#He would be a glaring weakened in their eyes for the King and they would either challenge him over and over again

[eideticboywonder]

─── ̩̩͙✩ sweet like honey, part i ; steve harrington

summary — all it took was a smile from you to bring steve harrington to his knees.

pairing — fem!reader x steve harrington

warning(s) — use of she/her pronouns, love at first sight, lovestruck steve, just sweet fluff :)

word count —  2,312

The interaction only lasted mere seconds, but Steve had every single detail forever ingrained in his mind.

It was a dreary morning, unusually chilly for early summer. The newly opened Starcourt Mall, not yet abuzz with the newly released children and teens of Hawkins, echoed with the rain beating against the glass roof. Steve, who’d just rushed in from his car donning only the ridiculous navy Scoops Ahoy uniform, ran his hand through his once perfectly styled hair, now slightly undone by the wetness in an attempt to fix it. He flicked droplets from his arms as he walked toward the ice cream shop, muttering in irritation under his breath as he went. 

That is, until he felt a light hand on his back and turned to find you behind him. He stopped cold, every drop of annoyance previously flooding his system vanishing. The world around the two of you dulled, every person, each sound fading away until there was only you.

You had been wearing the dark maroon vest of your movie theater work attire and black formal pants that hugged the curves of you just right. Even with your hair pulled back, damp from the weather, the coconut of your shampoo married with the vanilla of your perfume infiltrated his senses. 

“Sorry, I just—” Your voice dripped with a honey so sweet, so hypnotic Steve’s brain momentarily short circuited. He couldn’t even register his keys in your grasp, he was too focused on your eyes; he didn’t know it was possible for eyes to be that beautiful until he’d looked into yours. “You dropped these.”

The shy smile gracing your lips made his heart skip, then leap into his throat when your fingers grazed his as you handed him his keys. Your touch was warm against the chill in the air, and he hoped the flush rising in his cheeks could be disguised by the crisp temperature. 

Realizing he hadn’t yet spoken a word, Steve finally managed to get out a “Thanks.” before you offered one last knee weakening smile and brushed past him, presumably continuing on your way to the theater. 

He stood there for a second with his hand still held out, his brain slowly thawing. By the time he’d finished buffering and turned to call after you and ask your name, you were already too far to go after without looking like a creep. 

That was it. The “king” of Hawkins High brought down by a smile and six quiet words.

Steve told himself he’d go find you on his break, properly thank you and at least get your name (which he had no doubt would become his favorite the second he learned it). But when his break came, he made it no further than the threshold into Scoops before his stomach quickly filled with anxious butterflies, preventing him from going any further. 

Robin, of course, didn't miss the chance to give him shit about it. “You all there, Harrington? You look like you're gonna yack all over my clean floor.”

He rolled his eyes, dropping into one of the cold metal chairs. “I’m fine, your precious floor is safe.”

Her brows furrowed, leaning over the window separating the break room from the front of the store. “Seriously, what the hell is wrong with you? You haven’t been nearly as annoying as you usually are. It’s kinda freaking me out.”

“First of all, thanks for that.”

“You're very welcome.”

Steve gave a pointed glare, not even bothering to lift his arm from the table as he offers a lazy middle finger with a tight quirk of his lips. “Second of all, I said I’m fine, alright? I’m totally, one hundred percent fine.”

“Yeah, ‘cause that was just so very convincing, Harrington. If you ever had any aspirations to go into acting, I’d give up and stick to slinging ice cream.”

His second attempt occurred that day after Steve’s shift, even made it all the way to the theater this time. However, as soon as his eyes found you behind the counter helping a mother and her daughter, the warmth emanating from that damn smile of yours turned his legs into jelly, effectively putting an end to his movements. His mouth felt dry, whatever words he’d previously been able to come up with dissipating completely as he became helpless to do anything but stare. 

Then, just as you’d finished handing the little girl her popcorn, your head began to turn in his direction, triggering his legs to finally move once more… but in the opposite direction.

What the hell was wrong with him? Getting tongue tied over a girl? Steve Harrington always knows what to say, the perfect line or simple look to turn women into putty in his hands. And yet, somehow, you’d achieved the impossible by simply existing. 

In the days that followed, in addition to work, Steve suddenly saw you everywhere, his subconscious seeking you at every turn. 

At the arcade the following night when he dropped the kids at Dustin’s insistence. You’d been coming out as they went in, laughing with another girl, arms linked; your hair flowed freely this time, dressed casually in jeans and a hoodie that looked a little too big, unencumbered by workplace regulations. Even in the dim light from the arcade, your smile pulled Steve in. Your laugh, light and contagious, quickened his pulse and sent pleasant goosebumps down his spine. (He didn’t know it then but he’d spend the rest of his life trying to elicit that angelic sound from you as often as he could.) 

The community pool for the official summer opening that weekend. Steve had to work that day, so he didn’t arrive until the late afternoon. Whereas you’d been there almost all day to appease your best friend’s desire to ogle the lifeguards, so by the time he arrived the several sun exposure and energy spent in the water had you drained. 

This time, Steve came across you passed out alone in one of the reclining pool chairs on his way to the bathroom. You were positioned laying on your side, curled into yourself with your wrist tucked under your chin. A bright pink and blue beach towel was draped over your not completely covered body, contouring to your shape. Your brow is creased, a slight frown pulling on your lips. He mirrored it, wondering what could be troubling that beautiful head of yours. A breeze blows over you then, making you shiver a little and shift, which reveals the top of your white bikini peeking from under the towel. 

A deep crimson that worsened as you adjusted again spread across his flustered face, eyes wide and lips parted, and immediately averted his gaze out of respect. Steve’s eyes land on one of the white towels provided by the pool sprawled across the empty chair to the left of you. He grabbed it, feeling the residual heat from the sun before leaning forward to place it over you as added protection and warmth.

Once you were covered anew, your still sleeping face relaxes; brows unfurrow, frown receding to a more peaceful appearance. He was helpless to the soft smile that took hold as he observed you, so enchanting even unconscious. Then, before he can start to feel too much like a creep, Steve continued on his original path to the locker rooms, throwing one last glance over his shoulder.

Then again, a few days later at the grocery store. Steve’s father, as a part of the whole “teaching him to be responsible” thing after not being accepted into a college, told him he needed to learn how to shop for himself with the money earned from Scoops instead of relying on his mother. He was standing in the frozen aisle, surveying his pizza options when he heard it— that voice dripping in honey he knew could only belong to you. 

“Come on, we’ve been working hard all week. We deserve a sweet treat, I refuse to take no for an answer.”

His eyes snapped in the direction it came from and landed on you at the opposite end of the aisle where the ice cream was displayed. You stood with your arms hugging yourself, the t-shirt you wore clearly not enough to shield you from the chill coming off the freezers. You craned your neck to look at the options on the upper shelves, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip in thought. Too entranced by the sight of you, Steve didn’t notice the guy with you until you pointed at something out of your reach and he opened the freezer to grab it for you. You smiled at him in thanks as he handed you the pint of ice cream, and a tinge of disappointment pinged at Steve’s chest. 

Shaking his head, Steve grabbed a random box to throw in his cart, turned and walked away as he pushed the feeling aside. He had no reason to be jealous— he didn’t even know your name yet. 

Even still, whenever he went back to work, he found himself frequently glancing up and out from behind the ice cream counter or as he wiped tables. Each time he caught a glimpse of you effecting him all the same. Until one night you’d looked over as he was sweeping through the lobby at closing, gaze locking with his. Recognizing him as the cute, shy guy you’d helped the week prior (and have noticed numerous times since), you flashed him a smile and offered a small wave. 

He wasn’t ready for this— heat crept into his face, tinting it an adorable shade of pink, which only deepened when he tripped over the broom he was holding, sending the dustpan beside it and its contents sprawling. Just great.

You giggle, finding the whole thing endearing, covering your grin with your hand as you approach him. “Are you okay?” 

Steve does his best to avoid your eyes, knowing it would further the embarrassment and complicate his ability to think coherently. “I mean, if you classify my apparent inability to walk and operate a broom at the same time as ‘okay’, I’m doing fantastic.”

“I don’t know, I think walking and sweeping is a pretty tough skill to learn and yet, you just made it look so easy.” 

“Ha ha,” He rolls his eyes, his sarcasm playful. “You're a real comedian.”

“Why, thank you for noticing, uh…” You trail off, becoming aware you're missing a key piece of information. “I actually didn’t catch your name the other day, I was in such a rush. You know, with the keys, and the rain.”

He finally lifts his eyes from the the cleaning supplies in hand to meet yours, the now all too familiar sensation of butterflies and brain fog washing over him. “Trust me, I remember.”

Little does he know the honey brown warmth in his are having the same effect on you, your breath hitching in your throat and pulse racing. The corners of your mouth instinctively curl as you look up at him, admiring the scattered moles adorning his beautiful face, the way his shaggy hair falls just so against his forehead. Your eyes trace a path from his pink lips back up to his, a shiver travelling down your spine at the way he’s looking at you; no one has ever looked at you this way, like you’re the most precious thing they’ve ever seen.

It’s then that Steve seems to realize he hasn’t responded to your original inquiry. “Oh, um, Steve. Steve is my name, by the way. Since you… asked.”

“Well, Steve,” His name has never sounded so melodic coming from anyone else’s lips. “It’s nice to finally be able to put a name to my accidental stalker.”

“Oh, I wasn’t—”

“Relax,” Your brief touch on his forearm meant to be an act of assurance lights his skin on fire. “It’s not like there are that many places to go in Hawkins. There’s bound to be some overlap.”

“Actually, I was thinking Hawkins must be bigger than I thought if I never noticed you before.”

“You know what they say. ‘Sometimes you never really know what you’re missing until it’s right in front of you’, right?” The eye contact holds for a silent beat, the air crackling. Neither of you are aware the same delicate expression of adoration on your face is reflected in the other’s, shown in the near identical adoring grins faintly toying on your lips. Your eyes catch the clock hanging on the wall behind him, trying not to let your disappointment at the time show too much as you start to back away. “Shit, I have to go. My ride’s waiting. To be continued.”

“Wait,” You pause, facing him just outside the store; he almost forgets what he was going to ask as his eyes meet yours again. “Do I get to know your name?”

“A week hasn’t been long enough, stalker?” The mischievous glint in your eye paired with your teasing tone and amused grin feels like you’ve known each other a lifetime, warm and familiar, and he wants to stay in it forever. “When you finally do find it, let me know. Just don’t take too long because I might have a new, more motivated stalker to take your place by then.”

Then you’re gone, leaving Steve reeling in the remnants of coconut and vanilla tainted with popcorn left behind. He’s temporarily dazed, almost certain that what just occurred was nothing more than a dream (which wouldn’t be far fetched, you’d made several appearances in his sleep since that fateful day). He kicks himself for not just talking to you sooner, already impatiently awaiting your next encounter. 

Still, there's no stopping the stupid, lovestruck smile that remains on his face the rest of the night. All because of you. 

[tender-rosiey]

“JUST LOSE CONTROL, LOVE”

— gojo, geto, nanami, sukuna, toji being obsessed with you (gn!r)

a/n: ehehe, I hope you guys like this <33 (a bit suggestive ✨)

SATORU GOJO:

“satoru, what’re you?—“

you’re cut off as he pushes you against the wall. his eyes are glossed over and his breathing is heavy, “I am hanging on by a thread, y/n…”

only one thing is on his mind, it seems.

he takes a hold of your chin and makes you look at him, “i was never completely sane to begin with…but you’re going to make me get rid of the remains of it.”

his gaze is intense, and you genuinely wished that he had his blindfold on. your knees feel weak, but your hand cups his cheek, nonetheless, “and…what’s wrong with that?”

he lets out a raspy chuckle, “quite the temptress,” he picks you up and his lips find their place on your neck.

you fist his shirt, and try to hold back any sound from coming out. you feel him smirk against your skin with a murmur, “look who’s holding back now.”

“you live in my mind,” he mumbles as he trails kisses along your neck and shoulders and you quiver at his touch.

he pulls back and pecks your lips, but it is far from innocent. he has a devilish grin on his face as he nears your ear and whispers, “I would be lying if I said I didn’t like it.”

KENTO NANAMI:

another mission was completed by the kids successfully and they partied; however, gojo had a thought of hosting another party for the adults. consider it unwinding.

naturally, you were invited. you were very proud of the kids and were eager to attend the second party. honestly, you didn’t think anything would happen today, especially making out with nanami, the cool and collected man.

“nanami, people…” you whisper, but he doesn’t relent, lips kissing yours time after time.

he tilts your chin up, “forget about them; focus on me.”

he probably feels your grip weakening as he picks you up and seats you on the counter, “everyone is lost in their world.”

he, gently but firmly, squeezes your hips and pulls you to him once again, “so what’s wrong with us doing the same?”

he smirks lightly, something unfamiliar but very welcome, “plus its not like I can stop, dearest.”

he caresses your cheek, “you’re simply irresistible, my love,” a kiss on the cheek, “divine,” a kiss on the neck, “gorgeous,” a kiss on the shoulder, “I would need the utmost strength to resist you.”

he lets out a breath as he looks you in the eye and nears your face, “and I am a weak man.”

SUGURU GETO:

your husband’s descent into madness, thankfully, didn’t translate into how he treats you. he is always gentle and playful.

sometimes, though, that madness shows in some things. you can’t say that they don’t excite you.

for example, right now, suguru has yet to detach himself from you as he kisses you. his kisses are gentle but a little unhinged. they are soft but just a tiny bit rough.

one hand wanders while the other one doesn’t leave your waist.

he is desperate and can’t help but want to feel every inch of you.

“suguru,” you try to calm him down and to steady yourself but to no avail. he doesn’t relent, each kiss more eager than the former.

on the other hand, you just can’t compete against him.

specially as he smirks and he kisses your neck, “abandon rationality, honey,” his lips graze your neck as he speaks.

you don’t respond and you feel him chuckle and he looks up at you with lovesick eyes, “crazy suits you anyway.”

you hold onto his shoulders as he connects your lips once again. the passion flows from him and you feel so tempted to join him on the other side.

so you do.

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

“my king,” you murmur as you stroke his hair.

“hm?” he grumbles as he looks up at you. His head is on your lap, and he was minutes away from dozing off.

you chuckle lightly and your hands, involuntarily, stop their movements. he doesn’t like it so he sits up and glares at you, “why did you stop?”

you pinch his cheek—one of the many privileges you have—and whisper close to this face, “I think you’re enraptured by me, my king.”

he laughs a hearty laugh that surprises you. It shakes his entire body, “me? enraptured by you?”

his hand cradles your head and pulls you towards him. he has a menacing grin on his face as he says, “then that makes you obsessed with me, doll.”

you smirk and place a kiss on his lips, “it’s a mutual obsession, my king.”

“at least do it properly.”

sukuna is rough and possessive. his hold on you is firm and you know he won’t let go.

you think that he wants to corrupt you, with the way he is kissing you and giving you no time to think about anything but him.

he fails to realize that you’re already corrupted as he is by you.

TOJI FUSHIGURO:

“mister toji, pleasure seeing you again,” you greet as said man enters your office, again.

he chuckles, “why the formality? I thought we were closer than that, boss.”

you quirk an eyebrow and reply swiftly, “we’re in my workplace; such formality is expected and needed especially for you, sir.”

“I like it when you call me that,” he chuckles.

“have you done what I asked of you?” you try and change the subject.

“who do you take me for, doll face?”

You smile humorlessly, “you’re in a good mood today, considering the nicknames and everything.”

he merely looks at you with eyes filled by hidden desire, something you’ve learned to notice from a mile away.

he takes a hold of your hand, “let’s take this somewhere.”

“toji no.”

he pays you no mind as he pulls you to the closet and locks the door.

you whisper-shout, “what’re you doing?!”

“nothing you won’t like,” he responds smugly.

“but you can’t just take me away like that!”

he places his finger on your lip, smirk never leaving his face. he holds your face and says, “cross the boundaries; they weren’t even there to begin with,”

you don’t get to respond as he smashes your lips together. his hand rests firmly on your neck and deepens the kiss.

you hold onto his shoulder weakly and he pulls back and chuckles.

“isn’t easier…to just give in?”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or I will make you sleep-deprived

[novaursa]

The Queen's Command (1/2)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: You came to Westeros to offer your services to the crown as a healer. And once the Dance starts and both Queens start to curry for your favor, you are forced to change the already written destiny of this war forever.

- Paring: Alicent Hightower/male!reader/Rhaenyra Targaryen

- Note: @subjectac7 , here is the first part of your request. I have to split it in half to establish a better background of the character you requested. I'll post the next part tomorrow that will include all other information you've provided me. This is more Rhaenyra centric, but the next part will contain Alicent pairing in it as well.

- Rating: Mild 13+ (rating will jump up in the next part)

- Next part: 2/2

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround @literaturedog

“You cannot be serious,” Grand Maester Mellos huffs, his face flushed beneath his graying beard as he paces before the hearth in King Viserys’ chambers. His robes of faded grey and white brush the floor, almost as if they carry the weight of centuries of tradition along with them. He glares at you from beneath furrowed brows, as though your mere presence is an affront to his authority. “Bloodletting has been practiced for generations in Westeros, and you—an outsider—would dare suggest otherwise?”

You stand, unmoving, across the room, your eyes obscured by the mask you wear. It covers much of your face, leaving only your sharp gaze visible beneath the shadow of the hooded cloak that hangs over your shoulders. The deep reds and blacks of your Asshaii garb seem foreign, almost unnatural, against the dull, familiar tapestries of the Red Keep. You do not flinch under Mellos’ stare.

“The king's ailment is not one that can be treated by such... primitive methods,” you say, your voice low, accented, each word carefully chosen. The hint of the Shadowlands lingers in your speech, an echo of lands far away and shrouded in mystery. “The corruption in his flesh, it festers deep within. Bloodletting will only weaken him further. What he needs is the poultice I have crafted, using ingredients from the Shadowlands, to draw the sickness out.”

Mellos scoffs, waving his hand dismissively. “Ingredients from the Shadowlands,” he repeats with mockery in his tone. “Herbs and roots that no Westerosi has heard of, much less approved of. Do you truly expect the King’s Council to trust a healer who hides behind a mask and speaks of dark magics?”

“I expect you to trust results,” you counter, stepping closer. “Results that I have delivered. How many men have I treated, who would otherwise have been lost to their injuries or sickness? Would you have them believe that my skills are unproven, Maester Mellos? Or are you simply afraid that they threaten your own?”

“You dare—”

Before Mellos can finish his sentence, the doors to the chamber swing open, and Ser Harrold Westerling strides in. The Kingsguard knight, ever stalwart, cuts through the tension with the urgency of his message. “Forgive the interruption, Grand Maester,” he says with a respectful nod, but his gaze quickly moves to you. “Princess Rhaenyra has requested your presence.”

Mellos straightens his posture. “I shall go at once. The princess—”

“Not you,” Ser Harrold interrupts, his tone firm yet respectful. “She has called for him,” he gestures to you. “There was a dragon riding incident. The princess landed awkwardly when she dismounted Syrax. She asks for the healer from Asshai.”

Mellos’ face goes white with indignation. “Impossible! The Princess would not—”

“She did,” Harrold cuts in, his gaze unwavering. “I witnessed it myself.”

You incline your head slightly, acknowledging the order without gloating. “It seems, Grand Maester, that Westerosi traditions do not always hold the favor of your nobles.” With that, you turn toward the door, your robes swaying as you move to follow Ser Harrold out into the corridors of the Red Keep.

As the two of you walk through the hallways, the torches lining the stone walls flicker with your passing. The clanking of Ser Harrold's armor is a steady rhythm next to your nearly silent footfalls. The knight, a man of duty and few words, finally speaks.

“I’ve seen what you can do,” he says, his voice low, so as not to carry. “There are soldiers, men who were once as good as dead, now back on their feet because of you. I’ve heard whispers, even saw one man after the battle with the Crabfeeder... wounds that should have taken weeks to heal, mended in days. Some say it’s dark magic. Others say it’s just skill. I don’t care which it is, as long as it works.”

You keep your pace steady, eyes focused ahead, your voice calm. “The Shadowlands teach many things, Ser Harrold. Some would call it magic, others simply knowledge they do not understand. But I assure you, everything I do is to heal, not harm.”

He glances at you from the corner of his eye. “And what of the King? Can you heal him?”

There’s a brief silence as you consider your response. “The corruption in his body runs deep. I can slow its progress, perhaps ease his pain. But to truly heal him…” Your voice trails off for a moment before you add, “It would take more than even I know. There are forces at work here, beyond any single healer.”

Harrold nods, accepting the answer for what it is. “Rhaenyra trusts you. She’s not easily impressed.”

You glance at him, sensing an unspoken question behind his words. “And you, Ser Harrold? Do you trust me?”

He doesn’t answer immediately, and for a moment, the only sound is the clinking of his armor and the crackle of torches. Finally, he replies, “I trust what I’ve seen with my own eyes. Time will tell the rest.”

The two of you reach Princess Rhaenyra’s chambers. As you enter, the familiar scent of dragon lingers in the air—an unmistakable smell of sulfur and smoke. Rhaenyra lies on a cushioned bed, her face pale but composed. Her leg is propped up awkwardly, and you can tell by the slight grimace on her face that the pain is intense.

She looks up as you approach, her eyes sharp. “You came quickly,” she says, her voice strong despite her discomfort. “Good.”

You kneel by her side, gently examining her injured leg. “You dismounted Syrax too soon,” you say, noting the swelling in her ankle. “A sprain, most likely.”

Rhaenyra winces slightly but allows you to work, watching you closely as you reach into your satchel and pull out the poultices and herbs you’ve prepared. “I trust you’ll have me back on my feet soon,” she says, her tone laced with both humor and challenge.

You meet her gaze through your mask. “Soon enough, Princess. Though I recommend resting this time, even if the pain subsides.”

She smirks. “We’ll see.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes continue to gleam with mischief as she watches you work. The playfulness in her voice carries through the quiet of the room. “You know,” she says, leaning a little closer, “I often find myself wondering what lies beneath that mask of yours. It’s not often I see a healer who hides his face.”

You glance up briefly from your work, smirking beneath the mask though she can’t see it. “Perhaps I wear it to keep a certain air of mystery, Princess,” you jest, not missing a beat. “Or maybe it’s better to leave some things to the imagination. After all, isn’t that more intriguing?”

Rhaenyra chuckles, her lips curving into a smile that matches the playfulness of your tone. “Intriguing indeed,” she muses, her fingers brushing idly against the table beside her. “But I am not a patient woman, Y/N. If there’s a mystery, I’ll uncover it eventually.”

You meet her gaze through the shadowed eyeholes of your mask, enjoying the playful dance of conversation. “Careful, Princess,” you say, the corner of your mouth lifting under the mask. “Sometimes the mystery is better left unsolved. You might find that what lies beneath is simply... underwhelming.”

Rhaenyra raises an eyebrow, clearly enjoying the banter. “Somehow, I doubt that. You wouldn’t hide it otherwise.”

You shake your head, focusing back on the work in front of you. “It’s not hiding, Princess. It’s... discretion.”

The silence that follows is not uncomfortable, but charged with a strange sort of intrigue. Rhaenyra watches you as you finish tending to her ankle, her curiosity about you only growing with each passing moment. “You’re unlike anyone I’ve met at court,” she says quietly, her gaze lingering on your hands as you work with practiced precision. “The others—Maesters, knights, and lords—they follow rules, traditions. You seem... outside of that.”

You glance at her again, briefly pausing in your work. “Asshai is far from Westeros. Its ways are not your ways,” you reply, your tone measured. “But I do what I must to heal. The rules of your court, your Maesters... they do not always align with the needs of the body.”

Rhaenyra seems to ponder your words, her interest piqued. “Perhaps that’s why I find you so... refreshing. Someone who doesn’t follow the same tiresome paths.”

You finish tying off the bandage around her ankle, gently securing it with a practiced touch. “There,” you say, rising to your feet and stepping back slightly. “The injury is not severe, but I advise rest.”

Before Rhaenyra can respond, the door opens, and in steps Queen Alicent, her presence commanding as ever. The light fabric of her green gown sways as she enters the room, her face calm, though you catch the briefest flicker of something unreadable in her eyes when they land on you. It’s subtle, but you notice it—a moment of hesitation.

“Rhaenyra,” she says, her voice softer than you expected. “I heard what happened. Are you all right?”

Rhaenyra smiles, waving off the concern. “I’m fine, Alicent. It was a minor incident, nothing more.”

Alicent’s gaze, however, shifts to you, and for a moment, there’s a tension in the room. She studies you, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. You know what this is. Otto Hightower’s warning about you lingers in her mind. She has heard about you—the healer from Asshai, with methods that defy the Seven’s teachings. Your presence unsettles those who cling to the old ways.

“I see you’ve... called upon Y/N,” Alicent says, her tone polite but guarded. “Father has told me about you.”

You incline your head slightly, acknowledging her without bowing fully. “Your father is a wise man, Your Grace. But wisdom sometimes comes with... caution.”

Alicent’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes never leaving you. “He said your ways are not... natural. That they defy the will of the Seven.”

Rhaenyra glances between the two of you, her gaze flickering with amusement. “Oh, Alicent. Must you always listen to your father? Y/N’s methods may be different, but they work.”

Alicent remains silent for a moment, her brow furrowing. “Different doesn’t always mean better,” she says softly, but the words seem more directed at herself than at you or Rhaenyra. Her gaze lingers on you, wary, as though she’s still trying to make up her mind about what exactly you are.

The silence that follows is heavy with unspoken tension, and you can feel Alicent’s discomfort. Yet, there’s something else there—something that goes beyond mere suspicion.

Rhaenyra, sensing the weight of the moment, breaks the silence with a smile that’s more mischievous than polite.

"Enough of this," Rhaenyra says, her voice light but firm as she rises from her seat, clearly intent on dismissing the uneasy air. “Whatever the Maesters or anyone else may think, Y/N has proven his worth to the crown. And I, for one, am grateful for his service.”

Her smile turns more genuine as she meets your eyes—or rather, the mask that conceals them. "In fact, I think it’s only proper that I express my gratitude personally," she continues, a playful tone lacing her words. "I would like to invite you to a private dinner, Y/N. There are many things I wish to know about you—about your homeland, your methods." She tilts her head slightly, her eyes twinkling with curiosity. “And perhaps we can finally solve the mystery of that mask.”

Alicent shifts uneasily beside her, her discomfort evident as she glances between you and Rhaenyra. Her fingers tighten slightly around the folds of her green gown, but she says nothing.

You incline your head, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. "A dinner with the Princess herself," you say, your voice smooth. "How could I refuse such an honor? Though I cannot promise the mask will come off so easily."

Rhaenyra's eyes narrow with amusement. "We’ll see about that."

Alicent clears her throat, clearly uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation. "Rhaenyra," she begins, her voice soft yet laced with subtle reproach, "perhaps it’s best to be cautious. After all, there’s much we still don’t know about—"

“Oh, Alicent,” Rhaenyra interrupts, her tone slightly dismissive but still playful. “Y/N has done more for the crown in one day than some have in years. I see no need for caution when gratitude is in order.”

Alicent’s lips press into a thin line, her unease apparent. She steals a glance at you from the corner of her eye, her expression betraying a hint of something deeper—curiosity, perhaps? Or is it the uncertainty that comes with the unfamiliar? Otto Hightower’s warnings still weigh on her, but something else lingers as well, something unspoken.

You turn to face Rhaenyra, offering a small, respectful bow. "Then, Princess, I shall look forward to your company."

As you turn to leave the room, you can feel both sets of eyes on your back—Rhaenyra’s filled with intrigue and mischief, and Alicent’s with something more complicated. Her gaze follows you, hesitant, cautious... and yet, there’s a flicker of something else.

For now, though, you leave them behind, the faint echo of their divided loyalties lingering in the air.

The dining hall Rhaenyra had chosen for this private dinner was smaller and more intimate than the grand banquet rooms of the Red Keep. The hearth crackled with warmth, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls, while a table draped in fine velvet sat between the two of you. A small feast had been laid out: roasted fowl, rich sauces, and goblets of deep red wine.

Rhaenyra leaned forward with a smile, one hand resting casually against her goblet. "So, Y/N," she began, her tone playful, "you’ve done well to avoid the subject of that mask of yours. We’re alone now—surely there’s no need to hide.”

You offered a slight chuckle, shaking your head slowly. "I wear it out of habit, Princess. It is part of who I am." You gesture toward the spread of food between you, your hands resting still in front of you. “Besides, a mask does not prevent me from sharing your company.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she took a sip of wine. "But it does prevent you from sharing a meal," she teased, nudging the plate of food toward you. "Surely you can’t eat through that mask."

You allow a smile to linger in your voice as you respond, “Perhaps, but I’ve grown quite accustomed to not eating in front of others.”

She leaned back, crossing her arms with a huff, clearly not content with your evasiveness. “You’re avoiding the question again,” she said, smirking as if she enjoyed this game of cat and mouse. “You can’t keep your face hidden forever.

You tilt your head, humor lacing your words. “Perhaps I simply enjoy the mystery. After all, didn’t you say it made things more intriguing?”

Rhaenyra’s gaze sharpened as her smile faded into something more deliberate. “Y/N,” she said, her tone still light but more commanding now. “Take off the mask.”

You froze for a moment, eyes narrowing slightly behind the mask as her words shifted from request to command. “That’s hardly fair,” you replied, your voice calm but with a hint of wariness. “Ordering me to do what you’ve been trying to coax from me all evening?”

Rhaenyra’s lips curled into a knowing smile, sensing your hesitation. “Fair or not, you’re in my service now. And I wish to see you—truly see you. So I order you.”

There’s a pause, a long, heavy silence between you. Her words linger in the air, and you can feel the weight of her demand settle over the room.

With a sigh, you slowly reach for the ties of your mask, your fingers loosening the cords that hold it in place. As the mask comes away from your face, you see Rhaenyra’s eyes widen ever so slightly, her playful demeanor faltering for the first time that night.

She stares, taken aback by your appearance, the easy confidence in her gaze replaced by something more like wonder.

You meet her eyes, your features now fully exposed to the flickering firelight. The contours of your face are unlike anything she’s seen before—your skin bearing the deep, rich tones of your distant homeland, marked with faint, intricate scars that seem almost ceremonial. Your eyes, so often obscured by the mask, are piercing, dark as onyx and filled with an intensity that feels more ancient than anything in Westeros. There is a strangeness in your appearance, something foreign, even to someone as exotic as Rhaenyra, whose Valyrian blood sets her apart in this world. You are different—more alien even than she, with her silver hair and violet eyes.

She blinks, clearly taken aback, her breath catching for a moment as she takes you in. “Gods,” she whispers, her voice soft, almost reverent. “You... you look like something from one of the old tales. Like you stepped out of another world.”

You watch her carefully, gauging her reaction. You’re used to this—used to the looks of surprise, fear, even fascination. But this moment feels different. Rhaenyra doesn’t shy away or recoil in discomfort. Instead, her eyes linger on yours, filled with a strange blend of curiosity and something else—something deeper.

“It is not every day a man from Asshai dines with a princess of Westeros,” you say, your voice calm but with an undercurrent of amusement. “I suppose we are both somewhat alien here, are we not?”

She laughs softly, though her eyes still linger on your face, studying every detail as if committing it to memory. “More alien than I thought,” she murmurs, her smile returning, though more thoughtful now. “I knew you were different, but... this.”

You tilt your head slightly, a small smile playing on your lips. “Do you regret ordering me to take off the mask?”

She shakes her head, her silver hair catching the firelight. “No,” she says, her voice soft but firm. “But I didn’t expect you to be... this.”

The two of you fall into a quiet understanding. Whatever assumptions she might have held before are gone now, replaced by something more genuine, more real. You are no longer just a mysterious healer from the far east. You are something she cannot quite place but cannot ignore.

“I wanted to know more about you,” Rhaenyra continues after a moment, her voice softer. “But I think I still don’t know enough.”

You lean back slightly, meeting her gaze with a smile. “Perhaps that is something we can remedy... in time.”

Rhaenyra leaned forward slightly, her gaze still lingering on your features as the moments passed in silence. You could feel her studying you, but now there was something more in her eyes—something contemplative, even vulnerable.

“I have a request of you, Y/N,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter now, losing the playful edge it had carried earlier in the evening. “It concerns my father.”

You knew where this was heading even before she finished speaking. The condition of King Viserys had been a topic of whispered discussions around the court for months now. You had seen it with your own eyes—how the illness had taken hold of him, how the rot had spread. But the Maesters, and most notably Grand Maester Mellos, had kept a tight grip on his care. They had kept you at arm’s length, regarding your methods with disdain and suspicion.

“I would help him if I could,” you replied evenly, placing down your goblet. “But your Grand Maester refuses to allow me much access to the King. He sees my methods as... unnatural.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw tightened slightly, frustration flashing in her violet eyes. “Mellos is stubborn. He insists that his way is the only way, but I’ve seen my father’s condition worsen under his care.” She sighed, brushing a strand of silver hair back behind her ear. “If there’s something you can do, something that could ease his suffering...”

You hold her gaze, understanding the weight of her words. There was no love lost between you and Mellos, but Viserys’ condition was worsening far faster than you had expected. There were treatments you had at your disposal, remedies from the Shadowlands that could slow the spread of the sickness. But those who worshipped the Seven viewed such methods with suspicion.

“I can try,” you say after a moment, your voice measured. “But it won’t be easy. Mellos will block me at every turn.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softened, her fingers tracing the rim of her goblet absently. “Then we’ll find a way,” she murmured. “I won’t stand by and watch him fade, not when there could be another path.”

The quiet in the room felt heavy, filled with unspoken thoughts. You finished your meal, the last bite of roasted fowl disappearing as you placed your fork down gently. Without another word, you reached for your mask, fingers curling around the edges as you prepared to don it once more.

But before you could pull it over your face, Rhaenyra’s hand shot out, stopping you mid-movement. Her fingers were warm against your wrist, firm but gentle. “Wait,” she said softly, her voice more of a whisper now.

You paused, glancing down at where her hand rested against your arm. “Princess?”

She smiled, a hint of mischief returning to her eyes, but there was something deeper now, something more intimate. “I wish to give you a gift for your services to the crown,” she said, her voice low, almost conspiratorial.

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued by her sudden shift in tone. “A gift?”

Rhaenyra leaned in, her fingers still wrapped around your wrist, preventing you from putting the mask back on. “Yes, Y/N,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper now, her lips curving into a smile. “Something personal.”

Before you could respond, she moved closer, closing the distance between the two of you with an almost predatory grace. Her hand slid from your wrist to rest lightly on your shoulder, her breath warm against your skin.

And then, without warning, she pressed her lips to yours.

The kiss was soft, yet filled with an intensity that took you by surprise. Rhaenyra’s lips were warm, her hand still resting against your shoulder as if to keep you anchored in place. You could feel the heat of her body, the closeness of her form, and for a moment, the world outside the room seemed to disappear entirely.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes were bright with something unspoken, her lips parted slightly as if she, too, were surprised by the suddenness of the kiss.

“That,” she said, her voice still soft but with a playful edge, “is your gift, Y/N.”

You stared at her, caught between surprise and amusement, the weight of the moment hanging between the two of you. She gave you a slow, almost teasing smile, watching your reaction carefully.

“Well,” you said after a beat, your voice low and amused, “I’ve received many gifts in my time, but none quite like that.”

Rhaenyra laughed softly, leaning back in her seat with a satisfied expression. “Good,” she replied, her tone once again playful. “Then I trust you’ll keep this one close.”

The Red Keep’s courtyard buzzed with the usual clamor of activity—horses being saddled, guards shouting orders, and the echo of clattering armor. You stood near the stables, your horse nearly ready, its saddle secured as you prepared to leave. The weight of the past few days pressed heavily on you. Your attempts to aid King Viserys had been met with resistance at every turn. Mellos, ever watchful, had made sure of that.

Just this morning, he had summoned you to the council chamber, where Otto Hightower waited with his usual calculating gaze. Mellos had been quick to present his case: how your methods, unnatural and foreign, posed a threat to the King's health, how you undermined the maesters' authority, and how the Seven themselves would frown upon your practices. It hadn’t taken much convincing for Otto to act on Mellos' words. You were relieved of your duties, with a polite but firm warning that your services were no longer required.

And so here you were, tightening the reins of your horse, ready to depart. You had no desire to stay where you weren’t wanted—where your hands were tied, unable to help those who needed it.

But just as you reached for your horse’s bridle, a voice broke through the noise, sharp and unmistakable. “You can’t leave.”

You turned, and there she was—Rhaenyra, standing at the edge of the courtyard, her silver hair catching the late afternoon light. Her expression was fierce, her eyes locked onto yours with a fire you hadn’t seen since the night of the dinner. She strode toward you with purpose, her gown billowing slightly in the wind.

“Princess,” you greeted her, your voice calm, but you could see the urgency in her eyes.

Rhaenyra stopped a few paces away, her chest rising and falling with the remnants of whatever anger or frustration had driven her here. “I heard what happened,” she said, her voice lower now, though no less intense. “Mellos went to Otto. He convinced him to send you away.”

You sighed, not surprised but still weary. “It was only a matter of time, Princess. Mellos has always seen me as a threat. He used Otto’s fear of the unknown to push me out.”

“You can’t leave,” she said again, more forcefully this time. Her violet eyes searched yours, as if trying to find some way to convince you to stay. “My father needs you. I need you.”

You stepped closer, the reins of your horse still in your hand. “You know as well as I do, Rhaenyra, that Mellos won’t allow me near your father. Every time I’ve tried, he’s blocked me. Even now, your father’s care is in his hands.”

Rhaenyra’s jaw clenched, her frustration clear. “You could help him. You could stop what’s happening to him.”

You sighed softly, shaking your head. “There are limits to what I can do when the very people who should be working with me are working against me. If I stay, I’ll be wasting time fighting battles I cannot win.”

Her gaze softened, but there was still a fierceness behind her eyes. “Then stay for me,” she whispered, her voice barely above the wind. “Not for them.”

The sincerity of her words hung between you, heavy and undeniable. For a moment, you considered it—considered staying, if only for her. There was something between you now, something that had grown in the quiet spaces between words and the stolen moments you shared. But even that couldn’t change what had been done.

You stepped forward, closing the space between you and Rhaenyra. “We will see each other again, Rhaenyra. This isn’t the end.”

She looked up at you, her eyes searching yours for any sign of doubt. “How can you be so sure?”

A faint smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Because some paths are meant to cross again.”

Rhaenyra’s face softened at that, but the fire in her eyes remained. “I don’t like it,” she said, her voice full of that same determined stubbornness you had grown used to. “But I believe you.”

You reached out, gently touching her arm, your voice quiet but firm. “Take care of your father. And take care of yourself. I will find my way back when the time is right.”

With that, you turned toward your horse, mounting it with ease. Rhaenyra stood back, watching as you prepared to ride away, the wind catching her silver hair as it whipped around her face. You met her gaze one last time, a silent promise passing between you.

And then, with a gentle nudge of your heels, your horse moved forward, carrying you out of the Red Keep and into the city beyond.

As you rode through the gates, you couldn’t help but glance back once more, catching a glimpse of Rhaenyra standing in the courtyard, a figure of silver and fire, watching you disappear into the distance.

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ʀɪᴠᴀʟ (ɪ)

✒ ʙᴜᴍʙʟɪɴɢ ʙᴇᴀꜱᴛ

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴇxᴘʟɪᴄɪᴛ ʟᴀɴɢᴜᴀɢᴇ, ʙʟᴀᴄᴋᴍᴀɪʟɪɴɢ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ꜱᴇx, ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ʙᴇᴛᴡᴇᴇɴ ᴀ ᴛᴇᴀᴄʜᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀ ꜱᴛᴜᴅᴇɴᴛ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴛʀᴇꜱᴘᴀꜱꜱɪɴɢ, ᴛʜᴇꜰᴛ, ᴠᴏʏᴇᴜʀɪꜱᴛɪᴄ ʙᴇʜᴀᴠɪᴏʀ, ɢᴀʙᴇ ɪꜱ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴀ ᴄʀᴇᴇᴘ. ɪɴꜰᴏʀᴍ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏ!

Yandere Rival, who is used to being second place in everything. It came with being Richard Shepherd's brother, even if the ass didn't even get to go to college, and it sure as fuck was a guarantee with having Raphael as his twin brother. But with Raphael gone, he thought: Hey! At least he'll be at the top now. They won't like him as much as they'd ever like Raphael, the thought would keep him up at night occasionally, but that’d be easy enough to get used to. 

And that was the case for most of second year, where people respected him a bit more and stopped looking at him as just the stupid, brutish brother and now as the stupid, brutish, ‘King’ of the school. There were certainly other, more well liked people, but they didn't have the same control like Gabe did, simple as that. 

Yandere Rival who is able to keep this status till the third year. What was meant to be his year, is now yours. 

“Who even is this guy?” Gabe slams his food tray to the table with the force of the anger building beneath his skin, some of the fries jump off and land on the metal surface, “He's some new kid, and yet-” 

Gabe is interrupted by the sound of laughter, he grips so tightly onto the side of the tray that he thinks that if he held it a bit tighter there'd be dents. 

“Sam,” He takes a deep, shaky breath, “Tell me. Is it from his table?” 

“Uh, I don't think you'd want to know..” 

“Samuel Moss,” Gabe feels the anger inside him weaken from satisfaction when Sam flinches, “You don't want to test me right now. Tell me, right now.”

“..Yeah.”

Gabe strikes his fist against the table, the harsh sting only serving to piss him off further, “Damn it!” People stare, but he can't bring himself to give a single fuck. Besides, Luke is here to glare at them hard enough for them to look away. 

“Apparently, this guy's from the city,” Sam explains, “They're all probably just fascinated ‘cause he's a city boy, they'll move after a week or two.” 

Gabe is still staring at him. He's surrounded by people all around the lunch table, they're all laughing, smiling, having a real laugh. 

Gabe digs his nails into the skin of his palm, ignoring the pain when he draws blood. The humiliation from earlier today during gym class is still there. He can't believe it. Bested in dodgeball by some kid from the city. 

He recalls their brief conversation, and he can feel his face grow hot with anger. 

“Like what you see?”

“What are you? Are you gay or something?” 

“I could ask you the same thing. Maybe you shouldn't stare so much. You're sending the wrong message.”

“You'll be fine bro,” Luke claps him on the back, foolishly oblivious to the irritation in Gabe’s eyes when he whips his head around to scowl at him, “This [Name] guy, I bet he won ‘cause of dumb luck. I mean- he had that loser Todd on his team and that guy has absolutely zero hand-eye coordination.”

“You know the word coordination?” Sam paused, a single inch away from taking a full bite from his sandwich.

“Shut up, asshole,” Luke scoffed. 

Gabriel tunes out their bickering, and focuses back on [Name]. 

He was like Raph in a sense. The two of them shared what seemed to be a natural finesse when it came to communicating and speaking with others, as well as an aura that attracted people to them like moths to a flame. But that was where the similarities ended. 

From what Gabe saw earlier, [Name] was cunning, a bit more quick witted than Raph who, while he was pretty smart, was no match for [Name]. 

[Name] glances at him, and their eyes meet again like they did back in gym, and [Name]’s already present grin seems to widen.

He mouths something, it takes Gabriel a few moments to process what he said before turning red once more, and swiftly turning away.

You're staring. 

Well, he was definitely not. 

Yandere Rival who you clearly don't take seriously, at all. After all, why would you waste energy caring about some dude who was a bit too obsessed with you, when you were too busy with everything else going on in your life? 

Yandere Rival who always felt like you were one-upping him on purpose. Oh, Gabe led the football team into winning against the school’s rivals? Well, [Name] was the MVP in a basketball match against the previous state champions. 

Yandere Rival whose thoughts are consumed by you. You're just so infuriating! You're so cocky, arrogant, and stupidly handsome that it's distracting him even more. There's an unexpected side effect to this, which is Gabe pulling out his dusty sketchbook, and drawing you in various unfortunate situations just to try to vent his anger. 

There's a drawing of you being burned alive. A drawing of you being eaten by crocodiles. A drawing of you getting hit by a semi-truck. A drawing of you… smiling after a match… based off a photo of you he cut out from the school paper… and pasted on his wall. 

The last time Gabe put a pen to paper was before Tommy left. Tommy set him aside, and asked him to make him something he thought he couldn't draw.

Gabe did it, only because Tommy looked jittery, and when he showed it to Tommy, his older brother told him, “Well, see? You can draw it after all.” 

Tommy took that drawing with him when he left, and Gabe never felt like using his sketchbook again after that. 

Now he's the age Tommy was when he left them, and amidst his childhood art is the face of his most hated rival. 

From the slant of [Name]’s nose, to the shape of his lips, to the very length of each individual eyelash, Gabe had somehow captured a scary amount of detail of [Name]’s visage. 

He hates to admit it, but he has been staring at [Name]. But it's not his fault when [Name]’s appearance is just so naturally distracting.. He needed a way to get the image of him out of his head, and he believed that drawing would be a good way to just… eject the guy's face out of his mind. 

So here he is, bent over his desk, sketching out every little piece of [Name] and breathing life into the images of him in pain. Gabe grips the pencil with a tense hand, and drags it across the paper to make the final few strokes… and then, he’s done. 

The pen falls from his hand, and he looks at the image. It’s of [Name] in sportswear nursing a sprained wrist. A realization hits him and he scowls.

“Fuck, not again.” Gabe buries his head in his hands and groans. This was the fourth time. The fourth! The fourth time that he’s drawn [Name] from real life. [Name] had sprained his wrist because of an accident during practice and Gabe saw him outside the school infirmary in the same exact outfit with an icepack on his wrist. 

His heart aches for a moment, and he curses once more. 

No matter how much draws [Name] in pain, he doesn’t feel any better. Not one bit.

There is none of that satisfaction that he had gotten with Raphael. Although the night it happened, there was a hollowness that carved itself inside of him, there was also a side of him that was pleased at the sight of the dirt and blood beneath his fingernails. Proof that he’d done what he needed to. That he’d taken care of his problem like a man, and saw it through.

And while Gabe wasn’t the kind of guy to sit around and.. Ugh, ponder about his feelings, he did have to admit that it was weird hurting [Name] didn’t seem to sit as well with him as it did when he got to beat up whatever dickbag stood in his way. 

If he couldn’t bring himself to use his fists, then maybe he could try to use his brain this time. 

With a deep breath, Gabe picks up his pencil and starts to write. 

How do I ruin [Name]? 

Yandere Rival who tries many things. He makes vast, elaborate (not really) plans that he executes to varying degrees of success. Sometimes he plans to sabotage you during basketball practice. He tries to defame you through his ex who’s part of the school paper. One time he placed laxatives in your water bottle… except it was your teammate’s water bottle. 

The only thing all plans had in common was that they all failed.

Honestly, he starts to lose hope. There's just so many schemes a guy can attempt to pull of before realizing that maybe he's not meant to be an ideas guy, and more of a physically assault and attack kind of guy.

But then…

Yandere Rival who, one day, he's coming out of the showers after practices and racking his brains trying to think of another plan, he hears the sound of your voice as soon as he steps foot into the parking lot. You're in Coach Jones’ car, a hole in the window from when the last year's seniors threw a rock at it, and you're unbuttoning his shirt. He's unzipping your jacket. And…

Yandere Rival who had to restrain himself from charging straight at the car, practically tear the door open, and drag Coach Jones out of the driver's seat and pound his face to an unrecognizable mess with his fist. That disgusting old geezer, Gabe knew something was up with him. And you…! You… Fuck. He's too pissed off to string together a single sentence that could describe what you were making him feel right now. 

Yandere Rival who has shit grades, who can barely focus during class, and is as calm and as patient as a bull in a China shop. But he's not that stupid, okay? Because as much as the rage threatened to swallow him whole, it clicked in his head that he could use this, exploit this little vulnerability of yours. 

[Name] was hooking up with the coach! 

Yandere Rival who tucks himself into bed for the night, but can't sleep. Seriously, he can't get the sight of you in the coach's car out of his head and it's burrowing itself deep inside his mind. It bothers him more than it reasonably should. He didn't question it earlier because it was so shocking, but now that he's had the time to stop and think about it.. 

Why were you in the coach's car to begin with? Surely, if you were gay, you'd at least have the standards to fuck somebody that wasn't, you know, the sleazy coach. Somebody your age, with a better body, and who wasn't a huge pervert.

Yandere Rival who is so busy pondering why that he doesn't get any sleep, and he's occupied by it even when he's watching Sam and Luke beat up the little loser Marty Kaye and steal his camera. The question grows louder, echoing further when he's finally managed to catch you and the coach again. The leaves and branches inside the bush scratching at his letterman jacket, the camera light flashing red as he takes a picture of the two of you at the school parking lot late after school, nobody around except the athletes who are preoccupied with practice, the coach has his nasty lips on yours and he's pawing at you like a desperate animal. The entire time he ignores the way the front of his pants starts to tighten.

Yandere Rival who develops the pictures himself in the school's darkroom, and makes as many copies as he'll need. He makes ten, he takes one and keeps the rest in a shoebox beneath his bed marked with a simple ‘DO NOT OPEN’. Before he goes to bed one night however, he ends up taking one of the photos out of the box and as long as he didn't look at the coach... He would never admit it but you looked fuckin' hot.

When it's just the two of you alone in the locker room after gym class, he corners you after your shower and waves the picture in front of your face with a cocky smirk that grows as your eyes widen and your face grows ashen with dread. 

[Name] tries to snatch the photo from him but Gabe dodges easily, stepping backwards and sticking it in his pants for good measure. An image pops in his head, a desperate [Name] tackling Gabe down to the floor and digging through his pants to get the picture. His hand brushing against his clothed crotch. The thought has his cheeks heating up for some reason.

“Fucking-” [Name] grits his teeth and his hand balls into a fist, “How'd you get that?”

Gabe hikes his pants up, hoping that [Name] can't see that he's blushing, “That doesn't really matter now does it? You should be less worried about how I got the picture, and more about what I'm gonna do with it.” 

That shut [Name] up quite well, the other teen bites his lip before clicking his tongue. He crosses his arms, and has the nerve to let out a scoff, “Huh, okay. Tell me then,” He leans back against the tiled walls, “What's your great plan then? For your sake, I hope it works better than the previous ones.” 

Gabe hates it, but in that moment he can't help but flinch, whatever gravitas surrounding him dissipated, “You knew-”

[Name] barked out a laugh, he throws his head back only for it to come down as he shakes his head and sighs, “I'm not an idiot like you. Jesus Christ, you couldn't be more obvious if you tried.”

The tip of Gabe's ears turned red. This was fucking embarassing, not only did each plan fail spectacularly, but [Name] knew, he didn't do anything to interfere in them, yet they still failed regardless. 

“Whatever,” Gabe clears his throat and avoids making eye contact with [Name], who is now the one sporting an amused expression, “Anyways- Aren't you wondering what I'm gonna make you do?” 

When Gabe was imagining how it would go down in his head, he envisioned [Name] panicked and visibly distressed. Practically sweating buckets as he rambled on about how he would do anything for Gabe, as long as he didn't reveal his secret. 

So far he was getting what he didn't want. Apathy. 

Okay, maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration. [Name] didn't look bored, but he did look irritated, and Gabe was getting the inkling that this was the closest he'd get to an emotional outburst from him. 

“Honestly, Shepherd, no offense but I just don't think you have the mental faculties to come up with anything that isn't extortion,” [Name] pauses for a moment, before his lips curl into a wicked grin, “You do know what the word extortion means, right?” 

“I know what it means!” Gabe has to remind himself that he can't yell, so he settles for hissing out the words between gritted teeth. 

[Name] laughs, “Ha, yeah… sure,” He smirks, “So… was I right?” 

“...” 

Honestly speaking, Gabe hasn't thought much about what he'd do. He was so caught up in figuring out how to use the camera, then how to develop the pictures, then making the copies… that he hasn't really stopped to think about what he'd actually do to [Name] when it came down to it. 

[Name] could probably tell, since he rolled his eyes, “Whatever.” He adjusted the towel around his waist, but before he could actually take another step Gabe grabbed him by his arm. 

“Hey, I didn't say you could leave-”

“Shepherd, unless you wanna see my dong, then I'd strongly suggest you let me put my clothes on.” 

“Oh,” Gabe lets go of him. He can feel his own dong start to harden for some reason and he tries to will it to settle down, to no effect.

“Yeah,” [Name] snorts, he turns around before he can see Gabe's buddy perk up, as he leaves to go change he mutters under his breath, “That's what I thought..” 

The sound of [Name]’s footsteps grow farther, Gabe can eventually hear him open his locker and the faint muffled sound of him digging around for his clothes. 

Gabe slumps back against the wall. He glances at the clock on the wall. 

12:11. 

He'd have the entire lunch period to think of what to do with [Name], if he couldn't right now.

“Fuck,” Gabe mutters under his breath. 

Why didn't he think of what to do last night?  

His cheeks burn red. 

Oh right. 

He was doing… that. 

Gabe drags his fingers across his hair the same way his mother used to when he was young. For some reason, it was always able to settle his mind. Perhaps it was the repetition of the sensation that calmed him. 

Nonetheless, it got the job done. But now all that was left in his mind was the quiet and the quiet was making Gabriel tap his foot against the floor and rub his palms together restlessly. 

“Oi, [L/N],” Gabe finally calls out in the silence, but when he gets no response he immediately straightens. He looks at the clock and curses. 

12:18. 

Gabe walks swiftly to the lockers, trying not to slip, and groans when [Name] isn't there. 

He kicks a locker and ignores the sharp pain that follows. 

“Bastard!”

Yandere Rival who confronts you after school, he waits for you outside the lockers after the basketball team’s practice ends and doesn't waste a moment before he drags you back to his own car; Heedless to your protests. 

He's had the time to think, and he's decided on what he wants you to do. 

“You're gonna be my henchman.”

“...What the hell are you on, Shepherd?”

Yandere Rival who uses you as what we would call a PR manager. You're a tool yes, but a valuable one. 

Yandere Rival who only has what can be called a proud smile on his face when news spreads around school that Gabriel Shepherd and [Name] [L/N] were now ‘best of friends’. Meanwhile the expression on your face can only be described as ‘bitterly resigned to the fate of spending your senior year as Gabe’s fake best friend’. 

Yandere Rival whose reputation grows significantly once he has you in his circle. You're practically his right hand man at this point, and you may as well be. You're certainly better at planning than he is, and you definitely have a better understanding of other people and what makes them tick. 

You come up with many, and I mean many ideas about how he can make people like him more and honestly they work.

Yandere Rival who starts hosting more parties, using the large land that encompasses the non-farm part of his home when his dad is off on a business trip, and hosting parties at either Sam or Luke's when his dad is around. Never yours though, strangely enough. But forget about that. The parties. Oh lord, the parties. Good alcohol, good music, everybody who is anybody at the school is present, and really, you're the one to thank for how well they always go. It makes Gabriel more popular, yes, but it also increases your own popularity, which is an unfortunate side effect. 

Yandere Rival who, for the sake of keeping up the facade that the two of you were the absolute bestest of friends, does his best to attend all your games. Heck, he even has Sam and Luke bring along a banner they made the artsy geeks make to support you and waves it around while practically bellowing out: “Go [Name]!” The entire time. Does he enjoy it? …Maybe. There's a small part of him that has fun going to these games and cheering you on. There's an even smaller part of him that he makes sure to ignore, a part of him that enjoys carrying out all your creative plans not just because they improve his standing, but also because… it's just fun doing them with you. Even if you’re an ass. 

Yandere Rival who pulls off more wild things with you than merely throwing fun parties and sometimes pulling pranks on the teachers. 

The weekend before the big football championship, you and Gabe, accompanied by Sam and Luke, take a trip to two towns away where the school’s biggest rival is located and by nightfall, the four of you break into the building to steal the school’s ‘lucky charm’: The Spirit stick. 

The four of them had climbed over the chain link fence near the track field, Luke catched Sam and Gabe catched [Name]. The air was chilly, and the earth was soaked and muddy from the rain. 

“Let’s go through under the benches, we don’t want to be tracking mud on the floor,” [Name] tugs the hood of his jacket further down his head.

“Alright,” Gabe places a hand over his eyes, clicking his tongue when droplets of rain manage to slip through. 

They make their way to the double door leading inside the school, unfortunately there are chains around the handles of the door and a padlock holding them together.

“Shit,” Luke grunts, “What now?” 

“Should we go back?” Sam turns to Gabe. 

“Nah,” [Name] is already crouching, he pulls a jackknife out from his jacket, “I’ve got this.”

Luke snorts, “Ha. What are you gonna do? Cut the chains?” 

[Name] stares at him blankly, only to pull out each individual part of the jackknife, exposing that it had a lockpick set inside. 

“Ah…” 

[Name] raises a single brow, completely unimpressed, “You were saying?” 

“Whatever man, just get to it.” 

Gabe has done many things since he’s become… ‘friends’ with [Name]. He drank alcohol, did a bit of weed, and snorted some coke. Hell, he nearly hit a deer when the two of them were driving them back from visiting [Name]’s dealer in the next town over. 

Let’s just say that Gabe was a bit (just a bit!) distracted. 

([Name]'s lips, plush and wet, parted slightly with a joint stuck in between, just a bit of tongue exposed between the gap) 

But that was all small stuff. This? This was most definitely a crime. Not like he was going to complain. Nah, he had Sam for that.

“Dude, are you sure we should be doing this?” Sam’s eyes kept flashing back and forth, warily watching, waiting to see if anybody was around to catch them in the act. 

“Aw, you scared Sammy?” Luke cackled, he was leaning against the wall, covering [Name] on his left, “You’ll be fine, your daddy’s the damn chief of police.” 

“Fuck off Luke, don’t be a dick-” 

“Shut it,” Gabe was covering [Name] from view on the right, you can say what you want about Gabe, but you can’t deny that he’s got a good glare, “Both of you.” 

Luke rolls his eyes, yet concedes. 

Sam lowers his head, “Sorry..” 

[Name] glances at Gabe out of the corner of his eye, and Gabe can see there’s a small smile on his face. A silent thank you. 

Gabe scoffs, but he can’t help the smile that creeps on his face. 

The more time he spends with [Name] the more he finds that the guy isn’t as bad as he thought he was. Seriously, sometimes he forgets why he even hated [Name] so much. He was a good guy, all things considered, except for all the drugs, alcohol, and now this. 

Nobody has done something like this for him before, not Sam or Luke, not even any of his brothers. It was strange knowing that somebody was willing to commit an actual crime for his sake. Gabe isn't even sure if they're friends, they shouldn't be, but it was hard to think that considering everything they've been doing together. 

Gabe still can't forget what happened at the last party. Every time he blinked he would remember the sight of [Name] with his wet shirt sticking to his chest, absolutely drenched after diving into the pool on a dare. But that wasn't what mattered. Nah, it was what happened later. It was clear that [Name] was still a bit drunk, and when he went to get a towel, but took longer than he should've to come back Gabe…. got worried. 

He thought [Name] slipped or something, and so he went to look for him, only to find the guy dozing off near the laundry machine below the cabinet the towels were in. 

Gabe tried to wake him up, but instead through a series of events, he ended up bringing [Name] up to Sam's bedroom and tucking him in. He wasn't even allowed to go back downstairs because [Name] would stir and glare at him sleepily every time he even took another step towards the door. 

It was annoying, but… it was good. 

He felt needed. 

Before he could think about it further, the lock opens with a click, and falls to the ground with a weak clang. 

“You actually did it!” Sam gaped, “How the hell do you know this stuff?” 

[Name] smirks, his chest puffed out, “A magician never tells his secrets. Now come on,” He removed the chains and then held the door open, he grinned and gestured for Gabe to enter, “Ladies first.” 

Gabe glared, but merely rolled his eyes. There was no time to waste after all. However, before Gabe could enter Luke grabbed his shoulder. 

“What is it?” Gabe huffed. 

“Dude, our shoes are wet. Use the scraper mat first,” Luke points to it, and demonstrates by using it himself. 

[Name] beams, “Smart. Nice job Luke.”

Luke chuckles, “What can I say? I try.” 

Gabe rolls his eyes, “Wish you could try using your brain more during practice, maybe then we wouldn't be having to do this shit.”

Luke frowns, this was a sore spot for him, Gabe knew that, “Don't be a dick man.” 

Gabe clicks his tongue, “Whatever.” 

He ground his feet on the scraping mat instead of actually, you know, scraping, but it worked. 

The familiar sensation of hot, stuffy anger burning at the center of his chest appeared but Gabe didn't know why. Usually he could pin down what triggered it, what triggered him, but right now he had not a single clue. 

When all of them finished drying their shoes, Sam and [Name] even go so far as to squeeze the remaining water out of their clothes, Luke shuts the door behind them and Gabe takes out two flashlights he bought on one of their fuel stops. 

He tosses one to Luke who catches it easily, and turns it on immediately. After a few failed attempts, Gabe smacks his own against his palm one more time before it finally turns on properly. The two beams of bright light illuminating the hallway and the surrounding lockers. Their walls were lined with green banners, festive posters, and small flags with the school’s name and mascot on it. All in the school colors. Probably the school celebrating their ‘certain victory’. 

“Alright genius, where do we go now?” Gabe turns to [Name]. 

“Well…” [Name] claps his hand, “I guess we’ll find out together!” 

Sam’s eyes practically bulged out of his sockets, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

[Name] simply pats Gabe on the shoulder, and before Gabe can do or say anything else, he takes the flashlight from Gabe’s fingers with the deftness of a practiced pickpocket, and walks further down the hall and deeper into the school, barely making any noise. 

“He’s not serious is he?” Sam glances at Luke. 

“Don’t look at me man,” Luke shrugs, “Let’s get going before he leaves us behind.” 

The three of them catch up to [Name], though it is only Gabe who matches his pace. The two of them walk beside each other, [Name] flashing the light around, still searching for the Spirit Stick, [Gabe] on the other hand is sticking close to [Name] and not thinking about much else. Really, the only thing on his mind right now is how nice it is to be around the warmth that was radiating off of [Name], how comfortable it felt to just be beside him. 

“So…” [Name] breaks the silence, his voice is low enough that it was clear to Gabe that the conversation was not meant for the four of them, but just for them, [Name] and Gabe, “Are you mad?” 

Gabe’s brow furrows, “Huh?”

“Don’t act like you aren’t,” There’s a trace of a grin on [Name]’s face, but Gabe has come to understand that grinning is merely a reflex for [Name] at this point.

“Why would I be?” Gabe whispers back. 

[Name] opens his mouth but before he could speak Luke speaks up in a volume that Gabe never heard him speak in before, “Pst, guys! How about we split up? 

[Name] looks like he’s about to protest, but Gabe cuts him off, “Alright, let’s meet up here in… twenty minutes?” The four of them were standing at a crossroads, south led the way they came, north was further down to where Gabe assumed the cafeteria would be, and then there was the west and east which Gabe assumed would be where the classrooms were. 

“Yeah, that should be good,” Sam nods, “Luke and I will take west, you guys take east?” 

“Hey wait-” 

“Sure,” Gabe grabs [Name] by his arm and is already dragging him along despite [Name]’s protests, “Let’s investigate the north side if we don’t find the spirit stick.” 

“Aye aye, captain,” Luke playfully salutes him with a goofy grin on his face, before giving them a wave goodbye as he and Sam went down their own hall. 

Gabe and [Name] got farther down the hall before [Name] shook Gabe’s hold off of him with a very heated glare.

“Gabriel,” [Name] hisses, “Why did you do that?” 

Gabe shrugs, “I don’t want those two idiots overhearing our conversation.” 

That was a lie, a big boldfaced lie. Gabe would rather die than admit it, but he felt like Sam and Luke were sort of like… third wheels. Guh. He wished there was a better way to describe it, but Gabe’s limited vocabulary left him with only that term. Additionally, he didn’t like how buddy buddy Luke was getting with [Name]. 

They weren’t meant to be friends. Really, Gabe, Sam, and Luke shouldn’t even be doing this with [Name] at all. Period. But at least Gabe had an excuse, he had an image to maintain. What reason did Luke have? That’s right. Nothing. The oaf was better off sticking with the other oaf.

[Name] rolls his eyes, he focuses the flashlight straight ahead and starts walking, “Why are you such a dick to those two guys?” He glances at Gabe, who was steadily keeping pace with him, “I thought you guys were friends.”

Gabe chuckles, and for the first time he got to see a confused expression on [Name]’s face.

“Oh, you're not joking,” Gabe halts, “Well… we're not. They stick around because I'm the only popular guy they can actually tolerate.” 

And not to mention what happened with Raph. But well, that was just one of the… more important factors. Still, at the end of the day it was just one of the bullet points on the list of reasons why it was good for them to hang out with Gabe. 

“Dang.” 

“Cat got your tongue [Name]?” 

[Name] shrugs, he peeks around the corner and flashes his light down the hall, “Tsk, still nothing…” 

Gabe sighs, he doesn’t appreciate the sudden change of subject much, but fine. He can admit when there were more pressing matters to attend to. The longer he stayed inside the school the more he got creeped out. Since he was young Gabe had a fear of the dark that got better as he grew older, but as the two of them continued to walk down the dark halls, lined with metal lockers, and decorated to show school pride, the more Gabe felt like something was staring at him.

“What’s the Spirit stick even look like?” Gabe doesn’t want to, but he squints into the darkness anyway. 

[Name] glances at him from the corner of his eye, and the half of his face that Gabe can see in the barely illuminated darkness is giving him a very deadpan look, “Your girlfriend literally carries the damn Spirit stick for the pep rallies.” 

“She’s not my fucking girlfriend,” Gabe glares at him, “We just fucked once.” 

[Name] smirks, “Not yet at least. A little birdie told me that she really likes you-”

“[Name],” Gabe stops walking, and stares [Name] down with an expression that, based off [Name]’s flinch and sudden folding in on himself, does exactly what he intends it to, “She’s not. My. Fucking. Girlfriend.” 

He didn’t like to think of her. Not that the sex was bad, really it was decent. Mediocre at worst. Nah, what made it hard to think of her was the memories of what he had to do to win a place beside her in bed. He still can’t look her brother in the eyes sometimes. 

Besides, he didn’t want to talk about her. Not in front of [Name]. For some reason, him talking about Gabe’s sexual escapades just… made him feel weird, when he’d usually be raring to boast about it. 

[Name] rolled his eyes, but his shoulders were noticeably more tense and his grip on the flashlight seemed to grow tighter, “Fine. Whatever. Sorry, I guess.” 

The rest of the walk was spent in utter silence, broken only by Gabe’s occasional request to you to flash the light in a specific direction, before once more being enveloped by the heavy blanket of an awkward silence. 

Eventually the two of you did find the spirit stick. Near the school trophies, right outside the principal’s office, encased inside a glass box, that was unfortunately locked. However, Gabe had you, and you had already displayed an unusual prowess at picking locks and this was no less easy. The two of you meet up with Sam and Luke at the agreed upon time and get the hell out of there as quickly as possible. 

Yandere Rival who, when he gets home, can’t sleep. Seriously. The earlier conversation was still playing in his mind and he just… God, he was so stupid! Why’d he have to snap at you? You were just teasing him like you usually did. Why did this bother him so much? It shouldn’t. Yet it did and- Grah. 

Gabe spends the night tossing and turning in his bed, his mind is restless as the image of [Name]'s hurt expression plays itself over and over. Each time he closes his eyes, he sees him; lips pulled down into a frown, his brows knit in a pitiful expression that has seared itself into his brain like an unwanted tattoo.

He grabs his pillow and buries his face into it and groans.

"I'm such a dumbass," Gabe mutters.

Gabe closes his eyes and tries once more to go to sleep, but when five minutes pass and his mind is showing no sign of settling, he kicks off the blanket, and gets off his bed. He makes sure to keep his footsteps light so nobody can hear him moving around at- Gabe glances at his clock- two in the morning.

He opens his drawer slowly, and pulls out his sketchbook. Flipping through the pages of his childish drawings and his sketches of the man that's keeping him awake, he pauses when he catches sight of his barely legible scrawl.

HOW TO RUIN [NAME]

Gabe can't help but scoff. Technically he did succeed. He had [Name] under his thumb after all, didn't he? But it was undeniable that [Name] was far from ruined, if anything he seemed to be doing even better than before.

He's about to go to another page, when his eyes land on a drawing of [Name] smiling wearing a t-shirt and basketball shorts. Gabe remembers the reference he had for it. He didn't do a live sketch, no, it was all just his memory.

[Name] was hanging out with his friends, carefree and genuinely happy, and Gabe just so happened to be driving by the town's community basketball court where they were playing a game. He simply glanced outside the window, doing a bit of people watching since the road was clear, and the sight of [Name] had him rolling his eyes and he was about to turn away, but then he smiled and he was taken aback by it's brightness.

So taken aback that he stopped driving altogether and was now in the middle of the road, straight up staring at [Name]. He was snapped out of it when a car behind him honked and the driver was waving his fist at him angrily.

Gabe chuckles, it was funny now in retrospect, but it wasn't so funny that it distracted him from how embarrassing the situation still was. He takes a deep breath and exhales, feeling the air release itself in how the tension in his shoulders seem to lessen.

An idea pops into his head as his gaze continues to rest on the drawing. Gabe chews on his bottom lip as he thinks about it, before finally opening his drawer and taking out a pencil. He turns on the table lamp, and guides the pen on the paper to draw the look that's been keeping him awake.

Gabe wonders what [Name] means to him at this point. He didn't hate him anymore, at most he felt a bit irritated when [Name] would tease him. He liked him, but not in the way that he thinks a friend should like a friend. His version of like is a little crackling fireplace in his heart that's keeping it warm. He doesn't know if it's normal, if that's what being friends with somebody felt like for everybody else.

But [Name] wasn't everybody else.

Maybe this was just a special kind of like that only Gabe could feel, and he thinks he's fine with that.

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: [ɴᴀᴍᴇ], ɪ… ᴊᴇꜱᴜꜱ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛ. ɪ ɴᴇᴠᴇʀ ᴍᴇᴀɴᴛ ꜰᴏʀ ɪᴛ ᴛᴏ ʜᴀᴘᴘᴇɴ. ɪᴛ ᴡᴀꜱ.. ɪ ᴄᴏᴜʟᴅɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏɴᴛʀᴏʟ ᴍʏꜱᴇʟꜰ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀꜱᴛᴀɴᴅ ʀɪɢʜᴛ?

[j-k-writes]

The Lion of the Trident

Summary - After Rhaegar's defeat on The Trident, Robert and Ned must deal with the Prince's surviving forces, including Y/N Lannister.

Warnings - age gaps (Y/N is about 16/17 while Ned and Robert are 19/20), canon character death, general GOT warnings, ableist language (toward Tyrion), mentions of violence, sexual content

Y/N was awoken to the feel of frigid water pouring down on him. 

He shot up, gasping and shivering. He pushed himself further into the makeshift outdoor prison cell, covering himself further in mud. He shook his hair out as the chilled water settled deep into his bones, glaring up at the men responsible. 

“I know I stink, but that’s not quite the bath I had in mind.” Y/N’s words didn’t quite land the way he’d hoped with the shivers racking him visible to the men standing over him. 

“King Robert wishes to speak with you.” 

Y/N laughed, “King? I wasn’t aware Aerys had died?” 

The two men didn’t grant the Lannister heir with a response, grabbing his arms and dragging him to his feet. He attempted to jerk his arms free from the men’s grasp, but the days spent chained to a pole with little food and water had weakened him enough that the two men had no trouble dragging him to Robert’s tent. 

Realizing he had no choice but to let this farce take place, Y/N steeled himself holding his head high as they walked through the camp. He smiled at the jeers thrown his way, finding himself laughing at quite a few. The days of abuse, physical and verbal, he’d suffered at the hands of the usurpers were nothing compared to the years living in his father’s tight grasp. Perhaps if they set Lord Tywin in front of the young knight he’d have been more forthcoming with his information. 

Robert Baratheon looked exactly how Y/N remembered him, towering over every lord in his tent. Y/N’s eyes trailed down the Baratheon’s body, gaze settling on a fresh bandage applied around his torso. 

“Sit him down.” Ned Stark spoke, drawing Y/N’s attention away from the Stormlander. Y/N grunted as he was forced into a chair, wincing as the rough wood of the seat made contact with the bruises no doubt littering his body. The two men were dismissed, and Robert and Ned turned their full attention to Y/N. 

“While I admire the efforts, you will be getting no valuable information from me.” Y/N spoke, taking in the different reactions from the two men. Ned winced at the reminder of the Lannister’s treatment in the camp, while Robert simply frowned, scowl deepening. 

“Has Tywin Lannister declared for the Targaryens?” Robert asked, and Y/N laughed, wincing half a second later at the pain it caused him. Tywin Lannister was still holed up at Casterly Rock with Cersei and Tyrion, leaving Jamie and Y/N to fight their own battles. 

“Did you see the Lannister forces at The Trident, Robert?” 

“I saw you.” 

Y/N smiled, “And you caught me.” 

“Are you saying you were with Rhaegar’s forces against your Lord father’s wishes?” Ned asked. 

“Which answer would make you less inclined to kick me in the ribs?” Y/N asked, if the two men brought him here for information they might as well get on with it. Y/N wishes to return to bed, finding small comforts in his sleep, as fitful as it was. 

Once again, Y/N’s words made the Stark flinch. “I apologize for your treatment, it was not our intention-” 

“Save it, Ned.” Y/N spat. “I am not a boy, I know how war works. I chose the losing side, and now my fate lies in your hands. If you’re going to have me killed as a traitor I’d rather you just get on with it, perhaps the afterlife will have less mud.” 

Robert barked out a laugh, “Alright.” 

“Robert-” 

“You heard the man, Ned.” Robert said. “He is of no use to us.” 

“If he speaks true,” Robert made to interrupt, but Ned continued on ignoring his friend. “If he speaks true, Lord Tywin has not yet declared for a side. If we have his son, his heir, he may be more sympathetic to our cause.” 

Y/N scoffed, “My father has two other sons.” 

“The kingsguard and the imp?” Robert raised an eyebrow and Y/N frowned. Tyrion was a child of the House Lannister, and even that it seemed would not save him from the realms scorns. Robert was right in his statement, however, Jamie was a sworn knight of the kingsguard, and his father could not even look at his youngest son let alone declare him heir. 

“I am not just some whore who’s body you can sell.” Y/N spat. 

“The whispers I hear would say differently.” 

“What the fuck are you implying.” Y/N sneered at the same time Ned let out a choked ‘Robert’. 

Robert held his hands up in mock surrender, dropping the topic. Ned sighed, turning to Y/N, “I know we are not friends Ser Y/N, but you are a fine knight, and with you and your house’s support behind us in this war we can win.” 

“You’re already winning.” Y/N deflated, it was true. Rhaegar was dead, and from Jamie’s reports Aerys was madder than ever. The war was practically over, and Y/N Lannister had chosen the wrong side. “You do not need the support of my father or me.” 

“Would you rather die?” Robert asked, his eyes scanning the knight in a way that made him squirm in his seat. 

“If I must.” 

“You do not have to, Y/N.” Ned sighed, “Work with us to secure your father’s support and we will let you live.” 

Y/N bit his lip, sinking in on himself. He knew he had no real choice, they would not kill him no matter what he said, they wanted his father’s army too badly. He could either let himself be a prisoner or he could be an equal with the two men. 

“Fine, tell me what to do.”

Jamie had killed Aerys, Tywin had sacked the city, and now the throne was Roberts. Y/N however, instead of celebrating the victory with his father and brother, was in the chambers of Ned Stark, drunk, half naked, and pressed into the mattress. 

“Don’t you have a wife?” Y/N gasped as Ned roughly tugged at the laces of his trousers. 

“Do you ever shut up?” Ned asked, although his smile as he finally managed to undo the laces undercut any bite put into his words. 

Y/N laughed as Ned tugged his trouser down his legs, tossing them to the side. Ned looked up at the man, smiling, and Y/N took the opportunity to wrap his legs around Ned’s waist and flip them over. Ned gasped as his back hit the bed, and Y/N smiled down at him. He leaned down close to his ear, whispering, “No.” 

Ned grabbed the back of his head, roughly smashing their lips together. Y/N immediately relaxed into the Lord’s hold, allowing Ned to trace his mouth down his jaw. Y/N gasped as Ned pressed a soft kiss to his collarbone, before biting down roughly. Y/N ground his hips down roughly into Ned’s and the Stark’s grip in Y/N’s hair tightened as a low groan escaped his throat. 

“Have you ever shared a bed with a man before, Ned?” Ned paused, giving Y/N all the answers he needed. Y/N hummed, pushing Ned down into the bed. Ned stared up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly, and skin flushed a red that was sure to be unusual for a Northerner. “Let me teach you then, Lord Stark.” 

Before Y/N could move however the door to the chambers burst open and the men jumped apart. Ned, still half dressed, threw a blanket to Y/N who quickly grabbed it to cover himself. The men both looked to the door, where Robert, now King Robert, was standing, a jug of wine in hand. Robert did not seem shocked at the sight, an amused smile plastered on his face. 

“What do we have here?” Robert said, still smiling. He closed the door behind him with his foot, placing the jug of wine on the table near the door. He took a seat, “Well, don’t stop for me.” 

“Robert-” Robert held a hand up, and Ned closed his mouth. 

“Are you just going to watch us, Robert?” Y/N said, trying to keep his usual confidence, although he could feel his face burning. Ned made a noise at Y/N’s question, but Robert smiled. Y/N looked to Ned, who’s flush had deepened significantly, before turning back to Robert. “Because the Keep’s beds seem big enough to fit three.” 

Robert’s smile widened, and Ned made a noise that sounded like he was dying. On many drunken nights throughout their journey to Kingslanding Ned had confided in Y/N about he and Robert’s youth-fueled escapades, although they had never gone past sloppy kisses Ned had always wondered what it would have been like to cross the line. 

“What did you say to him to get him into your bed?” Robert said to Y/N. 

“He has gotten me into his bed.” Y/N said. “Although it took him more cups of wine than you to do so, my king.” 

Ned looked between the two men, opening his mouth, probably to ask about Y/N’s words, but Y/N stood dropping the blanket and all words died on Ned’s lips. Robert smirked, standing and stripping his extensive layers. Ned stood silently, looking between Y/N and Robert, and Y/N just placed his hand on Ned’s bare chest. 

“Get onto the bed,” He whispered to Ned, chuckling when the man stripped himself of his remaining clothing and laid down into the bed. Robert came to stand behind Y/N, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “Would you like to teach him or should I?” 

“You.” Robert released the man, walking toward the head of the bed. He crawled onto the bed, coming up behind Ned. He grabbed Ned’s jaw, forcing him to look at Y/N as he approached the bed. 

“Watch and learn, Ned.”

[xuchiya]

"stuck in this fairy tale" || choi san || series || fourth part

| genre: prince! san. fluff. angst. adventure | mentions: cursing. | here's the first part

back to masterlist | chapter 5

San had brought you to the castle, and now you found yourself in the heart of a grand but intimidating court meeting. The room was vast, lined with towering columns and tapestries that told ancient stories of kings and battles long past. A massive, polished oak table dominated the center, and it was crowded with ministers, advisers, and other court officials. Their eyes were all trained on you—some curious, some wary, and a few downright hostile. You were at the far end of the table, while the ministers gathered closer to the prince, who sat silently, observing.

The air was thick with tension. The murmurs of conversation had grown louder, with officials firing questions and accusations at you from all sides.

"Who is she?" 

"Could she be a spy?" 

"A witch, maybe. Look at her clothes."

They were relentless, making you roll your eyes. One voice, louder than the others, called out, "She’s a threat to the prince’s life!" That was enough to push you over the edge.

You rose sharply from your seat, the chair scraping against the marble floor with a grating sound. The room fell into a brief hush as everyone turned to look at you. Fury flared in your chest as you slammed your hands on the table, your voice rising above the din.

“I just saved your prince’s ass from being killed by some decrepit, floating fart-figure—and you’re calling me a threat?! You should be thanking me instead of throwing baseless accusations!”

The court erupted into a fresh wave of whispers, and one of the advisers, a stout man with thinning hair and a pompous air about him, sneered at you from across the table. “You could be trying to build a facade, manipulate us into trusting you.”

Your eyes narrowed as you shot him a cold glare. You tilted your chin up in arrogance, your patience snapping. “Yah!” you yelled, your voice reverberating in the large room. The echo hung in the air as everyone froze. “You dumbass idiot! If I wanted to manipulate you or harm any of you, I could kill you right here and now!”

The entire court fell silent. The ministers who had been so quick to accuse you now looked at you with wide eyes, some of them visibly trembling. The sound of their fear was palpable, their breathing uneven as they exchanged uncertain glances. You stood tall, hands firmly planted on your hips, refusing to let their judgement weaken you.

Your eyes swept over the room, and your voice dropped to a dangerous low. “I don’t know what this is all about, but if I were a real threat, I would have the prince’s head on a silver platter by now—with the powers I have.”

From the corner of your eye, you caught a glimpse of San. He hadn’t said much during the meeting, standing by quietly, observing the chaos. But now, a flicker of admiration danced across his face. He was impressed—though he tried to hide it, his slight smile was noticeable enough to you.

Raising an eyebrow at him, you asked, "Not gonna say anything?"

San opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get a word out, another adviser’s voice cut through the tension, this one full of venom. “Show some respect, you wench!”

Without thinking, you rolled your wrist slightly, and a ball of fire appeared in the palm of your hand, glowing and crackling with energy. You didn’t even turn your head to acknowledge the speaker, but you felt their fear radiating through the room. Your eyes focused on San, who watched you with a calm expression, but you knew everyone else was watching the fireball.

The coward who had insulted you let out a small gasp and whimper in their seat, and you smiled, your lips curling upward in a quiet victory. With a sharp motion, you crushed the fireball in your hand, the flame disappearing as quickly as it had formed. “In this moment,” you said coolly, “I’ll show some respect. But remember this—respect is not something given only to those above. It is something everyone deserves.”

The ministers looked at one another, unsure how to respond. The prince, who had remained silent throughout the ordeal, finally spoke up. "That’s enough for today," he said, his tone firm but measured. “We will revisit this tomorrow.”

With that, the court adjourned, and the once-bustling room emptied out quickly, the officials too eager to leave your presence. You sighed in frustration as the adrenaline slowly faded from your system. You had saved their prince, and yet, they treated you like a criminal.

That evening, after the chaos of the meeting, you were shown to your own room in the castle. It was elegant, grand even, with tall windows that overlooked the sprawling gardens below. The furniture was Victorian in style—rich mahogany bedposts and velvet cushions—but it only made you feel more out of place. You glanced down at your own clothes, a pair of ripped jeans, a hoodie, and your high-top Converse, which looked ridiculous in comparison to the flowing gowns and embroidered tunics the castle’s residents wore. 

From your balcony, you gazed out at the unfamiliar world. A sunset painted the sky in soft hues of orange and purple, but your thoughts were far from serene. Your mind drifted back to your own timeline—was time frozen there? Had people even noticed you were gone? Your friends? Your family? 

“Aww~ eomma.” Your heart clenched painfully at the thought of your mom. She had always needed assistance, especially after the weakness in her spine made simple tasks difficult. You worried about her more than anything else. What if she had fallen sick? Who would take care of her in your absence? The uncertainty gnawed at you, but without answers, you knew you couldn’t afford to dwell on it, not even you could solve anything with just minimal evidence.

 With a sigh, you turned back into the room, exhausted and ready to sleep. But as soon as you moved toward the bed, you froze.

A figure stood in the shadows by your door. You opened your mouth to scream, but before you could make a sound, a hand clamped over your lips. Panic surged through you until you recognized the familiar face before you.

“Wooyoung?!” you mumbled against his hand.

He nodded, removing his hand slowly, his finger pressed to his lips to signal for silence. The relief hit you like a wave, and before you knew it, your arms were wrapped around him. He hugged you back just as tightly, his breath warm against your hair. Staying in the same position as you don’t want to pull away as you fear that this instance of comfort will disappear from you.

“I was scared, Woo,” you whispered, your voice trembling, the courageous and loud lady a while ago vanishing as you shook in his arms. Wooyoung sighs, his breath also shaky as he feels the guilt gnawing at him. “I didn’t know what was happening. I was so—”

“I know,” he interrupted softly, pulling back to look at you. “I’m sorry you got dragged into this.”

You frowned, noticing the tension in his eyes. “What are you talking about?”

Wooyoung sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. He motioned for you to sit, and you both moved to the bed. Sitting side by side, finally noticing, you took in the details of his clothing—the same style as San’s, noble, regal even. It clicked in your mind.

“You’re a prince too?” you asked, though it felt more like a statement.

He nodded. “Yes, but that’s not important right now. We need to talk.”

Your frown deepened as Wooyoung leaned closer, his tone growing serious. “You need to help San break his curse. You’re the key to ending this.”

You blinked in disbelief, shaking your head. “Wait, wait. Hold on. I’m here to help San? I’m supposed to be the one to turn this whole nightmare into a fairytale ending? What do you think I am? Some kind of witch?”

Wooyoung chuckled, his expression softening. “Not exactly, but you are the answer.”

Your frustration boiled over as you stood up, throwing your arms up in disbelief. “Enlighten me, then! How am I supposed to do any of this?”

Wooyoung stood up as well, handing you something—it was the book. Your fingers trail on the dirt and burn edges of the book. “This will explain what you need to know,” he said, a familiar teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “You’ll figure it out, my nerdy girl. Like you always do.”

You looked down at the book in confusion, but when you looked up again, Wooyoung was gone. “Wooyoung?” you called out, looking around your room but there was no answer.

Groaning in frustration, you collapsed back onto the bed, the weight of the day crashing down on you. The whirlwind of events—the court, San, Wooyoung, curses—it was all too much to process. Your head pounded as exhaustion finally caught up with you.

As you laid there, staring at the ceiling, your mind raced with unanswered questions. Sleep was what you needed, but it refused to come, haunted by thoughts of what lay ahead.

The next morning, you awoke groggy, your mind foggy from the little sleep you'd managed to get. Your body ached, the weight of the previous day's events still lingering. You felt the press of the book sprawled open on top of your chest, its pages fluttering slightly with your breath. Sitting up, you half expected to find yourself back in your own world—surrounded by the familiar mess of school papers, textbooks, and your ever-glowing laptop.

But as your eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light filtering through the ornate, floor-to-ceiling windows, the reality of where you were settled in again. The lavish Victorian room, with its high ceilings and intricate wallpaper, greeted you. The rich fabrics and wooden furnishings felt worlds apart from the comfort of your bedroom. You blinked away the last remnants of sleep, rubbing your hands over your face before they slid into your hair in frustration.

Tears welled up unbidden, and you found yourself burying your face in your hands, letting out a small, strangled cry. Yesterday had been a whirlwind—being accused of witchcraft, nearly incinerating the court with your fiery outbursts, and the shock of seeing Wooyoung again, dressed like a prince from a forgotten era. The weight of it all felt suffocating, and the uncertainty gnawed at you.

How did you end up here?

What happened to your life back in your own world?

You wiped the tears away roughly, forcing yourself to focus, but the sense of helplessness was all too real. The unknowns crowded your mind until you could barely breathe. You glanced around the room, taking in the elegant but foreign surroundings—the intricately carved bedposts, the silk curtains, the delicate lace on the hem of your Victorian-style nightgown. The sensation of it against your skin was yet another reminder that this wasn't a dream.

You slowly stood, wincing as your body protested with stiff muscles. You walked to the balcony doors, pushing them open. A cool breeze kissed your face as you stepped outside. Below, the town bustled, people moving through the streets in their period clothing. Your jeans and hoodie from yesterday were folded neatly on a chair in the corner, a sharp contrast to the elegant gowns and tailored suits everyone else wore.

It made you feel like an alien, stuck in a world where you didn’t belong.

Sighing deeply, you looked down at the book Wooyoung had left you. It felt heavy in your hands, like it carried the weight of the answers you were desperately searching for. Yesterday, he’d called you the key to solving San’s curse, the answer to finishing this strange fairy tale.

“But why me?” you muttered aloud, flipping through the pages again, frustration seeping through your voice. It was as if the book mocked you with its cryptic contents. You were no witch, no storyteller that could craft happy endings.

 You were just… you. And yet, here you were, tasked with untangling the threads of a curse you barely understood. Running a hand through your tangled hair, you decided you needed to get through the day—no matter how foreign or overwhelming everything felt. Maybe, just maybe, you’d find some clue in this chaotic world to get you back to where you belonged. Or at least, find a way to help San and end this madness.

Bracing yourself for the unknown, you pushed open the door to your room, stepping into

“Good, you’re up.”

“Ring Ding Dong… fuck! Seriously? Early in the morning?” you huffed, startled out of sleep as your hand flew to your racing heart. San stood casually against the wall, arms crossed and an unreadable expression on his face. Ignoring your outburst, he pushed himself off the wall, turning his back to you and walking away with a calm, measured stride.

“Don’t stand there. We’ve got a long day ahead of us, and it’s already past breakfast,” he called over his shoulder. You scrambled to keep up with him, your shorter strides forcing you into a jog beside him as he led you down familiar corridors toward the courtroom.

As you reached the entrance, San stopped abruptly, blocking your path with his arm. His eyes scanned you up and down, and he let out a quiet sigh. Without a word, he shrugged off his coat and tossed it at you. “Here. Put this on.”

Confused, you caught the coat and stared at it for a moment, your brow furrowed in uncertainty. But San was already walking inside. Shrugging nonchalantly, you draped the coat over your shoulders, its warmth offering a small comfort. You smoothed down your hair and stepped into the courtroom.

As soon as you crossed the threshold, the room fell silent. The same people were gathered as before, but there was a new presence—one that commanded your immediate attention. The king himself was here. His imposing figure sat at the head of the room, eyes sharp and calculating. A heavy weight settled on your chest as you instinctively pulled San's coat tighter around you, your earlier confidence slipping away. You bowed your head low in deference.

“Good morning, Your Highness,” you greeted softly.

When you straightened up, your eyes found Wooyoung's across the room. He offered you a small, reassuring smile and nodded in greeting. Instantly, the tightness in your chest eased.

“Good morning, Prince Wooyoung,” you replied, returning his smile.

“See! She’s a witch! First, she knows Prince San, and now she knows Prince Wooyoung’s name!” A familiar, accusatory voice rang out across the room. One of the court officials pointed an accusing finger at you, his voice filled with contempt. “This is getting ridiculous, my king! They are sending threats—she’s already starting!”

You bit the inside of your cheek, resisting the urge to roll your eyes, but your patience snapped, and you glanced sideways with a small eye roll.

“Do not roll your eyes, child.” The king’s voice boomed through the room, freezing you in place. His gaze pinned you where you stood—intense, yet not hostile. There was a curious edge to it, like he was trying to decipher something about you.

He leaned forward, placing both hands on the table in front of him. “You present yourself with confidence, but there’s something about you. An aura… one that says you are not to be trifled with.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You glanced quickly at Wooyoung, who blinked at you slowly—a signal only you two understood.

‘Do it.’

“What kingdom are you from?” The king’s question was measured, but his tone carried weight. You took a steady breath, gathering your composure before answering.

“I have no kingdom or town, Your Highness. I am from the City of Seoul. I am no princess, but I am not a commoner either. I am a protector—a soldier—of my city.”

Murmurs erupted throughout the room, and you could feel the curiosity shifting into speculation. San, who stood just behind the king, shifted on his feet, crossing his arms with a curious expression. The king nodded thoughtfully.

“And should I know the name of this protector from Seoul?” he asked.

You nodded, standing straighter. “Your Highness, I am Brigid.”

The room fell into a stunned silence. Whispers hissed among the courtiers as the weight of the name settled over the court like a heavy cloud.

As you laid there, staring at the ceiling, your mind raced with unanswered questions. Sleep was what you needed, but it refused to come, haunted by thoughts of what lay ahead. The king’s curious gaze, San’s lingering silence, Wooyoung’s cryptic message—it all danced through your thoughts, preventing sleep from taking hold. Frustrated, you grabbed the book you had been reading earlier and flipped through the pages, hoping it would distract you.

As this is basically from a century ago, light bulbs were still being established around this time so you settled using the oil lamp just by the desk near your dresser. You groan as another match snaps in half and your hands smack the box of matches on the table defeatedly. 

Then a spark pops in your head though it makes you smack your forehead as you remember that you discovered something new today. You have powers— flame. With the snap of your fingers, the tip of your forefinger lit up, placing the fire inside the oil lamp and the dark room was covered with red and orange hue as you read the book.

 Dragon Mountain.

As you did, you noted that this started during the first war. It did not introduce the Utopia, instead it shows the story about the lives of dragon tamers. Dragons evolved from Pteranodon and with the belief of Gods and Goddess, the first scavengers who learned about the ritual had called the Goddess of Fire— Brigid. 

Your hand traces the picture of the Goddess. Her fiery hair yet her face is gentle as a mother’s love, “She was summoned by the scavengers and traded their goods to evolve the dinosaurs to something more— eerie.”

“They have tricked the Goddess that they will use their agreement to transport for a better way of going around but in reality, when it was too late— Brigid learned from the worst that the scavengers had kill every living using the Pteranodon— what now she calls pseudodragon. They were still small, similar to a dragon-like creature but not close to being an actual dragon.” Until she had enough and wouldn't dare to use them for no good and she took care of them, it was one night that she was ambushed by his fellow Gods and tried to kill the “creature” because of the threatening it looks to the human kind, fleeing and securing a place between the valleys. A river surrounded by trees and after trees and mountains after mountains where she and what now she evolved her pseudodragon to actual fire breathing dragon to defend themselves.

“Brigid birthed the first fire dragons … “ You mumble as you take the book and move towards the bed. You also remember the town square has this same image, a statue of Brigid— an honorary statue for her.

Your head tilted to the side in confusion, “Does this kingdom have anything to do with Brigid?”

You found yourself being pampered by maids, all under the king’s orders. While the luxury made you uncomfortable—since you were used to doing everything on your own—you were dressed in a white short-sleeve blouse with a corset and a high-waist blue skirt with big pockets on your side, the book fitting inside. Lunch was prepared as you sat, adjusting to the strange royal treatment. 

Taking a bite on your breakfast, you read the book about Brigid— a mythology book that you saw among the rows of books inside your room. 

“Not bad,” he teases, as he enters your room. The maids halt in their work and bow at the prince before continuing to work around your room. “Pulling something like that in front of King Choi? You’ve got guts.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but his comment opens a floodgate of thoughts. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you sigh deeply. “Wooyoung, if this is some kind of quest or trial… after everything from last night, I’m starting to wonder if this is my reality now.”

Your voice wavers, and Wooyoung’s playful demeanor falters. He sat beside you, “It Iis your new reality, it made me wonder why it chose you to be the key but—” His voice cut off when he clutched his chest, his expression twisting in pain as he dropped to the floor.

“Woo!” You moved to his side in an instant, kneeling beside him, worry flooding your chest. “What is it? Are you okay?” He exhales shakily, trying to steady himself as he shifts to sit on the ground. You gesture for the maids to call for help, but Wooyoung shakes his head, reaching out to stop you.

“I’m fine,” he mutters. “It’s just… a part of the curse.”

Your eyes widen at his words. “Curse? What curse, Wooyoung?”

He exhales again, the sound ragged. “It was placed on us. It’s part of the reason we—San and I— and the others are tied to all of this.” 

"Others? There’s more?" Your voice rises in surprise, eyes wide as you process the implication that it wasn’t just these two involved.

“They’re our distant cousins... so yeah.” Wooyoung’s voice is quiet, the weight of his words pressing down on you both.

Your eyebrows knit together. "Is it Brigid?" you ask, your voice soft but steady, the question hanging heavy in the air. Wooyoung shakes his head, "No ... never. The Goddess never dares.", but a small cough escapes him. Instinctively, you reach out, ready to help him lie down, but he waves you off. "It's fine. Just… a recurring thing. Been like this for a while."

Your heart tightens painfully in your chest, eyes beginning to sting with unshed tears. "How did I not notice?" you whisper, guilt washing over you like a wave.

He chuckles softly, though the sound is strained. Reaching out, he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his touch gentle. “Because it’s not noticeable, I'm fine nerdy girl. Just a normal cough in our world… nothing more.”

But you both knew better. The door creaks open as the doctors arrive, and you step back, giving them space and do their work, your mind spinning. You drift towards the balcony, eyes distant as you stare out over the kingdom bathed in the afternoon sun, but your thoughts are far from the present.

“What kind of curse was it to have them weak inside…” you murmur to yourself, confusion wrapping tight around your heart, squeezing the air from your lungs.

What did this mean?

A voice cuts through your thoughts, low and familiar. “You’re quite casual with the Prince of Sanil.”

You turn to find San leaning against the balcony door, arms crossed, his sharp eyes studying you closely. His expression is unreadable, though a flicker of something crosses his gaze.

Your mouth opens to respond but closes just as quickly, a sigh escaping your lips instead. You move to sit down on the sun chair provided, brushing off his comment. “I don’t need a lecture right now, San.”

“Why not?” His voice is calm but curious, probing, the fact ignoring how you address him by his name. You tilt your head, meeting his gaze, your expression serious. “Because both you, Wooyoung, and this entire kingdom are doomed if I don’t focus right now.”

The shift in the air between you is subtle, but you notice the way his breath hitches, the way his body tenses slightly at the mention of his kingdom. His eyes darken. Without a word, San steps forward, crossing the distance between you with a few swift strides. He grabs your elbow, pulling you to your feet before you can react, his grip firm but not painful.

His face is mere inches from yours, his breath warm against your skin as his gaze locks onto yours, intense and searching. “You address me and Wooyoung by our title! And what exactly can you do with those powers of yours? Burn us?” he challenges, his voice low and edged with suspicion. "I can’t afford to be tricked by your witchery.”

His words hit you like a slap, your nostrils flaring with irritation. You yank your arm away sharply, but even as you pull back, the space between you remains charged with tension. "Believe whatever you want, but I'm doing this for Wooyoung, my friend is suffering because of this curse—I'll do whatever it takes to break it."

San scoffs, his eyes narrowing as he leans closer, his expression hard. "You don’t even know what this curse is, and yet here you are, making empty promises."

You roll your eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips as you meet his glare with your own challenge. "Don’t test me, Your Highness."

He closes the gap between you even further, his voice dropping to a near whisper as his breath grazes your skin. "Do tell, witch."

His words are laced with provocation, a deliberate attempt to push you past your limits. But you hold your ground, your resolve strengthening as you feel the weight of everything at stake. 

Your voice is steady, unwavering. "Your story will end if the curse begins."

taglist: @passerbyforfun . @seongwars . @candied-czennie

[s-awturn]

Underworld Sun || LH44

summary: It only took an unpretentious visit to a local florist for all of Lewis's convictions to come crashing down, and finally the lord of the Underworld found what was missing in his lonely existence.

cw: dark content, slightly stalkerish behavior, nostalgia, pure smut, Lewis!dom x reader!sub, revelation, mention of magic, violence, outbursts of rage, (fake) naivety, devotion, deep love, soulmates, family interference, mention of kidnapping.

a/n: I know, I know it took me a while to post, I ended up getting distracted by short stories, but I'm not going to abandon Underworld Sun, I've already created an attachment to this story and I need to finish it (when? I have no idea) Anyway, forgive me for the delay and enjoy!

prologue | chapter one |

Everything was converging into chaos and Lewis was feeling on edge. He knew the walls of Tartarus were weakening, his powers were too and Lewis had no idea why. The twin gods looked at him, trying to understand what Lewis was thinking, but he remained with a stony expression, he gave no clue as to his thoughts.

"Are you going to talk to Zeus?" Fernando asked, seeing Lewis give him a death glare.

"Zeus does not need to know everything that happens in my domain, let that be clear" he retorted bitterly, no matter how much Zeus had changed in the last millennia, he was still Zeus, the arrogant king of the gods who thought he could stick his nose wherever he wanted. He definitely didn't need his brother giving his opinion on what was going on in the underworld.

He waved the twins away, ignoring their whispers.

He sank into the armchair, feeling like Atlas holding up the vault of heaven was something common for him. Lewis closed his eyes tightly, trying to give his body some serenity and calm, but it had been millennia since he had known what rest was.

A knock on the door brought him out of his self-pity session and he saw Tisiphone enters with a bouquet of flowers in a vase.

“Where do I leave it, sir?” she asked. In the vase, the bouquet of flowers looked bigger and more beautiful. Lewis indicated the sideboard behind his desk, which had a privileged view of London and the flowers there would make the view even more pleasant.

“Is Alecto back yet?” he asked, turning his chair to look at the bouquet, hoping the flowers would end his problems like a miracle.

“She is on her way, she was intercepted by Hermes, he seemed very interested in her itinerary” if Tisiphone wanted to know where her sister was, she didn't show it. That was one of the things he liked about the creatures who worked for him, there was no gossip, everyone was too focused on their work to want to interfere in other people's lives.

“I would like to understand why the Olympians are so excited to get involved in the interests of the Underworld. No one wanted to take the wheel when Zeus offered, but everyone wants to know what happens here.” He grumbled. “Bring the Fates here, Tisiphone, immediately and cancel all my appointments, I will be available only to Alecto.”

“Of course sir, excuse me” she left, leaving the echo of her heels spreading through the room. The soft scent of flowers emanated throughout the room, keeping the memory of the French florist alive, Lewis could still hear her voice and even feel the static from when he touched her. That girl shouldn't be on his mind, he shouldn't even know her name, but he sent Alecto after information about her. Lewis wanted to know everything, even how many vaccinations she must have had.

Before the knock even sounded, he waved his fingers so the door would open.

“The Fates, sir.” Tisifone said before closing the door, Lewis kept his back to the entrance, but he heard similar footsteps approaching his table, footsteps that followed the same rhythm, but so different.

“Boy, you wouldn't call us here to keep your backs to us,” he heard a drawn-out, tired voice scold him.

Lewis turned around and found three identical, yet completely different women. Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos, the living personification of the destiny of men, gods and beasts. Even Zeus surrendered to the power of those women.

Clotho was young, her appearance hovered between fifteen and twenty years old, thick and wild brown hair, intense green eyes and an enigmatic smile, she loved to speak riddles. Clotho was the spinner of fate and together with Artemis and Ilithia, she cared for women in labor.

Lachesis was a mature woman, in her forties, with a few gray strands in her brown hair, wrinkles around her eyes and a deep voice. Lachesis decided the fate of creatures as she pulled and wound the thread of their lives. Lewis was usually with her, assisting in that duty along with Tyche and Moros.

Atropos was the last woman, a wise old woman. Her hair was completely gray and full of wrinkles, her body was tired and bent with the weight of age, her green eyes conveyed the wisdom of ages, Atropos carried ancient knowledge that he could not even imagine, she cut the thread of life, flanked by Thanatos and Moros.

Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos were the same woman at different stages of life, marking youth, adulthood and old age. The spinners of fate who kept the wheel of fortune turning forever and ever until the end of time.

“I don’t want to take up too much of your time, I know the wheel can’t stop,” he said, keeping his tone pleasant, Hades didn’t cultivate respect for many individuals. In fact, he hated most of them, gods and humans, he made no distinction. Gods for their arrogance, pride and cruelty, humans for mirroring the examples of divine beings so well. “I have just one question to ask”

“Is this about the little French girl from this morning? She’s adorable, a beautiful smile,” Láquesis said, despite the clear mockery in her voice, Lewis knew she was sincere.

“No, it’s not about her,” he waved his hand in the air, dismissing thoughts of her. “I need to know how to hold Tartarus, the world will not endure a second Titanomachy, Cronos cannot be released, ever.”

Not that he cared about humanity, but Tartarus was closely linked to the Underworld, and Hades had a hand in his father's downfall, Being very selfish, he already had enough problems to want to face family shock therapy, his contact with his brothers and nephews was already enough. He didn't need to include his father in this.

“You need to find what you lost, boy,” Clotho said, playing another one of his riddles.

“If Tartarus is falling apart, it’s because something in you is dying, you need to remake yourself to keep the Titans’ prison whole, boy,” Atropos said, raising her skeletal finger.

He frowned in confusion.

He didn't remember losing anything, everything was in its place, he waved his hand to make sure his invisibility helmet and fork were still in his hands. So what would he have lost?

“But how will I know?”

“Follow the flowers, boy, they always know,” the three said before disappearing. Lewis put his hands in his pockets and began to pace back and forth, the conversation that should have cleared up his doubts only fueled more questions. He prided himself on having a good memory, nothing went unnoticed by his mind.

He was getting ready to leave when Alecto showed up, he ordered Furiæ to come in, she was carrying a small yellow folder and looked a little angry.

“Sorry for the delay, sir, I was intercepted by Hermes on my way back,” she apologized as she closed the door, the only sign of her evident anger flaring in Erin’s fiery eyes. Alecto's whole appearance was the picture of calm, except for her eyes. “I got what you asked for, but it was a bit of work” She handed the folder to Hades, in fact there weren't many pages in there, which was strange, considering the girl must have been between nineteen and thirty years old. There was nothing in his life?

“Please give me some information in advance, Alecto,” he asked, pointing to one of the chairs, which she did immediately.

“Y/N Y/L/N is an orphan, sir, she was found on the steps of the convent in Paris, where she lived until she was eighteen, when she entered the faculty of biology in Lyon and moved to Avignon to work in a flower shop specializing in organic cultivation”

He opened the file, finding just over a dozen photos of her, Y/N as a girl, surrounded by other children in the convent's orphanage, another of her as a teenager, holding a huge sunflower vase and a first place trophy. Others of her in college. After that, no other photos.

"Social media?"

“She has a YouTube channel where she teaches how to grow plants, other than that, nothing.”

Lewis was even more intrigued, and left the file on the table. “Okay, that’s all Alecto, you can go, thanks.”

“It was nothing, sir... Excuse me.” She stood up to leave, but paused halfway. “May I have a word of advice, sir?”

“Sure, talk”

“Seek Hecate, she can help you find answers.” With that, Alecto left, leaving Lewis to his ramblings. He had many questions, but no answers. Apparently that was the day to mess with Hades' head, for Rhea's blood.

He read the document, Y/N had graduated with honors from the University of Lyon and had been part of a research group at the university for a year after graduation. She would soon graduate with a master's degree in botany from the University of Avignon. She was an intelligent girl, but shy and withdrawn, with a very small list of friends and only two emergency contacts: the mother superior of the convent in Paris and a friend in Lyon. There was a copy of her orphanage registration and her school records.

No information beyond that.

He turned on his laptop and opened the browser, searching for her YouTube channel, it was active and had a little over 150 thousand views on the entire channel. Y/N updated it every week, posting about the progress of plant growth, recommending plants for different places or just giving growing tips. Lewis watched the vast majority of the videos, Y/N was sweet when she spoke, she showed patience and loved what she did, even though gardening was not one of her interests, he noticed that she had a natural gift for captivating people's attention, no matter what she was talking about.

This only piqued his curiosity further and he decided to leave early, he would follow Alecto's advice and look for Hecate, the goddess of witches and lady of the crossroads would certainly have answers to your questions. When passing by Tisiphone, he reinforced the request to cancel all his commitments.

“What if they ask for you?” she asked wisely and Lewis smiled, putting on his sunglasses.

“To anyone who asks, tell them I’m dead.”

“You assured me she would stay hidden! Now everyone on Olympus knows Persephone is alive and it won’t be long before Hades finds her!”

“You are worrying for nothing, no one will find Persephone, if not even Apollo who sees everything and Athena with her magic mirror managed to find her, Hades will not be able to do so.”

“Are you sure about that?"

“As soon as the sun rises tomorrow, you are worrying for nothing, Hades will not find you, the walls of Tartarus will fall and you will have your revenge, I assure you”

“You better be right, Hades can’t find Persephone.”

“And he won’t, my lady, believe me.”

“When can we plant doubt in Zeus about the integrity of the Titans’ prison?”

“Soon, we will let the gods enjoy what remains of the calm before the storm.”

[dragon-kazansky]

When the raven calls

Morpheus x Female Reader

You, his raven, die protecting Jessamy while rescuing the Dream Lord. When Morpheus returns to his realm, he mourns your loss, only to find a stranger waiting for him in his throne room. The stranger claims to be you, now in human form. He doesn't understand, but his raven will always watch over him.

{Masterlist}

{Previous Chapter} - {Next Chapter}

Chapter Eleven - All together now

☆☆☆

The knock on your door is firm but also cautious. You can tell he is hesitant. You know it's him before he even speaks.

"Go away."

For the first time ever, Morpheus doesn't know how to feel about you. You've never spoken to him like that before. You've always welcomed him. Now he senses your disdain toward him.

"Can we talk?"

You don't answer him. Morpheus feels hopeless right now. Upsetting you was something he never wanted to do. Ever. Not since... Not since he realised just how he felt.

He gently rests his head against the door and sighs softly.

"I did what I had to do. Gault will learn her lesson, and she will return one day. I did not think this would upset you so much."

Morpheus is startled by how quickly you open the door. You glare up at him, eyes still glistening with tears.

"Upset me? You've hurt me. How dare you send Gault away like that. She was trying to protect the boy. She wasn't harming anyone."

"She was keeping Jed in a lie. It is not our job to protect them from their waking lives." Morpheus tries to tell you.

"I know that much. God, you're so... difficult!"

Morpheus stares at you.

"You punish people just because they dare say no to you. How can you be so happy about that?" You look at him desperately. "Gault. Nada. Neither of them hurt you. Just your pride."

Dream clenches his jaw. He didn't expect this personal attack on him.

"I hate that I care so much. I hate that... that I can't do anything to fix any of this. I hate... that I feel the same way she did, and yet you're letting me go about my business."

"You feel the same way?" He asks, unsure of what you're referring to.

"I'm not the way you made me. Not any more. I changed. You're not punishing me for being different."

"Your case is different."

"Is it? Because it doesn't look it to me. Gault wanted to be a Dream. I think that's beautiful. You denied her that wish and sentenced her to the darkness." You wipe at your eyes gently. "I don't like being human any more..."

Morpheus feels his heart break.

You turn back into a raven. "I won't need this room anymore. I'm going to stay a raven. So, forget everything. Forget me stupid emotions and... and the clothes and the ice cream, and all that stuff we did."

You fly past Morpheus and disappear into the palace.

Morpheus stands there with his thoughts.

☆☆☆

You had gone to the library to seek comfort in Lucienne. She wasn't surprised to see you back in your raven form. The main reason you had stayed in your human form so long before was because Dream had asked you to stay like that.

She could see he was particularly fond of you as a human.

Still, she said nothing and let you keep her company. After all, Lord Morpheus had been quite clear to her about her place in the Dreaming.

It seemed everyone was having issues with the stubborn king.

Matthew comes flying in quickly and lands on the table beside you and Jessamy. You look at him.

"I don't know how she did it, but Rose just got Lyta pregnant."

"What?" Lucienne looks at him confused.

"Apperantly it happened in her dream, and when Lyta woke up-"

"She was still pregnant."

"Very much so," Matthew confirms.

"Then it's starting." You say. Lucienne nods.

"Rose is weakening the walls between the realms."

"You gonna tell the boss?" Matthew asks.

"No." Lucienne says.

"No?"

"It's none of my business."

You caw softly and step a little closer to her hand, pecking her finger gently with affection.

"Uh, since when?"

"Since Lord Morpheus reminded me that I'm merely a librarian and should concern myself with my books from now on." Lucienne tells him.

"He said that?"

"He's being an ass." You scoff.

Matthew is surprised to hear speak badly about him. He had always assumed you looked up to the guy. You had always been so fond of him and talked very highly of him before.

"What is wrong with him?" Matthew asks.

"Nothing is wrong with him. He's always been this way." Lucienne explains. "He's juat been away so long I'd forgotten. He's determined to deal with the vortex and the missing Arcana by himself. Without anyones help. So any news must be reported directly and exclusively to him."

"Okay. But can I keep you in the loop?"

"You'd better not. In his Majesty's current mood, he could banish us to the Darkness." She sighs. "As he did Gault."

"All right, fine. I'll go back to spying on Rose. But you should make up with him. Both of you."

"I should make up with him?" You ask, almost laughing.

"Yes. Now's not the time to be fighting, not when there's a vortex getting people pregnant and runaway Nightmares doing God knows what."

You sigh. "I'm not going to talk to him."

Matthew caws.

"I'm going to help you." You say.

"Huh?"

"With Rose."

"Is that a good idea? You wanna tell the boss first?" Matthew asks.

"Nope."

Before either Matthew or Lucienne can say anything, you fly off. Matthew turns to Jessamy, who had been quiet this whole time.

"What is happening?"

Jessamy looks at him. "They're having their first fight."

Lucienne looks at her. "I see."

"I don't." Matthew caws.

"They're in love." Lucienne says softly.

☆☆☆

You sit outside the window of Rose's room. You can see her talking to Lyta about dreams. Lyta wants to live in her dreams with her husband and the baby.

Rose's phone rings, and she answers it. You can't hear the other side, but you can tell Rose is talking to Jed.

She knows where he is.

You could go there and keep an eye on Jed.

Someone knocks on her door and you decide to leave.

You fly off.

The location in question is a hotel. It may be three hours away from Rose, but with your access to the Dreaming, it did not take long at all. You land in a tree opposite the hotel and decide to stake it out.

☆☆☆

Morpheus is in his throne room looking at his broken windows. Something is happening in the Dreaming. Quakes. Violent shaking, leaving damage behind.

Something was wrong.

"Loosh? You in here?" Mervyn comes in but stops when he finds Morpheus. "Whoops. Oh, sorry, boss. I was looking for Lucienne. See ya." He tries to leave.

"Wait." Morpheus stops him. "Why were you looking for Lucienne?"

"Oh, well, we just had some minor seismic activity and a little, you know, damage i wanted to report." Mervyn says.

"Then why not report it to me?"

"Uh, because you're busy? While you were away, Lucienne started taking care of that stuff, so I figured... why bother you when-"

Morpheus looks displeased. "Mervyn, if the Dreaming has been damaged in any way, I will be the one to address it."

The whole place shakes again. The window cracks even further.

"Oh, for crying out loud. You want me to fix that for you? Or will it just keep happening?" Mervyn asks.

"It will not keep happening because I will find the cause of the disturbance, and I will eliminate it." Morpheus declares. "Thank you, Mervyn."

"Uh, you're welcome."

Morpheus looks back at the window in thought. He then walks away, heading to the library.

He walks through the aisles with books under his arm. He walks with determination and then stops when he reaches where Lucienne is.

"Lucienne?"

"My Lord."

"I have come to return these..." He hands the books he was carrying. "And to assess the extent of the damage from the recent disturbances." He looks around. "Have... you any idea as to what caused them?" He asks.

"I assumed it was you, sir."

"Me?"

"Making further improvements to the realm... now that you're back."

"Lucienne, when we last spoke, I did not mean to imply that your efforts beyond the library are without value."

"Oh?"

"I really wish to relieve you of responbilities with which, had I been here, you would never have been burdened."

"I see."

"And... in that time, did you experience any... similar seismic disturbances?" He asks slowly. He speaks carefully.

"I did not."

"Have you any... theory as to their origin?"

"Speaking strictly as a librarian? I do." She says. "But you won't like it."

"Go on."

"I know you're waiting to see I'd the vortex will lead you to The Corianthian and Fiddler's Green. The way she led you to Gault."

"She may yet still." He says.

"Yes, but while you're waiting, she's putting cracks in the foundation." Lucienne sighs.

"Rose Walker has visited this realm before and done no damage. This is something else, something new."

"Perhaps. But if there is something new in the Dreaming and you did not create it, how did it get here? This is the vortex. I assure you."

Morpheus thinks it through.

☆☆☆

Dream stands at your door. He hadn't brought himself to dismantle the room after what you said last time he spoke to you. In fact, he hadn't seen you since that conversation.

He felt sad. Sad that he had upset you. Sad that you had refused your human form. Sad that he didn't stop you from leaving when you got mad at him.

He wanted to talk to you, but he knew you weren't in there. "What am I doing?" He asks himself.

Morpheus walks away.

I'm sorry. He wanted to say.

Morpheus decides to give you your space and go deal with whatever is happening on his own. He can make things up with you later.

He finds himself in the dream of Lyta Hall. Rose is there, too. As is Lyta's deceased husband.

He needs to fix this.

"What do you think?" Matthew caws.

"Tell Lucienne she was right about the source of the tremors, and that I'm taking care of it."

He walks down to the house.

☆☆☆

You see Rose climb out of a car that just pulled up. There's a man with her. One you recognise immediately, though he didn't always look like that.

"Hm."

They head inside the hotel. You look around and then fly down to the ground, landing on two human feet. You won't get far going inside as a raven. You head for the entrance.

When you get inside, you don't see Rose or the man she was with. You sigh and look around the lobby. It's busy.

You don't even notice The Corianthian who had come inside because he thought he saw Jed run down the hall. He noticed you though.

It just hasn't clicked who you were yet.

He goes back outside. You walk further into the hotel.

Gilbert had seen and heard some things he would rather have not. He walks out of one of the rooms and frowns. As he turns, he catches a glimpse of you. Something clicks.

He knows you are.

He goes to call you, but you walk away. He panics. Gilbert heads back to the lobby and leaves a message at the front desk for Rose. He then leaves the hotel.

He needs to see Morpheus.

☆☆☆

Back in the Dreaming, Morpheus enters the library looking for Lucienne.

"Lucienne?"

"My Lord. There's something I must tell you." She comes out from between two shelves.

"And I will listen." He says. "But first, you must let me tell you you were right. The vortex was responsible for the damage to our realm, and I was... wrong to risk our safety in the hope that she would locate the missing Arcana."

"You were not entirely wrong, sir." She days to him. "She's found them both."

"What? The Corianthian and Fiddler's Green? Where? How do you know?" He asks.

"Fiddler's Green told me."

Gilbert comes into view and joins them. He looks at Morpheus with shame. He bows his head and looks back up at Dream.

"Apologies, lord, for having left."

"Why? Why did you leave? I trusted you. You were the heart of The Dreaming."

"No, sir. You were the heart of The Dreaming. And you were gone." Gilbert tells him. "I was curious. And it turns out that life as a human contains substance I never even imagined when I was here. Which is why I've returned because... he's murdering them."

"The Corianthian?"

"He appears to have built up a cult of worshippers who kill for pleasure, endangering the waking world and the life of a friend called Rose Walker."

"The Corianthian has found Rose Walker?" Morpheus asks, needing to know for sure.

"Yes." Gilbert looks confused.

"Can you imagine the damage he could do with someone like Rose?" Lucienne says, looking at Dream.

"You must tell me where they are."

"I thought perhaps you knew." He said. "Your raven is there, at least, I believe it was her."

Morpheus' heart sinks.

"My raven...?"

"Yes. Although, she appears to be human now." Gilbert wad rather confused. He didn't know you could do that.

Your name falls from his lips.

"No..."

Lucienne looks at Morpheus with worry. She knew you had gone to see Rose, but it didn't dawn on her that you would go so far. Now you were close to The Corianthian, too.

Morpheus leaves the library immediately.

☆☆☆

You see no sign of Rose or of Jed. You decide they must be upstairs somewhere. As you turn back around to head for the lifts or elevators as they call them in this country, you find yourself face to face with The Corianthian.

"Well, hello."

"Oh dear..."

☆☆☆

@missdreamofendless

@kpopgirlbtssvt

@sitkafay

@snowsatsu

@ladyofdreaming

@thoughtsfromlayla

@modest-irish-goddess

@mystic-mara

@dreamingblueberries

@littlemoistcarrot

@simpingdeadcharacters

@bluespecs14

@modest-irish-goddess

[starogeorgina]

Children of the dragon

Warnings: Incest

Pairing: Aegon ii Targaryen × Targ oc

1.08

“I’ve simply come as a messenger. Aegon will bend the knee to his rightful queen.”

“A trick!” Daemons hisses while pointing the tip of his sword, dark sister, to your throat. “My brother was slain, and now your usurper cunt of a king has sent you here in some ploy. Why else would you come?”

The moment Dallax landed on the beach at Dragonstone, you were surrounded by knights. In truth, you thought it was a miracle your dragon didn’t live up to this reputation as a man eater and bathe all of those who threatened you in fire before devouring them. It was most likely the presence of Meleys that kept your own dragon in check. The knights escorted you and your two daughters, who clung to you tightly inside the castle, to be brought to your furious uncle.

“To show where our loyalties lie.” Still holding Alina’s hand, you push her behind you protectively while Alyssa buries her face into your side, scared. Daemon watches these actions carefully. He slowly lowers his weapon, his eyes fixated on your young girls. You clear your throat, relieved that he had no intentions of hurting them. “We put our support behind the rightful heir to the throne, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

“I assume you have your own reasons for abandoning the greens.” He eyes you suspiciously, obviously not believing you came for genuine reasons. He looks you up and down once more and asks, “Where is Prince Aeron?”

A pain aches in your chest at the mention of your son, remembering how you sobbed uncontrollably in the dragon pit as Aegon straps your daughters in. It was only with his persuasion that you agreed to leave without him, knowing that you had no other choice. Before you could answer, Princess Rhaenys appeared with a hint of smugness on her face. “Yes, the young prince did look rather ill when I saw him during your brother's coronation.”

With your heart hammering on your chest, your eyes well with tears. “Aeron was there?”

The older woman nods and says, “I must admit I was surprised. When Meleys burst through the dragonpit, interrupting the wrongful coronation of your brother, your husband only sought to protect himself, while Aegon snatched your son from his grandmother's arms and screamed at Ser Criston to take him somewhere safe. The young prince is very lucky to have an uncle who is so protective of him.”

Daemon raises his brows at the comment. You both knew what she was alluding to. The fear you felt before was quickly turning to anger, and Dallax sensed it as well. Letting out a loud screech before breathing fire into the air, causing Daemon to raise his sword once more.

“You had the opportunity to kill half our knights when you landed, weakening our army. Why didn’t you take it?” Daemon snaps.

“I’ve already told you, I’m here to put mine and Aegon’s support behind the rightful queen.” You hold his glare. “I’d like to speak to my sister; I will explain everything to her directly.”

“My wife is unviable at the moment.”

“I’ll wait.”

Rhaenys gives the prince a knowing look, then continues for him. “The stress of your father's death and the crown being stolen from her has sent Rhaenyra into labor.”

Oh. You didn’t know what to say. Rhaenyra's baby wouldn’t possibly be able to survive being born so early. Your silence seems to offend the prince more. He storms towards a number of his knights and hisses at them before disappearing into the castle's archway. The knights, in turn, snatch your daughters from you, causing you to kick and scream, trying your best to fight them off. “Daemon! Daemon! Please, no, not my babies! Please don’t!”

Alyssa and Alina’s cries fill your ears until you’re pulled far enough in the opposite direction that you no longer hear them.

—

Pacing back and forth inside a small room with no window, you hold the sleeves of your dress to your face, breathing heavily while trying to compose yourself. Princess Rhaenys told you through the door that no harm would come to your daughters, but her words did little to calm any fears you had for their safety.

You had been branded a traitor, which terrified you. Your sister could have you beheaded or burned alive, meaning she’d take the life of your unborn baby. Although you didn’t believe Rhaenyra to be a kinslayer, the grief of losing a child could drive her to madness.

There would be no turning back for you if you were in her position.

Suddenly feeling breathless, you sit down on the small bed. Your baby was kicking up a storm, causing sharp pains in your bladder. Taking a deep breath, you try to focus on happy memories.

You were enjoying a variety of different fruits for breakfast in the garden when Aeron tugged on the bottom of your gown, gaining your attention. “Uncle promised to teach me how to hold a sword properly,” your son informed you. “Then he’s going to take me riding on Sunfyre!”

“Did he now?” You ask, beaming at Aegon, who just shrugs, clearly amused by Aeron’s excitement.

It warmed your heart to see how much effort Aegon made with your children, and it eased the guilt you felt about having an affair. Aemond believed Aeron was his son and never once offered to take him riding on Vhagar. At this point, you’d probably refuse if he did want to take him. You smile brightly as the wet nurse appears, holding both of your daughters in her arms. You stand immediately to help take the weight off by taking Alina into your arms.

“Hi, sleepy girl,” you coo gently, kissing the top of her head. “Did they feed well?”

The wet nurse nods and says, “They both took plenty of milk, princess.”

She seems slightly taken aback when Aegon approaches her with his arms outstretched, indicating he wants to take the baby from her arms. She hands him Alyssa, whose small face has scrunched up in anger from being woken by the movements.

“Thank you. See to it that the cook gives you a good, clear wine to drink along with a hot meal.”

The wet nurse agrees, then excuses herself, addressing yourself, your brother, and your mother, whose facial expression had been sour the entire time. Since the rumors of the relationship between you and your brother began to resurface, she has been watching you like a hawk. Of course she knew the truth; your mother was no fool and probably knew it would happen before it did. That was why she tried to keep you and Aegon apart.

Your mother lets out a huff, saying, “I’ll hold her so you can finish eating.”

“We won’t be going anywhere unless you finish all your breakfast; dragon riders can’t fly on an empty stomach; otherwise, it makes them sick,” Aegon says in a more authoritative tone.

Aeron starts to finish his breakfast, and your mother smiles at Alina softly before shaking her head. Despite your mother's judgements, you enjoyed moments like this, watching your mother stares lovingly at her granddaughter while Aegon fusses over his daughter and son.

Fresh tears roll down your cheeks as you think of your family, silently praying you'll get to see them again.

—

It was nightfall before Prince Daemon arrived to talk to you, bringing food and water with him. He sits them down on a small table next to the bed before scoffing, “You’ll be happy to know your children are fine.”

Thank the gods. Your eyes well up with relief. You desperately wanted to ask to see them, but you knew he would refuse. You hold the cup of water in your hand but hesitate to drink it when you notice your uncle watching you so intensely.

He rolls his eyes and says, “If I wanted to kill you, I'd just do it. I wouldn’t go through the effort of poisoning you; I’d just slit your throat or feed you to Caraxes.”

“Good to know,” you say before gulping a mouthful down. “How is Rhaenyra?”

His face falls, silently answering the question you were too afraid to ask. The baby hadn’t survived.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s your usurper cunt of a king and venomous mother's fault that we lost our daughter. I intend to make them burn for what they have done.”

Before you can choke down your words, you snap in your lover’s defense, “You know nothing of what transpired since my father's death. Aegon has no desire to sit on the throne, but he couldn’t refuse-” Daemon lets out a chuckle before pretending to inspect his nails, obviously uninterested in what you have to say, which only fuels the fire building inside you. Enraged, you stormed towards him, only stopping when he was close enough to feel your breath on his face. “My children would have been slaughtered like pigs if he had not followed our mother's orders.”

Daemon’s glare causes you to take a step back; his fingers grip tightly to the hilt of his sword, dark sister. His jaw clenches. “What?”

“My mother got to Aeron before I did; she was planning on locking me up as well; she knew Aegon would leave with me. We had always said that when the time came, we would fly to Dragonstone and bend the knee to Rhaenyra. We’ve always known what our mothers and grandsire’s intentions were but tried to deny them, refusing to accept the fates we have chosen for ourselves.”

The demon’s hand falls to his side. “If we accept you into our home, how do we know you won’t switch sides? Scurry back off to the keep and tell the greens everything you’ve learned.”

The simple question makes you feel as if the air has been knocked from your lungs. You sit back down as your hand rubs at your bump, feeling the baby's feet kick as you do. “My own mother took my firstborn, Aeron, my only son, as a hostage to keep my brother from leaving.” Your eyes sting as tears spill down your face. “Aeron, Alina, and Alyssa have all been fathered by Aegon. She knows this, and she knows what will happen when Aemond finds out. Aegon sitting on the throne was the only way she wouldn’t say anything.”

“So the plan was to come here with the hopes we’d help you? A dangerous gamble to take.”

“Yes, so I’m begging for your help, uncle, yours and Rhaenyras.” It irritates you to see a slight smugness on your uncle's face. He was hurting greatly on the inside, but it wasn’t an excuse to take pleasure in how desperate you were. “When it comes to it, both Dallax and Sunfyre will fight for the blacks.”

His eyes twitched with curiosity. “Why would we need to fight if Aegon bends the knee?”

“Do you seriously think my mother, grandsire, and all those lords who don’t want a woman on the throne will just accept Aegon bending the knee to Rhaenyra? They want a male heir on the throne.”

He looks down at the ground, confused for a moment, before his eyes suddenly shoot back up with a look of realization on his face. “They will want Aemond to wear a crown.”

When your tears stop, you let out a dark chuckle. “On my wedding night, my mother said to me, ‘You poor clueless girl. Aemond would continue to fight for his family with you by his side, but Aegon? He would give it all up if he thought that’s what you wanted.’ She always knew this was a possibility, but still she pushed for my brother to be a usurper.”

“How long does the pretender intend to wear my wife’s crown?”

You ignore his insult and answer his question, “Soon as my son’s fever is down and Aegon is able to get him alone. He will send me a raven beforehand to let me know if he’s coming directly here or elsewhere first.”

“Why wouldn’t he come right here and bend the knee?”

“The moment they leave the keep, Aemond will likely figure it out. He is unpredictable. Aemond might chase after him, and Sunfyre is no match against a war-hardened dragon.”

Without saying anything else, Daemon turns to leave, keeping the door open. “I suppose you’ll want to see your girls, unless you’d rather stay here.”

Rolling your eyes, you get to your feet.

Before you leave the room, Daemon stops you with his arm and says, “You best hope Aegon writes to you soon.”

—

The next day, Aegon sent you a raven from an unknown location; he had fled during the night on the back of Sunfyre.

Ser Criston was tasked with spying on him, and he was pretty sure he saw him entering the dragon pit carrying Aeron, but the knight knew better than to go among the dragons if he wanted to live. No doubt he immediately reported this to your mother, who would have informed Aemond, but what version she gave him was anyone’s guess.

All of this meant that the blacks would need to act fast; if a vengeful Aemond sat on the throne, it would be an all-out war.

[holylulusworld]

Newbie

Summary: You and the Winchesters got captured by a demon. Again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x GN!Reader

Warnings: hostage situation, crack, making fun of a demon, a lil angst, cocky reader

A/N: It's Dean's birthday week so we will get three stories with him this week.

You roll your eyes. “Dude, it’s Sam, okay.” Dean chuckles while you angrily glare at the demon wearing Jody’s face. “Can we come to the part where you make Dean choose?” You roll your eyes as the demon looks a little confused. “Dude, I don’t have all day.”

“What?” The demon capturing you, Jody, and the Winchesters splutters. “What do you mean? You are my hostages, and I’m the one making the rules here.”

Snorting you glance at the demon. “It’s Sam, dude. That’s what this is all about. Right? You want to find out whom Dean will save if you force him to choose. It’s his brother. Of course, it is. Now let’s skip the shit and get to the point where we exorcise your stupid ass out of our friend’s body.”

“How do you wanna know?” The demon spats. “You’re only an unimportant side character in this game!”

“How long are you around, dude? The Winchesters will always choose each other,” you grin. “Oh, I get it now. You’re new to this whole demon business. Aw, we have a virgin here, guys.”

Dean laughs, while his brother is still out cold. Poor Sam had to take one for the team this time. Jody, or rather the demonic bitch inside your friend’s body knocked the tall hunter out before you could react.

“I’m not!” The demon angrily glares at you. “I’m not a new demon. I roam this world for hundreds of years.”

“You are!” You bite back. “A high-ranked or experienced demon would never use the body of a hunter.” The demon struggles to keep a straight face. The black-eyed bastard stares back at you, using Jody’s face to weaken your resolve. “And dude. The gates to hell were locked for centuries thanks to Samuel Colt.”

“I—” the demon grunts and stomps Jody’s foot to the ground. “Stop making fun of me, you little ant. I will squish you with my boot.”

“You mean Jody’s boot,” you cock your head to subtly glance at Dean. While you tried to distract the demon, he cut the ropes holding his hands open. “How about I exorcise you now, and you can have a rest in hell. I bet Crowley will welcome you back with open arms.”

“Crowley?” The demon hiccups now. “No! I cannot fail the king of hell. He will punish me if I fail him.”

“Nonsense, sweet cheeks,” you grin. “Crowley is a cuddly cat. We are best buddies and all. If you let us go now, I’ll talk to him. He will not punish you if you do not touch one hair on our heads.”

“He will because he knocked Sammy out and used Jody’s body,” Dean grunts. “You should know Jody once was Crowley’s love interest.”

“What?” The demon blanches. “I-I didn’t know!” Stepping away from you and the Winchesters the demon whines low. “I didn’t harm her. Not at all.”

“Well, if you stay inside Jody’s body for a little longer, you will see what happens,” you purse your lips. “Come on, dare to hurt us too. Crowley will rip you apart.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong! They wanted me to capture you. It’s their fault, not mine,” black smoke forces its way out of Jody’s throat. The demon flees, and your friend drops to the ground. Unconscious, but alive.

“Damn, we ruined their first kidnapping,” Dean snickers. “Imagine, they go home to Crowley and cry their eyes out because you mocked them. That was not nice of you, sweetheart.”

“Nah, they’ll live,” you smirk as Dean cuts the ropes around wrists open. “One day, they are all grown and will try again.”

“We should get Sammy out of here,” Dean points at his brother. “He slept long enough. It was his job to exorcise the newbie.”

“Go easy on him,” you check on Jody while Dean looks his brother all over. “He got knocked out.”

“You know that this isn’t true, right? I’d always try to save you, Y/N,” Dean looks at you for a brief moment, searching your face. “Right?”

“Sure,” you fake a smile and try to sound convincing. Deep down inside you know, if Dean was ever forced to choose between you and Sam, he’d choose his brother over you without thinking twice…

Tags in reblog.

[lara-prisma-avm-ask-blog]

AvM Fanfic - House for Two [Chapter 1 - A Start]

This story takes place after AvM Ep 30, and tells a slow-burn found family story. This story will cover topics such as family death, grief, trauma, low self-esteem, emotional abuse, s*icidal thinking, panic attacks, anxiety (and anxiety attacks), emotional anger issues, and depression. If some of these topics make you uncomfortable, I don't recommend reading them.

The story is about Purple and Orange learning to be a family and dealing with their own traumas and mental health issues, it's a story of angst and comfort with found family fluff.

If i were to give an age range, I would say 17+.

[TW: This chapter contained a scene with an anxiety/panic attack]

[you are allowed to point out spelling errors]

After everything that happened, it still seems unreal that this was happening to them. Purple, who had been looking for validation from their father since they were a child, found themself involved with a man whose past they didn't fully know, only that he wanted to destroy Minecraft,a game, and that to do that he needed information about five specific individuals.

Five stick figures known to Purple, they had what this man wanted, and they would give Purple whatever they wanted. And all Purple wanted was validation. Validation that they weren't useless.

That... went wrong. Not only did the five manage to escape the trap they had planned, but this man denied them the power he had promised to share, and abandoned them when they asked him for help.

If it weren't for Green, Purple would never have forgiven themselves for causing so much trouble to their friends.

Motivated by Green, they flew back to the nether to the battlefield to stop that man. With every attempt, every blow and fall, Purple would fix what they caused, no matter how much their conscience told them they were weak, pathetic and useless.

That's why their father abandoned them with their mother, that's why they couldn't help her, that's why she was…

But they didn't listen, even with Green trying to stop them, unable to move due to the hardships of the battle, even if this could be the end for them, they had to fix this.

They ran, using their elytra to go faster, running against the direction of the crowned man, who pointed his staff at the act charged with the fusion of two game icons, a white vortex consuming every block of the game from the ceiling of the nether, the young stick didn't stop, they continued to get closer.

Noticing their approach, the king quickly pointed his staff in their direction, the white lightning propelling them back, but they kept strength on their feet to keep themselves standing.

"I'm not going to give up..." 

They said to themselves, covering their faces with their arms in front of their body, they continued to walk forward, their insect wings disintegrating with each step until they completely disappeared in the white glare.

They felt a nausea in their stomach, a weakness in their legs, but they didn't stop, they didn’t flinch, they would catch up to the man even if it was the last thing they did.

"I won't give up, King!!" 

They shout at the king's direction, a glare meeting their eyes. With a growl he just fortified the power in the staff, causing Purple to be driven backwards once again, their feet dragging against the reddish floor.

The stick figure continued, they weakly raised their hand towards the king, tears evaporating as they approached the man.

The man was staring at them, his hands seemed to be shaking, his eyes were wide open, he was panting and sweating, this reaction, his expression. His lips moved but Purple couldn't hear him.

One step forward and their legs weaken.

They are carried away by the white lightning like a current, floating past their friends who watch in terror.

There was a loud clang of metal. And from what little Purple could see before disappearing in the white flash, there was the man, running towards them with a horrified look.

Purple woke up in an empty and dark environment, they were alone, every place they looked looked the same, but then, a path began to show itself.

A circle of light with pink petals on the ground begins to appear in front of them. Without knowing what this was, they began to follow the enlightened path.

Little by little photographs began to appear around them, some from when they were a baby, others from when they were a child, and then that of their parents.

They try to ignore the photos of their father training them, his frustrated growls escalating into angry complaints, the constant negative comments.

"Weak. Pathetic. Useless."

They felt tears fall from their eyes remembering those words, they covered their ears begging them to stop.

They fall to their knees on the floor, staring at the ground for a few seconds before lifting their heads to find their mother's grave. Their father stared at them from behind the grave before turning his back and disappearing into the darkness.

"D-Dad..." with a weak voice Purple extends their hand towards him, but soon they look down and kneel down on the cold floor.

The tombstone disappears, leaving young Purple alone again. Allowing themselves to be carried away by tears, they hug their legs, bringing them closer to their chests, placing their forehead on their knees, crying quietly.

"I AM pathetic..."

It seemed like everything was over, without family, without friends, without anything. Purple only had themselves.

"Purple!"

Alarmed, Purple tilted their head towards the voice, distant but getting closer, they certainly couldn't see it, only hear the footsteps.

Soon, they could see a figure running towards them, for a second they thought it was their father and started to get up.

"D-Dad..?" Their hopes grew but any doubts he had would be confirmed.

But It wasn't their father.

"I'm sorry!!" Within seconds Purple is almost knocked off balance by the hug he never expected. King, he came back for them, he hugged them, he was apologizing, Purple was stunned, they didn't know how to react.

"I'm sorry, I-I didn't want that, I was blind with hate and I didn't mean for you to get hurt!" He hugged them tightly, his tone not cold or serious, he was tearful, his voice cracking with each sentence. He was almost a different person, more emotional, more open.

"I'm sorry..." he cried, weakening the hug, but Purple, sniffling, hugs him back, welcoming this change in the man. Burying their faces in his shoulder, trying not to think about whether this was a dream or not.

Whatever it was, they didn't want to wake up.

A few minutes in that void seemed like an eternity, but it didn't take long for the gang to stop the icons and save the entire game, including the two of them. King and Purple were knocked back to the ground together, the older one protecting the younger one from the impact.

Green looks at them, and takes a second to be relieved that his friend was safe and well. Second Coming, the hollow head, was back with the icons and the staff panting with all the adrenaline running through them. They were also happy that Purple was okay.

After a while, after saying goodbye, this is how these two, Purple and King started to live together.

What bizarre conditions. They came looking for validation and ended up with a new guardian.

But even after the storm passed, there were still complications. King-or, Orange's house was small, and almost a year of working on the staff resulted in a cold and disorganized environment.

Orange's house was a mess, failing staffs thrown against the floor, a wall filled with scribbles and plans, an unfurnished bed, empty and cold, a refrigerator with little food, and almost no furniture, all sold so he could get the money for the command block.

Seeing these conditions Purple felt awkward. They didn't know what to do in situations like this, for the last ten years they lived with their mother in a small but cozy apartment, they didn't have much food and they lived by selling flowers that almost no one bought.

Purple found herself in a new home but at the same time it didn't feel like one. Orange seemed indifferent and tired, seeing the scribbles and staffs filled with self-resentment and remorse, the memories it was all based on makes him uncomfortable, that much Purple could see.

Within hours Orange prepared the staffs to be sold online, and the scribbles would be covered by a curtain. Now what they needed to do was take care of the rest, the dirt accumulating in the corners, the mold staining the walls, the rats and spiders crawling around the house, it was all a precarious situation.

Orange lived in a poorer neighborhood, he didn't have much to do locally, he would have to go to the city after a year of being a hermit. Orange could see Purple's discomfort and how out of place they feel. They're a city kid after all, they probably didn't know how to adapt to a situation like this.

How did he know they were from the city? Chic clothes. Ever since he met them Purple had manners, they just dressed elegantly, it's clear that they have a taste for fashion, and Orange had never met a teenager from the surrounding area who dressed like them.

This doesn't seem important, but Orange snorts awkwardly when in the same room as Purple. In comparison, he dresses simply and maturely, how does this child dress more mature than him? It was as if they were from different worlds.

Little did they know that they had much more in common than they thought.

Just one day that they now live together and there is already a complication, beds. There was only one bed, and Orange felt uncomfortable at the mere idea of ​​having to share it with a minor, Purple even more as they turned towards him and lowered their head towards him.

"Sorry, I-I'll find another way to sleep." They say in an apologetic tone, grabbing part of their blouse and pulling it down nervously. Their lips trembled, a lack of eye contact.

They weren't just awkward, Purple was even more uncomfortable. Orange looks at them lamenting the state of the situation, he didn't want them to be cold, there were no mattresses and he wouldn't let them sleep on the floor, so with a deep breath he looks at Purple maturely.

"It would be wrong for me to let you sleep in the cold. You can use my bed for now." he says with a vague expression, eyes focusing on the stick teen in front of him, closing a hand on their shoulder, but he stops, he thought it would only make them more uncomfortable and just refused to touch them.

After everything he's done, he was afraid of approaching Purple like that, but the kid didn't even have anywhere else to go at the moment, and all he knows is that they don't even have a relative with them. They didn't say anything more than that.

A fifteen-year-old teenager, alone in a big city living with a hermit with anger issues who has also hurt them before? Yeah, that's a recipe for disaster.

How Purple can forgive him so easily still leaves him confused, all he did was be hostile and make him betray the only ones they considered friends, if anything, they should hate him!

"What..?" the young stick looks up at him with a confused look, "B-but, it's your home, your bed! You deserve the comfort, I-I'm just a visitor!" he waves his hands above his shoulders in rejection. 

Orange raises a straight hand, shushing Purple, "No, you're right, you're my visitor, and views have to be treated well." a salty and emotionless tone came out of the man, not out of rudeness, but just a lack of enthusiasm or motivation, he just wanted to stop thinking about everything that had happened.

Pinching the middle of his eyes he turns to Purple, "Let's do it like this, you sleep on one side, I sleep on the other, like, you sleep on one end and I sleep on the other." he sighs, "does this make sense to you?" he asks with his hands on his hips and a tired look.

"And I guess so..?" Purple responds nervously, hand on one arm with his head down. "I'm just going to put my things away..." they lower their tone, Orange expressing discomfort at them by bowing to him before leaving. They only did this when he acted like the "king".

Shaking that thought out of his head, he sits down on the mattress, smoothing the covers with one hand, feeling the softness of the bed. He had a tired expression, dark circles under his eyes, he still felt a lot of back pain from the battle. Those kids know how to kick some ass.

He touched his chin, he remembers the red kid hitting him with a golden block right there. It still hurts, so he just stops before he dislocates his jaw. He stares at the ground, resting his arms on his legs, lost in thought.

Purple was generous in coming to this shack of a house, they even went out for a few hours, for a while Orange thought they were gone, and came back with a luggage full of belongings.

Clothes, toiletries, personal items, they were actually moving with him. He couldn't believe it when they came back with that heavy suitcase and backpack.

He could still see the backpack from the corner of his eye, sitting thrown on the floor half open, between the emptiness and some belongings still inside he could see what looked like a gleam of glass.

Raising a curious eyebrow he stood up and went to the bag, getting down on one knee he opened it to get a better look.

A photo. It was Purple, a little younger, and a pinkish woman next to them. Further above the photo there was a hole in the glass, a part of the outside seemed to have been ripped out, hiding a third figure in the photo, a hand on the woman's shoulder.

Purple seemed happy, a little shy or nervous from the expression, but it wasn't like he had more time.

Purple will quickly get a photo of Orange's hand looking at them in surprise. They were now wearing a light pink sweater, looking at him with a shocked and uncomfortable look.

"S-sorry, you were taking a while and found this in the backpack and..." Purple lets him speak, taking the backpack and putting the photo inside, in no time at all they look at Orange.

"It's nothing..." they keep staring at the backpack in their hands, not even wanting to look at the man. "Just forget what you saw..."

Orange crestfallen feels bad about it, he remembers the day they met and he got defensive when they touched his photo with-

"Ouche..!"

Orange looked towards Purple at the sound of the backpack falling to the ground, they were holding their hand tightly, and worried Orange approached to see what it was.

Apparently Purple had touched the broken glass, cutting their fingers in the process. They tried to hide the cut from Orange but it was too late, he had already seen the blood dripping from the wound.

"If you don't treat it, it will get infected." Orange offers his hand, "let me see?" he asks in a soft tone. Purple looks at him cautiously before shaking his hand and looking to the side.

Orange starts to look at the cut more closely, two of his fingers had small cuts, they weren't big so they would be easily treated.

"I have a first aid kit in the bathroom." he says holding Purple's hand and leading them to the bathroom. There he opens the pharmacy and takes out a box with a medical symbol on it, opening it and taking out a wound medicine.

"This might sting a little."

"I can handle it."

Purple responds quickly, surprising Orange a little, but it's true that they lasted a lot in that fight back there, they're stronger than he expected.

Placing the medicine on some cotton wool, he applies a little to the cuts. Purple, feeling the medicine entering the wound, groans in pain a little, trying not to make it too obvious that it hurts.

Orange had seen this many times in the past, and as he stopped breathing, threw the dirty cotton away, and began to put bandages on their fingers.

The bandages were orange with a smiley face in it, which made Purple laugh softly. Seeing Purple smile, even for something silly like a children's bandage, made Orange smile slightly.

"I'll see if I can make something to eat." He starts to put the kit back when Purple stops him, putting a hand on his.

"You can go, I'll clean it for you, Mr. Orange." Purple smiles politely at him, Orange looks at them for a few seconds before sighing and leaving the kit with them, leaving the bathroom and heading to the kitchen.

Purple packs everything back into the kit and puts it inside the pharmacy, seeing a pair of toothbrushes, a brown toothbrush and a yellow children's toothbrush. 

While the adult one seemed well used, the child one looked like it had been abandoned, this leaves a morbid feeling in Purple's chest, but who were they to question these things, they shouldn't meddle in other people's lives.

Purple closes the pharmacy looking at the sink in front of them, placing his hands delicately on the corners of the sink thoughtfully. Orange has been very generous with them. 

They betrayed him, they confronted his authority. If anything, they should be the last person to trust.

Shaking their head, they push that thought to the back of their mind. It wasn't time to question themselves, they were going to make themself useful to Orange.

Leaving the bathroom, they go to where the only table was located, next to a window just in front of the scribbled wall now covered by long, old curtains.

Sitting down, Purple looks towards where the kitchen was located, in the right part of the house, a part they hadn't seen yet.

They could hear sounds of cutlery and stove, and could still feel a delicious smell coming from there. Whatever it is, they must be polite.

After, not long, Orange comes to the table with two dishes, a healthy smoke rising from the meal of well-made veggie garlic noodles.

"I had some pasta and vegetables saved, I hope this turns out well." he gently places Purple's plate in front of them and sits down with his, "we're running out of lots to eat, I'm going to have to go to the store tomorrow." He starts to pick up the utensils when he looks at Purple and their shocked and admiring gaze.

Orange is taken back a bit, he didn't expect them to be so impressed with his basic cooking skills. This gave him a slight reddening on his cheeks.

"Better eat it before it gets cold." This seems to wake Purple up from their trance, leaving them embarrassed, picking up their fork to start eating. When they put a small portion in their mouth, Purple pauses to admire the flavor. 

they have already eaten good food before, but this is even more good for them. They didn't feel worthy of something as good as this. But being faced by Orange's intimidating but serene gazes, they just continued to eat the dish.

"Did you..." the older man pauses, taking a dose of his meal, "Did you like it...?"

Purple pauses to chew and swallow what was already in their mouth, looking at Orange in confusion. 

"Oh yes, it's very good!" They continue, "You're a great cook." they say with a gentle smile.

This relieves Orange, having thought for a moment that Purple didn't like the food. He was happy to have done something that pleased the youngest.

The two remained silent for the rest of the meal. When they finished, Orange got up, taking the dishes to wash, but Purple followed him into the kitchen.

"I can help." they say with their hands behind their backs and a pleading smile. Orange just looks at them and sighs, allowing them to give them a sponge and leaving them a space next to him.

Purple smiles widely, joining him in cleaning not only today's dishes, but some other dishes and utensils that had been dirty, apparently for a while now.

"Are you sure you can handle it?" Orange raises an eyebrow, looking at them from the corner with a smirk. Purple smiles back at him and extends the sleeves of their sweater getting ready to start washing without any problems.

It wasn't a competition, just Purple proving he could do it. This gives Orange a fatherly smile, a feeling he must have forgotten a long time ago.

It didn't last long until most of the dishes were already clean and set out to dry. Orange could see fatigue and tiredness in Purple's eyes, but they continued to clean.

"I think I've had it for you, kid." he says, taking the plate from their hands who look at him confused. "You look tired, go take a shower and sleep, I'll take care of it." he says in a sincere and calm tone. 

Purple tries to protest but the older man just raises a hand in front of their face and points to the exit of the kitchen in silence, focused on the dishes to be washed.

Purple sighs and starts to leave the kitchen without complaint. Orange laughs softly, shaking his head lightly, never has he seen a child so dedicated to washing the dishes.

He remembers washing the dishes like this, hearing a sweet young voice calling him to play, getting frustrated when he was told "not now", but in a friendly and patient tone.

This memory makes him stop for a moment. He felt a pain in his heart, an emptiness. Even with his hand wet and soapy, he holds the fabric of his shirt to his chest, the urge to cry coming to him.

He holds himself back, he didn't want Purple to see him like this. He just went back to finishing the dishes until they were all clean.

Turning off the water in the sink, he cleans his hands with a cloth. Seeing his wet shirt, he leaves the kitchen, removing the item of clothing and throwing it against the headboard of the bed, going to a closet and finding a turtle neck shirt to wear. That one was more comfortable for him to sleep with.

He takes the wet shirt and puts it in a laundry basket full of other clothes to be washed, sighing at the amount still dirty. He sits on the bed, staring at the ceiling thoughtfully.

After a while Purple comes out of the bathroom wearing a butterfly sleeve t-shirt, Orange looks at them, starting to wonder if they only had elegant clothes or if it was just him who didn't know anything about stylish clothes. For him, even clothes with different details were chic.

Purple sighed, scratching their eyes with one hand. They sit on the bed next to Orange in silence.

"If you're still uncomfortable, I can still find another place to sleep." Purple looks at him dumbfounded.

"Your house, your bed, you sleep here!" Purple points to the bed they were both sitting on, Orange laughs under the breath of the younger's reaction.

"Okay, okay." he says, arranging the pillows and putting one in one corner of the bed and another on the other side, which he lays his head on.

Purple smiling leaves his head on their pillow. Orange gets up a little, remembering that he forgot about the sheets. He gets out of bed and opens the closet, taking out two blankets that were inside.

Returning to bed he could see that Purple was already asleep, bringing him a soft smile. He places one of the blankets over Purple, tucking them in gently before laying down on his side of the bed, and covering himself up as well.

He closes his eyes, but he can't seem to fall asleep. His old age kept him awake, and for the most part he just couldn't keep himself comfortable.

In the middle of the night he got up and walked out the front door, sitting on the steps at the entrance.

He begins to look at the sky thoughtfully, letting his gaze just get lost in the stars and his skin be touched by the cold wind. He had closed the door so that the cold wouldn't bother Purple, who were still sleeping peacefully. Good for them, they need more than Orange.

His foot moved, he intertwined his fingers, trying to focus on the desire to sleep, but nothing came. Neither sleep nor tiredness, the cold didn't even bother him.

Slowly he begins to feel tension in his chest, his breathing begins to accelerate little by little. He quickly put his hands around his head, headache? Perhaps? He didn't even know anymore.

He was getting lost in his rapid breathing, his chest trying to keep up but failing. He clutches the chest of his shirt, feeling his breathing get worse, more uncontrolled, and then...

Tears.

Tears began to fall uncontrollably from her face. Orange couldn't control it, he couldn't hold it in any longer. And so, he just let himself go.

Crying softly, not wanting to wake Purple up. He felt a pain in his chest that didn't stop, and at the same time he couldn't control his breathing, just pulling his legs closer to his chest and covering his mouth with one hand. 

Eyes blurred with tears, he just couldn't forget the pain of having lost the most important thing to him.

Taking the photo of him with Gold, he couldn't stop craving his son's affection, the hugs, affection, moments when the little one would wipe away his tears when he cried like that.

Losing his little ray of sunshine was a dagger in the heart, no, multiple ones. A heart that had been pierced before, and healed by the love of his son, a heart broken, crushed and cursed to have everything he loves taken from him.

So why should he care about himself? He failed as a father, he couldn't protect what was most precious to him.

He can't understand why he continues...

"Mr. Orange."

Purple. Purple was alone, they didn't seem to have a family or a place to live, and they also seemed broken if that void they found themselves in meant anything.

Purple was a child. He couldn't leave them alone, they needed him right now. He cannot leave them without help.

Wiping away the tears, and slowly taking control of his breathing again, even if with difficulty, he stands firm, taking deep breaths and looking at the stars above him.

He may have failed before, but he wouldn't fail Purple. He may not be their father, but he will make sure Purple is happy, protected and comfortable.

He doesn't care what happens to him, only Purple. They are the priority, not him. They matter, not him.

Taking a deep breath he opens the door of the house and enters, seeing the youngest still sleeping he just sits next to the bed, lightly laying his head on the mattress looking at the ceiling.

His eyes close lightly until he falls asleep.

[noa-de-cajou]

Various mentioned characters here belonging to @corneille-but-not-the-author , @soupedepates , @thal-ent , @hel-phoenyx and @azeler

The following text contains domestic abuse and references to suicide.

It started with a storm. Yet when I lowered the spyglass, the sun was shining high in the sky, irritating my eyes and skin. It still does as I rest my arms over the boat guardrail.

“Are you sulking, Leo?”

I glare at Kalerich. His little remarks are really starting to piss me off.

“I'm taking a break. And I'd appreciate if you didn't pollute it with unwarranted comments.”

“Well someone sure is in a bad mood.”

Maybe I wouldn’t be if this hadn't turned out to be such a disappointing turn of events. The duel started off great, Brynja got the advantage surprisingly quick, despite the storm raging on louder and louder.

Then he unleashed the Carnage. Fascinating magic, really. But that's when I knew Brynja wouldn’t make it. Even I wouldn't be able to fight this off, so how could she?

It would have been handy if she had killed Kaizarz, but it was unlikely from the start. If I could at least see the monster he really hid, what really lurks inside… If I could see with my own eyes that this oh-so benevolent monarch isn’t so benevolent after all…

But then they stepped in. The other four, those little pests, barging into a fight that wasn’t theirs to win. Domhildr and Tyrfing’s first intervention was nearly useless, but of course even Oli and Meili had to get involved.

A hug, a few words I couldn’t hear, and it was over. Just like that.

Why? Why were you so intent on bringing him back?

He threw your friend on the floor and knocked her out. He crushed Brynja’s throat. He damaged your boat. He would have killed you. He broke the hand you weakened just so he could.

You saw it.

Yet you pulled him back into his mask. Into some fake, meek version of himself. Why?

Why does he get to be pulled back into himself, why does he get forgiveness after everything he did, even though he has nothing to give?

Why does he get all of this, and I didn’t? Who stopped me when I needed it?

No one. There was no one to fight off the monster. There's no one to stay if they don’t have anything to gain or if there is no fear to keep them in place, no one.

Because I made it so no one cared.

…

Jealous, Leonova?

No. Not at all.

It's only a brief respite. The monster is bound to come back anyway.

Not everyone is like you.

Shut up. Shut up.

What infuriates me too is how they still healed Brynja after she hurt their king, after she stabbed him in the back, after she almost doomed them all. And how they didn't let me get her. I could have healed her. I could have healed her throat. But she didn’t looked like she wanted it.

… That, I can understand. I've seen what the sirens do. Even I wouldn't stoop that low.

But what’s the point of being free if it's to end up like this? Voiceless? Powerless?

I already know that she won’t come back to me. Not even for protection. She’ll go back to the Kraken Coast and I'll be left with nothing gained from this.

All those years on my ship, and I didn't even get to say goodbye.

That doesn’t matter. She was a tool. An asset. You would have gotten rid of her, eventually.

Right.

You won’t miss her, will you?

No. That’s fine. No one stays, anyway.

It didn't mean anything.

Rescuing Brynja didn't mean anything.

Losing against Tyrfing didn’t mean anything.

Sleeping with Domhildr didn’t mean anything.

Dancing with Oli didn't mean anything.

None of it matters, none of it.

Ungrateful. All of them.

My eyes hurt.

“I’m going back to my cabin.”

I start to walk away, Kalerich grabs my wrist. Gods, what now?

“I can see you're sad, Leo, don’t just walk away. There's no point in trying to hide it from me.”

Stop. Stop it. I’m not sad. I am not. I’m angry, and pissed, and frustrated, I'm certainly not sad.

“Let go of me, Kal.”

“Leo-”

Stop. Stop pretending you care. You wouldn't even stay with me if I didn't force you to. And you never stopped me from doing what I do. You have no right to look at me this way.

I tear myself away from his grip and start walking down to the inside of the ship. I hear his footsteps behind me.

Why won’t you give up

He grabs me by the sleeve.

Why aren’t you

“Leo, please, could you just-”

Gone

“I said let go of me!!”

My hand flies.

I blink and there’s four scratches across his cheek. Blood trickles down his face. His eyes have widened a little.

Who hurt him? Who dared?

I did.

No. No. No. He’s my brother. He’s all I have left. I can’t… I shouldn't… I would never…

I can feel his blood under my nails.

“Kal… Kal, I’m…”

Are you happy now?

There's no way he’ll stay after this.

No, no, this isn’t what I want, it isn’t-

I try to wipe the blood away. He grimaces. He’s in pain. I hurt him.

You hurt him.

Again.

“I’m… I'm sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I'm sorry- ”

You keep messing up.

You’re not careful enough. You weren’t careful with Misha either.

Kalerich wouldn't leave me. Not like that.

You didn't think she'd do it either, did you? How many times have you checked his room for a rope under the bed?

If you keep this up, the noose will tighten around his neck too.

And you'll be truly alone.

There's tears on my face.

“I’m sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry-”

“Leonova.”

He gently takes my hand and pulls me towards him, wraps his arms around me.

“It's fine. I’m all good. It’s nothing. You’re just upset. You didn't do it on purpose.”

… He’s right. I didn’t mean it.

“Don’t cry. I’m not going anywhere.”

I hug him back. Right. He's not leaving. Because we're siblings and siblings stick around for each other.

Which is why you need to bring her back and fix your mistake.

Kalerich holds me wordlessly for several minutes before letting me go.

“When do you want to leave, Leo?”

“... Tomorrow. I’m sick of this place.”

“Okay. You go rest. I’ll go tell the crew.”

“... Kal?”

“Yes?”

“You're not going to leave me. Right?”

“No. Never.”

He smiles at me.

Isn’t that smile a bit cramped?

Must be my imagination.

“Until death do us part, right?”

Yes. Until death do us part. Only then will we be free of each other.

The mere idea terrifies me.

He lets me go.

“Go lay down. I'll be right back.”

He walks back out, and I get to bed. It’s fine. I'm just tired. Maybe I've overexerted myself. It's not worth getting worked up about a bunch of strangers, is it?

History may sing their names, but I won't. They're not worth remembering.

The only names you need to remember are theirs. Your mother. Your sister. Your family.

I think about Domhildr. About the customs so dear to her. I remember the nursery rhyme some of the fairy sailors would sing. To remember the dead. Always remember the dead.

But I don't want to remember.

I want them back.

Screw those nursery rhymes. Screw their stupid passiveness.

I’ll overcome that death you’re so afraid of.

In the meantime, I need to forget you. All of you. And your stupid faces.

...

I hope I can.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

The Cost of Goodbye

Rating: T

Words: 2K

Relationship: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer

Warnings: season 3 vol. 2 spoilers; mentioned canonical character death; open/ambiguous ending; more hurt than comfort

Summary: Geralt, Yennefer, and Jaskier spend one last night together in Brokilon before saying goodbye.

I wrote this after watching the second part of season 3 to help deal with my feelings about the fact that my OT3 will probably be separated for an indefinite amount of time. It's a missing scene, set right after Yennefer comes to Brokilon to say goodbye to Geralt. You can read it here on AO3 or below!

***

Over the past few days, Jaskier has become accustomed to listening for the sounds of Geralt in pain. It’s not like the stubborn bastard will admit he needs help crossing the room to piss in the chamberpot, so Jaskier has been woken practically every night by the sounds of grunts and muttered curses from the little hut where Geralt is sleeping, only fifteen feet from Jaskier’s bedroll. But tonight, he wakes to the sounds of Geralt groaning and what sounds an awful lot like bones snapping.

Fuck. Jaskier scrambles to his feet and towards the hut. If the stubborn witcher has hurt himself, Jaskier is going to throw him into the waters of Brokilon himself, so help him.

“Geralt, what are you—” Jaskier bursts into the hut and pauses when he sees that Geralt isn’t alone on his bed of moss. Yennefer sits at the edge of the bed, one hand hovering over Geralt while the other grips his hand in hers. The scents of lilac and gooseberry fill the hut, so strong that Jaskier can’t believe he couldn’t smell it from his bedroll.

He starts to back away, to leave them to grieve and heal in peace, but Geralt’s eyes open and focus on Jaskier hazily. “Jask.”

Yennefer looks over her shoulder and gods, she looks so much older than she did only a few short days ago when Jaskier said goodbye to her at Thanedd. There’s nothing but pain in her eyes and he desperately wants to close the distance between them and pull her close.

“Are you killing him, witch?” Jaskier tries to keep his voice light, but he hears the wobble in it. “Because I know several dryads that would thank you for it. They’ve never seen such a poor patient here.”

Her lips quirk into a tiny, tired smile. “I’m only speeding up his natural healing processes. He’ll still need to rest and take care of himself.”

“Yes, Yenn.” Geralt grimaces as there’s the sound of another bone popping.

Jaskier exhales shakily. “So when she tells you to take care of yourself, it’s all, ‘Yes, Yenn,’ but when I tell you not to try to walk a thousand miles while your leg is still broken, I just get grunts and glares. I see how it is. This is why Milva keeps threatening to toss you out of Brokilon on your pretty ass, Geralt.”

Yennefer ducks her head so her hair is covering her face and Jaskier feels a fresh jolt of horror and grief. They all know why Geralt would try to walk a thousand miles with a broken leg, even if none of them have said her name.

“Does this mean you’re joining us?” Jaskier asks.

She doesn’t look up, her focus on Geralt. “I wish I could, but I can’t. Aretuza needs me. Tissaia is dead and most of the Brotherhood too.”

“We need you,” Jaskier wants to say. “Ciri needs you.” Because he doesn’t know what comes next, but all the possibilities are terrifying. With Geralt so badly weakened, he would feel better to know that they had Yennefer at their back. They’ve already lost so much; the thought of Yennefer being on the other side of the Continent is agony.

But he doesn’t need to say the words for Yennefer to hear them. She looks back at him, eyes glinting with unshed tears. “I need to make sure that when you find Ciri, that there’s somewhere safe for her to return to. That won’t happen if the Brotherhood doesn’t pull itself together. Foltest, Demavend, Radovid, Meve—someone needs to bring them to heel.”

“Radovid?” His voice cracks.

“King Vizimir was assassinated two nights ago. Radovid will be crowned king tomorrow.”

Jaskier lets his eyes fall closed for a brief moment, allowing himself a swell of sorrow for bright eyes and lopsided smiles. Radovid will suffocate with the weight of a crown on his head. If Dijkstra, Phillipa, or Nilfgaard don’t get to him, the burden of a life he never wanted will. Jaskier may have managed to get him safely back to Redania, but at what cost? But he can mourn for Radovid and what could have been later. There are other things to mourn tonight.

“So this is goodbye then,” he says. If Yennefer heads back to Aretuza and he and Geralt set out for Nilfgaard, there’s no telling when they’ll see each other again, or even if they’ll see each other again. Jaskier and Geralt will be traveling a thousand miles through war-torn lands to try and save Ciri from the heart of the most powerful empire the Continent has ever seen. Their chances of making it out alive—and making it back to Yennefer with Ciri—seem so slim as to be impossible.

It’s hard to tell in the darkness of the hut, but Jaskier thinks he sees Yennefer’s mouth tremble. “Yes.”

“Stay the night?” Geralt’s voice is so quiet that Jaskier can barely hear him.

Yennefer hesitates, then nods, the hand that was hovering over Geralt falling to her side. “Just for the night. Then I’ll need to return.”

And that’s Jaskier’s cue. He’s never quite known where he fits in this destined thing between them, no matter how much he wants to. When it’s just him and Geralt or him and Yennefer, he can almost forget his doubts, but when both of them are together, he’s at a loss. He loves them both so much, and he thinks they love him too, but he’s not meant for them, not like they’re meant for each other.

“Well, goodnight,” he says brightly. “Please do try and keep the noise down and, Geralt, I know you enjoy being generous in bed, but it may be best if you try and take it easy, just this once. I’m sure Yennefer will forgive you.”

“You too, Jaskier.”

It takes Jaskier a moment to understand what Geralt is trying to say. “You want me to stay?”

Geralt opens one eye a crack. “I’ve been telling you to sleep in here since you arrived. Ir’s safer.”

“And I keep telling you, that bed is hardly big enough for one, never mind two. Never mind three.”

“We’ll make it work.” With visible effort, Geralt lifts his arm. “We’ve made smaller beds work.”

“Not a week after you got every bone in your body broken.”

“Not every bone. Maybe half of them.” Geralt’s lips twitch into a tiny smile, clearly thinking this the height of wit.

It’s that tiny smile that convinces Jaskier. After he told Geralt that Ciri was en route to Nilfgaard, he never thought he’d see his witcher smile again. With a put-upon sigh, Jaskier settles down on the moss bed on Geralt’s other side. Very carefully, he and Yennefer curl up on either side of Geralt. It’s a tight fit, especially since they’re both being careful not to jostle him, but they manage to arrange themselves in a way that’s almost comfortable, with Jaskier’s head pillowed on Geralt’s bicep and one of his arms wrapped carefully around Geralt’s waist.

He thinks of all the dingy inns where Geralt insisted on putting himself between Jaskier and the door while they slept, even in the early days where it didn’t really seem like he’d give a damn if brigands slit Jaskier’s throat in his sleep. He knows Geralt does the same thing with Yennefer, despite her objectively being the more dangerous of the two of them. It’s strange to have Geralt sheltered between Yennefer and Jaskier, kept safe by them instead of the other way around. There’s a song there, Jaskier thinks, but he’s too tired and heartsick to compose it right now.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner,” Yennefer whispers into the silence that follows. “When I came to you, I wanted to have Ciri with me.”

There’s nothing to say to that, so Jaskier runs a hand down her arm in what he hopes is a soothing gesture. 

She captures his hand with hers, lacing their fingers together and resting them on Geralt’s stomach. “I keep thinking of what we could have done differently. I keep trying to figure out how we could have stopped it all. How we could have saved Ciri, saved Tissaia, killed Vilgefortz.”

“I don’t know.” Geralt places one of his hands over theirs, covering their hands completely. “Think we may have been doomed the minute we took Vilgefortz’s bait and decided that Stregobor was Rience's master.”

Yennefer lets out a shaky breath. “Gods, I still wish it had been him. The fucker got to go out in a blaze of glory.”

“Don’t worry,” Jaskier says. “When I write the song, he’ll have died shitting himself while hiding in the corner.”

Yennefer huffs quietly. It’s not quite the laugh that Jaskier loves so much, but it’s close enough.

Jaskier brushes a kiss against Geralt’s bicep, then leans over to kiss Yennefer’s cheek. “We’ll find her. The three of you are bound by destiny. This isn’t how your story ends.”

“This isn’t a song, bardling,” Yennefer says tiredly. “Sometimes, there isn’t a happy ending.”

“No.” Jaskier shakes his head. “Destiny brought you together for a reason and it wasn’t so Ciri could spend the rest of her life as Emhyr’s pawn. You’ll find your way back to each other. You always do.”

“We always do.” Geralt’s lips brush against the top of Jaskier’s head.

Jaskier smiles sadly against Geralt’s skin. “You say that like you didn’t spend the first five years we knew each other trying to lose me at every turn.”

“And yet you kept coming back.”

“That wasn’t destiny. That was just me being a stubborn pain in your ass.”

“And you’re still a stubborn pain in my ass all these years later.”

“Our asses,” Yennefer says, sounding so fond that Jaskier gets a little choked up.

Jaskier swallows back the lump that rises to his throat. “You’ll be safe at Aretuza, won’t you?” he asks Yennefer. He can’t bring himself to say what he’s really asking. “Will we see you again? Will we return from Nilfgaard with Ciri to find Aretuza cold and empty and realize we lost you too?”

“As safe as I can be.” She squeezes his fingers. “I’ll have Triss and Sabrina and Tiss—” Her voice cracks and Jaskier’s heart breaks for her all over again. “What’s left of the Brotherhood is united. We’ll take care of each other. I’m more worried about the two of you.”

“Oh, don’t worry about us,” Jaskier says breezily. “I’ve gotten Geralt through the last twenty-five years alive, haven’t I?”

Geralt grunts, imbuing an insulting amount of skepticism into the sound. “We’ll be fine, Yenn.”

“The Continent is a dangerous place right now,” she says.

“The Continent has always been a dangerous place. But Ciri’s out there and we have to find her. We’ll bring her back to you. I promise.”

They lapse into another silence, the three of them clinging to each other as hard as they can without crushing Geralt. Somewhere, an animal shrieks.

“We’ll see each other again.” Jaskier doesn’t know if it’s a promise or a prayer, but he needs it to be true. He needs to know that this isn’t the last night he’ll spend in Geralt and Yennefer’s arms. He needs to know that there will be time for the three of them to fully figure out what they are to each other. He needs to know that they’ll be a family again, them and Ciri.

“We will,” Yennefer says. She may just be trying to reassure Jaskier, but it still eases the anxious knot in Jaskier’s belly. “I haven’t saved your ass all those times, Pankratz, just to let you slip away now.”

“And your true agenda emerges. Terrible witch.”

“Incorrigible nuisance.”

Geralt huffs with laughter and pulls them both closer.

They don’t fall asleep for a long time, just lying together and soaking in each other’s presence for the last time. Jaskier wishes there had been more nights like this over the last few years. He hopes there will be more nights like this to come. Next time the three of them share a bed, Ciri will be tucked safely in the next room, safe, healthy, and back where she belongs. With her family. With their family.

Jaskier tries to stay awake as long as possible, because he knows that Yennefer will be gone in the morning when she wakes. None of them are good at goodbyes, despite having had far too much practice. But tiredness finally wins out and he drifts off to the warmth of Geralt’s body, the scent of lilac and gooseberries, and the feel of their hands in his.

***

He doesn’t fully wake when Yennefer leaves. He’s vaguely aware of movement, of the rustle of clothes and the soft sound of footsteps. Instead of opening his eyes, he cuddles closer to the warm body next to him. He doesn’t know what time it is, but he can feel in his bones that it’s far too early for any reasonable person to be awake.

His nose twitches at the tickle of hair against his neck as lips brush his cheek. “Goodbye, bardling,” a voice whispers in his ear.

It takes a moment for Jaskier’s half-asleep mind to register that someone was just speaking to him. He sits up to find the hut still mostly dark, the soft glow of approaching dawn just visible through the trees outside. It’s empty save for Geralt, who sleeps soundly next to him, his breathing sounding easier than it has in days, and the lingering scent of lilacs and gooseberries.

“Goodbye, witch,” Jaskier whispers to empty air.

***

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[moonmaiden1996]

AemondxreaderxOsferth

The mark of the seven glared down at you as the festivities unraveled around you. No expense had been spared in celebrating the betrothal between you and the princes. Despite the uproar, the Faith of the Seven had tirelessly promoted the unusual engagement you found yourself in, sending riders to every house in Westeros to come to see the Mothers blessing. However, it didn’t seem to stop the whispers not matter how blessed by the gods you were.

Pressing the cup to your mouth, you swallowed the sour wine as you watched another gaggle of Ladies eye you with red cheeks and judging stares as you sat the top table left with no place to hide.

Since the announcement you had waited to wake from this dream, to find yourself back in your chamber in your families keep. No matter how much your pinched yourself you did not wake up. Here you sat, a little sheep surrounded by dragons. Osferth and Aemond had been lost to the crowd for some time. Aemond to smooth over the troubles with the Baratheon: Osferth pressganged by the Septon to dazzle some northern believers in the Old Gods, leaving you seated by yourself once again.

Despite residing in the keep for nearly a moon, you had not been able to have more than fleeting conversations or moments alone with either prince. Walks had been commandeered, dinners usurped, even your betrothal breakfasts had been derailed by the Queen and the small council. So while you never seem to be wanting for your betrothals company you had yet to have a proper conversation with them,  and with your approaching marriage it appeared you would be marrying strangers. The two boys you spied playing dragon rider in the garden were gone, replaced by two strapping men, chiselled by the gods themselves. Who were to be yours. Only yours you hoped. And you had no idea what to do about it.

A sudden heat raised through your body, making your skin prickle and tingle against the stifling mesh of the corset the queen and her attendant squeezed you into.

"Are you okay my child?" The king spoke, pulling you from your thoughts.

"I am a little hot, my king. If you will excuse me I require some fresh air.” You rose carefully curtsying before scurrying towards the doors.

Your feet only met the middle step of the platform before you were held fast by the stiff grip of the king. Once the steely grip of the warrior weakened by time and disease, yet strong enough to keep you in place.

"My king?"

"Are you well my child? Happy?" his tone soft, fatherly almost.

It was a strange question, no one had asked her if she was happy before the announcement, your own sweet father didn’t even ask you. Marriage was expected, a duty, and marriage to a prince an honour. Your honour being twice so with two princes and blessed by visions from the Mother. But we're you happy? Osferth’s was, by all account, pleasant and gentle, he smiled and spoke softly to you when he pulled chairs out for you or passed you plates of food. Aemond was more problematic, stoic, broody, he seemed to hover constantly, and though he was far less approachable then his brother, he was sweet, informing the kitchen of your preferences, distracting the queen when she overwhelmed you. You were lucky to have a match with men like them, rather them than a man like Aegon.

"Yes my king, I am... very happy to become a member of your household." You frowned as the kings eyes scanned your face.

Slowly, his feeble grip relented and allowed you to escape the stifling heat and burning eyes of the court, but more importantly those lavender eyes of the Princes.

Xxxxxxx

The icy air felt good on your skin, soothing the fire within you your chest heaving from your heavy pants. Closing your eyes you lent against the cold stone, enjoying the brief respite from the chaos of the feast.

"A Lady should never wander too far from the feast... especially one thrown in her honour. One might think your trying to escape... " A deep voiced purred. Opening your eyes you meet the violet eye of Aemond Targaryen.

"Prince Aemond I... I am so happy to see you." you sighed.

"Your rapid departure would appear otherwise...some would think you were not happy about our betrothal.’’

"I am happy..." you stuttered.

"I heard...very convincing." Aemond luscious mouth stretched out in a grim line.

"... Aemond...I am simply a little overwhelm. It all too much..."

“To much... your are to be princess. A Targaryen. A blessing from the Mother herself...many women would do unspeakable things to be standing beside two dragons.” His voice was harsh, as he growled at you.

“I didn't ask for this... I”

"Did you not...? So it was not you that went confessing to the septa asking them to absolve you of that little sin that that made  your little bud of yours glisten and gush... for me and Osferth" A tight smile graced his features as he descended upon you.

"My darling little brother came scurrying to me.” he purred. "A flustered stuttering mess. Should have seen how much cold water it took to soften his cock. Us dragon have fire in our veins and the mere thought of you makes us burn even brighter. I always thought you were too berthed over my brother taking his vows to even think of the one eyed cripple just like the rest of the court....” he advance slowly, pushing you back against the wall. "But on hearing how you wished us to devour you... Was to good to pass...” his voice was low now, hot like molten lava against your skin "having to come up with this little farce to get you my pretty girl, but your worth it. Even having to listen to those pious old cunt and being paraded around like a doll, worth it to soon be finally between your softness, having you to touch and hold every night. To be ours.” Aemond growled curling his hand around your throat, forcing you to look at him.

Never before had you seen the composed features of the dragon be so contorted with emotion. Another gasp gave him a opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Clumsy and awkward but still enough to take your breath away.

"Aemond." A scolding tone pulled your apart.

Osferth. His short golden hair, like a halo around him, he always seemed so otherworldly, they both did, but Osferth was so pure it hurt to even look at him. Even now you could not bare to look at him.

“I really thought you were beyond such base instincts dear brother.” Osferth preened as he walked closer, making you painfully aware you were still pinned to the wall by a firm, hard body.

“Do not pretend to be above them, dear brother. I was simply showing our future bride the intensity of our affection.” Aemond rumbled pulling you closer, his hand ghosting over your neck, making you whimper.

Īlon agree daor naejot sȳngagon zirȳla. (We agree not to scare her.)

Eza issare qrīdrughagon hen īlva tolī bōsa, kesan daor emagon zirȳla stolen qrīdrughagon dombo, qogralbar se rest hen zirȳ. (She has been kept away from us too long, I will not have her stolen away anymore, fuck the rest of them.)

 Aderī lēkia, aderī (Soon brother, soon)

“Aderi.’’ Aemond nodded, tightening his hold on you.

You stood frozen as you stared wide eyed at the princes as they glared at each other, only snapped from their silent communication as the words tumbled from you lips. "You lied... you were to become a Septon... How could you?..."

"Hush... I would not have joined, those men care less about the faith then anyone. They know nothing of goodness, or purity or love. My dreams and my thoughts are only of you. The Mother has shown me that the only true power she can give us is love. The love we have for you, and with that, we can better the world."

"But..."

"Hush, dear heart..." Osferth cooed, pressing you against him, wedging you fast between their bodies.

"Let me and Osferth look after you..." Aemond whispered lowly in your ear as his face burrowed into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. For the rest of the night, you were trapped between the dragon princes, never leaving your side.

Couldn't wait to post this while I edited my Claiming his Queen chapter. Please let me know what you think and if you want to see anything. This will properly be a series of one shot.

@multitargaryen

[lazysublimeengineer]

sweet disobedience

(A/N: Read the tags before proceeding to read downwards. I’m not responsible if you haven’t read the latest chapter and you’ve been spoiled as the tags and warnings in the beginning are sufficient to alert the reader. All I gotta say is Raichi’s sexy soccer must be doing something right to make Kaiser polite and say the magic word please to him out there in the field. For simpler purposes, this takes place after the match and BM has won against PxG in this so do mind the AU tag in this one. I don’t own anything from this franchise except for this filthy fic that reeks of nothing but gratuitous smut).

The grainy images from the several screens of the monitors were the only source of light surrounding the projector room that night.

But it didn’t deter the two individuals who were occupying the room from jumping at each other’s bones like horny rabbits.

Their grunts of pleasure and breathless sighs and muffled gasps were drowned out by the sounds which were coming out from the monitor screens.

“Shit! How are you still this tight when we’re at it for the second round now?” Raichi hissed out as his cock was held in a vicelike grip by Kaiser’s velvety and quivering walls. He was struggling not to come there and then. But with the way the other’s legs wrapped around his hips like a seductive tease and with that angry yet cockdrunk look on Kaiser’s face beneath him, he was this close to busting his load inside of him like a waterfall.

But he needed to goddamn focus.

His goal hasn’t been achieved yet.

“You just have an enormous cock you idiot. I don’t think that’s even fucking normal considering your stature.” Kaiser retorted hotly but his vitriolic words were weakened as a helpless mewl escaped from his lips when Raichi angled his hips to his sweet spot before thrusting in again which made him see stars in an instant.

“You’re still cocky like that? Y’know I kinda miss your cute little side that you presented out there in the field. You saying please is adorable for a high and mighty emperor like you.” Raichi replied as a husky laughter slipped past his lips.

“Fuck you.” Kaiser spat while drool was trickling down the underside of his lips.

“I am fucking you silly. But if you want me to stop then I’m fine with it as well.” Raichi gave him a sharp grin as he ceased his movements completely which made Kaiser’s eyes widen for a fraction of second and refrained himself from grinding desperately as he glared daggers at him.

“That’s not what I meant you dumbass. What the hell are you doing? Just fucking move damn, it!” Kaiser tried to sound like a menacing king in front of him but instead it came out as a fucking needy whine much to his chagrin.

“Is that the correct way to ask nicely of your teammate huh? What happened to the politeness earlier? Did I just imagine it or your just too shy to show your cute side again?” Raichi replied teasingly, it almost bordered on a taunt as he could see the sardonic smile playing on his lips.

If Kaiser didn’t need his cock right now, he would punch the living daylights out of him.

How dare this worthless wannabe mock him like this?

But at the same time, he couldn’t refute his words as the scene of him passing the ball to Raichi out there in the field and uttering the despicable word please to him continuously played at the monitor screen and reach his line of sight and hearing.

“You’ll pay for this you worthless cretin.” Kaiser ground his teeth.

“I’m not hearing the correct word from you.” Raichi replied easily.

Kaiser needed him to move again.

His traitorous body was screaming and itching to be filled to the brim once again with his cock which was still throbbing with aching need inside of him.

Fuck.

Kaiser’s brain must’ve been melted away from his skull since he was now thinking with his dick before he could stop the words which flew out of his mouth.

“Please...” He uttered faintly.

Raichi could taste the cloying desperation wafting out of Kaiser’s entire being. He’d never see the day that the so-called emperor would be pleading like this to him until this very moment.

One of those rare moments when got to see him like this and Raichi would never waste the given opportunity to use it properly.

“What was that? Can’t hear you over here.” Raichi arched a brow at him.

Kaiser gritted his teeth. “I said fucking please you dolt. Fuck me now or—.”

However, his words were caught in his throat and choked back on his spit when Raichi suddenly moved and pulled out from him. Without any warning, he slammed back into him ferociously and knocked the wind out of him.

“That’s more like it. It wasn’t that hard, was it? Begging like a cute prince like that?” Raichi chuckled throatily before it was interrupted into a series of moans as Kaiser clenched around him while his piston his insides in wild abandon.

“God just shut the fuck up or we’re going to get caught in no time.” Kaiser hissed at him and before he could stop himself his body moved on autopilot as let his hand wrapped around his nape and brought him closer to his face to crash his lips in a wild and dirty kiss, swallowing their lewd moans and grunts of pleasure in an instant.

If Raichi was taken aback by his sudden gesture, it wasn’t apparent to the other as he quickly followed his rhythm and movement, kissing him back hungrily.

They're not holding back as they were engulfed in the flames of pleasure and desire with Raichi railing him recklessly on the floor while Kaiser match his movements in speedy desperation and canted his hips faster and harder underneath him.

Kaiser’s body shook beneath him as he finally reached his limit and peak, moaning loudly inside his mouth as he splashed his load against their chests. This Raichi did it in and within a few more thrusts, he reached his climax and painted his walls in hot streaks of his cum.

A weak moan escaped from Kaiser’s lips as he was filled to the brim instantaneously.

For a while, nothing can be heard inside the four walls of the room except for their ragged breathing, loud heartbeats inside their chests, and the sounds of the crowd cheering from the monitor screens.

When lucidity started to kick in, Kaiser pulled away from him with a disgruntled look on his face. “Get the hell off of me you oaf.” He said in complete disgust.

Raichi just shot him a lopsided grin and raised his arms placatingly, rolling away from him. “Alright. No need to get so worked up over it.” He threw his clothes in his direction while he dressed himself quickly.

“If the emperor wants some assistance from a helpful teammate like me, then be my guest and knock on my door anytime. Your presence is very much welcome.” Raichi added with a playful wink thrown in his direction before he proceeded to leave him alone inside the projector room.

Kaiser clenched his fists to the side as he glared hatefully at the closed door. “Fucking bastard.”

(A/N: Kaneshiro debunked half of the top Kaiser fics in this site with one panel alone and exposed Kaiser’s peak bottom behavior in front of Raichi and the crowd during the match. Kaiser passing the ball then saying pretty please with cherry on top to Raichi is wild I tell you. BLTV is gonna have a field day once again after this match is over. Reviews are amusing so let me hear them from you).

[vilandel]

Night of Vows

Summary She kissed him again, more deeply this time, smiling as she felt him giving in to the kiss. As they parted, she poked his cheek and said with a smirk, “Consider this a vow I just made.”

A/N Since @f-oighear was so kind to recommend this particular oneshot here, I've decided to share it with you on Tumblr as well. Thank you, dear Oighear 💘 It is one of my first oneshots for Black Clover and about Nozessa. And most importantly, I created my Clover Kingdom wedding vows thanks to this fic and now, I use them always when I have to write a wedding in one of my stories. I'm actually very proud of them and I hope you will like those vows^^

Ao3 link

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“It’s still snowing.“

Vanessa sighed deeply, defeated, as she looked again out of the little window. The biggest snowflakes she ever saw were still falling from the sky. It was basically impossible to go out and join the others, not to mention that both of them won’t be found for a while.

Nozel didn’t answer, still sitting in front of the fireplace, watching the flames. He seemed thoughtful. Not more than usually, but knowing him, he was clearly thinking about their situation and was trying to figure ways out.

For reasons only known by himself, the Wizard King had decided to organize more joint missions between squads and the Black Bulls, Silver Eagles and Blue Roses already did three missions together since. It was an odd mix and the teamwork was just becoming better, but they still made it work, surprisingly.

Only this time, all three captains were coming too. And it was a more dangerous mission, some rather powerful bandits with a leader who possessed very strong snow magic, who took an entire town in the Forsaken Realm as hostage. He managed a rather impressive snowstorm spell, which separated the knights. Vanessa only knew that Nozel managed to fight this man and maybe even defeated him, since the storm weakened. She might remember seeing Asta caught the guy, before they were separated.

But the snow didn’t stop, there was no way to find the others and so they took shelter in an abandoned hut, luckily still intact. After managing to make a fire – Nozel seemed to have learned some surviving basics during the last few weeks – all they did was waiting.

Vanessa sighed. That wasn’t really the alone time she imagined having with her boyfriend. Secret boyfriend, that is. A royal, not to mention a Head of House, with a witch, was for most nobles considered as an inappropriate match. And this was still a rather polite description. These past few weeks, Vanessa learned many things about the reality within royal and noble circles, she heard more harsh descriptions.

She turned to her boyfriend again. Nozel still didn’t say anything, just watching the fire. If she didn’t know him any better, Vanessa would have thought that he was still stunned to have make fire by himself. Noelle had reacted the same way, after all. But Vanessa just instinctually knew that something was bothering him.

“Do you know who the leader of bandits was? He seemed very strong and his beef against higher ups looked a lot like obsession.“

Actually, she wasn’t particularly interested in that topic, but honestly, she would take any conversation at this point, just to bring him out of his frozen glare. She was sick of the wait and silence.

Nozel finally turned to her, a puzzled expression in his eyes. “Yami didn’t tell you?“

“No, he just said it was a joint mission and that there will be a battle. That’s all. Since he didn’t need more to motivate Asta, Luck and Magna, he probably thought he didn’t need to say more.”

“Why am I not surprised?”, Nozel sighed, but not nearly as annoyed as he would be when it comes to Yami. He just sounded so… tired and Vanessa didn’t really like the sound of it.

“This man is actually a bastard from an old and very well-respected noble house. Like any bastard, he was thrown away and considered less. Well, I don’t know the details, but apparently, he came to the conclusion that since he was basically banished from his father’s house, he must be fated for something great, better than anyone and he made some kind of vow to prove it, which turned into obsession.”

“I agree that this bastard situation is unfair, but why using this as an excuse to hurt other people, especially those in the Forsaken Realm? I mean, captain Vangeance and Luck are also bastards with noble lineage and they aren’t full of grudge against nobility.”

“The Wizard King told us that this bastard considers himself better than anyone, better than commoners, peasants and nobles in general, better than his family and royalty especially. He seems also to be a very stubborn man, decided to fulfil his vow at any cost. The sad irony is, he became exactly like his father who abandoned him…“

Vanessa sighed heavily. She had heard from Finral and Noelle stories about bastards with noble lineage, who were holding grudges against their noble family to an unhealthy degree, hiding behind the unfairness of their situation to hurt others.

The complex and rather corrupt reality of nobility with the Clover Kingdom was unfair to say the least and could make a lot of people suffer. Not only bastards and peasants, but also people who weren’t outcasted. Vanessa never knew anything about this until after she and Nozel started dating. She was very naïve back then and sometimes, now that she’s more concious about this reality, she still wished she was.

Vanessa moved from her place to sit besides Nozel. Slowly her hand slid in his. He didn’t back away. Holding her hand tightly. This was really reassuring.

They had this discussion about status and rumours quiet at the beginning of their relationship. First, Vanessa didn’t understand why he wanted to keep their relationship a secret. She really thought that Nozel was ashamed of her. But that wasn’t the case…

She learned how her relationship would be viewed within royalty and nobility, how rumours could hurt more than they should. She learned that love doesn’t have a place for most of those people. It wasn’t a pleasant lesson, but the worst part was to witness how the other two royal Heads of House treated Nozel.

Vanessa clenched a fist while remembering. She’d been hidden, none of those two knew about hers and Nozels relationship. But it made her so, so angry. To hear them talk to him like this, their disgust hidden behind so-called concern, their secret joy to have him struggle with his House, the contradictions in every second sentence… it made her went on edge and if she had listened to herself, she wouldn’t have hesitated to put this gaudy king and this close-minded Vermillion prince in their place (how did the Head of Vermillion managed to have at least five likable grandchildren, honestly?).

But Nozel did asked her to not try anything. He told her that he was used to it and if she tried to scold them, it would put more difficulties not only on him, but also on her and maybe put their future together at risk. A risk Nozel wasn’t ready to take.

Which also meant, even though he never talked about it yet, he was seriously thinking about having a future with her. And this meant much more to Vanessa than she thought it would.

She always had been more to enjoy the present, to not worry about the future. Unlike Nozel, who had this habit of overthinking things really far ahead. Vanessa had asked him to at least try to stop and he really did try. But even she had to admit that it wasn’t wrong to think at least a bit about their future.

Their love was deep, truer than anything what Vanessa had known before. Which was a surprise, considering that they come from different circles, that many things would normally separate them. And still, even though she couldn’t yet see herself as a princess, as a lady Silva, she could very easily see herself growing old with Nozel. A nice thought…

If she forgot what difficulties may lie ahead of them.

Vanessa put a hand on Nozels shoulder. “Honey, I know the situation is rather, well, irritating, as you would put it. But we won’t be in this hut forever, the others will find us. And, if you’re worry about Yami teasing-“

“That’s not what I’m worrying about.“

Nozel stood suddenly up, starting pacing around the hut. “It has nothing to do with the mission.”

“Then what is it?”, Vanessa asked.

Nozel was now looking at her, almost defeated. Now, this was worrying Vanessa. She didn’t like when he had something like defeat in his eyes. He was good at hiding it, but she’d learned to look beyond his cold mask.

He sighed.

“My father knows about us.”

Just at this moment, the wind began to howl, like it just waited for this moment.

Vanessas mind went blank. His father? The very father none of all four Silva siblings liked to talk about? But wasn’t he supposed to be out of the country or something like this?

She didn’t know much about this man, neither Nozel nor Noelle were eager to talk about him. Heck, even Solid and Nebra seemed to resent him, which said a lot. All Vanessa knew was that he wasn’t there for any of his children birth and neither when Acier Silva passed away, he was late at his wife’s burial and that he was rather a taboo subject for the Silva siblings.

So… how much of bad news was it that this man knows about her and Nozel? And since when was he back, anyway?

Nozel didn’t let her time to ask questions. He just took a deep breath before he continued, “I still have no idea how and when he learned about us. His return was rather incognito, so none of my siblings knows that he’s back. For now. Knowing him, he would love a rather pompous ceremony for his official return. And I know a good bunch of royals and nobles who would do this for him.“

Nozel sounded so bitter. Usually, he never sounded this bitter, not even about Yami.

“A good bunch of royals and nobles. Even the other two royal Heads?” Vanessa asked slowly.

“My father is very good at… well, bootlicking. You know our king. He lives for homages to himself. As for the Head of House Vermillion, he knows that my father and I aren’t on good terms. So, he uses it against me, for various reasons and no matter the possible contradictions. He’s doing this since I became Head of House, actually.”

Vanessa clenched a fist. She hated how her boyfriend was treated like. Before they started dating, she never would have thought that other royals would think so little of him, hiding their disrespect behind concern. It was so… she didn’t have any words for it. She came to think that this might be one of the reasons why Nozel kept his emotions behind a cold mask. Honestly, Vanessa came to admire him about how he managed to deal with those subtle insults in such a calm way, most of the time.

“How did your father learn… about us?”

“I told you, I have no idea. His return wasn’t official. None of my siblings knows that he’s back, only very few servants. He came directly to me. And unusually for him, he went direct to the point.”

Nozel paused, sitting down of the huts lone bed. They really were lucky that it even had some clean sheets.

Vanessa waited. Mostly because she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t even know what to think. Until now, only the Wizard King and Nero knew about their relationship. And Marx. None of them would’ve ever spilled the beans. It was such a shock that someone new would know about them. Someone who didn’t seemed very pleased about their relationship.

She didn’t know what the Witch Queen would say and honestly, Vanessa rather wouldn’t care or think about her opinion. She knew the Bulls would be shocked, especially Noelle and let’s not forget the other two siblings. Nebra and Solid might not be very pleased at best, but well, Vanessa could live with that. But what about a person she only heard about? A man she never met, on which she never heard any good things and not so much in general? Vanessa didn’t like that she had no idea.

Nozel sighed deeply, before he continued, “My father wasn’t happy about our… relationship. Well, he had quite a less polite way to describe it. The words he used to describe you were horrendous and I snapped. Very much at the beginning.”

Vanessa saw him clenching his fists. Nozel might seemed calm right now, but it was clear as crystal for her that he was very much on edge about the conversation with his father. She sighed. She could very well imagine which kind of insults her boyfriend had to listened to. Oh, Vanessa was used to, but she knows Nozel. When someone insults her, he could be more terrific than the other Black Bull and that’s saying something.

“I tried very hard to explain despite my anger, but he wouldn’t listen. He was very much upset about the scandal it could bring upon him, for starters.”

“Upon him? Not the House?”

“He claimed that he was upset about House Silva as well, but, honestly, I didn’t believe him at all. He married into the House, but even then, he could have cared. Which he didn’t. If he really did care, he would had helped my mother with her duties as Head, he would have been here during her last weeks, he would have helped Nebra, Solid, Noelle and me with our duties and also other things, he would have… done so many things actually, now that I think about it. But he didn’t. He always found reasons to slip away from… work. Paperwork that is, the duties from behind the scenes, as my mother called them.”

Something like fondness past through his eyes. Vanessa couldn’t help but smile. She loved the look Nozel had when talked about his mother.

“But the duties of showing, of presentation, all of this… he loves it. I remember how he dragged me and my siblings to all those… events. Despite how mother pleaded to wait, we were all rather young. But he wanted it. To show himself. We were barely tools for his glory. And for him to stand right in the light, no one of us had to step out of the way. He always had this mindset. Even after my mother died, even after he was mostly out of the country.”

She never heard her boyfriend talk this much about his father. It was strange. After all, none of the Silva siblings liked talking about him and Nozel even less so. But looking at her boyfriend, it seemed to Vanessa that he needed to get it out of his chest. She could only imagine how his discussion with his father went and he won’t show much, but she knew, she just knew, that he needed to let it out.

Vanessa stood up and reached for Nozels hand, squeezing it softly. He squeezed back. She hoped she could comfort him. With a nod, she invited him to continue.

“My relationship with you… for him, it was me stepping out the way. Again.”

“Again?”

“I don’t know when it began, when was the first time I upset him. As far as I can remember, he always seemed… well, unhappy with me. He was already mad at me for not kicking Noelle out of House Silva.”

“But… why?”, Vanessa asked, genuinely shocked, not able to put it in words. She knew by now that Nozel never kicked Noelle out of the family, even if it had looked that way. But it only looked that way. Vanessa had recently learned that to kick someone out of a Royal House, a hearing was needed. And given Nozels true affection for his sister, despite everything that happened, Noelle never really was at risk to be banished from the Silvas.

“In all honesty, I never understand it either. I don’t think I want to. But that wasn’t the only thing about me he’s upset with. He always seemed disappointed with me. But our relationship seems to be the worst for him.”

Nozel stopped, hesitating to tell more. Vanessa could see many emotions in his eyes, anger, disgust, pain, altogether. Even hesitation. She let out a deep sigh, let go of his hand and went in front of him, putting her hands on both sides on his face, forcing him to look at her.

“Honey, please, let it out. I’m not blind, I can see that you need it. Don’t worry about me, about what your father said about me. What he thinks is not what you think and his views on us won’t affect what we feel for each other. Now, tell me what happened.”

For a moment, Nozel just looked at her, with surprise and even admiration in his eyes. He kissed her forehead first, before continuing.

“My father tried to be calm, but he failed to do so. He was furious, practically scolding me for… well, he said forsleeping with a witch. He dismissed the fact that you’re a Magic Knight, who already served the kingdom countlessly. The words he used to describe you… sorry, but I can’t bring it over myself to say them out loud. I snapped, counting down all the things I reproached him for many years. Never had it been so hard for me to not attack anyone. I could barely hold myself back. I told my father that I love you, but he dismissed that. For him, as for many nobles and royals, love is just a foolish thing. Royals don’t love is a very common motto. Marriages are for alliances, power, glory. Love has nothing to do with it. I feel so stupid for having believed that once. For my father, love is even a childish thing.”

“But… What about your mother? She did love him, right? At least, that’s how I understood it.”

“She did. But he never loved her back. Deep down she might already have known it, given how much love and affection she gave me and my siblings all her life. Although I don’t think my mother realized it at the beginning. But I remember that after Solids birth, she looked sadder and more resigned when a talk was about my father. I think that back then, she began to realize that her love for him was one-sided. And she might have accepted it fully when she was expecting Noelle.”

Sadness and anger flashed through Nozels eyes. Vanessa slid her hand again in his, feeling his grip tighten.

“I don’t know how long we kept fighting. Not long I believe, but for me it was like hours. My father kept going on all the things I apparently made him upset with. I learned a few more things, even. My magic even disappointed him.”

“What? Why? Why would he be disappointed about your magic?”

“Honestly, I have again no idea and I haven't been in the mood to ask. He basically told me that he didn’t want four children to begin with. But since I didn’t inherit his attribute, he wanted others, who would inherit it. He claims to have a strong aversion against metal attributes, but he didn’t explain why. I don’t even know if it’s true or if he came up with this just to try to humiliate me.”

“But this is not fair! Why should he be disappointed that you didn’t get his magic attribute? You have a great magic, you can use it in so many ways and skills, it’s so sophisticated! I… I can’t understand! Well… I knew that your father wasn’t a very nice person, but I didn’t expect that he…”

Vanessa had no words to properly describe how furious she was against Nozels father. She never met him and the few things she heard about this man didn’t make him really sympathetic, but this!

She already knew he was rather harsh towards Noelle, even though neither her nor Nozel would give her details. But she genuinely hasn’t thought that he would also be this harsh towards Nozel as well. What he just told her sounded familiar. Not only because it sounded pretty similar to what the other two royal heads would reproach him. But this disappointment about everything Nozel did or was, even things he couldn’t help it. The father being upset that his son wasn’t perfect, that his son didn’t meet his expectations… It sounded similar to her own situation with her own mother. Vanessa didn’t like it, at all. Even though the Witch Queen never screamed or got loud about her disappointment.

Was the Silva father even upset about Nebra and Solid as well? With what Vanessa heard, it wouldn’t be too much of a surprise. Nebra has mist magic, which isn’t one of the stronger attributes. As for Solid, Vanessa couldn’t think of anything, but why wouldn’t the father find something as well to be upset with his other son?

She never met the man, never wants to either and if, only to put him in his place. The father of the Silva siblings sounded like an arrogant jerk.

Her angry thoughts were interrupted when two hands cupped her face. Nozel looked at her with determination.

“Vanessa, I know you’re angry, but please calm down. I don’t care what my father thinks about me. I stopped caring about it a long time ago. I was angrier about how dared to talk about you. He didn’t care that I love you, he didn’t care to understand. At the end, I couldn’t take it anymore. I basically told him that… well… no matter what he says or does, I’d rather die in celibacy than marrying a woman who isn’t you. In fact, I basically made a vow to marry you.”

Silence followed his words. A silence during which they just stared at each other. Vanessa tried to realize what he just said.

Suddenly, Nozel blushed heavily and he let go of her, hurrying to the huts window. Vanessa just turned to him, confused but also feeling another emotion she couldn’t quiet describe.

“I… well… After that, my father basically was trying some menaces, but I couldn’t take him seriously. He acted like he was the Head of House, which he isn’t. He was married to a Silva, he was never born into House Silva and he never really cared about it. I… well… I made position perfectly clear. He quit soon after, but it’s only a matter of time before his return becomes official.”

Nozel stopped. He seemed so unsure, which worried Vanessa a bit. But at the same time, he was flushed and that was always adorable.

Vanessa went to him, taking his hand. She had to comfort him about his jerk of a father. But she also needed to talk with him about that vow he mentioned. After all, she was still trying to realize his words.

“Your father might have a pretty positive reputation within royals and nobles, he might be an excellent bootlicker. But I don’t think his influence might be this strong that he could take the power to force his will upon you and your siblings.”

“I wish I could be as certain as you are. But… what if he-“

“You could fill all four kingdoms in bottles with what ifs. I’m not saying we shouldn’t care at all. But whatever your father tries to do, we’re going to face it together. We’re together in this, Nozel. Never forget that.”

Nozel just looked at her. Surprised of course, he was lightly blushing again. But there was also gratitude and love in his eyes. Gosh, he was so cute behind that cold mask.

Vanessa took his other hand and looked firmly into his eyes. “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“The vow you made during the fight with your father. To… marry me. Did you really mean it?”

Nozel blushed even more, but he tried very hard to not look away from her. Vanessa wouldn’t have let him anyway. A few moments past, but they seemed like hours while she waited.

“I… I meant it.”

He only looked down after his answer. But he didn’t let go of her hands.

Relief and happiness flew through her. He really meant it. Never would Vanessa have thought how much this would mean to her until now. It was still surprising, as she already thought about it, but not that much.

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry? What for?”

“I shouldn’t have made such a decision without your consent.”

Vanessa couldn’t help but chuckle. Why did he always feel so responsible?

“I don’t blame you. Given the circumstances. And it is cute.”

“Cute?”

“You really should learn how to take compliments. But seriously, honey, you shouldn’t be sorry. Why would you feel guilty, anyway?”

Nozel just looked at her, slightly frowning, like he didn’t understand what she was meaning.

“Well… I shouldn’t have taken such a decision all by myself, especially in overwhelming anger. It concerns you as well. Besides, our situation is… complex. Any wrong steps could be used against us and there are some risks I’m not sure I’m ready to take.”

Vanessa sighed, half amused, half annoyed. There was his strategic chess-brain again. Always thinking very forward. Sometimes it was useful, but honestly, his overthinking could exhaust him so many times it was almost hurtful to watch. Nozel promised her he would try to restrain his overthinking, but he would struggle from time to time. Old habits die hard.

“Is that really all what worries you? Honey, you promised me-“

“That’s not all! Actually… I’m also scared.”

Vanessa blinked. She didn’t expect that.

“Scared? Of what?”

“That… I would put you back in a cage. Status and duties can be like chains and I… I don’t want you to be a… prisoner. Again.”

Nozels eyes went down, his posture almost looking like defeat. But Vanessa firmed her grip on his hands. In fact, his words touched her very deep in the heart.

After they were dating for quite some time, both had been comfortable enough with the other to talk about some secret subjects of their pasts. Nozel told her about this curse he had gotten after his mother was defeated and cursed by Megicula. Vanessa, on the other hand, found herself brave enough to tell him about the cage were her mother kept her as a prisoner, in order to obtain that spell to control Fate. She remembered very well how shocked her boyfriend was, the compassion he showed, his concern…

Her story impressed him so much. Vanessa totally understood why he was afraid that he would put her in another cage if they may marry. Nozel was a much more caring man than he let himself be viewed.

Vanessa put a small kiss on his lips, which made Nozel looking back at her, slightly confused.

“Nozel, I understand that you fear this for me. But I just know that you would never put me intentionally in a cage. And even if it would happen unintentionally, I know you would do anything in your power to get me out. I love my freedom, but this also mean I’m free to choose what I want. I admit, I have yet difficulties to imagine myself as a royal princess, as a lady Silva.”

Nozel just nodded, sad and understanding, but Vanessa wasn’t finished, “But I believe it will come with time. Because on the other hand, I have no problem to imagine myself growing old with you. I chose to be with you, with all the difficulties that comes with the situation. And… I want to help you with your burden. You carried your duties and responsibilities as Head of House alone for far too long, if you ask me. I won’t let you alone anymore with this.”

She kissed him again, more deeply this time, smiling as she felt him giving in to the kiss. As they parted, she poked his cheek and said with a smirk, “Consider this a vow I just made.”

Nozel blushed again a bit and Vanessa couldn’t help but giggle. She loved seeing him all flustered.

“How did I deserve you?”

“I don’t know, honey. How did I deserve you?”

This time, the captain of the Silver Eagles let out a small chuckle. This made Vanessa happy. She loved seeing him smile and this was the first time since the start of the mission that Nozel actually smiled.

For a while, they just hold each other tightly without saying anything. The only noises came from the fire and the wind outside.

Finally, Nozel spoke again, “So, um, you… you wouldn’t mind?”

“Marry you? No, I wouldn’t mind. I still need get used to it, but more to the thought of being a royal lady, princess or whatever rather than being your wife. That is actually rather easy to imagine.”

Nozel smiled softly. But when he spoke again, his tone was serious, “It’s still a difficult situation. I don’t trust my father with whatever he’ll try to do. Not to mention other… aspects. It might take a while before we can get… married.”

And now he was blushing again. Seemed that Nozel too still needed to get used to the thought. Vanessa chuckled again. It was such a sight to see different emotions on Nozels face, once you looked beyond his cold mask. She would have loved to tell the Bulls this. But well, they wouldn’t believe her (except maybe Nero, she knows already about their relationship, after all). In that case, she would show them, once her relationship with Nozel would be out of secrecy.

The stood in silence, holding each other. After a while, Vanessa turned her head towards the window. It was still snowing, not strong, but it was already night. The rest of the Black Bulls, Silver Eagles and Blue Roses might have found shelter as well. They might have been separated into groups as well. Waiting for the falling snow to stop. The enemy has been defeated and caught, after all. Maybe it was better to just call it a night and to regroup with the others the next day.

Vanessa couldn’t help but smile. An entire night, alone with Nozel… how could she say no?

“I fear we might only regroup with the others tomorrow. It’s late and it would be foolish to go out right now.”

Nozel seemed a bit annoyed. Must be that captain side of him, that side who preferred that everything should be settled efficiently in a short period of time. Vanessa grinned. She knew just what to do to convince him that their situation wasn’t so bad after all.

She teased his upper lip with her mouth, caressing very slowly over his chest, feeling his muscles under the fabric of his clothes.

He wasn’t buff, but she knew now that despite the multiple layers of clothes and despite Yamis teased assumption, her boyfriend of a captain was actually muscular. Slender and lean, but he still has muscles. Another surprise for her when she fell for him. Buff men were supposed to be her type. But she still fell for Nozel and she with time she found that this was one of the best things that happened to her. At the end, Vanessa just decided that she had a new type and Nozel was the only one who fit it.

She knew he was blushing again, but he was still caressing slowly her hips. Vanessa looked at the bed. Well, it wasn’t as big as Nozels bed in the Silva palace. She was so used to his bed by now that she actually began to find her own, back at the Black Bull base, rather small. But it was still bigger than this one here. But still, even being not a king size bed and without silky sheets, but it still looked warm and comfy.

Vanessa noticed that one of the sheets were white. White… white like a…

An idea just plopped in her head. Oh, it was innocent and childish, but after their discussion, it seemed like a good idea. For her at least, from a general point of view, it may be stupid. But she really wanted to do it. And if it could help her boyfriend to relax a bit, even better!

Vanessa immediately took Nozels hand and dragged him to the bed, sit on it, took the white bedsheet and draped it over her head like a veil.

“Vanessa, what are you doing?”

She could see that Nozel was confused, slightly frowning. But he still sat down on the bed as well.

“Sorry if my idea seems rather childish, honey, but… okay, it is childish. But I thought, after our discussion, I know it may take a while before we could marry and since I still need to get used to this thought, so we might have a little rehearsal, kinda? Just to see how it feels.”

Nozel was still looking at her with confusion and now he was blushing. Again. Vanessa giggled. She might have broken her own record of making him blush a lot of time, this night.

“Pretty please, honey. I promise it won’t kill you. And we’re alone, no one’s witnessing a new hidden childish side of yours.”

Vanessa was now making puppy eyes. She knew Nozel couldn’t resist them. Which is why she’s only doing them on rare occasions. After all, she would have the feeling of using him if she did that trick more often.

Nozel sighed, but Vanessa could see a small smile appearing on his lips. Definetly a win, he was already starting relax a bit.

“Besides… Call me stupid, but I don’t really know how, well, weddings work. I know the basics, what it has, but details? No idea. I’ve never been to a wedding, I have no idea about the differences between noble weddings and commoner weddings, if the priest says the vows or the groom and bride.”

It was true. Vanessa never witnessed a wedding. She had never been invited to one and none of the Bulls was married or close too. Well, except Finral, but he was still engaged, there was still no date for the wedding. And for the other Bulls, marriage wasn’t in anybody’s future plans for now. It was a little frustrating, now that she thinks about it.

“First of all, you’re not stupid.”

Nozel had took her hands in his, as he looked at her. He was still flustered, but the confusion was gone. There was now determination in his eyes and tenderness. A glance which made Vanessa blushing.

“Second, noble weddings are rather complex and royal ones even more. I might teach you the details, but not yet, sadly. I don’t know all of them by heart. Most things are unnecessary complicated.”

“Like so many things within royalty, I bet.”

“You won your bet.”

Both chuckled, before Nozel continued, “At least, I can help you learn the royal wedding vows. They’re different from the classic ones for nobles and maybe even commoners. It’s the groom who speaks first, then the bride. And you have to look me in the eyes while saying the vows.”

“That looking in the eyes thing, is it also part of the procedure?”

“Normally yes. It’s to show that you mean your promise told in the vows. But since most royal weddings are arranged ones, groom and bride usually don’t look into each other’s eyes. Probably because they think if they don’t look into their spouse’s eyes, they won’t be bound by their promises.”

Nozel sighed and Vanessa did it too. Since she started dating her boyfriend of a prince, she had learned that cheating scandals were not so uncommon within royal and noble circles, with bastards as one of the consequences. Well, given that kinda the majority of those marriages weren’t coming out of love, it wasn’t really a surprise.

But that wasn’t for her. Neither for her boyfriend. She loves him, he loves her. And whenever they finally could get married, this would be their reason.

Vanessa looked up as Nozel hold her hands firmly, his gaze all on her. The determination in his eyes made her heart race.

“Faith. Hope. Love. By the three leaves of the Clover, I, Nozel Silva, take thee, Vanessa Enoteca, as my wedded wife. I will have Faith in thee, with thy life and trust thee mine. I will have Hope, helping thee to all hardships and happiness of life. I will Love thee, cherish thee in sickness and in health, be it forever.”

Those were beautiful wedding vows. Such a shame that today,  they were used more for arranged marriages. Vanessa hoped now to say them without hesitation. She took a deep breath and looked into Nozels eyes.

“Faith. Hope. Love. By the three leaves of the Clover, I, Vanessa Enoteca, take thee, Nozel Silva, as my wedded husband. I will have Faith in thee, with thy life and trust thee mine. I will have Hope, helping thee to all hardships and happiness of life. I will Love thee, cherish thee in sickness and in health, be it forever.”

In the end, that wasn’t difficult at all.

Vanessa smiled at Nozel, who smiled back. He was happy, finally. Gosh, he was so beautiful when he smiled.

She couldn’t admire him for long, though he leaned towards her, kissing her deeply. Vanessa kissed him back, pulling him closer to her. Were kisses also part in arranged weddings? Surely not this passionate. She would ask Nozel later. For now, she had other plans for the night.

As they parted, Vanessa fell back on the bed, pulling Nozel towards her.

“Ready for the wedding night, husband of mine?”

He chuckled, before kissing her again. She couldn’t help but smile against is soft lips. It felt so much like Heaven.

They didn’t know when they could really get married. Or what the father of the Silva siblings would try to separate them. They didn’t know what other difficulties would lie before them, who and what would fight their relationship.

But they were together, they would face those hardships and fight those hurtful rules within royal and noble circles.

Tonight, that little wedding rehearsal might also be a vow for Nozel and Vanessa to not give up.