awesome. Big thanks to all the papaya crew

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quadlock incredible year! So proud to be on this journey with you 💙

ausgp What a first season! You’ve done Australia incredibly proud, mate! 🇦🇺🧡

user our rookie is no longer a rookie

user Good job lad, you proved all the haters wrong 🧡

sierraturner congratulations on an amazing first season 🧡

user wow have you officially become his fan?

sierraturner yes, no doubt

user it's time for you to move @/yourusername

yourusername added a story

Congratulations on completing your rookie season! Proud is an understatement❤️

oscarpiastri you know i love u right yourusername i know❤️

twitter

yourusername

liked by oscarpiastri, yourbff, landonorris, sierraturner and 75,407 others

yourusername me n my girlies

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user please let me be part of the group

user can i be one of your girlies…. or perhaps your only girl….. by that i mean your girlfriend and wife i will treat you right buy you flowers and make you breakfast every day my queen

yourusername oh, you're sweet. Lucky for me, i've already got a wonderful guy who showers me with love, flowers, and foods. But i'll remember your offer in case i need a backup🤗

oscarpiastri no need for backups here and definitely no substitutes allowed, mate🙄

yourusername possesive😩

user LMAOOO Y/N never crossed my mind seeing the two of them bickering on comment section

yourbff let's schedule another round!

oscarpiastri she's already booked

yourbff possesive much?😌

oscarpiastri i'm just scared you won't bring y/n back in one piece

yourusername silly hahaha

user Hold up, sierra liked y/n's post? Is this a friendly vibe or a hidden agenda?

user plot twist in the making

lovingwags

liked by f1updateswags, user, and 25,477 others

lovingwags the street is buzzing with rumors of Sierra trying to get Oscar's attention, stirring up tension with y/n. Whose team are you on??

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user why are we even comparing and picking sides when oscar is clearly with y/n? let's respect their relationship u weirdo

user sierra and oscar would make such a lovely couple<3

user can't we just focus on supporting each other??

user dear y/n please just leave oscar for sierra

user you are so sick🤮

user lmaoo stop making unnecessary drama😭

user sierra definitely >>>>> y/n LIKE SIERRA HAS IT ALL — THE TALENTS, FAME, AND LITERALLY EVERYTHINGGG

twitter

f1wagsupdate

liked by lovingwags, user and 45,454 others

f1wagsupdates y/n is currently enjoying a christmas holiday in Oscar's hometown. A heartwarming videos captured her sheer joy while playing with Oscar's nieces. Credit to @/blahblah

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user y/n looks so happy spending time with Oscar's family in Australia! What a heartwarming sight🥺❤️

user while the rumor mill is working overtime between them, y/n stays unbothered too busy being happy to get caught up in the drama

user no wonder they've been MIA since the winter break kicked in. Enjoy the holiday, you two!

user can we talk about how absolutely stunning and genuine y/n looks in this video?

user her beauty shines so effortlessly in this video. Oscar is so lucky😭😭

oscarpiastri

tagged yourusername

liked by yourusername, lilymhe, sierraturner, and 75,407 others

oscarpiastri exploring the town with my favorite dork

user did you just take a break from the track for a romantic getaway in Japan??? wow

user the cutest couple in the paddock<3

user the 5th photo is so cute because she seemed confused loll

user probably because she thought oscar was behind her, and then it hit her like, 'Oh, Oscar's still up there'😂

mclaren enjoy the off season, Oscar & y/n!

user admin is absolutely rooting for both of them🧡

user seated for oscar & y/n's honeymoon phase

user the unbothered queen & king❤️

Notes: Btw, I'm planning to create more parts for this AU, so if you enjoy reading it, you can look forward to some new chapters ahead. Please let me know if you'd like to be added to the taglist. Thankyouuuu

#oscar piastri #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri au #f1 fluff #f1 fanfic #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fluff #f1 smau #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri smau

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n3ptoonz · 4 months ago

Note

More Liu Kang smut???? Seriously I can’t find SHIT I will take literally ANYTHING

finally getting to this ask ty for your patience ;-;

'How to Train a Dragon'

THANKS FOR 500+!!❤️❤️❤️

cheers to 500 posts too!!

Pairing: Sub!Liu Kang/Titan!Reader

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 1 (2023)

Warnings/tags: Smut; Explicit, GN!reader, m!multiple orgasms, hand job, reverse cowgirl, dominant reader, canon divergence, creampie

tell me this title don't go hard ‼️⁉️

dt: thank you @hungryhornet for the idea/prompt (it was simply sub liu kang. i couldn't let that go.)

Word count: 1.1k+

What do you think could bring a god to his knees? Or rather, who could bring a god to his knees? I think our answer is quite obvious.

Liu Kang's face was glistening from sweat. You've been edging him for thirty minutes now, but to him he has lost track of time. Ironic, isn't it? The Keeper of Time himself losing his train of thought over and over again as soon as your palm meets his warm, sensitive shaft. Fully erect and in just a bit of pain. But he actually liked that.

It's been eons upon eons since he has seen you. Oh how he longed for your touch. Your affection. Your love. Your attention having a healthy balance between your duties and him. He missed you so much. The constant pain of being reminded that the New Era version of you would never be you. He's had to endure looking this new you in the face and speaking to you like he didn't want to just grab and hold you close to him forever.

So now, of course, he holds no opposition to you taking your sweet time before he has to summon the other titans. But that doesn't mean he wouldn't play along.

His vision was cloudy as you were sitting behind him while your legs held his down in the comfort of his own bed. You were leaned over his shoulder leaving slow, light kisses on his jaw and jerking him off at the same time, humming to the tune of his muffled grunts and soft moans. He, on the other hand was using this opportunity to test his own discipline by leaving his wrists unbound limp resting on your knees so he doesn't try to take any control.

He did not think it would be this difficult. If he really wanted to he could break free and return the favor in a heartbeat, but where's the fun in that?

Again, it's been a long damn time since he's experienced intimacy. He didn't anticipate that he'd immediately buck his hips at a simple breath hitting his neck. Or his fists would tighten with great restraint at the sound of your soft voice so close to his ear.

He's missed you so fucking much.

You pumped him faster. You wanted to make him cum and fuck him already to get your fill. Perhaps literally. It's safe to say you missed him so, so much as well. The most powerful man in this timeline was wrapped around your finger, and neither of you ever thought you'd ever see each other again.

His eyes quickly shut and his fists tightened harder, if that was possible. A single tear fell from his eye and rolled down his cheek onto your hand as he got louder, then suddenly you feel an added liquid warmth spilling down your fingers. Who would've imagined after such a long time you'd be the first to ever hear Liu Kang...whimper?

You shushed him through his rather intense orgasm, slowing your hand down and wiping his tear with the other. After giving him a light kiss on the cheek you untangled your legs and slipped from behind him. He huffed as he caught his breath because knowing you, this definitely was not over.

His gaze was adoring. Watching you crawl on top of him like a demon about to take his soul. You settled over his lap and let yourself sink down onto all of him. He practically hissed from how sensitive the tip still was and the feeling of it being happily smothered by your insides. The goosebumps on both of your skin couldn't be any more obvious too. The long, lonely life of a Titan has paid off on different occasions, but this was a new level.

The steady pace had your hips sinking impossibly deep with each stroke. You wouldn't dare try to hold back your moans and shaky sighs since you both were owed that much. This time you let your hands run down his beautifully toned arms after caressing his chest, eventually pinning his hands above his head. His eyes visibly glossed over at this action as he let out a stifled groan. His chest heaving from fucking hot you look and feel against him.

His discipline was now going towards not cumming in the next 30 seconds. By the gods, you're making this so difficult. You slowed your moments slightly so you wouldn't either, this needed to be savored as much as possible. Who knows how long you'll be here before having to go back to your timeline and maybe have to only seen him a millenium later? He filled you perfectly, and you wrapped around him like a gift made just for him and him only.

You leaned down and kissed his jaw again, leaving small, light nibbles on his ear lobe and softly moaning next to his ear on purpose because you knew for a fact he loved the sound of your voice. And the fact that he could only rely on the mere memory of it was a whole other story.

He silently cursed and closed his eyes. Your Liu Kang just couldn't keep himself together under these conditions. These circumstances. The effect you had on him should be considered a nuclear weapon. He could die right now and be the most satisfied man that has ever lived in any universe.

When you lean back up, god, those eyes he gives you. The upturn of his eyebrows and breathless whimpers are the equivalent of bliss for eternity to you.

"You're going to be my beautiful demise..." he muttered as he bore his gaze into yours. You smiled at him before picking the pace up again. By now from the conjured moisture between you two, the lewd sounds of your ass meeting his gorgeous thighs were the only thing in the room. He thought it a good idea to slightly raise his hips so you could take more of him, as if you already weren't.

You were close, he was close, and the both of you silently agreed to reach climax together. You let his wrists go and placed them on the sides his head for balance. Your pace was quickly falling apart right as his swollen, still very sensitive tip kept brushing against your g-spot. He brought his hands up to your hips as soon as he could feel himself cum, smiling to himself when you let go at the same time. The way you clenched against him and moaned his name only made him keep going. His cum was practically leaking out of you; that must be what eons of pent up longing does to an individual. God or human.

After you two regained composure and took a quick shower--be mindful of why you're a Titan--you got dressed and just held each other for a few more moments before he took your hand in his. He took a deep breath and caressed your cheek with his free hand.

"Let us save the timelines. Together."

#n3ptoonz #mortal kombat #mk1 #mortal kombat 1 #liu kang x reader #liu kang mk1 #mk smut #liu kang

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snowbellewells · 24 days ago

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@jrob64 I know it’s taken me a minute, and I apologize for the wait, but it is finally time for your newest story, Joni!! I love that you’ve started this in Season 2, particularly in that stage of our (and Emma’s) getting to know Hook, where we really found ourselves drawn to him more than we felt we were probably supposed to be. He is still a man bent on revenge against the Crocodile above anything else, and you make that clear here in no uncertain terms. All the same, you also allow these very strong and definite glimpses of deeper humanity to show throw in his reactions and words, particularly when he is dealing with Emma. He does care, and it hurts when he isn’t believed or trusted, and he DOES NOT want to see her hurt the same way his Milah was.

It amazed me how you gave many of the season two events we remember their own slightly different twist or minor alteration, yet really the overall plot still progresses much as it would have done. If anything, you made it more sensible and streamlined- and allowed us to see more of Hook along the way! 😉 I would rather have your version of events and I’m curious to see where it will go from here now that Gold and Emma, followed by Hook are all headed for New York.

I also really liked your interaction between Emma and Mary Margaret near the beginning of the chapter, Hook’s interactions with the both of them, Emma and Hook and Hook and David at the station, and I always get a kick out of Leroy as well!

This may have been a gift for Krystal, but I am already finding it to be quite a treat as well!! 😍😍😍

Exacting His Revenge - Chapter 1

It's an international holiday, also known as @kmomof4's birthday! This story has been floundering in my WiPs folder for months under the title 'Bad Boy Hook'. I finally decided to try to finish it for Krystal's birthday, even though she actually helped plot it out! I'm not finished writing the story yet. It will have 3 chapters and chapter 2 is nearly finished, so hopefully the rest of it will be posted soon. Happiest of birthdays, K!!!

Special thanks to my beta @hookedmom.

Story Summary: When Hook sees an opportunity to finally get his revenge on Rumplestiltskin, he seizes it, putting him in the company of Emma Swan. A season 2 canon divergent story.

Rating: T

Words: 6980

Also posted on ffn and A03

(Story found under the cut)

*********

Hook stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the dank wall of the dungeon containing the cell where Rumplestiltskin had once been imprisoned. He stared at the four women currently trapped there; or more accurately, he stared at Emma Swan, the woman who bested him twice in the last few days.

He refrained from snorting derisively as he listened to Cora taunt them, directing her venomous comments toward the dark haired woman who was somehow Emma’s mother. The Queen of Hearts was attempting to sound like a loving mother who just wanted to make her daughter Regina happy, but he knew better.

“...and now I’m going to give her the one thing she’s always wanted - your heart. Goodbye, Snow.”

Hook flinched as he watched Cora thrust her hand toward the other woman’s chest. When he saw the Swan girl push her mother out of the way, he dropped his arms and jerked forward, his own heart in his throat and sick despair in his gut. But before he could utter the warning that was on the tip of his tongue, Cora’s hand plunged into Emma’s chest.

Frozen in place - extremely unpleasant and unbidden memories parading themselves across his mind - he waited for the inevitable. He didn’t think he would be able to stand to watch the blonde’s heart get crushed and see her crumple lifelessly to the ground.

“Oh, you foolish girl!” Cora chided. “Don’t you know? Love is weakness.”

Hook’s eyes closed as he heard the unmistakable squelching sound of a heart being seized, but they popped open again when Cora’s gasp of disbelief reached his ears. She was tugging repeatedly, unable to extract the organ.

Suddenly, Emma straightened and stared straight into her adversary’s face. “No,” she stated, forcefully. “It’s strength.” The moment she uttered those words, Cora was thrown backwards by a stunning blast of magic.

Hook stood numbly, his jaw slack with shock. In his entire association with Cora, he had never seen anyone who could repel her magic. Yet here was the Swan girl, seemingly a complete novice in the practice of magic, completely knocking the witch off her feet. It was at that moment, Hook made the final decision of who would receive his allegiance.

Cora pushed herself to her feet with a curse, dramatically brushing the dust from her gown and glaring at Emma. “I should make you pay for that little stunt, but simply knowing you will die a slow death in the dungeon of your parents’ own castle is enough satisfaction for me.” With as much dignity as she could muster, she pivoted and swished past the pirate. “Come, Hook. We have everything we need to get to Storybrooke.” She said the last word pointedly, obviously knowing the pain her statement would inflict.

Hook watched her go, fingering the withered bean he pilfered from the giant. He took a step toward the cage as he considered giving it to the Swan girl, but thought better of it and placed it in his pocket instead. He just witnessed the powerful magic she had within her and had no doubt she would somehow be able to break them out of the cell.

Ignoring the pleas of the four women, he turned to follow Cora out of the dungeon, checking his hook to ensure it was securely locked into the brace. Moving stealthily, he came up behind her, hesitating only a second before plunging the appendage into her neck. His aim was true, puncturing the carotid artery. Cora stumbled and fell to her knees, clutching at the wound which was spraying the walls with her blood.

Kneeling beside his former ally, he plucked the compass and Aurora’s heart from the floor where she dropped them, and quickly located the vial containing the ashes of the magic wardrobe. Then, looking into her rapidly paling face, he stated, “My apologies, Your Majesty, but I find I am no longer in need of your services.”

Choking on her own blood, her answer came out as a gurgle. Her fingers clawed at the leather of his vest, desperately trying to cling to life, but to no avail. He watched the last flicker of light leave her eyes, then her lifeless body collapsed to the ground.

*********

Hook was waiting outside the castle when the four princesses came rushing out some time later. Aurora’s hand was covering her mouth, clearly queasy after seeing the grisly scene on her way out.

Emma stopped short when she spotted the pirate, lounging against the stone wall at the entrance of the dungeon as if he hadn’t a care in the world. “I’m assuming that’s your handiwork in there?”

“What, Cora?” he asked nonchalantly, making a show of polishing his hook with his sleeve. “Aye, it is.”

“Why did you kill her?” Mary Margaret asked. “Not that I’m complaining, but why did you do it?”

Hook slowly straightened up, taking his time before answering. “Cora was not to be trusted. I only worked with her because she appeared to provide the best opportunity for me to meet my objective, but now that is no longer the case.”

“So you found another way to get to Gold?” Emma asked.

“Indeed, I did.”

“Then why are you still here?” Mulan questioned.

“Because you lovelies are that other way.”

“Us?” Mary Margaret squeaked. “But we haven’t figured out a way to get back to Storybrooke yet.”

“I believe I have everything necessary to accomplish that,” Hook said, patting the satchel resting on his hip. “And I also have this,” he added, reaching into the bag to pull out Aurora’s red, glowing heart. He held it out to Emma, who took a step back.

“Why are you giving it to me?”

“Because it takes magic to return someone’s heart, Love.”

“But I…” Her voice trailed away.

“Have magic, Swan,” Hook continued her thought when it became clear she wouldn’t.

She squirmed under his penetrating gaze, her mind struggling to come to grips with the thought. Did she have magic? It was unbelievable! Then again, a week ago, she wouldn’t have believed she could slay a dragon or break a curse with True Love’s Kiss. But freaking Captain Hook was obviously convinced she did.

What even was her life?

“Please,” Aurora pleaded, interrupting Emma’s spiraling thoughts as she stepped in front of her. “Hook’s right. It has to be you.”

Emma stared at her disbelievingly for a few moments, then finally held out her hand for Hook to place the heart into it. Balancing it on her palm, her face tightened into a mask of determination before she thrust her hand forward, burying it in Aurora’s chest. The princess gasped, nearly doubling over, then straightened and beamed at Emma as she withdrew her hand. “You did it! Thank you!” she exclaimed.

Emma stood looking down at her hand with a slightly squeamish look on her face. “That is definitely something I hope I never have to do again.”

Aurora grabbed Emma and gave her a hug, before turning to Mulan. “We need to get back to Philip.”

Mulan glared at Hook with narrowed eyes. “Are you sure that’s wise? Snow and Emma might still need protection.”

“Do you really think I pose a threat to them when they are going to help me get my revenge?” he growled.

“Who’s to say you won’t kill them once you do?” Mulan countered. “You disposed of Cora once you didn’t need her anymore.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Aww, don’t tell me you had become fond of her.”

Mulan straightened her spine to stand at her full height. “Of course not! She was pure evil, but you killed her in cold blood.”

“You have no reason to fear for your friends’ lives.” He almost looked offended by Mulan’s words. “I don’t intend to harm them, but you saw what Cora tried to do to Snow White in there. She was the one who was going to enable her daughter to murder in cold blood. I was simply putting a stop to her reign of terror.”

“Look, I don’t really care who murdered who in cold blood,” Emma interjected. “I just want to get home to my son! Mulan, go with us or don’t, it doesn’t matter. Aurora, go find your prince. Hook, show me what you have in that bag and tell me how we can use it to get to Storybrooke.”

“There’s the tough lass I’ve come to know,” Hook smirked, lifting the flap on the satchel and reaching inside. “Compass and magic wardrobe ashes,” he recited, placing each of the items into Emma’s outstretched hands. “Cora’s theory was that the ashes could create a portal, but just in case she was wrong, I also have this.” Drawing the string containing the giant’s magic bean over his head, he let it swing at eye level between them.

“How is that supposed to help?” Snow asked. “It’s dried up, useless.”

“Ah, but the waters of Lake Nostos have regenerative properties. That’s where Cora and I were going before she met her…unfortunate demise.”

“That lake doesn’t have water in it anymore,” Snow said. “We…we needed it to save David’s mother, but it was completely dry because he had killed the siren who lived in it. Of course, she was trying to kill him first.”

Hook turned his eyes on Emma. “Cora said the lake could be restored with magic. That’s where you come in, Love.”

Emma stared wide-eyed at each of the four people surrounding her in turn. “I know nothing about how to use…” she paused and waved her hand around, having trouble actually saying the word, “...magic!”

Snow stepped in front of her daughter and grasped her upper arms. “You can do it, Emma! You said it yourself - love is strength. If you just concentrate on the love you have for Henry and how much you want to get back to him, I’m sure you will be able to make your magic work.”

Blowing out a long breath, Emma said, “Well, I guess I won’t know until I try.”

“Too right, lass,” Hook agreed. “Now, shall we be on our way? I have a crocodile to skin.”

After bidding goodbye to Aurora and Mulan, Hook led the way to Lake Nostos, attempting to engage Emma and Snow in conversation along the way. “So, tell me how the two of you are mother and daughter when you look to be nearly the same age. Have you been to Neverland where time stands still, Milady?” he asked Snow.

The two women exchanged glances. “It’s a long story,” Snow said.

“My schedule is pretty open right now,” Hook quipped.

“You were with Cora. Did she not tell you about the curse her daughter cast?” Snow asked.

“Ah, yes, of course. She did explain the significance of the wardrobe ashes. So, you were caught up in it and didn’t age, while your daughter was sent to the Land Without Magic by herself, essentially an orphan.”

Emma’s eyes flitted over to him at the reminder of the words he had spoken to her on the beanstalk. “Do we really have to listen to you talk the whole way? I’m trying to concentrate on how I’m going to make my magic work once we get there.”

“I shall endeavor to give you the silence you request, Princess,” Hook said with a slight bow.

“Don’t call me that,” she muttered under her breath.

“As you wish, Emma.”

She glared at him, eliciting a smirk before he turned his attention back to the path in front of them. They walked on in silence for a while, until Snow quietly said, “The lake wasn’t completely dried up when we reached it, you know.”

“Why couldn’t it save my grandmother, then?” Emma asked.

When Snow didn’t answer for a few moments, Emma looked over, her brow furrowing when she saw that her mother was obviously struggling with her emotions. Her chin trembled and Emma could see the glistening of tears in her eyes. Finally, she whispered, “Because she insisted that I take the swallow of water left to reverse the curse of barrenness King George put on me. If she hadn’t…well…you wouldn’t be here.”

There was silence between the three of them as they pondered that revelation.

“Then you and David were married on the shore of the lake, right?” Emma asked, seeking to lift the somberness of the moment.

“Yes,” Snow smiled slightly. “Lancelot married us, so Ruth could witness it before she passed.”

“That’s quite the romantic tale, Milady,” Hook murmured.

“What would you know about romance?” Emma mumbled.

Hook’s eyes snapped to hers and she saw a flash of hurt in them. Remembering what he said about Milah when they were at the top of the beanstalk, she immediately regretted her words and was opening her mouth to apologize, when he cleared his throat and responded, “I’ve wooed many a woman, Swan. Perhaps you desire to be one of them.”

Although she could tell he was using the innuendo to mask his true feelings, she couldn’t keep herself from retorting, “In your dreams, buddy.”

He turned and took a step closer to her, bending until his face was within inches of hers. “Since it appears that you’re amenable, I will see you in my dreams, Swan.”

“I think we’re almost there,” Snow stated, and Emma breathed a sigh of relief at the interruption.

Hook gave her one more meaningful look before turning and glancing around their surroundings. “Aye, you’re correct. It should be just around that bend in the road.”

They finished the journey in silence. Once they reached the edge of what obviously used to be the lake, Hook came to a stop in the soft sand, halting Snow and Emma in their tracks. Crossing his arms over his chest, he said, “Well, this is it. Time to work your magic, Swan.”

“You say that like it’s the easiest thing in the world,” she grumbled, her eyes flitting over the barren ground in front of them.

Snow stepped up beside her and took her hand. “I believe there is powerful magic inside you, Emma. No one has ever been able to defeat Cora like you did. You don’t need to fill the lake, all you need to do is generate enough water to restore the bean.”

“Yeah, okay,” Emma answered, widening her stance and setting her jaw in determination. She closed her eyes, picturing her son and father in her mind. A tingling sensation worked itself up from her chest, down her arms and to her fingertips. Stretching her arms out in front of her, she felt the sensation build until she was sure it was ready to burst, then thrust her hands forward.

She heard her mother gasp beside her, but Emma kept her eyes closed, afraid to open them for fear it hadn’t worked. Suddenly, she felt Hook’s presence beside her. “Well done, Love,” he murmured into her ear, sending a different type of tingle through her body.

Her eyes popped open, her knees nearly buckling as she beheld the sparking blue water of the lake, filled so completely that the water lapped at the toes of her boots.

“You did it, Emma!” Snow exclaimed. “I knew you could!”

As Emma continued to stare in disbelief, Hook once again pulled the string containing the magic bean over his head. Holding it out to Emma, he asked, “Would you like to do the honors?”

“Uh, sure,” she said, snapping out of her trance to take it. Bending down, she dipped the black, shriveled bean into the water, waiting a few seconds before pulling it out.

Snow gave a little cheer when the crystal clear bean emerged, fully restored. When Hook reached for it, Emma pulled it back. Slipping the string over her head, she said, “I think I’ll hold onto this, if you don’t mind.”

Once again, she caught a quick glimpse of hurt pass over his face before he composed himself and replied, “As you wish.”

“What’s the next part of the plan?” Emma asked.

“Now,” Hook replied, “we sail to Storybrooke on my ship, the Jolly Roger.”

“Of course we do,” mumbled Emma. “Why am I not surprised?”

*********

Hook decided to use the bean to create a portal and, in a surprising show of generosity, gave the vial of ashes from the wardrobe to Mary Margaret ‘for the sake of nostalgia.’

“I had no idea you had such a soft side,” Emma commented.

“I don’t,” he was quick to reply. “Just don’t have any need for sparkly dirt.”

Emma could tell he wasn’t being completely truthful, but decided getting to Henry was more important than questioning him.

He quickly got the ship ready to sail and they were soon out at sea, dropping into a portal that looked like a whirlpool. It was the middle of the night by the time they reached Storybrooke.

“It’s been a pleasure to travel on such a beautiful ship!” Mary Margaret proclaimed.

“Aye, my ship - she’s a marvel,” Hook agreed proudly, guiding the Jolly Roger into the harbor.

“I can’t believe you were able to sail it without a crew,” Emma said.

“I’m a hell of a captain,” he smirked. “Besides, I had the two of you to help and you were fast learners. You’re welcome to join my crew.”

“Don’t count on it,” Emma mumbled.

“Pity, that,” Hook commented. “I could take you on exciting adventures, show you exotic places that are beyond your wildest dreams.”

“I’ve had enough adventure in the last few weeks to last me a lifetime, thank you very much. Right now the only place I want to be is with my son.”

Hook hummed, nodding his understanding as he expertly maneuvered the ship into a berth. As soon as it was docked and he dropped the gangplank, Emma and Mary Margaret hastily thanked him and wasted no time disembarking and hurrying down the street.

Hook stood alone, watching them until they disappeared around a corner. Even without Emma in his line of view, he could still see her in his mind’s eye, blonde locks flying behind her as she ran, her lithe body moving effortlessly.

Mentally shaking himself, he tried to force his thoughts toward how he was going to exact his revenge on the crocodile. He had been waiting for this opportunity for over two hundred years, and now it was within his grasp.

So why was winning the affections of the feisty Emma Swan suddenly more important?

*********

Storybrooke was an enigma to Hook. It was nothing like the Enchanted Forest, but some of the same laws of magic still applied. Even though they were in the ‘Land Without Magic’, magic had somehow found its way there, and the Dark One was still the Dark One, with the same power and immortality.

Hook had trouble reconciling the fact that the distinguished-looking Mr. Gold was the persona adopted by the evil imp, Rumplestiltskin. Yet, as he spied on the man day after day, he could see that he exhibited the same despicable and selfish tendencies when interacting with the residents of the town.

He was stunned to learn the Dark One had a lady love - Belle French, the beautiful, mannerly librarian. When Rumplestiltskin was with her, his behavior was entirely different, and Hook could tell she had won his heart. This knowledge helped him hatch a plan that was sure to destroy the crocodile’s life, just as he had destroyed Hook’s.

By listening carefully to snippets of conversations while he covertly roamed around Storybrooke, he learned no one could cross the town line. Rumplestiltskin, however, had apparently found a way around that little problem.

While gathering that information, Hook also kept an eye on Emma Swan. It turned out she was the town’s law enforcement, so was often out on the streets. He watched her from a distance and felt a pang of jealousy every time he saw her with a handsome, sandy-haired man, until the day he saw the same man with Mary Margaret and realized he must be Emma’s father.

He also saw her with the boy he assumed was her son. It felt odd to have a sense of pride at being able to help reunite the two. The lad didn’t seem to be any worse for the wear, having nearly lost his mother and grandmother. He was always speaking animatedly to Emma as they strolled down the sidewalk together.

Hook had been able to avoid contact with Regina thus far. He was hoping not to have to explain his role in her mother’s death. Her relationship with Cora was contentious, but she was still Regina’s mother and he was sure to be the recipient of her wrath and perhaps a fireball or two.

His stealth as a pirate served him well, and he was able to elude being noticed by the crocodile. However, hiding the Jolly Roger was a completely different matter. He knew his ship was too visible in Storybrooke harbor, but he needed her to be at his disposal. He finally settled on docking her around the bend at a rocky outcropping where she would be concealed, while allowing him access via a secluded section of beach that seemed to be ignored by the citizens of the town.

The day Rumplestiltskin planned to cross the town line finally arrived. Hook hid himself amongst the trees along the road early that morning, unsure of when the attempt would be made. He checked and re-checked the gun he managed to pilfer from the sheriff’s station. It was similar to the pistols he used for centuries, but was smaller and easier to handle. After watching Emma using one to shoot target practice in the middle of the woods one day, he knew it would be much more efficient than his hook in reaching his objective.

When Hook heard one of those odd contraptions called a car approaching, he made sure the gun was ready to fire and got into position behind a large tree. He watched Rumplestiltskin and Belle exit the vehicle and step toward the town line. Belle held a shawl in her hands that Hook recognized as one Milah made, and Rumplestiltskin held a potion bottle. Hook saw him speaking to Belle, but wasn’t close enough to hear what he was saying. The way she stood there gazing at him as if he hung the moon turned Hook’s stomach.

Rumplestiltskin took the stopper out of the bottle and poured the potion on the shawl, then tossed the bottle away. Hook saw the fabric glowing as Belle placed it around Rumplestiltskin’s neck.

“Here we go,” he said, then slowly limped over the town line. Turning, he hesitated for a long moment, then pointed at the auburn-haired beauty and said simply, “Belle.”

She let out a joyful laugh and said, “It worked!” Taking his hand, she added, “Now you can find your son.”

Just as Rumplestiltskin began to respond, Hook stepped out from behind the tree.

“This is for you, Milah,” he whispered, then pulled the trigger.

Belle’s scream ripped through the air as Rumplestiltskin stepped quickly over the line to catch her before she fell. Looking up, his eyes filled with rage at seeing his old nemesis. “What have you done?” he screamed. “Belle has done nothing to you!”

“I can’t kill the Dark One, but I can kill the woman who holds your heart. You killed my love. Now you know the feeling.”

Rumplestiltskin turned his attention back to Belle, searching for her injury. Meanwhile, Hook started walking back through the woods, intending to return to his ship and sail away, his revenge complete.

He was on the outskirts of town when he heard the sounds of what he had learned were sirens. His smile of satisfaction faded, knowing Emma would soon find out about his murderous act. She was sure to disapprove. Apparently in this modern world, scores weren’t settled with a life for a life.

Hook finally reached his ship and went aboard. He was in the process of readying it to sail when he heard a familiar voice.

“Going somewhere, Hook?”

Walking across the deck, he looked over the side. The light from the moon illuminated the blonde hair of Emma Swan, who was standing on the beach below.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Swan?” he asked non-chalantly.

“You do know it’s against the law to shoot someone, don’t you?”

“In the Enchanted Forest, it’s called vengeance.”

“In Storybrooke, it’s called attempted murder.”

Hook’s brows shot up. “Attempted?”

“Oh, are you disappointed you didn’t succeed in killing an innocent woman? You shot her in the shoulder. She’s been taken to the hospital, but she’s expected to be fine.”

“Bloody hell,” Hook mumbled, pounding his fist on the wooden railing.

“Are you going to come down here or do I have to come onboard?”

He decided to try turning on the charm. “Why Swan, are you seducing me?”

“You’re not funny, buddy. Belle isn’t only a citizen of this town, she’s also my friend. Now, I’m not asking, I’m ordering. Get down here right now. You’re under arrest.”

Hook sighed. He knew if he tried to sail away, he would appear to be a coward. Might as well face the music. “Very well,” he said, starting to saunter over to the gangplank.

“And bring the gun you stole from the sheriff’s office. You’ll be charged with theft for that, too.”

Hook briefly wondered how she found out about that, but didn’t ask. Being such a brilliant lass, he was sure she figured it out on her own.

She met him at the bottom of the gangplank, a set of handcuffs in her hand. “Hands behind your back,” she instructed gruffly.

“Is that really necessary? I’ll come along peacefully.”

“It’s standard procedure,” she said, encouraging him to turn around by tugging on his arm.

Once the cuffs were firmly around his wrist and the brace holding his hook, she patted him down until she found the gun in the deep pocket of his long duster. Holding it up in front of him, she snarled, “I can’t believe you stole a gun from the police. When did you manage to do that?”

“I can’t give away all of my secrets, Swan.”

“Fine, but you’ll have plenty of time to reconsider. You’re gonna be locked up for a long time,” she stated, giving him a not so gentle shove to get him moving.

“We’ll see about that,” he said, throwing her a look over his shoulder.

“You should count yourself lucky that you’ll be locked up. Gold is furious and if he gets to you, it’s hard to tell what he’ll do.”

“I’m not afraid of the bloody crocodile,” Hook said, a sardonic grin on his face.

“Keep smiling, buddy. You’re under arrest and handcuffed. He’s on his feet, immortal, has magic and you hurt his girl. If I were to pick dead guy of the year, I’d pick you.”

Hook turned away from her and continued trudging along the beach. Neither of them spoke again until they reached the squad car. After locking him in the back, Emma seated herself behind the wheel and picked up the radio. “I have the suspect in custody,” she reported. “I’ll be at the station in five minutes.”

Once they arrived, David came out of the building and opened the back door. Grabbing Hook by the arm, he roughly pulled him out of the car. Keeping an iron grip on him, he led him into the station, Emma following along behind.

“Any news on Belle?” she asked.

“Whale took her in for surgery a little while ago. He said he would update us when he’s finished.”

“Is Gold at the hospital?”

“Yeah. I asked Leroy to hang around and let us know if he leaves. I’m sure once he finds out Hook is locked up here, he’ll be paying us a visit.”

“Good idea. I’m sure Leroy won’t mind being our informant.” Holding up the gun, she added, “Got this back. I’ll tag it for evidence.”

“Think you’re pretty clever stealing a gun from the police and using it to shoot an innocent woman, don’t you, Hook?” David said, practically spitting the last word at him.

“I’m usually a better shot, but I’m not used to such a small weapon,” Hook quipped. “My weapons are much bigger and have better accuracy.”

“Why didn’t you just use one of them, then?” Emma asked, stepping behind the camera to take his mugshot.

“Alas, I failed to procure more ammunition before embarking on our trip to your fair Storybrooke.”

David positioned him in front of the wall, instructing him to look at the camera. He glowered as Emma took the first picture. “Turn to your right,” she ordered.

“You look good, I must say. All ‘turn to your right’ in a commanding voice. Chills,” Hook commented as he followed her directions.

Emma rolled her eyes before clicking the button on the camera.

After the pictures were finished, David unlocked the handcuffs, telling Hook to take off his heavy coat, which he did without complaint. However, when Emma told him to remove his hook, he balked.

“No arguments,” Emma commanded. “You’ll pick the lock with that thing.”

He glared at her for several moments, but it made no difference. She stood there with her hand out, staring him down until he finally twisted the device out of the brace and begrudgingly placed it in her palm.

Soon he was escorted into one of the jail cells and the door slammed shut behind him. “I’ll take the first watch,” Emma told David. “You go home to Mary Margaret and tell Henry I’ll be home tomorrow.”

“Are you sure?” David asked, his arms crossed over his broad chest as he gave Hook a hard stare. “I’d be happy to stay here and let you go home to get some sleep.”

“It’s no problem. I’m too wound up to sleep, anyway.”

“Or you could both go home,” Hook stated. “I promise I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“Yeah, like I would trust you,” Emma spat.

“Okay, I’m taking off. If he gives you any trouble, call me. I’ll be more than willing to punch him in the face,” David said.

“Quite hostile, aren’t you?” Hook drawled, casually leaning against the bars examining his fingernails nonchalantly.

“Just making myself clear,” David responded. Turning back to Emma, he added, “If I hear anything from Whale or Leroy, I’ll let you know, but they will probably call the station first.”

“True. I’ll text you if they do.”

“Text?” Hook questioned.

“It’s a way of communicating through the phone,” she explained, waving the device in the air to show him. “Something a thousand-year-old pirate wouldn’t understand.”

“More like three hundred,” Hook grumbled.

David and Emma said their goodbyes, then she sat down in the desk chair, swiveling it back and forth as she crossed her arms and fixed Hook with a stare. “So let me get this straight - your idea of getting revenge on Rumplestiltskin was to steal a gun and shoot his girlfriend, then sail away?”

“As you’re well aware, the Dark One can’t be killed. I wanted him to know the pain of losing a woman he loved. That pain is worse than death.”

“From what you said at the top of the beanstalk, I surmised he killed the woman you loved. ”

“Aye, my Milah. He pulled her heart out and crushed it right in front of me.”

Emma winced. “No wonder you hate the guy. What did you do to him to make him do something like that?”

Hook wandered over and sat on the cot, leaning back against the wall and crossing his own arms. “Well, you see, Milah was Rumplestiltskin’s wife, but she left him because he was a coward. The laughing stock of the town. She couldn’t take it anymore and ran away with me to live a life of adventure on the high seas.”

“You were either brave or stupid to fall in love with the Dark One’s wife.”

“He wasn’t the Dark One when I fell in love with her.”

Before Emma could answer, the phone sitting on the desk began ringing. “Sheriff’s station,” she answered.

Hook listened to her side of the conversation, watching her furrow her brow and nod. After she hung up, she said, “That was Whale. Belle is out of surgery. The bullet came out clean and she’s going to be fine.”

“Is she in pain at least?”

Emma narrowed her eyes at him. “Belle is sweet and would never hurt anyone.”

“Neither would Milah,” he shot back.

“Still, don’t you feel at all guilty about shooting Belle when she didn’t do anything wrong?”

“She fell in love with the bloody Dark One! She should thank me for trying to put her out of her misery.”

“I should have known you wouldn’t feel any remorse. You are a pirate, after all,” she scoffed with disdain.

A flash of hurt passed across his face before he huffed, “Aye, that I am.”

Emma placed a call to David to tell him the news about Belle. After ending it, she and Hook fell into silence. He lay down on the lumpy, narrow cot, dramatically punching at the pillow with his fist, then closed his eyes to make a pretense of falling asleep. Every time he cracked open his eyes to peek at Emma, she was staring at him.

“See something you like, Swan?” he finally asked.

“No. I just see someone who can’t be trusted.”

“So you plan to remain awake all night to make sure I won’t escape?”

“If that’s what it takes.”

“Rest assured, Darling, I have no way to escape this cell. You can go to sleep.”

“Actually,” she said, standing up and striding over to a file cabinet, “I have a lot of paperwork to fill out because of your little stunt tonight. Might as well put this time to good use.”

Sitting back down at the desk, she pulled out a pen and started writing. Hook watched her for a few minutes until he got bored, then closed his eyes and drifted to sleep. He dreamed that Milah was lying on the deck of the Jolly Roger in the exact spot where she died, sobbing and telling him that he failed her again.

*********

When Hook woke up the next morning, David was sitting at the desk, playing solitaire with a deck of cards.

“So that’s what you look like when you don’t get your beauty sleep, Swan,” Hook quipped.

David didn’t even look up. “I see sleep doesn’t improve your ability to be funny.”

Hook sat up and swung his legs over the side of the cot, looking around the cell. “I don’t suppose you have a chamber pot available, do you mate?”

“No chamber pots and I’m not your mate,” David said, pushing himself away from the desk. “I can let you use the bathroom, but if you try anything…” he patted the gun in the holster he was wearing.

“I wasn’t asking to take a bath, sheriff,” Hook said, over emphasizing the last word. “I just need a pot to piss in.”

“A bathroom is where you do that in the modern world, pirate,” David retorted. “Haven’t you heard of a toilet?”

“Can’t say that I have since I’ve only been in this world for a few days. How long did it take you to adjust to all of the changes?”

David unlocked the cell door and swung it open, reaching in to firmly grip Hook’s arm. “I don’t know. I was in a coma for twenty-eight years.”

Hook gaped at him as he stumbled out of the cell. “I suppose that was Regina’s doing?”

“Yeah, She also provided me with a wife, and it wasn’t Snow.”

“She really had it in for the two of you, didn’t she?”

“The three of us, actually. We were forced to send Emma to this world just minutes after she was born in order for her to escape the coming curse. We hoped she would be able to find us and break it someday.”

“And she did,” Hook stated knowingly.

“Of course she did. And besides that, the first day she ever handled a sword, she slayed a dragon,” David said, puffing his chest out proudly. “In case you haven’t noticed, my daughter is the strongest, bravest, most intelligent person you will ever meet.”

“I have noticed, believe me,” Hook muttered.

They reached the bathroom and David gave him a small push inside, then closed the door behind him. After a moment, he called out, “The toilet is the thing with the water in it. Don’t pee in the sink!”

*********

Hook was surprised Emma didn’t come into the station that morning. Ruby arrived to deliver breakfast from Granny’s for David and Hook, but otherwise, it was just the two men ignoring each other.

It was almost noon when Leroy burst into the office, spouting something about Gold running off to New York City. None of it concerned Hook, who was happy to hear the crocodile would be leaving town, until he heard the dwarf mention Emma.

“Why would Emma go anywhere with him?” David asked, launching himself out of his chair.

“Gold said she has to help him because he doesn’t know how airports work,” Leroy explained. “He said if she won’t, he’s going to come here and kill Hook.”

“What’s the downside of that?” David asked.

“Hey!” Hook protested.

“I’m going to go home and try to talk some sense into her,” David said, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. “Can you stay here and keep an eye on him?”

“Gladly,” Leroy growled, glowering at Hook. “If he tries anything, do I have permission to shoot him?”

“He won’t try anything, will you, Hook?”

“I wouldn’t dare, after being threatened by a dwarf,” Hook responded derisively. He watched David sprint out of the station, hoping he would be able to talk Emma out of the insane idea of traveling with Rumplestiltskin.

Leroy plopped into the chair David had vacated, crossing his arms across his chest with a furious look on his face. Hook wasn’t in the mood to deal with the dwarf, so he lay down on the cot, turning to face the wall.

He had no idea how much time passed before he heard David come back. He continued to pretend to be asleep, hoping to hear information about Emma.

“Did he give you any trouble?” the sheriff asked.

“Nope. I let him know in no uncertain terms that I wouldn’t put up with any nonsense. Must not have wanted to tangle with me, because he hasn’t said a peep.”

Hook rolled his eyes so hard, it was almost painful.

“Were you able to talk your daughter out of the cockamamie idea of going to New York with Gold?” Leroy continued.

Hook’s blood froze at David’s next words. “No. She’s as stubborn as the day is long. They’re on their way to the airport right now. Henry is staying with us until she gets back.”

“Do you think she’s safe with him?” Leroy asked.

“The only consolation I have is that he needs her to drive him there and navigate the process of flying. He won’t gain anything by hurting her.”

In theory, Hook knew that was true. But he also knew the Dark One tricks and the Dark One lies. He didn’t put anything past Rumplestiltskin. His mind began churning with ideas for how to break out of jail and get to Emma before something happened to her. If he had to kill Rumplestiltskin to accomplish that, so much the better.

While David and Leroy continued to talk, Hook formulated a plan.

The first step was accomplished shortly after Leroy left, when Ruby delivered lunch from the diner. While David was occupied chatting with the waitress, Hook used a large hairpin he kept in his pocket to help him pull the small buttons of his shirt through the buttonholes, to pick the lock of the cell. It wasn’t easy doing it with one hand, but he managed in a relatively short amount of time.

“I’m going to wash my hands, then I’ll give you your lunch,” David announced, turning his back to walk toward the bathroom. Hook slipped out of the cell, immediately going for the crowbar he had noticed sitting in a corner of the room. Stealthily, he moved to stand outside the bathroom door with the weapon raised in his hand.

When David emerged a minute later, Hook clocked him, muttering, “Apologies, mate, but if you aren’t going to ensure your daughter’s safety, I guess it’s up to me.”

Stepping over David’s unconscious form, he went to the desk and started opening drawers. Finding his hook in the bottom one, he clicked it into place, grabbed his heavy duster from the coat rack and left the station.

After making it down Main Street by ducking and dodging into alleys and behind dumpsters, he arrived at Gold’s Pawn Shop. He made quick work of picking the lock on the back door, entering quietly and starting his search.

He soon found the case where Gold kept his potions and poisons. The bottle filled with a thick, inky liquid drew his attention. He carefully unstoppered and sniffed it. Finding it to be exactly what he was hoping to procure, he stuck it into the deep pocket of his coat and rushed back out the door.

The trip to the Jolly Roger was without incident or coming into contact with any of the townsfolk. Since it was made ready to sail the night before, he was out on the open water in record time, sailing toward the mysterious land of New York.

*********

Thank you for reading. Please join me in wishing Krystal the happiest of birthdays!

Tagging:

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#exacting his revenge #chapter one #jrob64 #birthday fic for krystal #ouat season 2 canon divergent #cs ff #cs fanart #major cs fic rec ❤️⚓️❤️#such a talented shipmate ⚓️🩷⚓️

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