#He’s now a prince with no power and all the other ghosts are like

[summonerj]

You know how whenever we see Danny accidentally kidnap Jason, he immediately explains what’s going on? What if Danny forgets to do that and leaves Jason wondering what the fuck is going on. Like usually Jason is in the know and the BatFam has to figure it out themselves, what if nobody knows what’s going on, not even Danny to an extent. Imagine Danny thinking someone else told Jason what’s going on because the sickly child ghost isn’t outwardly panicking/attacking anymore, and the only way Jason is getting any information on why this is going on is through Danny casually mentioning it in conversation and Danny isn’t even talking to him most of the time. Jason only knows one thing for certain, his weapons and attacks don’t work on them.

(Danny takes Jason to the Ghost Zone, unknowingly adopts him and leaves; Jason is in a horror mystery detective game and is thAT HIS ROBIN COSTUME ON HIM; and nobody knows where Jason is, his last known location was in Crime Alley)

[enigmaris]

All Father Thor, King of Asgard,

A new ruler of Hel has been chosen, the fearsome King Phantom, defeater of Pariah Dark. It is time for Asgard to prepare to pay the dues required to keep peace between the realms of the gods and of the dead. Bring the terms of your surrender to King’s Phantom’s representative on earth, Daniel James Fenton of Amity Park.

The Noble Scribe of King Phantom,

Ghost Writer

*****

“Okay so let me get this straight,” Tony Stark, Iron Man and Avenger said. “Ghosts are real.”

“Yes.” King Thor Odinson, Asgardian and god of thunder agreed.

“And they’re evil.”

“A bit of an oversimplification, but yes.” Prince Loki Odinson, sometimes villain and would be planet invader, answered.

“And the ghosts have had one ruler, the most powerful ghost in existence. And that new rulers are chosen by combat, meaning that every new ruler is more powerful than the last.”

“Yes, you’ve got the idea.” Thor said looking down at his knees for a moment.

“And since ghosts are so evil and so powerful, that means that their ruler is practically an unstoppable force of destruction.”

“Doesn’t it sound delightful?” Loki asked, to which he received a glare.

“So, for the past 10,000 years, at least, Asgard and plenty of other realms have been paying taxes to the ghost king to avoid a war. A racketeering scheme.”

“I don’t know what a racketeering scheme is but yes, the ghost peace treaty does require that Asgard pay the ghost king gold and magical weapons every century and if we fail to pay that price, then the peace treaty will be broken and Asgard will likely be forfeit.”

“That’s a racketeering scheme!”

“Well then yes.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. It was clear the man’s headache was only growing stronger as he walked through the information the two gods had dumped into his lap this morning. Thor and Loki both had rushed into his lab and started babbling about world ending threats and how they might possibly be absolutely screwed.

“So, now there’s a new king. Which means a new peace treaty has to be signed.” Tony said the words ‘peace treaty’ in the same way he’d say ‘nuclear bomb’ or ‘Steve Rogers’.

“I thought you said it was a racketeering scheme?” Loki asked.

“Shut it.” Tony hissed.

“A new treaty must be signed.” Thor repeated, trying to keep the three of them on track.

“And since the last king Pariah Dark was so powerful that he made the entirety of Asgard tremble, you’re pretty sure this new king, Phantom, is probably worse.”

“Pariah Dark had the power to suck entire planets into the afterlife, destroying them,” Loki said looking at his nails. “Stands to reason that a ghost powerful enough to defeat him could do much, much worse.”

“Right. Fantastic!” Tony practically shouted.

“I don’t think anything about this is fantastic.” Thor admitted, he was ignored.

“And according to you Asgard has been paying the ghost tax for both their realm and ours since we were under Odin’s protection. And since Hela and Sutur destroyed your entire planet and your entire people are refugees, now we have to figure out how to keep an ultrapowerful ghost from wiping out our home without any way of paying him.”

“Technically we don’t know if Phantom is a ‘he’.” Loki pointed out unhelpfully.

“The letter literally says he’s a king!”

“Could be a title. What do the dead have need for gender?”

“This is not the point of this discussion,” Thor cut in before an argument about the usefulness of gender and the concept of a female king burst forth. “We’re here to figure out how to make peace with King Phantom without resulting in a war that would destroy our world and our peoples.”

“We don’t even have Earth’s mightiest heroes anymore.” Loki said, referencing the painful results of the civil war and the Accords.

“We’re fucked.” Tony decided.

“Yes,” Thor agreed. “We probably are.”

[radiance1]

The Ghost Prince does not, under any circumstances, answer a summoning after it was made aware he existed. None know why he doesn't, some are bitter and hateful of it while others are thankful that it's one less bloodthirsty manic to deal with.

The Ghost King meanwhile hasn't been seen in multiple eons, so the magical community who wanted to use his power just, stopped, trying to summon him for a long time.

Most magic users knew that the Ghost Prince never answered a summons, and that the Ghost King just dropped off the radar.

So could you really blame Constantine for not taking it that seriously when some wannabe hotshot cultists try to summon both of them in the middle of a city to wreak havoc?

He'll give them some credit though. Points for doing it in broad daylight and actually being somewhat of a threat with not relying on just summoning the Ghost royalty and figuring out what to do from there.

The area they were in was somewhat destroyed, then the cultists manage to complete the summoning circle to summon both of them and Constantine, well he just light up a smoke.

It isn't going to work anyways so what does it matter?

...

Is that a fucking Ice cream truck he hears? Who the fuck is driving an Ice cream truck while their city is being under attacked with cultists trying to summon eldritch ghost royalty?

He'll give them some points for dedication, though.

Then he looked at the cultists and nearly had a goddamn heart attack to see that the summoning circle is actually fucking lighting up and working.

The Bat is so gonna give him a headache over this.

----

Danny Phantom, crown prince of the Infinite Realms. Does not answer summons.

For one, it is annoying as shit, whenever someone interrupts his day just to ask for infinite power (that he can't give), world domination (that he won't do) or infinite riches (which he also can't do).

It just got annoying being summoned all the time so. One day he just, well, no. And hey, it worked out well enough for him to not continue doing it.

Then he also learned that Pariah Dark is basically the same, after he got out the coffin and stopped trying to take over the world for whatever reason. He was actually a pretty swell guy!

He was just with him too, with him being not so swell at the time for making him go through lessons about Ghost etiquette, rules, stuff that's expected of him as the crown prince.

And don't even get him started on the engagement and marriage proposals.

Overall, he just wanted to find an excuse to leave. Then he felt the familiar suggestive pull of a summoning and, instead of rejection as he usually does in a second. He thought for a bit if he wanted to go with that or crown prince duties.

It was tempting, but dealing with cultists seemed worse than this so he was about to reject.

At least, before he heard an Ice cream truck playing in the background. He doesn't even know how the hell that popped up through the pull but by the gods has it been a while since he's had Ice cream.

So he answers and is gone with a pop.

Pariah Dark just stares for a good second or two, before breathing out and deciding to also answer. Fright Knight is just there, off to side, questioning what he should do now.

Danny wastes no time with the cultists on the other side and in fact, he pushes them out of the way and goes diving for that Ice cream truck he hears. Only to realize he doesn't, have any money on him.

Fuck.

Pariah Dark is less inclined to follow the rules imposed by humans like money, but he does know it can be important. Once in a while. Not that often, but it has its times.

So when he sees his adopted son being sad over being unable to pay for some kind of human delicacy, he digs around in his hair (yes, his hair.) and pulls out some money and puts it on the counter as payment.

The man inside the tiny vehicle had shrieked before getting what they wanted. Which is good. Fear is a good motivator, Pariah thinks.

Unknown to him, it wasn't out of fear (Well, mostly) but because the Ghost King placed down a coin made of pure, solid gold on his counter.

The two then go about their business in the human realm, completely forgetting about the fact that they were summoned here for something.

Constantine is both relieved and about to have an aneurysm at seeing Infinite Realm royalty only answering a summon because of Ice cream.

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #24: The Midwest Prince(ss)

Danny is a Singer/Siren/Banshee au where he’s basically a Chappel Roan-type figure.( Also, I'm Dead on Main trash so Strangers-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Celebrity x Civilian romance for two of my favorite boys)

Danny’s Ghostly Wail develops into vocal manipulation bc he’s a siren or banshee. Ember teaches him to sing and control the power. He finds music is a good outlet for his emotions and decides to pursue music as Danny. It takes him a few years but he develops a style and brand that he bases off the Realms. However, he doesn’t anyone to connect him to Phantom so he uses parts of his ancestors’ names to become “Walker Gale”(shout out to my beautiful mutual @mirigold-mayflowers for helping me pick that name), ordinary small-town midwestern boy turned Music Icon. He hires Val as his personal bodyguard, Sam as his manager, and Tucker as his head stage tech.

He dresses in really campy clothes the low-key mimic his ghost form as well as other ghosts he’s met. The outfits change to match the vibe of the song. So a rock ballad with an outfit inspired by Ember, Show Tunes-Murder Mystery-type-beat with a costume for Amorpho, EDM-techno-hyperpop themed song styled after Technus or Skulker, etc. He just has a lot of fun experimenting with his appearance and he’s an icon for it. He even makes friends with Star and Paulina through this and they give him feedback and help with new looks. The eventually join the team as his PR and Styling team.

Since he’s a banshee/siren all his songs have this underlying despair/sadness even if they have a fun and bubbly beat. He also references his feelings about being/hiding as Phantom and being partially dead and shit but vaguely so no one actually knows or assumes it’s a metaphor. Many of the themes are actually things lgbtq people identify with, specifically trans and bi fans. He also references battles he’s fought and ppl assumes he’s talking about mental illness or abuse which attracts another category of fans altogether. Again inspired by Chappel Roan his first album his called "The Ascent and Downfall of a Midwest Prince" gaining him the nickname the "Midwest Prince".

He’s weird and unfiltered and full of emotion and he gains a few fans in the hero community too. Raven and Zatanna start a fan club for him, well aware he’s some type of banshee/siren but knowing that the extent of his powers are being used to deliver beautiful performances. The are staunch supporters of him and his music and spread it to their friends. The current fan club is Co-Presidents Zatanna + Raven, VP Greta(Secret, a.k.a: a ghost hero), Starfire, Bart, Cassie, Tim, Kon + Jon, Steph, Cass, and Billy.

His identifying features are a signature make-up look and white underdye (when the color is on the underside of the hair). He’s grown his hair longer so it’s not super visible when he has it down and not styled. He also looks different without make-up so he can totally go unrecognized in public and live life semi-normal (as normal as a half-ghost vigilante powerhouse superstar can be). He actually planned it to be that way so that he could still go to college and stuff even though he’s doing it mostly online. All this to say that Danny has low-key got a Hannah Montana thing going on. Also, let's mix it up a bit and say he's based in Star City.

One day Danny goes to a second-hand book store because he's looking for a cheap textbook when he bumps into an absolute hunk of a man who doesn't seem to recognize him. Jason had been in Star City to visit Roy and Lian. He stopped at a second-hand bookstore to see if he look for some older editions of books (one time he found a second edition copy of Persuasion so he likes to peruse) and ran into a super pretty boy who made his chest feel funny and doesn't realize he's a Wayne. They got to talking about started really connecting. They decided to exchange numbers and kept in touch, meeting up every now and then when they had the chance. Danny gave him his private social media accounts so Jason never learned much more beyond that Danny worked in the music industry but not his exact role in it.

Eventually Danny moves to Gotham, either bc he switched labels or to be closer to Jazz whose doing her doctorate thesis on reforms that need to be made in Arkham. He and Jason begin meeting up in person more frequently and start catching feelings. Danny really wants to ask him out but feels sleazy doing it without telling Jason about his past and superstar alter ego. However, he also doesn't want to lose the mostly normal friendship they have. On the flipside Jason wants to date Danny but doesn't want to drag him into the life of a vigilante or the life of a Wayne. Both of them Pine and Agonize over this. In the end Danny decides to bite the bullet and tell Jason who he is, every part of who he is. He invites Jason over for a movie night and tells him he's got something important to tell Jason.

That same day Starfire decides to introduce Walker Gale's work to the other Outlaws and Jason really resonates with his work. He identifies with the lyrics on a literal and physical level and recognizes the underlying emotions that usually only other ghosts or liminals can. Starfire overjoyed that her friend likes his music decides to show Jason some of his music videos and photos. Jason, not being blind or an idiot, recognizes not only the props and costumes but his crushes face under that (very well done) make-up.

Jason is stunned and conflicted: it’s not like Danny lied to him about who he was, but he was entirely truthful either. Did he assume Jason knew? Or did he just not trust Jason? Why did he even bother with Jason, a seemingly regular guy, if he had such a claim to fame? And Jason keeps listening to his music and it’s speaks to him the same way hanging out with Danny does, making him feel seen and connected. It makes him all the more sure that someone incredible as Danny doesn’t need someone like Jason. He heads to Danny’s place that night very subdued.

He gets to Danny’s place and the smile that greets him twists him up inside. He puts on a mask and tries to act normal but Danny can tell somethings up but persists as he has made up his mind to be clear with Jason. He sits him down and tells him there is something important he wants to tell Jason. He starts by letting Jason know that he cares about him very much and appreciates the normality and closeness of their friendship. He confesses that he doesn't normally get that bc well, he's the superstar "Walker Gale". Danny goes onto say that the reason he didn't say anything earlier was because he treasures the simplicity of what he had with Jason and the reason he's telling him now is because he couldn't continue a relationship that he wants more from without being completely honest.

Jason's heart thunders in his chest and he stares at Danny with a slightly constipated look. Danny asks Jason what's wrong and on an impulse Jason word vomits his feelings. That he actually found out through a friend earlier today, that he really connected to his music the same way he did with Danny, that he's never felt seen the way Danny sees through him, that he's never felt the same way as deeply before, that he's completely and utterly in love with Danny but was scared to say anything and get him involved with his crazy life and the Waynes. And Danny sits and listens shellshocked.

And the only thing Danny can think to do is kiss this incredible boy senseless and tell him that if he likes him back then they can figure it out.

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC Fae!Danny But Make It Fantasy

I've already made a whole Changeling AU with fae!Danny, but guess what, I have decided not to achieve any level of chill with fae ideas.

We all know Danny is Ghost Kind. Now, what if he is a Fae Prince? A Prince of Winter, to be exact. Imagine all the ice castles (Elsa, I'm looking at you), the snowy lands, northern lights in his crown, a cape made of tiny ornate snowflakes. Crystalline ice swords, skin so white he doesn't even look alive, eyes clear and blue like a frozen lake. Formal gowns, ballrooms, duels and carriages pulled by horses made of snowstorms.

He used to be a changeling, put in place of Dan. Grew up in a village with his parents being witch hunters, or maybe just hunters in general. Meanwhile Dan, a human child whose place he took, grew up in a fae realm, surrounded by magic creatures and miracles.

But Danny couldn't hide he was a fae his whole life. He used to look human when he was a baby, but as the time went by, he started to look more and more fae-like. Jazz was the first to notice it, of course, but this was Danny, a child she practically raised, so she dealt with it. Their parents, though, did not.

Sam and Tucker are in the know, for sure. Sam used this opportunity to learn witchcraft - who is better to learn from than an actual fae? Tucker is a blacksmith, as is his family. The first thing he asked Danny when he discovered he is a fae, was "how in the seven kingdoms are you a fae, and you decided a blacksmith is your best friend?" because, honestly, not even Fentons have so much iron around them as Tucker does.

Now, you may be thinking of where the DC part comes in here.

Well, the Waynes are actually the royal family. Bruce is the King of Gotham, and his children are princes, princesses, and heirs. They are also protecting the country not only by the word of the law, but also from the other, more shady side. I think they should go by Shadows, not Bats, though, since I doubt a name like 'Batman' would fly in the fantasy world.

Constantine is a mage, the strongest one alive, and yet he couldn't care less for his uniqueness if he tried for a week. Diana is the Queen of Themyskira, of course. I think Krypton should be its own country or a continent, ruled by the family of El. Although Jon is the first heir to a throne, due to Kon being, well, a bastard in terms of medieval customs.

After Danny's race is found out by his parents, he leaves for the fae realm, and he offers his friends and his sister to join him. Tucker refuses, Sam and Jazz take him up on that, but Sam leaves shortly after - she mostly used it to get away from her overbearing parents. She is now a witch who lives in the woods all alone, and no one can find her. She keeps contact with Danny, though. Jazz is traveling both the fae and the human realms, just having fun with it.

Jason is part-fae. After he died, a cult has abducted his body - the cult leader being Ra's, of course - and used it for an experiment. They used some fae magic to bring him back, or, maybe, they have tried to merge a fae and a human, creating a chimera. This was the first option of Ra's trying to get closer to Bruce in order to take power. It was not a very successful option since both Jason and whatever was left of the fae inside him decided not to obey the madman.

Damian was... slightly more successful. He was not merged with anything, but his development was magically enhanced.

And now, while Danny is back in the fae realm and he is a crowned Prince of Winter, Clockwork has a problem. He knows humans are afraid of fae, but this is not a very productive way to go. And there is a timeline somewhere there that can fix it.

Of course, Danny is right in the middle of that timeline. Now, Clockwork just needs to find a way to help Danny make an alliance with humans.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

I found I enjoy the Stiles is best friends with Laura Hale dynamic. Do you have any recommendations?

Hi anon! @kevaaronday made this list for you.

Burn with hellfire in the blue light of midnight by babisays (20/20 | 203,189 | Teen | Sterek) Stiles met the Hale siblings when he was eleven years old. Now it has been six years since he lost his best friend Cora in the fire, and Derek and Laura left Beacon Hills.

Six years was a long time, so he didn't think he would ever see them again, but now he was wondering what the hell was Derek Hale doing back in Beacon Hills.

How We Serve by GrimReaperlover11 (16/16 | 53,280 | Not Rated | Sterek) Stiles is selected to become the servant to Prince Derek Hale.. however his new master gives off total 'Ima rip your throat out, with my teeth' vibes...maybe its a werewolf thing. Nonetheless Stiles hopes he can survive his new life

Sacrifice (Whatever It Takes) by adara, Swlffangirl (7/7 | 38,519 | Teen | Sterek) In which Laura lives, the Hale Pack grows, and Derek finds a peace that he'd never thought could be his. It doesn't come easy, because when does anything ever, but they've got a real shot at it for the first time since before the fire that stole their family and sent their whole lives up in smoke.

My Sister’s Boyfriend by Niecy8 (14/14 | 36,297 | Mature | Sterek) Derek loves his sister very much and is looking forward to seeing her since they haven't seen each other in a while. However, he's not thrilled that she is bringing home her new boyfriend - someone they know zero about. He will be nice but what he didn't expect was how attractive he would be.

Stiles will do anything for Laura. She's his best friend and like an older sister to him. However, this has to be the worst idea she has ever had - pretending to date one another? No one will believe it and it becomes increasingly harder to play the part when he meets her gorgeous brother. 

Or two idiots slowly falling in love with each other with Laura playing a hand in it.

The Ghost of You (It Keeps Me Awake) by StaceyMarie123 (1/1 | 21,477 | Teen | Sterek) She took each step slowly, as if approaching a frightened animal that might spook any second.

“You can see me?” she asked, and her voice was higher pitched that he’d expected. It was a complete and utter marvel that Stiles hadn’t keeled over from shock yet.

He nodded and her face broke into a huge grin.

She had bunny teeth, just like her brother.

…

Or: the one where Stiles accidentally develops the power to see and communicate with ghosts, and there seems to be someone haunting their favourite grumpy alpha.

Samhain by nightlight9 (1/1 | 20,135 | Teen | Sterek) The ghost of Talia Hale has been showing up in Stiles’ bedroom on the night of Halloween for years. Normally their conversations are pretty normal. But when she shows up screaming about how her daughter is going to be killed, Stiles knows that he’ll do anything to prevent that from happening.

Platonic Absolutes by sparkandwolf (1/1 | 7,362 | Gen | Sterek) When Stiles first met Laura, there was no doubt in his mind that their soul bond wasn’t meant to be anything but platonic. He had heard of that happening, that the marks on a person’s body could mean they had a soulmate by any meaning of the word, and was momentarily disappointed that his meant a lifetime best friend. 

Then he realized that Laura was the most incredible woman he had ever met. If it wasn’t for the fact she was very, very, gay, he would’ve fallen in love with her the moment she barged into his life.

A Death Omen Too Strong to Stomp Out by one-fandom-became-all-fandoms (1/1 | 6,668 | Mature | Sterek) The dream had haunted him for nearly a year since moving to New York. With no friends but his therapist to confide in, Stiles raced to figure out what the wintry orchard had to do with saving a life. Accompanied by a mysterious stranger, Derek, Stiles may unravel his psyche before it's too late.

love and soulmates by EvanesDust (1/1 | 1,747 | Teen | Sterek) Derek watched as Stiles looped an arm around Laura’s waist and laid his head on her shoulder.

“Aw, Laur, don’t be like that. You know we’re soulmates…” 

Soulmates? And just like that, Derek’s heart broke. Laura brought home Stiles--perfect and delectable and entirely Derek’s type. Fuck his life because, of course, Stiles would be in love with Laura.

AND

@littlekittio reminded me of this fantastic fic.

Fireman Derek's Crazy Pie [Cheeseburger Baby] by owlpostagain

(1/1 I 17,698 I Teen)

“He can't blame me for the fact that I live in a building full of people united in the singular effort to ogle Hot Fireman as often as humanly possible."

Laura laughs, loud and echoing in the empty restaurant.

"Hot firemen can make a girl do crazy things," she agrees, nodding towards her brother's name on the menu. "Derek won't let me date anyone from his company, but that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the eye candy."

"Send them my way," Stiles suggests, finally loading up a forkful of pie. "Apparently I'm incompetent enough that I need to be babysat at all times, because it would be cheaper than dispatching a truck every time I try to use a kitchen appliance."

AND AND

@idoobeg suggested these!

The Cool Kids by thankyouforexisting

(1/1 I 14,375 I Teen I Sterek)

Laura was four when her parents brought home a baby. [...] The next day, she grabbed a basket and put her brother in it. The four month old baby blinked sleepily at her, and she grinned, “Hey, brother. This is for my own good,” she’d heard something like that yesterday at the movies, and it sounded cool. She carried the basket into the Preserve, taking care not to wake her sleeping parents, and walked for a while before setting it gently on the ground. “Animals of the forests!” she cried, “This is my offering to you! Take this baby in exchange for my family’s safety!” // Laura has tried to abandon her siblings 13 times (each), has convinced Scott that life isn't real in 8 occasions, and she's made her parents wish they'd stayed childless about 1000 times, but not really. A story in which little Laura grows up, and learns.

I Hate You a Little, a Lot, Passionately, Not at All by YouRunWithTheWolves

(6/6 I 26,083 I Explicit I Sterek)

Laura has a brother. He's a dick. So Laura gets herself a best friend.

He's also a dick.

or, Laura finds a new roommate to replace Isaac and Derek is ecstatic.

[barbieaemond]

The King of Qarth I

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Qartheen f!reader (use of third perspective)

Warnings: angst, dubcon (but not really), handjob, fingering, p in v, hints at sexual trauma, self indulgent use of sorcery

Word count: 11k (i know...i'm sorry...)

Author’s note: The foreign words you’ll find are stolen from Greek. Second and final part coming in two weeks. English is not my first language.

taglist: @zae5 @multyfangirl @arcielee @succnfuccubus @zaldritzosrose @kckt88 @venmondiese @miraclealignertlsp369 @ilikechocolatemilkh @credulouskhaleesi @bunbunbl0gs

He had taken each one of them. Dragons, power, the Crown. Snatched them from whatever divine plan the Gods had concocted, for others, never for him, and perhaps this was their punishment.

Death would’ve been a far too kind blessing, he would come to realise in one of those endless days spent wandering, roaming to find some meal, a softer clod to lie on, an identity.

Prince, Protector of the Realm, Rider of Vhagar, Blood of Old Valyria.

They were nothing more than shrouds. Once stripped of them, what was left was merely a man.

And a son. That’s what his mother saw when they threw him on the ground of the Throne Room.

Crawling on her knees like some commoner, she begged and sobbed until her voice became raw and her throat hoarse, chanting obsessively the same plea over and over like a mad woman.

"Please...have mercy in the name of the Mother… my only son...” she had bent so much as to graze the toe of Corlys Velaryon's boots with her face. “you took them all...you took them all...”

Whether she was talking to the Sea Snake, Rhaenyra, the Gods or fate, Aemond didn’t know. He didn’t know the woman kneeling before him, if he ever truly knew her. You cannot know ghosts, only walk through them.

He could not look at her. He turned his head and watched over that crowd of traitors looking down on him, as if they themselves had not looted, slaughtered, and burned more innocent than guilty.

Trained puppets they were, obeying like green little soldiers to Cregan Stark, a northern savage who had taken upon himself the right and duty to do justice. Corlys Velaryon knew it well, having spent days and nights in the dungeons as an accomplice in the poisoning of Aegon the Elder. And there they were, taking over the reins of a kingdom shattered and embittered by war.

But with the promise of Alysanne Blackwood’s hand in marriage, the Wolf had been tamed. He had stopped howling about trials and executions. Now, caution moved and bogged down their decisions. But one thing was clear as a law written in stone: there had to be peace, no matter the cost. Hence, a marriage had been arranged, between two children who, for no reason, had been taught to see the other as the enemy, whose eyes had seen too much death; orphaned and thrown like marbles into a game that brought neither smiles nor laughter to their sepulchral mouths.

She was looking at him, Jaehaera, and in her empty eyes Aemond could see Helaena climbing up the windowsill and letting herself fall.   

“What happened to Vhagar?” The Sea Snake asked “Kinslayer! What about your dragon?”

"Dead.” He lied, although he didn’t know for how long that lie would remain so. That rope in his heart had loosened, weakened, but it still held. She must have crawled off to some remote place, perhaps beyond the Neck, to recover from the injuries to her neck and right wing.

Then the Sea Snake had turned his back, consulting with his council of leeches. Exile. He heard them say. Essos. And then that word he hadn’t heard for a long time. Dragonless. A kinder word for useless. Powerless.

“Let him go, Corlys. He’s always been a spoiled brat. He won’t survive for long in those savage lands.” Someone said outside the cell they threw him in, shackled with chains on wrists and ankles like some rabid dog.

He won’t survive for long.

How he wished they were right. How he wished to look into the beady eyes of the Stranger.

Alicent would curse him, perhaps she would slap him as she used to slap Aegon for being so blasphemous, not to the Gods, but to her. Aemond was no father, and no matter how much he could try, he’d never understood the fierce, unforgiving grip motherhood had on a woman.

When he saw her for the last time before being thrown on a ship to Braavos, he realized it was the only tether that kept her alive. Him and Jaehaera.

“Just a little longer, please…just a little…” she pleaded to his jailers. With the arranged marriage, cruelties had softened, and concessions became more frequent. The Dowager Queen was granted to see her son for the last time.

“Mother!” he screamed as they dragged him away “Keep your fucking hands off me!”

He needed to speak to her. He needed her to tell him she was lying.  

“Mother, there’s a woman…”

“The Strong witch? Aemond, she’s…They captured our last allies from the Reach and…they said they found a woman in the woods but…she was in pain…and bleeding….”

The Gods’ punishment flowed through the long-cowled robe of the Stranger. And he took them all.

Aegon, Helaena, Daeron. Alys and the baby.

Alicent could not bear to see the last piece of her flesh and bones being cloaked by the cold shroud of the Stranger. And so, she crawled and begged to preserve his existence.

But that, that was no existence.

It was a limbo, a hanging life for the damned. And he was one, wasn't he? He killed kin, he killed innocent men, women and children, coming from above like a heaven banished God unleashing his wrath on the world. And even gods pay for their sins.

Only he would gladly have stuck his head in a noose or waited for the hangman's blade, a death worthy of a soldier, rather than wandering like a derelict, rootless and restless, with that rope pulling and fraying day after day. Or Weeks? Moons? He had no idea how much time had passed since he’d set foot in that limbo.

He seemed to be living in a slumber, a Milk of the Poppy hallucination. And yet, the ground was real beneath his exhausted feet, as was the heat, and at some point, the hunger.

The leeches had tried to appear civil and compassionate, lying to his mother’s face about the gold they would give him, to sustain himself once reached the East. But naturally, they didn’t keep their word. If he died of starvation, he was sure they would have lit a candle to each God in the Grand Sept. They probably prayed for that to happen.

Or maybe not. Maybe there was no greater gratification and source of amusement to know that the haughty Prince Aemond was tasting the everyday humiliation of having to steal in order not to starve, of not having clean clothes, feather pillows to lie on, the disgrace of not being able to give orders to anyone, but rather having to suffer them.

He stayed in Bravoos for a short time. It was too dangerous, too close to Westeros and too wary if anyone ever caught the color of his hair under the cloak’s hood. He remembered his history books quite well. It was the only one among the Free Cities that did not yield to the Valyrian empire; indeed, it was founded by a group of rebellious slaves fled from the tyranny of the Dragon Lords.

Volantis, on the contrary, worshipped the Old Empire. But in equal measure, they worshipped slavery. The city swarmed with mercenaries and slavers, peddling men and women like meat for slaughter, ready at every corner to steal children from the streets. And in Volantis Aemond understood that if he did not want to end up in some butcher’s hands, he had to be what he had always been: a soldier. For he realized that everywhere in the world, the most valuable currency was not gold, nor castles and titles, but blood.

This man for new fresh clothes, that woman for few gold coins and a mattress to rest his back, not to sleep. Sleep eluded him, as well as remorse. Unless his body shut his mind out of exhaustion, he lied there for hours on end, with blood drying on his hands, listening to all the ghosts floating around him, and trying to find a grip—something to hold on to. Duty had been the blacksmith who forged him and the altar to which he devoted himself. Duty to his family, his brother, the crown, the throne, even Alys, yes. For all her riddles and stumps of prophecy, he wanted her. He wanted that son.

But here, he had no high purpose to serve but himself. Stripped of all honors and many more curses, he fell into a daylong stupor, made of blood, humiliations and silent cries for revenge.

Until one day, the rope went taut.

Vhagar burned away the stupor. She had found him. For the second time, she had been his salvation. And on her back, he found a fragment of who he was, but who he was supposed to be remained a distant thing, clouded in smoke.

He flew south, over the ruins of Old Valyria, and then east, crossing all of Vaes Dothrak to the Red Waste, and by the time he realized he should've veered north or south, it was too late.

He was in the middle of the widest and driest desert on the eastern continent.

The Garden of Bones, as they called it, and with good reason. For in those few times that Aemond decided to land to allow Vhagar to rest, all his eye could see were sand, devilgrass and bones. But he didn’t care about the thirst, the dry and cracked lips, the white tow his hair had become.

Vhagar was his only concern. She was starving. She could not fly too high in the skies. And so, along with all the misery and humiliation, came the dread. For if Vhagar died, the last rope, the last tether, which had perhaps kept him alive up to that point, and perhaps kept her alive, would break.

But then, just as it happens in some book of adventures, or simply in dreams, a mirage, a true oasis in the middle of the desert, surrounded by the highest walls ever built in the history of men, guarding the greatest city that ever was and will be: Qarth.

“Hmm” she ponders, pursing her lips. “I’m not sure about this one. What do you think, Nyla?”

The young maid stops her morning chore and blushes. “I think it would match your skin wonderfully, your Highness.”

She hears giggling behind her shoulders, where two of her most trusted maids are braiding her hair after oiling them with mirrh and cinnamon. “You hear that, Nyla? They’re questioning your candor.”

“I am not, your Highness.” says Dora, one of the giggling girls. “But if you were looking for a less partial opinion, let’s say a more objective one...you should have asked me or Mysha.”

“Well, as it happens, I was looking precisely for a partial opinion. Look at her. She’s changing my chamber pot and still, she thinks that shade of purple would suit me wonderfully. Oh Nyla, I think you will soon become my favorite.”

“Is that a yes then, your Highness?” the merchant wastes no time to ask, standing in the center of the room with silk drapes of several colors resting along his arm.

“Yes, Jorio. Two yards of that purple silk.”

The merchant nods swiftly, too swiftly she notices. The man is acting awkwardly since the moment he stepped into her private rooms. Usually, he’s a big talker, a true born seller. He could make believe one could heal from Greyscale if they just wrap themselves in the soft embrace of his silks. But not today. He seems in a hurry. The exhibition of his goods too quick and excited. And then the sweat, lumped in a wet sheen around his bald head.

“Anything else, your Highness?”

Her forehead creases, acknowledging a thought, new but not quite, as if it has always been there. “Perhaps something green?” she ventures.

“Green?” inquires Misha “That’s a first.”

She shakes her head in a dismissing way. “Must be my father’s sorcery.”

The shadows, kóri, they speak to you.

“What do you have in green, Jorio?”

The merchant fumbles with his silks, a turmoil moves his hands clumsily until a few drapes of fabric flutter on the ground. He stoops to pick them up, only to drop the others still clinging onto his shoulder in a chaotic rainbow of colors on the white marble floor.

“Jorio, what is the matter with you today?”

“I—Nothing, your Highness, my apologies...”

“You know if you have problems with your trades, the Salt King and I would be more than happy to help you.”

“It’s not that—no. Must be all the fuss in town.”

“Pirates again?”

“Uhm—no, it’s the…beast outside the walls.”

“The beast? What beast?”

The man swallows, visibly. “A dragon, your Highness. A huge dragon, higher than the city walls.”

“But…that is not possible...” Misha tries.

“I’m telling what I saw with my own eyes. The Thirteen gathered outside the walls. I saw the Spice King along my way here. He said they were about to parley with the Milk man, see through his reasons.”

"Milk Men don’t ride dragons.” she corrects, standing from the soft cushions piled and spread on the ground. “This man’s hair…what color are they?”

“White as midday sun.”

"Your Highness! Come..."

The Salt Queen joins Dora on one of the brightly sunlit balconies overlooking the Route of Trade. There is indeed a great bustle in the town, a motionless bustle however, gazing with open mouths and bewildered eyes at the small procession moving up the street. The City Guard is leading, with their shields and spears to protect The Thirteen, rulers of the most important trading city in the world. They are all dressed in bright colours and precious jewels embroidered in their silk tunics, hanging from their necks, wrists and fingers.

If she narrows her eyes, The Salt Queen can swear she can see the gold ring her husband wears on his nose. What catches her eye though, is not gold or any other bright color, but black, and then white.

There is a man walking down the street with the thirteen, a tall man with plain dark clothes and a mantle of silver hair, white as midday sun.

“Wife, may I introduce you to our noble guest?”

A woman comes forward to greet him when Aemond enters a lavish hall with several windows adorned with colorful drapes of silk. He is sure he has never seen so much marble in his life, feeling even more inappropriate given the state of his clothes and his whole demeanor, shamefully far from the clean, soldierly appearance that left mouth agape.

“Prince Aemond of House Targaryen, from Westeros.” The Salt King declares as the woman stops just before him. He stands tall and imposing, no matter the misery of his shabby clothes, the state of his disheveled hair falling in silver tangles down his back. He is still a Targaryen, his chin is high and proud.

“More like from the Old Valyria.” She says raising an eyebrow, and sizing him up and down. “He seems to have just emerged from the Doom, miraculously unscathed.”

The Prince does nothing but seethe his teeth behind his dry lips, a distant shame in his eye that quickly turns into a focused and unblinking rage.

“Welcome to Qarth, my Prince. I’d trust your journey was uneventful but…I can see the Red Waste takes its toll, even on Valyrian beauty.”

Aemond takes a good, long look at her, inevitably lingering on her chest, dressed as the common Qartheen fashion dictates: one breast exposed. But a lot more of her is exposed. Her shoulders, her arms and legs, a glimpse of her hips, all crossed by swirling bundles of lilac silk.

If any married woman in Westeros dressed like that in the open, he’s sure any husband would lock her up. At least he would.

“You must excuse my wife, Prince Aemond, or rather, get used to her habit of speaking her mind.”

“Come now, Xavos. Surely Westerosi women can voice their thoughts?” she moves, walking past Aemond and her husband to reach a small table inlaid with gold to pour some greenish beverage into a cup. “I had a maid once, she was from…Rich Garden?”

“High Garden.” He sternly corrects her.

“Ah, yes. A delightful creature, always smelled so good.” She says distractedly “Anyway, she fled from your lands because she liked girls and not boys and she didn’t want to devote her life to being a brood mare sucking a flaccid cock until her hair had gone white.”

Her maids snicker somewhere past Aemond shoulders, stiffening his posture at the liberties those commoners are granted. “I should hope you Westerners listen to your women more than you do your horses.”

Aemond watches as she takes a sip and laces his hands behind, slightly tilting his head for a moment. “Where I come from, women do not possess such a sharp tongue. Furthermore, and fortunately, most of them have manners. They know how to address a Prince of the Realm.”

She turns to leave the cup on the same table and glances at Nyla. “Oh, he bites.”

“This is not Westeros, dragon prince.” She says turning to face him with a righteous smile “I don’t need to ask your permission to speak. The Salt King is my husband, that is why you will hear my maids and everyone else address me as Your Highness. So, you may lower that chin and stop waiting for me to bow down to you because technically my rank is higher than yours. You might say the only one meant to bow in this room were you.”

The silence that follows is so stark that the air the Prince quickly exhales through his nose sounds like thunder, alerting the Salt King. "Come now, wife. Don't wake the beast.” he says lightly, stiffening a smile “And I mean it quite literally. You should see the size of Prince Aemond’s dragon.”

“I heard.” she acknowledges “Jorio said he’s higher than the city walls.”

“She. And twice, than your city walls.” The Prince corrects her again, just as sternly. “She’s the largest dragon alive in the known world.”  His chin remains high and haughty, simply because he can. Because she knows he could raze the entire city to the ground just by snapping his fingers. So, she looks down and says “Since you will be our guest, it is my duty as matron of this house to make you feel welcomed. If you would be so kind to follow me, your Grace.” She forces her tone to be as much as corteous, but then she smiles “Is my tongue acceptably sharp to your liking now?”

“Where are you taking me?” he asks as he follows the Salt Queen along one of the corridors, made of the finest marble with high arches of white stone and gold glittering under the midday sun.

“Down and down, to throw you in the dungeons.”

Aemond stalls for a moment and she does the same. “I was joking.”

He gives her that stern, distrustful look she starts to think he has etched on his features since his first wail and huffs. “God, have you lost your humor in the Red Waste?”

She resumes her walking, and Aemond follows, glancing around as they pass through many people, some of them are dressed like maids and servants, some others with long tunics of silk and jewels embroidered in the fabric. They speak to one another, he notices, as equals. But they stop altogether upon seeing a living Valyrian walk among them.

“God?” he asks “Which one?”

“Whichever you want. R'hollor, the Many Faced…I’m not picky. It helps me sleep better at night to know I didn’t dump all my sins on one God only.”

He is sure from his education and his mother’s faith that religion doesn’t work that way, but he has more pressing matters at heart. “Will you meet my requests?”

“About your dragon?” she asks stopping before a large wooden door closed. “Can’t she hunt on her own?”

“In the Red Waste? In these barren lands? Perhaps you should put your pretty head outside the city walls and see with your own eyes how big she is.”

The woman smirks, seizing him up and down and furrows her brows. “You seem very keen on emphasizing how big your dragon is. I should hope it’s not a compensating factor for the lack of something else.”

She pushes the door open, not bothering to wait for Aemond who just stands there for a moment, a little dumbfounded by the salt of which the Queen's tongue seems to be made. His bewilderment is only destined to worsen as he crosses the threshold and looks around.

Right in the middle of the palace, amidst all that marble and white stone, stands a wild courtyard, wild and beautiful in its unspoiled nature. Climbing plants and fruit trees grow undisturbed around a large square pool, decorated with mosaics of a thousand colors, harboring the most crystal-clear water he has ever seen; small clouds of steam rise from the surface, pinching his nostrils with the unmistakable smell of sulfur.

There are people bathing together and, obviously, much to his dismay, naked.

“Do you not take baths in Westeros?” the Salt Queen asks, faking true curiosity at the puzzlement she can read on his face, slowly turning into repugnance as he looks at her with a cutting answer.

“We have decency, in Westeros.”

She does not bother to disguise the long sigh blowing through her lips and then she turns to clap her hands vigorously, three times.

“My friends, apologies for the interruption!” she announces as everyone in the pool and outside turns to look at her “I must ask you to leave the pool for the time being. Our…prude guest demands a little bit of privacy.” 

She can feel the Prince glaring but ignores him altogether to stop one of the servants.

“Priya, fetch some oils. And some silks, fitting for a prince.” She turns her head to look at him from head to toe, as if valuing a new drape of silk or a new sculpture to put in the Hall of Trade, but then she creases her forehead, as she often does when knowing. “Blue perhaps? To match the sapphire.”

The constant scowl seems to leave his features and she hears his question before he utters a single word.

“My father is a warlock. Magic runs thick in his blood, he says, as well as in the blood of his blood. Sometimes I sense things, bits of knowledge, and sometimes they happen to be right. But you don’t need to be afra—”

“I’m not afraid of sorcery.” He cuts her, his tone flat, his features stoic as ever and she looks at him, curiously, perhaps wondering what lies behind all that stone.

“Very well. Sapphire blue for Prince Aemond.” his name slips into his ears in a strange, liquorous way; vowels are more open in this part of the world.

When they’re left alone, she signals towards the pool. “Please, make yourself comfortable.”

He hesitates for a moment, but it is not as if he has never undressed in front of one of his old servants. And frankly, he is too eager to get those filthy clothes off to be bothered by a foreign woman watching.

He throws everything on the ground without too much care, and she watches without too much shame, because that's not how things go there. Bodies, both male and female, they are not something to hide, but something to be displayed and worshipped.

Her eyes linger on scars, old and new, on a lithe body that once belonged to a prince and a soldier, now marked by misery, dirt and hunger.

“Everything.” she says at one point, when he’s left with only his battered cotton pants on.

Aemond thinks he heard wrong. But she only blinks, keeping her face blank.

“Is this the common way to welcome guests here?” he scorns.

“Actually, it is. At least after the incident with the scorpion.” she doesn’t bother to wait for a question or an eyebrow rising. “My husband’s great grandfather hosted a merchant from Yunkai once. He came here with gifts of all sorts among which was a poisonous scorpion, hidden in his clothes. The old Salt King died but so did the merchant. Fell face down in his chamber pot while taking a piss. Quite ironic, don’t you think? You have to be careful when handling such vicious creatures.”

He only looks at her, and she's the one to raise an eyebrow. “I could turn away if you like.”

Aemond sighs loudly, moving his cutting jaw at the umpteenth humiliation and then lowers his pants. She stares into his eye and surely, surely he thinks, she wouldn’t dare to wander down.

But a moment later her eyes sink past his snatched waist, and she smirks.

“I believe I owe you an apology.”

“What for?”

“Questioning your…natural gifts.”

Aemond blinks, running on the verge between scowling, raising his eyebrows and huffing a laugh.  Certainly, it never happened to him to talk so bluntly about his cock with any highborn lady barely met, let alone a supposed queen.

“I’ll leave you to your bath, dragon prince. The Salt King and I have much to discuss.”

“Such as?” he deadpans, not really interested while he dives into the clean water.

“Well, a Targaryen Prince is not an everyday occurrence.” She says following his every move, the way water glides on his skin, silver hair floating on the surface like moonblooms. “We’ll make sure to have a feast worthy of your noble taste this evening.”

“And then talk behind my back about what to do with me?”

“Undoubtedly. And I will tell him the truth.”

“Hmm.” He hums, settling on one of the underwater steps of the pool, resting his shoulders against the rim. His mood instantly improves, so he pins her with his eye and looks her up and down. “Do you believe to know my reasons? You’re quite sure of yourself…your Highness. Unless your father’s sorcery allows you to read minds, I dare say even rather pretentious.”

“I don’t need sorcery to know that you, in the first place, do not know what you’re doing here.”

“And what makes you so sure?”

She sees that chin tilting, lifting with a hint of challenge. And she takes it. She has the truth, and indeed, she doesn’t need sorcery.

“Because Qarth is still standing.”

She gets no answer, just that diffident stern look to which she darts the faintest of smirks and then leaves the pool, under his watchful eye that stays on the door for a moment longer, before he lets his head sink underwater.

The Salt Queen gives instructions for the most sumptuous room to be given to Prince Aemond. She sees to it that he is provided with several silk suits and that food is served to him immediately when he has finished bathing. She has observed his body with pleased eyes, so scrupulously she knows the Prince has not had a decent meal in weeks.

“Did he settle?” Xavos asks when she enters his private room.  

“In time, I’m sure he will. Valyrians have an impressive disposition to make their own what does not belong to them, do they not?”

She hears him murmur something in return from where he stands, on the balcony threshold that overlooks the city and its massive port. The Queen sits on a soft armchair and starts to twirl her hair around one finger, curling her mouth into a thoughtful pout. “I was thinking goose for dinner. Or salt beef? We should save goats and pigs for the beast. Apparently, poor thing is starving.”

In the silence that follows, she turns to her husband. “Xavos?”

The Salt King turns with one shoulder and a half-bitter smile. “We have a living threat who could burn us all to the crisp walking within our palace and our city, and you speak to me of geese and pigs?”

“It’s useless to cry over spilled milk. You let him in. You let greed lure you all like a piper with a flute. I’m wondering, on which tune did he make you dance?”

He walks to her with slow feet and looks at her after a long sigh. “Dragon eggs.”

“I should’ve known.”

“Cyril began talking of an opportunity of a lifetime. Of the Greatest City that ever was and will be becoming even greater. Think about it. With dragons…Qarth might become the center of the whole world. A newborn Valyria. If we play our hand right—”

“Quit the fancy words. What exactly are you asking of me, Xavos?”

She knows he is asking for something. She has known him for more than ten years, and he has asked, has demanded, a lot of her. She knows that when his voice drops a note, he wants something, as if whispered, it becomes less degrading.

He trails his index finger on her chin and lifts it. “To make him dance to your tune.”

“You overestimate me, husband. I cannot reason with a tiger when my head is in its mouth. Besides, he might be easy on the eye, but he’s as agreeable as a plant of spikes.”

She speaks smoothly—not a flinch or a blink at her husband's hand sinking between her lilac’s folds, and then between her inner ones. “Since when you are so reluctant about who’s allowed in your bed?”

“Don’t confuse me with yourself.” she says lifting her chin to look at him, unbothered by the circling his finger draws on her dry bundle. “I fuck who I want for pleasure, rarely out of boredom, but never to prove a point.”

Abruptly, he slips his finger deep inside, hurting her. “I should have taken your tongue as well.” 

 “And still…” she forces a smile over the painful grimace twisting her mouth “it would not have given you what you so desperately seek in every hole.”

His unwanted touch leaves her and he straightens, pacing lazily behind her seat. “He’s young. He’s had a rough time. Surely, he must’ve missed the intimate company of a woman.”

“For that kind of company, there are pleasure houses.”

“Don’t play dumb, now. You saw how proud he is. How do you think he will take it if we send a whore to his rooms?” Xavos grips the back of the chair and leans down slowly, speaking to her ear. “Listen to me. Cyril is right. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. We must make him feel…important…coddled, even.”

“Even if you shackle his feet with gold, you cannot turn a dragon into a lamb, Xavos.”

The Salt King sighs impatiently, and his tone drops just as earlier. “Do as I say.”

Young Nyla interrupts her masters as she enters the room, and the Queen turns her head. “Nyla, what is it?”

“We have escorted Prince Aemond to his rooms, your Highness.”

“Good.” Xavos says, and then looks at his wife with a pointed stare. “Make sure he has everything he needs.”

The Salt Queen barges in and halts on the door, bewildered upon seeing her trusted friend Mysha on the verge of tears, staring at the ground as if she’s waiting for an execution.

“My deepest apologies, my Prince, I meant no disrespect.”

“What happened?”

“Uh—Prince Aemond asked for some herbs, your Highness. An ointment, for his eye.”

“Aye. I did ask for that, not for you to fucking touch me.”

The Prince is snarling, his eye wide and menacing like a hound on the brink of defense yet hunting for flesh. His face is clean now, the Queen notices, shaven; his hair is damp and pulled back, leaving his chiseled features, that infuriating chin, and high, prominent cheekbones in plain sight. Stupid as it may sound, she can't help but think of one of those marble sculptures she likes to buy from art dealers.

“You may go, Mysha. I will assist the Prince.”

“I don’t need assistance.” He hisses with threatening calm. “Leave.”

He caved in the pool, but he will not suffer another humiliation in front of these foreigners. At least not with something so delicate and private as his eye. But of course, he realizes with annoyance, this woman will not falter at any of his empty orders.

“Are you dismissing me in my own Palace?”

He looks down, sighing and fuming, and she beckons Misha to leave the room.

“You must understand, servants here are treated differently. They’re granted more liberties.”

“I see. As the ones you so generously grant to slaves.” he mutters, and starts to fidget with a tray offering ginger roots, turmeric powder, and eucalyptus leaves.

“Oh, spare me. Of all people, you Valyrians are the least entitled to give a lecture on morals.” she counters, watching his long, tapered fingers hover without touching anything. Clearly, he was used to servants doing it for him.

“May I?” she offers, but doesn’t wait for his permission to make room next to him. “There are no slaves in this palace.” she tells him "How can you expect loyalty from someone you bought with something as cheap as gold?”

“Cheap as the golden ring your husband has stuck in his nose? He looks like a fucking boar.” he says as his eye trails on her profile.

“My husband is an imbecile. This city did not become the greatest that ever was and will be with gold. Trade is our currency. We call it antallagí. Exchange.”

“A true-born merchant’s wife.”

“Or a boar’s one?”

He huffs, and she turns, feigning shock at the faintest of smirks curling his lips. “So you’re not made of stone after all.”

She studies him for a few moments—more than is deemed proper for a married woman, in Westeros at least—but she can't help it. She wonders how it is possible that exile and moons of misery have not bent this man; what drives that rigid posture, whether it is too strict an education or it is all a lie, masking an effort to keep control, to impose it on others but perhaps more on himself.

“Ointment is ready, your Grace. It may burn a little, ginger is a godsend, but it’s tricky. I could help—”

“I need no help. Leave.”

The stone is in place once more. But she won’t have it. 

She raises her eyebrows, biding all the time in the world.

Aemond chews thorns as he looks at her, swallows them, and tastes them again, piercing his tongue. “Please.”

“That must’ve cost you a lot. But it isn’t so hard, is it?”

His lips flatten in a thin line, and she smiles. “You are a second son, are you not? That’s the reason for that stubborn chin. You must stomp your feet to make anything yours.”

“Careful, woman. I’ve taken tongues for far less.”

“Why? Did you not see eye to eye with them?”

He moves like lightning, invading her space until he is a breath away from her face, and his mouth breathes fire. “Listen to me. I care not who the fuck you are or which title you make your slaves call you. I am not here to allow you to make a fool of me, Queen or no Queen. Mock me once more, and I’ll carve the word please on your vicious mouth.”

He waits for the fire to catch on, even though flames do not seem to touch her; she's unwavering and solid as marble.

“Get out.”

“I don’t—” she chokes on her words, on his hand seizing her jaw; cold fingers, leaving embers on her skin.

“I said, get out.”

That evening, the already lavish palace of the Salt King was polished and decked out duly to honor the foreign guest. The walls, lit by braziers of fire, stood like a beacon amidst a sea of marble and white stone roofs. The Hall of Trade was a treasury, crammed so full of gold that it looked like a pirate's dream. Pillows were piled on the floor, long tables held food of all kinds. A huge bowl of wine welcomed the guests, who were given a goblet they had to dip into the large bowl and drink, otherwise they would not be allowed inside. It was tradition, a sort of good omen.

It pinched Aemond's nostrils when he brought the cup to his mouth and, thankfully, drank it in small sips. Despite his prudence, by the second he felt his tongue on fire from how spiced it was. By comparison, Arbor Gold was wastewater.

He wears the sapphire blue silk tunic, with a silk belt cinching his narrow waist, but his hair is different. Mysha learned the lesson she asked, and when he gave his consent, she got to work and braided his silver hair. Most of them are loose, falling down his back in a curtain of white. Others are laced in one, two, three braids, softly meeting at the back of his head.

If he thought the Salt Queen’s hospitality was somewhat a little too forward and a lot more intrusive, he had to reconsider when he found himself cornered as soon as his silver head caught the eye of every guest. Men and women, old and young, flocked to him with eyes full of wonder, as if the Salt King had captured some wild and rare creature and called all his friends to make them look.

But they didn’t just look. They talked openly and freely, voicing thoughts that, in Westeros, would have stayed inside one’s head.

“Look at his hair! They seem like moon rays!”

“And the skin! Whiter than milk!”

“What happened to his eye?”

“If only my wife were here…she always wanted to see a Valyrian!”

He had just gotten there, and his teeth were baring.

“My friends, please! Let our noble guest breathe!” the Salt King chuckles as he comes forward among the bewildered audience, looking like the loot of some theft, for all the gold and diamonds and emeralds sewn on his orange silk tunic. “Come, my Prince. The first taste is yours.”

Aemond catches a movement on his right and there she is, the Salt Queen, in a crimson red sparkling like a bloodied dew given the little, tiny red stones woven in her silks. Her hair coils into an intricate bun crisscrossed by a paper-thin gold chain that crowns her forehead with small, rough rubies, like grains of salt.

For a moment, he’s so enthralled by her figure, and her eyes, even more piercing because of kohl, that he fails to notice the clay plate she’s holding, filled with fruits. Some he has never seen, except in books, but he has no time to take a guess.

“Your first taste, my Prince.” she chimes. “Sweet or tart?”

His gaze falls back to the plate, but not before stopping, again, for a blink, on that absurd fashion of one bare breast. “Tart.” He says tightly.

She smiles, as if she knew, and puts the plate down. Aemond watches her bejeweled fingers pluck off a grape and turn, her hand in midair but not quite outstretched toward him. He nothing but give her a pointed look, one that translates only into a stern and irrevocable I can eat by myself.

“My Prince. My wife means no offense.” the Salt King explains “In Qarth, it is deemed a great honor, given and taken, and an excellent omen for the guest's stay, if said guest is fed by the matron of the house.”

His throat bobs and the Salt Queen can’t quite decipher if the dragon prince is more humiliated or angered by the prospect of being fed by a woman like a baby who just teethed. At last, he sighs and leans in, but her hand withdraws a little, leaving him with his mouth slightly open, stretched forth like a beggar waiting for charity. It is not Aemond who bites the grape, but her who finally, after another straight stare into his eye, lets it drop into his mouth.

The crowd erupts in a cheerful clapping, as does The Salt King who goes to stand just between his wife and the Dragon Prince, placing a friendly hand on his shoulder “You see, Prince Aemond, this is one of the extraordinary gifts of Qartheen women. They know exactly how to hold...and when to let go.”

Aemond does not bother to look at him, he is too absorbed, annoyed and deep down, without him knowing it yet, enticed by the tranquil smile that curls her mouth and at the same time curls his pride, mocks it, strips it bare and outright laughs at it, goading everyone else to do so.

Behold, the pink dread!

 “Without further ado, let the feast begin!” The Salt King announces joyfully and in the same moment, a delicate and sweet melody fills the room, while Aemond chews what’s left of that grape, tasting his own bile.

An hour later, Aemond is fuming. Fuming because ruling the most important and influential city in Essos, he should’ve known the Thirteen were aware of everything that went on and was currently going on in the West. Perhaps even more than he knew. Did they know something about his mother?

He banished that thought from his mind just as he trained himself to do in all this damned existence.

They knew about the Dance, they knew about Aegon the Usurper, they knew of Rhaenyra the Cruel, the Storming of the Dragon Pit. They knew the kingdom was dreadfully impoverished and in the hands of a young boy.

But they spoke about it as if they were discussing the weather. Qartheens cared nothing about what was going on outside their impenetrable walls; whether it was a new king on a throne far away or a war that had killed thousands and thousands, it was all tittle-tattle to kill time between one cup of wine and the next. He was asked about this battle or the previous one without thinking that he had lived through that war; he made it, he carried it and perhaps he still carried it within him.

He was fuming for this, he was fuming for how women, and even men, gawk at him, for their bizarre custom of hosting a feast without a decent place to sit and eat like normal people do. He was fuming because no matter how much he tried to ignore it, a spool of crimson would always catch his eye.

Grabbing one more cup of wine, he decides to take a breath outside, standing on one of the marbled balconies of the Palace. Air does good to extinguish his fires, but it does not clear up his mind. Perhaps he should blame the wine, perhaps his head is still smoky.

Because you, in the first place, do not know what you're doing here.

As much as he loathed to admit it, the Salt Queen was right. He tricked himself into thinking the main reason for his coming here was Vhagar. She was weak, due to the wing's injuries as well as the old ones, and most of all, she was hungry. But with the promise of goats and pigs, came the clarity and the knowledge that he had no reason, no plan. He only knew he had leverage—a dreadful leverage made of talons and fire on these merchants and their city. But what to do with it?

He hears voices somewhere near, and once more, crimson pollutes his sight. The Salt Queen and her husband are talking behind a tall white pillar. He can’t quite hear what they’re saying, but she catches his stare almost immediately. The talking ceases, and Aemond knows they were talking about him, of course they were.

Xavos comes out of his hiding place with a placid and benevolent expression, walking right past him without a word. But she stays, and she looks, and then she walks to him.

“That will go to your head.” She warns as he empties the cup “I didn’t see you touch any food.”

The spiced wine burns his throat, makes his tongue sour and impatient. “Is your husband aware of your excessive concern about your guests? Or is it a thoughtfulness he has ordered you to reserve only for me?”

“I’m just being considerate since you’re a foreigner and not well acquainted with Qartheen tastes.”

“How exactly am I supposed to eat? Standing?”

She huffs a laugh and shakes her head trimmed with gold and red as she gives him a bemused, though genuine, look. “Good God, how spoiled you are? I thought misery made men humble, but clearly not men of House Targaryen.”

His jaw moves annoyingly, and he leaves the empty cup on the marble, but he doesn’t let go, holding it by the edges in a white-knuckle grip. She notices it as she leans against the marble, with her back to the city, and gives him a long, inquisitive look. “After all the misery you suffered, I thought you would’ve liked the attention…perhaps you do…perhaps…you want more.”

“Do you ever stop talking?” he asks boringly, and just as sourly, staring at the city.

“I must say, I’ve hosted so many people, from so many different parts of the world, and yet��I’ve never found myself before a face so full of contradictions.”

His eye pins her. “Need I remind you how you left my room earlier?”

“With your hand around my neck, because you couldn’t take a joke.”

“I don’t like being mocked. And I don’t like being played like a pawn. So, unless this is another one of your absurd customs, tell your husband to stop parading you around me like a whore. It looks bad when you insist on others calling you queen.”

“We all play parts, dragon prince. Sometimes, they blend. But in the end…it takes little to know the real you.”

Aemond chokes on his breath as her hand slips between them like water, cupping his crotch with a grip of steel, and fire, burning from her fingertips through the fabric. She holds it like a weapon, and his defense is low. She sees his throat bobbing down once, and twice, rejection curls his mouth, but not strongly enough to shove her hand away, to not start to harden against the flames of her fingers, brushing all his length until she cups it once more.

“Whore or queen?” she whispers, brushing his parted lips “Someone in there doesn’t seem to care.”

His grip on the cup loosens, a tremor runs down his spine, and he dawdles in the sensation, one felt before, elicited by other hands, and yet new. It’s been so long. The surge to touch, to clutch, to taste, drains his head of blood. But she eludes him, tilting her head to the right and then to the left to avoid the vise of his lips; her grip loosens, running the back of her fingers against his cock in a feathery brush, touching without touching.

He grinds his teeth to choke a whimper, but then she’s cupping again; she feels him go completely hard for her, and the knowledge washes over her like tongues of fire prickling down her back and between her thighs. The soft, slippery silk allows her to unleash her lunges more fiercely, to easily close her hand around his cock, and that same silk helps her to glide her hand deliciously up and down.

He's breathing hard, almost panting, brushing the tip of his nose against hers; her eyes are open, basking in the sight, the little twitches of his mouth as bends to pleasure, the breathing turning heavier and heavier, his hand that starts to flex. She imagines how those slender fingers would feel between her folds, how easily they would slip inside, and why, why is he not touching her?

“Do it…” she breathes. “Do you want me to say please? I would…there’s no shame in begging, dragon prince….it only makes you free…”  

“Your Highness, my apologies.” Nyla calls her Queen suddenly, and she stops her wicked ministrations, abruptly bringing Aemond back to his senses.

“The Salt King sent me after you.” The young maid says, apparently unfazed by what she clearly witnessed. “We’re playing kottabos.”

"Ah, yes, of course.” she tries to regain some control, although she was panting on the sole anticipation, and goes back inside.

Aemond stalls, taking a long sigh in the fresh air to try to stop the blood from boiling. And he follows.

Kottabos, he discovers, is quite a tricky game. The rules are simple: one has to throw the last drops of wine inside their cup to hit a white plate balanced atop a bronze pole. It requires a bit of dexterity, because the player must put the index finger through the handle of the drinking cup and throw the drops while sprawled on pillows, laying on their elbows.

The Salt Queen, it seems, is quite adept at this game. It takes her only two tries to hit the plate and she’s rising from the pillows, bowing her head to thank the cheerful audience. Aemond's eye bends as the crimson veils bend with her every movement; he slips between them and lets them wrap around him, even though he should not, even though he reproaches himself for letting the blood, the wine, the flesh, that has been starved of other flesh for too long, win.

“My closest friends know I’m very fond of sweets and cakes but…on such a special occasion, I choose a special reward.” She announces when the crowd has quieted down, and before she even turns around, he feels her gaze on him as if she had two more eyes on the back of her head. “A sweeter reward…or perhaps tarter.”

She moves towards him, and every step she takes barefoot on the marble is an unmasking. With every step she takes, it seems to him that she is touching him, as she did just before, and more; he feels like her fingers are slipping under the silk, setting fire to his skin.

She stops in front of him and yet, he still sees her moving, feels her moving like a sea creature and her thousand tentacles of crimson silk.

Maybe he should put the wine down.

Wine is not for you, brother mine, your mind’s too heavy. It’ll soak like a sponge and you'll fall into your own vomit.

What she does not put down is her aim, moving her hands diligently as she grabs his face and draws him close to kiss him on the lips, and tilt her head back to look at him, so close she’s breathing his breath. “This…is your first taste.”

“Good! The Queen has chosen her reward. Let us play another round, shall we?”

Again, Aemond does not bother to look at the Salt King, he looks at her and the faint twitch between her lips at her husband's words.

“Come.” She says taking his hand, and he doesn’t know what drives him to follow her, whether his mind is too soaked, or his flesh is crying out to be fed.

What is certain is that now her bare feet tread the marble of his rooms and he is closing the door.

“I hope you don’t mind if we do it here. I don’t take men into my rooms.”

“Why?”

“I’m jealous of my things.”

“Liar.”

“What?”

“So used to play parts and yet, you look down before lying. Disappointing.”

“I’m surprised you were able to look at anything above my cleavage.”

This time, he lowers his gaze, but not to lie. He knows he has looked, many times, and the excuse of not being used to such a custom starts to creak. She walks up to him and looks at him with that knowing smile that makes him want to clamp his hand on her mouth and wipe it off her face, and maybe stick his fingers inside.

“Are you a virgin, my Prince? Did you have a wife in the West? Children?”

He swallows, and her eyes fall on his throat.

“Is that guilt you just swallowed? Or sorrow?”

“Why don’t you listen to your father’s sorcery while keeping your hole shut?”

“I told you, I am no witch. Qarth is the center of the world. Do you think we don’t know what happens in the East, West, North and South?” she angles her head and whispers in his ear “We know everything… Kinslayer, Terror of the Trident.”

She speaks his war titles in that liquorose way, opening the vowels as if she is casting a spell, but he hears the mockery. It is the same that loosened the tongue at the Strong bastards, the same one perpetuated by Alys. But Alys' mockery was different. She spoke in riddles, visions and flames. This woman speaks in truths.

“Do you regret it?” she whispers, and her tentacles thread their way through the silk “All those innocents you have burned…all the ones you have lost.” lazily, she pulls at the laces of the blue tunic and he stiffens, flaring his nostrils. “See? I don’t need sorcery. The more you stiffen, the more cracks reveal.” She straightens her head to look at him with eyes darker than tar, wandering over his face and he feels branded. “I can see them around you…ghosts…why don’t you set them free?”

“What is your fucking game?” he wants to seethe, but she’s so close to him it comes out as nothing but a hiss.

She smiles again and this time the victory is full. "The game is over, your grace. I won, and you're my reward. I will admit I never had such a pretty one...care to show me that sapphire or are you still keen on playing the prude bashful prince?”

Aemond has no qualms about touching her, grabbing her face with nails digging into her cheeks as he pulls her close, turning her chin to spit anger and all his tumbled restraints into her ear “Perhaps I should shove my cock into your mouth to make you shut it, hmm? Is that what you want? What your husband wants? That I fuck you like a whore?”

She stiffens, thrashing in his hold that she may not have expected, and manages to turn her head just enough to look at him, scoffing. “Is this the only way you know to use your hands?”

A taunt, another one. It turns his eye pitch black and he leans closer to her lips, almost baring his teeth, almost as if he wants to bite the words—the mockery, the victory—off her mouth. But once more, she eludes him, tilting back and so, any reason burns and dies into his head.  

“D’you want to play games, don’t you? Let’s play, then.”

Still gripping her cheeks, he roughly pushes her into the room, letting her go for only one fleeting instant of freedom, just long enough to grab her shoulders and force her to turn around. A gasp escapes her lips, but the next moment she’s bending on the table, he’s forcing her to. A thrill spills into her blood, making her insides clench with anticipation, and dread.

He traps her, planting his feet between hers to stop her from closing her legs. She tries to pull herself up with her back, but he scowls, pushing her head down to keep it firmly glued to the table. She whines as his long fingers pull at her hair, tearing the gold and red chain off, and she can hear him fumbling with the silks, the other hand hiking her crimson gowns up.

“My Prince, please—”

“Begging already?” snarling, he spits into his palm and gives a few quick tugs to his cock, hard and aching “I wonder who’s coming from. The whore or the Queen. Either way, you’ll get your reward, your Highness.”

“Wait—” she whimpers as she feels the head of his cock teasing against her folds, something coils in her belly, and something else, something cold, grips her heart. “Not like th—”

She chokes on her tongue as he slips inside her, easily but painfully, all the way in. Hissing, his hold on her hair tightens, a coarse exhale coming out of his parted lips as he adjusts to her walls, hot and wet, but tense. She’s tensing all over.

“Why are you fighting me?” he pulls her up by the hair, leaning his face close to hers “You wanted this, did you not? You have been teasing and mocking me since I set foot in here.”

“I—”

“No. I’ve had enough of your talks and taunts. Here’s what’s going to happen, whore queen. You will keep quiet and take it. And if I want to fuck you again later, I will. You are not in charge here—not you, not your husband, not all the fucking Thirteen. So don’t fucking push me, unless you want to die with fire skinning you alive.”

Without too much grace, he forces her back on the table and starts a relentless pace, fisting the crimson fabric and pulling to keep her low back flushed to his crotch. His pants mix with flesh slapping harder and faster as he tries to pour on her, and into her, the grief and rage, the misery and fire he’s made of. She writhes beneath him, arching and crumpling against the wooden with violent gasps; she feels like burning but inside, she’s torn in two.

She clamps her hand on the wood to grab onto something, just like that evening. She feels her, and his, arousal coating her thighs, just as blood did that evening.

The little girl wants to run, but the Salt Queen doesn’t want him to stop.

She’s sinking in her mind, but burning in every corner of her body and soul.

She can only moan, her mouth agape and dry, leaking saliva on the surface as her head bounces at each wild rut, hitting that inner spot over and over.

“Look at you, hmm?” he taunts her with purpose, perhaps vengeance “Fucked so good she lost her wits.”

Look at you, little whore. Bet you like it, eh?

Squeezing her eyes shut, she finds a raw voice hidden somewhere. “Harder—”

“What?” he slurs with a heavy-lidded eye, the braids are almost loose, dangling on his face at each thrust.

“Harder—” she pleads with her eyes still shut.  

“Greedy wanton thing—” hips start to snap brutally, in a hurtful way, just as she wants, even if it’s hard to even breathe. Pleasure overwhelms her, drives her up towards the peak. But she finds she cannot climb; her mind is holding her down.

He grunts with each snap and curses in some foreign language she’s not aware of, and she doesn’t care; she’s too focused on letting herself burn. But it’s like sitting in front of a fire and barely feeling the flames.

And then his hips jolt faster, once, twice, and he halts, gripping her hips firmly, coming inside her with a long, satiated groan.

Completely spent, he slumps on top of her, resting his head on her shoulder blades to catch his breath. However, she is quick to slip from the scorching alcove, to slide out the door with her mind drowned but her heart pounding out of her chest.

"Your Highness!" Dora wakes from her slumber, and reaches for her Queen.

"Nothing, Dora." she says in a voice still hoarse, almost scratching. "Draw me a bath, please. And fetch mint and wormwood." Moon tea.

She starts to undo her silks and feels a distant smell of smoke sticking to her skin. Like one who has bathed in fire.

The morning after brings no clarity, because truthfully, Aemond does not need clarity. Everything is drastically simple. He is no coward. However his mind was less clear than usual, he could never blame wine for how he behaved a few hours earlier. And why would he?

Whether she was acting on her husband’s orders or not, she wanted him. And he wanted her. He could concede that he'd acted in a harsher way than usual, that he’d let rage and grief guide his purpose. It was not the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. But it all worked in his favor. A demonstration, a shift in whatever power game the Salt King and the other merchant Kings thought to play out. He only made it clear that he was not some precious pet to be coddled and ridiculed.

She had teased and mocked him at any occurrence. He’d only showed her the price of playing with fire.

His blue silks are fresh and clean when he sits down to have breakfast with Xavos; his long silver hair is tied up in a single low braid that starts from the center of his head and gathers lazily down his shoulder.

He has yet to get used to this strange Qartheen custom of sitting on pillows to eat; at least, however, he regains his appetite when he is served dishes once familiar to him, and less exotic.

"I took the liberty of having you prepare a breakfast akin to your old habits.” Xavos says chewing bread with olives “Ham, cheese, venison. And we have fresh fish every day. Blessed be the trades."

The Prince is sincerely grateful, though he would be a lot more grateful if the Salt King were able to shut his mouth when the sun is not even high in the sky. He goes on and on about the supposed trades, and then about the salt he so proudly sells to every corner of the world. He is just about to go on another monologue about the Thirteen and their hopeful wish to receive the Dragon Prince in their Palaces when he stops, frowning at the young maid clearing the place set next to the king. “What are you doing?”

“Apologies, Your Highness, but the Queen will not attend breakfast. She feels indisposed this morning.”

Immediately, Aemond glances up at her and she’s brave enough to hold it for a bunch of seconds before looking down and making her way to the door.

“Maid?”

She halts upon hearing the Prince and turns around.

“Tell your Queen I was promised something. She said she would see to it personally. And I expect her to keep her word.”

“Yes, your Grace.”

“Wait.” he stops her again, his tone almost bored, and slips a hand into the folds of his blue silks, pulling out a gold and red chain. “Take this. She left it in my room last night.”

He throws the jewel on the table and resumes his knife and fork, not bothering to look at anyone, certainly not at the Salt King who is indeed looking at him, looking as pleased as ever, like the cat that caught the mouse.

The Salt Queen did not in fact forget her word. She promised him she would see to Vhagar’s condition, ordering to save goats and pigs to feed the beast, put them on carts and send someone with the Prince to reach the desert, where the dragon was resting.

However, she should've probably assumed that such an apparently simple task would've turned out to be a lot harder to carry out.

She’s just about to finish her late breakfast with Mysha and Dora, when Nyla breaks into the parlor with quick feet.

“Your Highness—uhm—Prince Aemond is at the door, he asks to be received.”

“What is it now? He doesn’t like how the sun rises here?”

Mysha and Dora giggle, but the Queen stays serious and turns to Nyla. “Tell the Prince he will have to wait. I am sure that even in Westeros, barging in during meals stands for bad manners.”

Nyla leaves, but it’s with even quicker feet that she returns to her Queen in barely a minute.

“My Queen, Prince Aemond is quite adamant on being received immediately. He…also says that…keeping guests at the door is a synonym of bad manners in Westeros, as he is sure, anywhere else in the world.”

Tapping her fingers on the table, it takes her a minute to sigh loudly and stand up, throwing the kerchief on the table.

“My Prince.” She greets him as she stops at the door.

In his usual soldierly stance, he looks past her for a moment before locking her blank gaze. “Still adamant on not letting me in?”

“You were not that drunk last night. I believe you heard me just fine when I told you I don’t take men into my rooms.”

“Hmm. But you did take me, and quite eagerly, if memory serves me right. Are we not past such formalities?”

“Gloating like some common man is not very royal of you, your Grace—"

“Tis’ not gloating. And I might say, not very royal of you either to beg me to fuck you harder, your Highness.”

“You’re right. Fucked me so good I didn’t come.”

The proud mischievous smile that kept stretching his mouth vanishes in a blink, and she has to sigh to stifle her own. “What is it, my Prince?”

“You gave me your word.”

“Indeed. And I kept it. What is your complaint now?”

“Your slaves refuse to escort me in the desert.”

“Well, I can’t blame them. Can’t you feed your dragon on your own? Or are you too humiliated by the prospect of carrying a cart of dead pigs?”

From the way he is staring at her, and having already tickled his pride when the sun is not yet high in the sky, she knows he will not yield on this matter.

“Fine. I’ll go with you.”

“My Queen, it is not safe.”

“Do not worry, Dora. I’ll take the Sorrowful Men.”

Aemond almost laughs to himself as he stands on the left edge of an enclosed inner courtyard of the palace, resembling the training yards of Westeros. There are men intent on training with spears and swords, dressed in strange uniforms made of blue drapes and a strange golden mask on their faces. The carving makes the mask weeping, with a single tear embossed on the gold.

Aemond has no idea how they can see, as there seem to be no holes in those eyes of gold. But his gaze returns at once to the Salt Queen, talking to one of those men, with a large turban on his head. Some kind of commander, he assumes.

He bows to her and then six of these mysterious men march forward and surround the woman.

The Prince glances at each one of them, standing tall and proud as ever with his hands laced behind, seeming unperturbed by these safety measures. In fact, he says “Truly there’s no need to trouble these men, your Highness. What do you expect me to do? Feed you to Vhagar as soon as we are in the desert?”

“These men are not a safety measure for me, but for you.”

“Me?”

“Yes. To prevent you from having certain…Targaryen ideas.”

“Six armed men against the largest living dragon seems like a somewhat unequal battle.”

Narrowing her eyes, she watches as the same placid arrogance bathes his features, but she thinks now it’s the right time to wipe it off, and she knows exactly how to do it. “Sorrows bring sorrows.”

All at once, the Sorrowful men move, drawing their spears with impressive speed and aiming the sharp points at the prince. His whole demeanor changes, becomes menacing, she notices, but he does not flinch. She walks among the weeping men avoiding the spears until she stands in front of the prince and snatches the mask off his face, to wear it herself.

“Listen to me. These men live to serve me. They were slaves once, bought with something far more valuable than gold: freedom. And they chose to stay by my side. If I told them to take the only eye you have left, right now, they would do it. If I told them to cut your cock and bring it to me right now, they would do it. A shame, I will grant you that. So, you’re right, you may be in charge here…but if you push me…you will be dead before you have the chance to say Dracarys.”

Whatever cutting remark the prince has in mind, he does not have time to say it, as he is suddenly distracted by a strange sound, a whistle, like the cry of a bird.

Aemond turns his head and the Queen does the same, recognizing that sound at once. The Sorrowful Men lower their spears and a man steps forward, dressed in a strange purple robe. Aemond stares at him warily, wondering why, in the name of the Seven, this man’s lips are blue, like a corpse.

“Father…” the Salt Queen greets him, taking Aemond by surprise, but sounding a little surprised herself to see the blue-lipped man.

He doesn’t speak, doesn’t answer to his daughter, because he can’t. He starts to move his hands in strange signs, circles and lines. And Aemond is grateful for his strict education, for he knows what that man is doing. Sign language. He is either mute, or tongueless.

Unfortunately, he cannot understand what he’s saying, but his daughter can.

“Kóri. Will you not introduce me to your noble guest?”

The Salt Queen sighs, casting a brief look at the Prince, and then she introduces him. “Father, this is Prince Aemond, of House Targaryen.”

The blue-lipped man looks at him with wide eyes, charmed to the point of looking unsettling. And then he bends into a long bow. Not even when Aemond sat on the Iron Throne, someone had bowed so low before him.

He tilts his chin down to greet him, and sees the warlock’s hands moving. “On behalf of the Warlocks of Qarth” the Salt Queen translates “I welcome you, your Grace. It is a great privilege to see a descendant of Old Valyria in the flesh. Your blood is as ancient as our beloved great city.”

Aemond cannot stop his eyebrow from raising, nor his tongue. “It seems at least one member of your family knows good manners.”

“You must excuse us, father, we have to go.” she hastens to say, but as soon as she takes one step, her father grabs her arm.

“Don’t run from me, kori. You have been knowing, yes? More than usual.” and then his hands rise and fall once more. “Trees wail. Leaves are bleeding. The doom, kori. The doom is near.”

PART 2

thank you so so much for reading!! 💕 💕

[kaidatheghostdragon]

You know what mixture of AUs i havent seen here yet? Danny x Bruce with de-aged clones!

Bruce and danny are near the same age and meet pretty early in batman's career, maybe even before dick was adopted. Danny is a single dad of infant/toddler twins ellie and dante. (To make them young and at the same age, i imagine they were rescued after both taking serious damage and retreated to their cores, and remerged as newborns about the same time, but i also want to leave this open for others to flesh out.) Timeline-wise, that would probably make them somewhere around jason or tim's age.

So now we have an au where the bat kids are collected into a stable home where bruce and danny are also raising ellie and dante. Bruce is much closer to WFA characterization right from the get-go because danny would whip him into shape.

Tim probably gets adopted because one of the phantoms sniff him out, either living alone in the neighboring mansion, or following the bats and ghosts on patrol.

Talia either stole bruce's (and/or danny's) dna or drugged bruce (it didnt work on danny) to create damian. If bruce was drugged, danny is on a warpath and might even find and rescue damian at a much younger age.

Jason's timeline is the most difficult to predict, and i will forever simp halfa jason, so he's gotta die no matter what changes. I dont think that's terribly difficult because the joker specifically targeted him to lure him out (assuming i understand canon correctly - also this is definitely true in the UtRH animated movie canon). If jason isnt interested in finding his biomom in this au, joker will just find a different bait. Would be cool if danny is able to track down jason's ghost during the six-month down time and brings him home, and a potential point of angst if he revives without his memories as a ghost (and is lost for a while before danny tracks him down again.)

(Danny probably doesn't have the no-killing rule like bruce, so he'd have no qualms killing the joker and detaining/destroying his ghost. If not danny, then jazz would. Bruce conveniently looks the other way.)

Batman mythology in this universe is inexorably linked to phantom mythology. They both help each other out with vigilante stuff. Danny's team (sam/tucker/val/jazz) visit often and are considered aunts/uncle to the batkids. Batfam is highly liminal because they are part of danny's fraid. They might even develop liminal powers, if that's your kind of headcanon.

Danny may or may not be ghost king, but i like the idea that he's the crown prince and wont be coronated for several more decades. He's got time and all the resources that position affords him. Danny still gets hounded by the observants, but the batkids have made a game of pranking the annoying eyeballs.

Danny is a founding member of the justice league and of jld (the rest of his team might be as well). Batman is much more knowledgeable of the supernatural because of danny. I like the idea of constantine being more terrified of phantom than batman. He still gets called on for advice because he's the demonology and magic expert, while danny specializes more in ghosts and Realms technology.

Ellie and dante are not allowed to join the vigilante scene until they turn 12 (they managed to argue it down from 14), but because of their powers (and potentially retaining memories and experience) there are numerous occasions before then that they functioned as a sort of vigilante retrevial unit - zooming out and retrieving anyone who was injured or otherwise hit their emergency beacon and bringing them straight back to the cave. They might have even done this once or twice during justice league emergencies.

I'll leave their vigilante identities open to discussion, but im partial toward a really old drawing i remember seeing here on tumblr, someone designed a pink batsuit for ellie with exaggerated bat ears, and a sort of glider cloak that attached to her belt or her wrists to disguise her flight as gliding. (If someone knows the post im talking about, please leave a link so the artist can be credited!)

As for danny's old team...

Jazz works at arkham, helping to reform the place and causing many of batman's rogues to reform a bit earlier. She is the expert called in by the justice league to formulate ways to both detain and to help various rogues globally. She especially likes the flash because of the friendly attitude he has towards his own rogues.

Sam is a humanitarian. If she has plant powers, she's using them to establish food stability in poorer nations, helping the people there become more self-sustaining, as well as providing relief for disaster-stricken areas whose farms need to be completely rebuilt and regrown. Jazz introduces her to poison ivy, and the two end up joined at the hip, helping to reform ivy much earlier. (Would it be weird to make this au have sam x ivy and jazz x harley?)

Valerie probably stays in Amity Park to be its designated hero since danny moved out. If the fentons are good, she works alongside them as the fentons also develop tech for the justice league. If they arent, im gonna assume theyre the reason dante and ellie got de-aged, danny absconded with their cores to keep them safe, and the rest of team phantom descended on the fenton parents like hungry wolves. When the dust settled, valerie and her dad were left in charge of protecting amity and with ownership of fentonworks.

Tucker is a freelance hacker slash tech expert, and will kit out any vigilante's tech and security free of charge. His unique blend of magitech is very difficult to counter, making it all-the-more sought after. He probably helped set oracle up and maybe even trained/mentored barb to some extent.

There are lots of other potential changes, but ill stop here.

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

So here is another DPXDC crossover idea nice-ish pariah dark au pariah dark dad au pariah dark x clockwork gender-fluid Danny au ghost prince Danny au Danny x Damien Danny steeling lost artifacts from places so that they don’t get into the wrong hands and Gotham has a bunch

Danny has taken up the job of helping get lost artifacts from the zone back to the infinite realms and giving items lost the zone back to the families of those that lost them Danny is having fun evading the superheroes

Damien is having fun trying to catch the thief that was stealing supposedly cursed artifacts and is surprised when he finally corners the thief that it is a someone his own age and is even more surprised when the thief disappears the literally second he turns his back

Let's see what prompt I can come up with. ✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧

~

Chase Me, Catch Me, Will You Love Me?

When he was a child he dreamed of going to space being able to chase the vastness of stars.

After his accident that was a dream he had to give up, after that his life became too busy to really think about it.

Gaining powers

Fighting ghosts each day

Trying to do her best in school

Realizing her gender

Evading and escaping his parents

The GIW

He needed a break but not because of this

This being his parents finding out about them being Phantom and not taking it well.

Ha

'Not taking it well' was an understatement.

She fled to the Infinity Realms towards ClockWork. CW felt more like his dad than Jack had for a long while now. He was a bit suspicious when CW told him that the Zone had decided to rehabilitate Pariah Dark but so far he had been staying in line if a bit of a harsh grump and maybe a future parental figure with how he and CW seemed to look at each other when they thought the other wasn't paying attention.

But on the other hand she was thankful he was still king and not Danny, wow had that been a shock to her finding out he was almost king before he was even an adult, he was still titled prince but at least he wasn't the one in charge of everything.

Speaking of being in charge of things, they as a prince still had duties to fulfill, ClockPa had decided it was best for his growth that she return to Earth but not the same one where he would be in danger, no instead it was an Earth with multiple heroes and magic and even aliens!!!

The only thing he had to do was find haunted or ecto powered objects and either return them to their rightful owner or have it put somewhere secure.

"This is going to be so much fun!"

~

Damian had a new rogue, they called themselves Phantom and their crimes resembled greatly of Catwoman's only with seemingly spiritual centered objects.

He had already faced the teasing of all his siblings about how he was resembling father

...and as much as he hated agreeing with them, after almost a year of constantly fighting, chasing, bantering and most recently actually getting to talking he had learned that they were very close in age and had a lot of similar interest they could talk about together with for hours if given the chance.

Soon their dynamic slowly began shifting without either realizing it,

And well who knows what the future holds for them but until then,

The chase continues.

~

Fin

~

Hope you liked it Anon

~

Just an Idea

[merrilinie]

Things I like to think would happen if the Knights and co knew about Merlin’s magic (and merthur):

• “Merlin, can you do the fire trick with the dragon again?”

• “I’m not drying your clothes, Gwaine. You chose to go in the river fully clothed, you pay the price.”

• Merlin making them flower crowns and them bullying Arthur into wearing his

• Everyone asking him if he can make them fly

• Merlin pretending he can talk to the horses and making them think him and the horses are shit talking

• Him and Gwen pretending to do chores together but really he magicked it and they’re just having a nice evening

• Merlin and Morgana having lessons in the forest while the knights what over so none one spits them

• “No, I can’t read minds.” One of the knights, “oh, okay.” *realises they didn’t ask that out loud.* “WAIT-“

• Merlin and Arthur cuddling together at night accidentally and everyone knows because Merlin’s magic is safe now and leaves a patch of flowers under him when he sleeps

• Merlin creating plants with his magic so he doesn’t have to spend so much time gathering herbs for Gaius

• the Knights and Gwen taking this a step further and making a garden of herbs for him and Gaius

• Arthur realising they should have done that years ago and putting the royal funds into it despite Uthers annoyance

• Morgana and Merlin being taught how to fight with swords (even if she already knows a fair bit) so they can protect themselves with something other than magic

• the two of them then teaching Gwen because they both think she’d be an amazing knight

• Gaius having a mini heart attack whenever he hears Merlin and the Knights talking about magic

• them realising he’s insecure about his healing magic because it’s the hardest form of magic and being sure to praise him whenever he does it or any other form of healing

• After Merlin and Arthur finally get together, his magic doesn’t want to leave him alone and so when he does his little fire show for them it instantly goes to Arthur and the others get jealous

• after an attack and Merlin nearly gets hurt, Arthur ‘forces’ his Knights to be sworn to Merlin with Merlin’s staff and so technically, they’re also his Knights and Merlin is a royal

• The druids instantly knowing this and calling him a prince

• the knights going along with it

• After a while the Knights (who know how) begin to teach the Druids things like reading and currency

• everyone teasing Merlin by saying his magic has a crush on Arthur despite the two being together already

• he blushes every time

• Merlin openly enchanting their amour to be stronger and magic proof

• him giving Gwen and Morgana matching necklaces that are also enchanted that they keep hidden

• all of them are so impressed with his power but then they are just straight dumfounded because like… how the fuck did he keep this hidden for so long?

• Growing strawberries once he sees how much Gwen loves them and they are really rare

• tricking the Knights into thinking he can talk to ghost just to laugh at their faces

• Just constantly embarrassed by the Druids cause they see him as a god or, as the knights point out, as a king and the Knights decide that means he’s Arthur’s wife and Queen of Camelot

• Arthur making this worse by saying, “Queen or Consort?”

• Merlin flicking water in his face despite none being near them

I’ll add more as I think of them :)

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Mythic Phantom

This is a little something I whipped up over a while thinking about merging the DP and Riordanverse universes together, and I thank @geraldmariaivo for helping me think my way through it. If you want the ao3 version you can find it here, and I hope you enjoy the fic!

Most Underworld Gods felt it when Vlad’s current permanent Portal opened, but they all Felt it when Danny’s accident happened. A child’s death throes is hard to ignore after all. Pantheons world wide decided that was America’s problem, and Hel decided it was Persephone’s problem, and Haides felt it would close on its own. No gate to Khaos can stay open for long after all.

When Ember went globally live, Muses and Music Gods and Hypnos heard the way she sang, called out to the mortals to never be forgotten. Danny and Tucker dealt with her swiftly enough that she was remembered, noted even, but disregarded.

When the Fright Knight’s sword was drawn, many Fear Gods turned toward Amity, but Danny dealt with it swiftly. Most regarded it as an anomaly but Phobos and Deimos sent subordinate spirits to investigate the town and report anything interesting.

Hades and Persephone noted the invasion of Ghost Cops and saw that Danny had it handled in only a few days, which they would count as a quest fulfilled. Clearly, Amity Park was a contained issue, and the Master Bolt had gone missing by now so they have other things to deal with. The House of Life have some reservations but agree.

Then Pariah Dark got out, and the Gods scrambled to do something about that. In only a week however, He was dealt with too.  A closer eye was warranted. By everyone, not just the Observants.

Whoever these agents were, be they half-bloods or spirits or even minor gods, most wouldn’t see Young Blood and thus would fear Danny was losing it too. When he calmed down, they’d sigh in relief. The two future Ghost Villains who show up outside of the do-over would raise alarms at how fast ghosts can progress, but hey, it’s handled.

When the Hellenic spies are pulled back home for safety during the winter solstice, pleasantly surprised by Ghost activity dying down at the same time, Artemis and Luna, Khonshu and more felt something wrong happening as the Ghostwriter possessed the moon to speak.

When Duul Amon returned to the land of the living, the House of Life sent agents to the town, and Tucker Foley was immediately offered magic lessons. His is power over stone and steel, glass and gems, as well as an ear for the voices of machines. Between terrakinesis and technopathy, Tucker’s limits with his staff became only what he understood about technology.

Then entire copies of the Ghost Boy (Prince? King?) appear, attacking him, manipulating him for the elder, but he lets her go free after he’s rescued? Truly fascinating. Psychopomps keep an eye on Elle wherever she goes - she’s always very close to melting after all. The titan army also keep an eye on her, a powerful being both like and unlike the Gods, much the same as a Titan, Giant, or Monster.

Then the Reality Gauntlet is found by a mortal man, a rogue Magician, while the boy is busy trying to stop it and save the world, Lydia is keeping House of Life magicians and even Odin’s Ravens from finding Freakshow, so some Camp Jupiter heroes are being sent on a quest to deal with him. Then he gets the fucking gems and turns the world into a circus for 10 minutes.

Before the Boy tricks him, takes the Gauntlet, resets the world to before his identity was revealed to the world, (though perhaps not quite fooling the memories of Gods, who Are the world) and destroying the Gauntlet and gems in a single blast.

An artifact presumed by the Ghost Investigation Ward to be powerful enough to destroy the Infinite Realms, reduced to molten ash by one burst of power.

What to do about the young Phantom is a matter of discussion during the solstice meeting on Olympus.  Hades is sent to investigate the boy and finds that he is a godling of Kaos Themself, which sparks yet further debate on what to do when Artemis goes missing.

But then the Son of Hades stumbled upon Elmerton and witnessed a duel between Gods firsthand.

Danny Phantom faced off against Vortex, the ghost of all weather and sky and storm gods who had faded over the millennia, all on his own.  Even in defeat, Danny stole half of Vortex’s power, and less than a week later, he defeated the calamity that even two pantheons worth of gods could not.

The Titans would be horrible for humanity as a whole, and the Olympians were bad for half bloods as well.  Danny Phantom, however, could be just what most half bloods were after.  He needed training in mortal form, clearly, but that could be an angle for Nico to use.

[supershot73199]

Hello I am back with the next of my Batfam react to Danny killing Joker story's. This one is set in the same au as my Dawn's Big Daddy story though i haven't decided if it will be canon to that story yet. Story under the read more.

There will be a bit of a graphic description in this one so gore warning here

Cass was simultaneously pissed and terrified. Not for herself of course but for her ballet students. The Joker and his thugs took the entire class and their parents hostage and with so many kids Cass knew trying to fight could result in dead children and she left her emergency beacon in her office changing room.

When the thugs finished taking them to the warehouse where the Jokers latest scheme would take place she, the kids and any mothers were taken to a massive cage where they were locked in, while any fathers were taken and had been handcuffed to chains connected to electronic winches, including her boyfriend Danny.

Normally Cass wouldn't be worried about her boyfriend as he was a excellent fighter and had a ghost form that was of a comparable power level to heroes like Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, Martian Manhunter, and of course Superman. However with the number of hostages he would not act rashly, instead waiting for an opportunity where he can act with minimal to no risk for the innocents.

But their captor was the Joker, an unhinged clown who enjoyed the pain of others and who was unpredictable enough to stump world class detectives like her family. He would not hesitate to torture or even kill one of the kids if he had the whim cross his mind and he had pretty good reflexes so it would be hard to guarantee no hostages would be in danger before they act.

Cass felt her rage and fear bleed out when she felt a small hand grab hers for comfort. Dawn was Danny's daughter, the light of his life, the single most important thing in his life, and honestly she was quickly becoming the same thing for Cass. Even though she loved Danny and he loved her they both knew that if it came down to a choice to save only one of them they would each save Dawn first. (Hypothetically at least. Cass knew they would just save both in reality because they were good enough to or would get backup that would allow them too.)

"I'm scared." Whispered the young girl. Cass quickly scooped her up in a hug before softly comforting her.

"It's OK Your Daddy is strong he won't let this clown hurt him or us."

"I know that. Daddys the strongest there is but what if one of my friends get hurt?" Cass couldn't stop the soft grin at the faith in her father that the little girl had.

"Because he's the strongest means he won't let anyone get hurt." Cass responded with conviction. Before Dawn gave a accepting nod.

"OK I believe in Daddy."

Before Cass could say anything else the Joker ordered his men out of the room as they finished handcuffing the last of the fathers. Danny was front and center and Cass couldn't help notice the look of defiance in his eyes. The Joker as soon as the last of his men had left to their guard positions turned on a camera before stepping back and speaking with his usual cheer.

"Hello Gotham, it's your favorite Clown Prince of Crime here and today I have some special guests with us today. You might recognize a few of them. Why it's none other the Bruce Wayne's only daughter and her pretty little boytoy!! They've been all over the news recently and in case you've been living under a rock recently they have been called Gothams cutest couple. So you just know I had to give them my congratulations."

As the Joker was monologing he picked up the camera and used it to focus on Danny and Cass respectively though Cass had put herself between Joker and Dawn, which gave the clown a sick pleasure, she could see it in his posture.

"Now as for our performance tonight we have a group of loving fathers and their beloved children and wives in our audience. Batsy here's what's going to happen, you and your brood are going to have to find my men hidden all around Gotham with cannisters of my Laughing Gas. When you find them my men will let me know and you will have sixty seconds to defeat my men and disable the release trigger, if you fail well..."

As the Joker trailed off he pressed a button that activated the winches pulling the men until they were all hanging off the floor without their feet touching the ground.

"I will kill one of these fathers infront of their wives and children, and don't even think about cheating because if my guys see you on this camera before their bombs been disabled they will trigger it remotely. Better hurry Batman I don't think shoulders can hold that much weight for very long!" The Joker let out a mad cackle before he was interrupted.

"So now your a gameshow host? I thought you were the clown prince of crime." Danny brave beautiful Danny taunted the Joker who stopped and walked closer.

"Well I'm a Clown of many talents and in my eternal quest to bring more smiles to Gotham I have to branch out from typical clown behavior." Cass could see the irritation in the Jokers body language, he hates being questioned after all.

"Still couldn't you have picked a different suit? You always wear the same thing. Variety is the spice of life after all." Danny continued to antagonize Joker.

The Joker stepped closer to Danny still not quite close enough for Danny's plan though.

"As if your one to talk. Look at you!" Cass wasn't sure what Joker meant by that as Danny was dressed in form fitting exercise clothes meant for dancing, as they had been about to have a class when the Joker showed up. Maybe he's jealous of Danny's muscles?

"I was kidnapped with no warning from a dance class, you had the benefit of planning this and having time to prepare. Admit it you just got lazy and didn't want to put in the effort to look good for your scheme." Danny once again acted to antagonize the clown. Who finally stepped right up to where Danny was hanging while ranting at him.

"How dare you claim I didn't put in the effort! My look is iconic and if you can't see greatness maybe I should use your daughter as an exam-urgk." The Joker was cut off and Danny swung his legs up to wrap them around the Jokers neck. Unfortunately the Jokers reflexes kicked in causing him to start ducking leaving Danny to have his thighs around the Jokers head rather than his neck. Thankfully the sudden jerk from Danny hitting the Joker caused him to drop the gun he had been pulling out of his coat.

Cass watched as the two struggled in a stalemate, Danny couldn't shift his legs enough to get them around the Jokers neck to choke him into unconsciousness and the Joker was unable to get free from Danny's vice like leg lock. Cass realized that unless her family showed up immediately then the Joker would eventually slip free and go after Dawn.

As she realized what had to happen Cass noticed as Danny's body language showed he came to the same conclusion. The couple shared a look of understanding. Cass would never have considered this before and if there was any other way she wouldn't be considering it now. But even with his powers there isn't really another solution as the Joker holds a grudge.

"Turn around class face away, even you Dawn." Cass said quickly acting to make sure the children didn't see what came next, the mothers and older students quickly following her lead.

"I'm scared momma." Cass started quickly bending down to hug Dawn again. Cass didn't think she realized what she actually said and in a way it made it more special to her, which filled her heart with love and resolve.

As soon as all the younger students were facing the wall Cass nodded to Danny who immediately shifted his legs one more time before Cass saw his muscles clench. There was a muffled sound where the Jokers mouth was pressed against Danny's thigh, that Cass couldn't tell if it was a laugh or scream. She watched as he clawed at Danny desperately trying to get loose until with a sickening crack and squelch he went limp, as his head was crushed between Danny's thighs like that watermelon Cass had crushed on a dare from Steph.

She looked on with disgust as pieces of the Jokers brain and skull stuck to the man she loved. The spray from the crush had covered Danny and she could see him struggling to not throw up.

"That might have been the hottest thing I've ever seen." Cass head snapped to the teenage girl who said that. Said girl quickly grew a massive blush.

"What? We were all thinking it. I wonder how long until someone makes a gif online from that livestream."

Cass blinked in bafflement as the other girls agreed even if they felt it shouldn't be said out lound to the girl before remembering that this was being broadcast live. Which meant all of Gotham saw what just happened.

It was only a little while later when her family finally showed up that she realized that Barbara and Jason would probably be two of the people making it into a gif and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped her. At least she got confirmation that the child she loved as her own daughter felt the same way about her.

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Sweet Prince- Legolas x Reader

Summary: Smut with no plot with a submissive Legolas

Word count: 962

Your tongue runs across the curves and points of Legolas’ elvish ears, the elf below you squirming and moaning as he holds onto your hips for support.

Both of you are bare as you straddle his stomach. You had been teasing the poor thing for the past hour, pinching kissing, licking and sucking his ears, chest, neck and nipples, everywhere except where he needed you most.

“And here I thought you were a prince and a mighty elvish warrior, meant to be stronger than the race of man. Yet here you lay beneath a mortal woman, moaning and panting like a little whore.” You laugh at your lover, smirking down at his desperate but pouting face.

“No elf has come across a mortal as powerful as you, my love.” He breathlessly moans out as you lightly trace his nipples.

“Perhaps, or perhaps you’re just a sweet little prince who likes being toyed with.” You continue to torment him, your hand now around his throat, pushing his head back further into the pillows below.

Bending down, you push your face directly above him, your lips barely ghosting over his. With one hand around his throat, your other slinks through his beautiful long blonde hair, tugging it to pull his head back even further.

Looking down upon your love, pushing your knees into his biceps to hold him down.

Legolas is extremely strong and could easily push you off of him and be the dominant one tonight, but he chooses not to. He likes letting you have control, likes giving over his power to you and letting you torment him.

“Is that it, little prince? Does his highness like being used? Do you like when I torment you, sweet boy?” You ask him sweetly, your fingers leaving his hair and gently rubbing at the tips of his sensitive ears, as your grip on this throat tightens.

Legolas is so worked up that his cheeks are flushing red and you can tell he’s trying so hard not grind his hips.

“Please…” Was all he could simply say, his desperation obviously breaking him.

“Aaaaww, such a sweet pathetic little thing. What are you begging for, little prince?” You continue your tormenting words and rubbing of his ears.

“I need you! Please! Please look after me! I need to be inside you!” He desperately begged you.

His hips now began to move slightly, and he was fighting to keep his eyes open, as the tormenting pleasure was becoming too much.

“Such a sweet and desperate little thing you are.”

Slightly loosening your grip on his throat, you finally place a sweet kiss to his lips. Legolas went to chase the barely their kiss as you pull away. Smirking at the handsome elf, you push yourself away from his body, shuffling down to line your soaking pussy us with his desperate cock.

Taking his cock in hand, you finally give it a few long and slow strokes. At the first touch of your hand, Legolas screams out a loud and desperate moan.

Sounds of pleasure-filled gasps and groans follow as you bring your pussy to rub against his rock hard cock.

“Is this what you wanted, my sweet boy? Wanted my pussy so badly. You still want to be inside me or is this enough?” You ask him, cruelly feigning ignorance.

“No, no, noooo. Please I need to be inside you! Please, I need you to squeeze me! I need to feel you. Please!” He begged breathlessly, a desperate puff leaving his parted lips are your hips began to slow their torture.

“Well only because you begged so nicely.”

Smirking down at your lover, you place a hand on his chest as your other lines up his cock with your wet entrance. You keep eye contact with him as you gently sink down onto his cock.

If you thought he was loud when you touched him moments ago, you were proven wrong with the volume of the animalistic and desperate moans that leave his lips now. Sinking fully down onto his cock, his head is thrown back and eyes are closed as he mutters blessing in Sindarin.

Once you are properly seated, you waste no time in placing both of your hands upon his chest and begin a fast pace of grinding and bouncing on his cock.

Finally opening his eyes, Legolas looks up at you as if you were an ethereal blessing, as if he was a mere mortal and you were a beautiful goddess.

His hands begin at your thighs, gently moving up to your hips, stomach and finally landing on your breasts. Your hands leave his chest as they rest on top of his own.

Your movements become faster as you take one of Legolas’ hands and move it down to your clit. Legolas lets out a sweet moan at feeling you and at the way his movements make you moan even louder.

“I won’t last much longer, sweet prince. Cum with me.” You pant down at your prince, your skin becoming flushed as you feel a sweet tingle make its way across your body.

The tension is your lower stomach becomes tighter and tighter, the more Legolas plays with you and the faster your hips move.

“I’m almost there.” He pants out, his brows furrowing with pleasure.

“Cum with me, darling!” You shout as you feel that tension in you snap and you’re driven into a state of pure bliss and ecstasy.

Legolas wasn’t far behind you, his hands now holding tight on your hips as he thrusts into you with a loud growl.

As you both begin to come down from your highs, your collapse onto Legolas’ chest. He holds you close as you enjoy the warmth of each others bodies pressed together.

[radiance1]

The ghost king has not been summoned for millennia. No body but the beings of the Infinite Realms knew the exact reason why, but one day he just stopped answering all at once.

It was a sudden thing, a sudden thing that interrupted the plans of many cults who wished for the end of the world.

On that note, it was a recent thing, but the summoning worked, and no one knew why the ghost king left. The Justice League were quick to a stop to that information from being spread to the best of their ability.

But it was too late.

So instead, they stopped any summoning they could. But the JL, while large, is not omnipresent, a summoning happened in Gotham and, while most heroes aren't allowed in.

This was the exception, they needed fire power in case the Ghost King decided to burn the world down, instead of leaving like he did before.

They expected a few things.

Meeting Robin's younger half-brother and his father were not one of them.

Pariah Dark, the Ghost King that was said to have ruled the Infinite Realms with an iron fist and was a known tyrant, was the adopted father to Danny, Robin's younger brother that he hasn't contacted in a long time.

Robin, of course, had questions about this. Where were the two scientists that Danny was supposed to be keeping an eye on because of their meddling with ectoplasm (ectoplasm and Lazarus Water aren't the same thing here)? Why has he been adopted by a ghost powerful enough to be called upon to burn the world? Is Danny now Pariah Dark's heir?

The answers?

The scientists along with their daughter- Danny's sister, died (Nasty Burger explosion, didn't leave behind ghosts). He was adopted because he interested and impressed Pariah Dark enough that he claimed him to be his child, and yes, Danny can be called Pariah Dark's heir and the prince to the Infinite Realms.

Though he will never be king.

Robin is.... pleased, to say the least by the latter information. Though he won't show it, he's glad that his younger brother won't be killed off because now he has importance in the eyes of the League, though the scientists dying (as well as his sister and friends) wasn't something he found himself too pleased with.

He also was not pleased with the state his brother was in. Far too dark circles under his eyes, barely able to stand on his feet when he wasn't levitating, constantly rubbing his eyes. Robin didn't even ask as he grabbed his brother's arm and it felt... hm.

Yes, he didn't like the state his brother was in.

So he said so. More like he insulted his brother for letting himself, the younger of the demon twins and what would've been the heir had Damian not beaten him (again, Danny never held back and Damian was just better), fall to such a state.

Meanwhile, the heroes are both confused, concerned and still tense at this situation because of the Ghost King standing silently in the circle at the opposite end of the room. Watching them, assessing them, before intently watching the interaction between his son and Robin.

Meanwhile, Pariah is thinking is he should yoink this one too. He was not aware that his son had any other relatives of any kind, much less a half-brother, and he could tell that the boy was a fine warrior.

Both by human standards, and his own.

The way he carried himself, his expression, the look in his eyes, the weapons he could tell that were hidden around the boy's body and his armor- while unique, he could find himself being amused that this own at least had proper armor rather than some contraption of metal that-while very powerful, seemed more of a hindrance than a help in a drawn-out battle.

Well, Pariah Dark found himself wanting and, by the looks of things. His child seems very comfortable around his brother, so would he be opposed to having said comfort around all the time?

[broadwaytheanimatedseries]

Okay but hear me out!

Dead On Main Revolutionary Ghost Utena AU:

Canonically, Jason focuses his rage to summon the All Blade

Ghost Prince Danny would have the Ring of Rage, but not the Crown of Fire yet

I hypothesize to you that the two are connected, and not only that, but that wearing the ring allows one to draw the All Blade out of the other. Like, literally.

Because of this, summoning the All Blade of their own accord is the mark of a ghost powerful enough to be the ghost king's betrothed, and whatever other ghosts were in the running are pushed back in line as the All Blade wielder is now at the front.

It is part of ancient ceremony that predates Pariah as Ghost King and dates all the way back to the first Royal of the infinite realms, King Lazarus.

The connection itself is no more than a pull towards each other, a fascination at most to make an easier base to build a genuine and in this case, human connection.

To become actually engaged Jason would have to willingly appear before the Ghost Prince and allow him to draw the All Blade out of him, something he is not very excited for and might actually have other lasting impact besides the engagement.

Y'see Jason isn't a halfa the way Danny is, he came back twice in a short amount of time between those two instances, and while the second time was Lazarus induced, no one really knows how he woke up in his grave and broke himself out. There are theories but Clockwork was watching and even he doesn't seem to know for sure, so it's really anyone's guess.

So what the engagement ceremony could do, potentially, is either solidify his halfa status by sheer amount of ectoplasm transfered by the act, or alternatively it could just kill him on the spot and then he'd probably become a full ghost.

Now, neither of these sound great to Jason, but he also doesn't like that a bunch of ghosts have been trying to fight him for their Prince's hand in marriage, something they can only do while the Prince is still not engaged to anyone.

Meanwhile, Danny doesn't appreciate that as soon as he came of age all these marriage proposals started being thrown at him, he's known some of these ghosts since he was a teenager so that's really weird for one, and he gets that most of them are just trying to secure their happiness and not to mention their future safety as the mortal world seems to be moving on with the anti ecto act, which had lead many a specter to retreat back to the realms, causing a lot of unrest as the realms become more crowded and politically tense between factions who have not needed to interact for a while now.

It would seem the Amity portal and even Danny fighting the ghosts and sending them back through it was the break many of the realms' denizens desperately needed, but now with that option no longer being safe, as even their king can't protect them from the GIW when they're gaining so much support from governments across the world, tensions are running high in the realms and it seems that it's every ghost for themselves.

Danny doesn't really resent any of the ghosts for doing what they feel they must to make sure they aren't destroyed in what is shaping out to be a realms wide war at this point, even as he works overtime with his council to prevent that from happening, and he understands they obviously don't expect any actual marital kind of relationship from him, which is at least a little reassuring even if the idea of being married to any of them is still very weird, but he can't help but think there could be a better solution here that he's missing.

And then he feels it, a pull telling him he's overlooked something, someone important.

It's like a fire engulfing his ice core but not burning it somehow, just as it does not cool the fire around it.

Two opposite forces meant to cancel each other out, somehow instead keeping perfect equilibrium with one another.

He talks to Frostbite and Clockwork and finds out what that pull is and takes their advice to follow it.

Jason doesn't realize he just altered the source of all his recent problems to his location as he draws the All Blade to fend off yet another "challenger to the Prince's hand" whatever the hell that means, as finally one of them was dumb enough to try to use actual magic against him.

However, he soon feels the answering pull back from Danny as the latter decides to use the power in his ring to open the portal, feeling that this candidate should at least know he's coming to talk to him.

It's almost the opposite, he feels the fire of the pit madness flaring a bit, but instead of immediately trying to spread, to threaten to consume him unless he tempers it himself, it is still burning just as strong and wild, but kept in one place by an icy chill, an aura of cold, clear fury and calm in equal measure, it doesn't thaw from the fire anymore than his fire dies from the lack of heat around it.

They sustain each other, impossibly.

So Jason and Danny finally meet and give each other the rundown of their side of things and agree that maybe the best bet to not only stop ghosts from attacking Jason and proposing to Danny, but perhaps the key to overthrowing the GIW so the realms' denizens don't have to afterlive in fear and portals can be reinstated to allow travel through the realms and back, not to mention keeping the GIW from going after Jason himself who by their definition is certainly considered an ecto entity, is in fact to go through with the Ring and Blade ceremony.

Jason, at this point, is more of Earth than Danny, who has unfortunately had to step back from his normal mortal life when he turned 18 to take care of realms business, despite still only being Prince.

He was meant to have more time but with the GIW advancing like they had been it was in the realms' best interest as well as his own that he decree the realms going no contact with humans for the foreseeable future.

It's been nearly 3 years since then and they are still getting ghosts back from parts of the world who have been avoiding humans as much as they can.

As soon as he turned 21 all this ghost marriage nonsense has has been making his job of protecting the ghosts in all the realms a lot more difficult, so when ghosts realized he didn't want to be challenged every day for his hand, they went to the next best thing, the top candidate.

Now, Phantom was saying that he's gonna marry the guy they've all been trying to defeat (and failing, to his credit, so at least he was worthy of being top pick)

A lot of them were upset or disappointed, but he explained how this arrangement could potentially help out everyone in the long run and most got on board when they heard the new plan.

Now the only problem is that getting engaged, as mentioned previously, is a ceremony that could prove dangerous to Jason and "not to be insensitive about it, but if you die and become a ghost that sorta defeats one of the main purposes of us even doing this." Danny points out.

"So what's our plan, Your Majesty?" "It's Royal Highness, I'm not king yet, thank the ancients for that." "Yeah yeah, so what are we doing, Your Royal Whinyness?" "Rude. Anyway, there's a chance you might become a full halfa during the process, that means getting a second form and a fully developed core and powers besides the All Blade, which would be better than you dying. So the best way to ensure that outcome, as much as any outcome can be guaranteed anyway, is to start the process of making you a halfa before the ceremony."

"Okay? How do we do that?" "Well, we gotta get some ecto in you - " "aren't you made of that? This better not be a pickup line" "no, not like that! I told you, this marriage doesn't have to be anything more than a contract, I'm about as thrilled about having to get married to save my people as you are about doing this to stop ghost from kicking your ass on a weekly basis." "Excuse me? I won all those fights!" "Yeah, after getting tossed into brick walls 5 times per ghost" "not every ghost tossed me into walls. Box Bitch did throw crates at me tho, that hurt." "Holyshit, Boxy is not messing around anymore huh? Well, makes sense, he's a father now. He doesn't wanna raise his little girl in these conditions. Still glad he lost, but I'm surprised Lunch Lady even agreed to him trying."

So they start Jason on his ecto diet and in the meantime the batfam is brought up to date about everything that's happening and they get to work, Batman gathers the JL to push back on the GIW's fuckery and all of Jason's siblings have an engagement party and a bachelor bash to plan. The girls decide to plan a Bachelorette party for Danny because he deserves to have a break as well.

Jason hates his stupid family, but Danny seems happy to be part of one again after so long, so he sucks it up and plays along.

It's possible that maybe while preparing and planning and helping each other and working together, Jason has gotten to know and developed a fondness for Danny.

Okay so maybe he's a sappy fuck who fell head over heels in love with him in the span of like a month, but this is still just a contract to Danny, and Jason isn't going to push for or expect anything more. Danny doesn't need that kind of stress in his life rn.

Danny has been freaking out since he met his soon to be husband because holyshit that's Red Hood, that is THE Red Hood! No wonder he passed the trial of the All Blade, and the way that fire burned around Danny's core, a fire he now recognized as the warmth answering from Jason's own, made him realize that this is way more than just a contract to him. Still, he'd been part of the realms for a lot longer than Jason ans he was their future king. Jason as part of this contract would be his equal but until the marriage was sealed, he was still technically Jason’s superior. And it didn't feel right to take adventage of that and suddenly change the terms of this deal, to make Jason in any way feel pressured by Danny's own feelings. No, this was just a contract, like Jason wanted it to be. He would keep that promise to him.

Jazz and Babs get together to help their idiot baby brothers figure out their unrequited love is actually very much mutual pining and they're just being stupid.

Anyway the marriage ceremony is a different ritual from the engagement ceremony, the All Blade wielder summons it and presents it to the wearer of the ring, who sheaths it back into the summoner's core, symbolizing that they both have power over the Blade but it belongs to its wielder, and even the king himself may not keep it without permission. The Blade as a manifestation of Jason's will.

(And as a bonus, we know Jason is a literary nerd so he recognizes and appreciates the romance novel tropes happening to him, especially in the high king's court, but he is not a weeb. So I don't think he'd recognize the Utena references happening to him. But you know who I think would? You know who is a weeb who loves swords and is soooo jealous of Todd and his husband right now? It's Damian. Damian's fucking seething that he doesn't get a magic sword. He's so pissed and it's very funny.)

[149panda149]

TGCF: My theory on the inspiration behind the 4 calamities

In some of the oldest Chinese myths and legends, there are 4 guardian gods of the four cardinal directions - the green dragon, white tiger, crimson bird, and black tortoise, and each have a colour, season and element associated with them. I'm not sure if anyone has made this connection before, but I'm writing it down if anyone is interested. There are spoilers about the calamities' identity.

First, the 青龙 （qing long, green dragon) --> Qi Rong, Night-touring Green lantern.

The qinglong's territory is the East, and its colour is qing, which means green, or turqoise. Its element is wood, and its season is spring. Closely associated with royalty and the imperial family.

Now, for the similarities with our favourite green goblin. "qing" is literally the colour in Qi Rong's title, and his colour scheme. Qi Rong has a habit of hanging corpses from trees, which may be his relation to the element "wood". He does not have any obvious coleration with the season "spring"- perhaps he was born in spring. He is royalty, part of the imperial family as cousin to the crown prince.

Second, the 白虎 （bai hu, white tiger)--> Bai Wuxiang, White Clothed Disaster upon the Earth.

The baihu's territory is the West, its colour is white, element is gold/metal, and its season is summer. It is the king of all beasts, associated with disease and war, often used as a guardian symbol by soldiers.

On the other hand, Jun Wu's title, alias and colour scheme are all white, and has plenty of weapons that may be his link to the element of "gold/metal". I don't think he has anything to do with summer, but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong. He is king of the gods, a god of war, and the one to spread the human face disease.

As east and west are considered a pair, the guardian spirits are meant to reflect each other. In Chinese poems and such, symmetry is important, and both Qi Rong and Jun Wu were princes, one becoming revered by the highest of gods, covered with masks and false identities, one becoming the object of disgust by the lowest of ghosts, using his real name and face. There is a certain poetic symmetry to it, don't you think?

To the second pair. The 朱雀 (zhu que, crimson bird)----> Hua Cheng, Crimson Rain Sought Flower

The zhuque rules over the south, its colour is red, element is fire, and its season is summer. It is the king of all birds, more powerful than even the phoenix, immortal and undying. As such, in many places it is also considered a symbol of life.

Now, to the most popular ghost king: Hua Cheng. The english translation of his title is "crimson", and his colour scheme is indubitably red and autumn-y shades. He also re-re-met Xie Lian in autumn ( I think - I mean, the leaves were all red in the donghua??), and has died again and again to return like the zhuque. He is the king of all ghosts, with a great determination to live(sorta? are ghosts alive??) for his love.

Lastly, my personal favourite, the 玄武 (xuan wu, black tortoise)---->He Xuan, Black Water Sinking Ships

The xuanwu, also called a tortoise, is actually the only spirit to be a combination of 2 animals, a snake and a tortoise. It rules over the north. Its colour is black( sometimes depicted as dark blue), element is water, and its season is winter. In earlier legends, he is considered a guide and guardian to the netherworld, of death and of long life.

Thus, to our poor indebted water ghost. He Xuan's name is "xuan", the same! goddamn! character! as the spirit! His title and colour scheme are all to do with the colour black, and he is a water ghost because he died because of the Water Master. He has been marked by death, yet survived and vowed revenge. This, and the fact that his house is called the Nether Water Manor, is probably his relation to the netherworld of the xuanwu.

To the pair of south and north. Both Hua Cheng and He Xuan have suffered and suffered again, yet Hua Cheng chooses to linger on due to hope and love, and He Xuan due to revenge and hatred. But hatred and love are two sides of the same coin. If Hua Cheng hadn't experienced the hatred from his childhood, he wouldn't have thrown himself from the city wall and met Xie Lian. If He Xuan hadn't loved his family, so much, he wouldn't have broken that hard after their deaths to lose himself to hatred and empty vengence.

Aaaaaand that concludes this essay. Keep in mind that this is a theory, and probably even isn't true, but if anybody wants a more detailed description of the guardian spirits, or to know more about the similarities between the mythical creatures of ancient china and tgcf, I will be more than happy to make a part 2.

Thanks for reading!!