#I finally did one of Alyssas tags

[novaursa]

Valyrian Bride (Continuation)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: When your older brother, Jacaerys, promised you to Cregan to be his bride, the Lord Stark did not expect what he got - a trueborn dragon. 

- Paring: velaryon!reader/Cregan Stark

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: Final Chapter

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @daeryna @melsunshine @21-princess

Cregan Stark walked with the dragon princess by his side, feeling the eyes of his men and household upon them. There was a sense of pride that welled up inside him as they entered Winterfell’s stone halls. Not pride in himself, but in the fact that this fierce, regal woman—this vision of Old Valyria—was now his betrothed. It was no small thing to command the presence of such a creature, both her and the dragon she rode. The weight of that responsibility settled on his shoulders, but rather than burden him, it gave him a sense of purpose.

As they crossed the threshold into the Great Hall, the murmurs of those gathered inside came to a halt. Servants, bannermen, and even the most hardened of his household retainers stared openly. They weren’t accustomed to such grandeur, and even in a land where strength was admired, there was something otherworldly about the princess. Her silver-gold hair, the grace of her movements, and the quiet power that seemed to radiate from her drew their eyes like moths to flame.

The warmth of the hearthfire flickered against the cold stone walls, but in the presence of the dragon princess, it felt as though the heat came from her. She walked beside Cregan with an ease that belied her strength, her violet eyes scanning the hall as if she were already its lady, its queen.

Cregan couldn’t help but glance at her from the corner of his eye, watching as she moved like liquid fire, confident and unyielding. He could see the tension in the shoulders of his bannermen, the uncertainty in the eyes of the women who served the household. They were all taken aback, and Cregan couldn’t blame them. He had lived his whole life without seeing anyone like her, and he knew, without doubt, that no one here had ever stood before the true blood of Old Valyria until now.

She was a flame in the middle of a winter storm, a vivid contrast to the world of stone and snow that surrounded her.

“I trust the halls of Winterfell meet your expectations, my lady?” Cregan asked, his voice low but carrying in the stillness of the hall. He wanted to draw her into conversation, not only to ease his own nerves but to learn more of this woman who would soon be his wife.

She turned her gaze to him, a small smile curling on her lips, though it was hard to read the full depth of her thoughts. “It is as grand as the tales say, Lord Stark. A stronghold of honor and tradition.”

Her voice was steady, yet it held an edge to it, as if there was always something more behind her words. It was as though she was measuring everything, assessing him, the people around her, and the place she would soon call home.

“I trust it will serve as more than just a stronghold for you, my lady,” Cregan replied, his eyes meeting hers directly, a subtle challenge of his own. “Winterfell is now your home, and you are its future lady.”

The princess didn’t miss a beat. “Yes, Winterfell will be my home, but I have a home in the sky as well. I belong to both land and air, Lord Stark. Do not forget that.” There was a softness to her words, but it was clear. She may belong to the North by marriage, but her heart would always be tied to the skies, to her dragon.

Cregan inclined his head in acknowledgment. "I doubt anyone will forget, least of all after the sight of Vaetrix in our skies," he said, and then added, more softly, "She is a magnificent creature."

The princess's expression shifted slightly, pride mingled with affection as she spoke of her dragon. “Vaetrix is the daughter of Meleys, the Red Queen herself. Her lineage is one of fire and might. She carries the blood of dragons who have seen empires rise and fall, just as I do.”

Cregan’s brows raised slightly at the mention of Meleys. He had heard of the Red Queen, the swift and powerful dragon that had once belonged to Princess Rhaenys. Her reputation was legendary. To think that Vaetrix was her offspring made the connection between the princess and her dragon even more profound. "The Red Queen," Cregan murmured, nodding thoughtfully. "Your bond with her must be strong, then. I imagine not just any rider could command such a lineage."

Her eyes gleamed in response, as if the conversation about Vaetrix sparked something deeper within her. "A dragon and their rider are bound by more than blood, Lord Stark. We share a soul, a heart. Vaetrix and I have flown together since I was a girl. She is my closest companion, my fiercest ally."

There was a tenderness in her tone now, something almost protective. It made Cregan understand, even more clearly, the depth of the bond between her and the dragon. In a way, it reminded him of the wolves of his house—loyal, fierce, and bound by an unspoken connection. But this bond was greater, stronger, and far more dangerous. He respected it, even admired it.

“Then she will be an ally to the North as well,” Cregan said, his voice filled with conviction. "As you will be."

The princess turned her eyes back to him, her gaze sharp and knowing. "The North has been promised my fire, my lord. And I keep my promises."

Her words were more than just a vow—they were a reminder of the power she wielded, the power she had been born with. Cregan nodded in response, feeling a strange comfort in that certainty. He knew, without question, that she was someone who would fight with all her strength, for her family, her dragon, and soon, for the North.

They continued walking, Cregan leading her deeper into Winterfell’s great halls, where more of his household waited in silent anticipation. Every eye was upon them as they passed, but the princess seemed unbothered by the attention, as if she had long since grown used to the weight of expectation. Cregan noticed the way people parted in her presence, not out of fear, but out of reverence. She was the embodiment of fire, and all knew they were in the presence of something greater than themselves.

As they reached the heart of Winterfell, Cregan paused, turning to face her fully. “There will be a feast tonight in your honor. A celebration of our alliance.” He hesitated for a moment, then added, “It will be modest compared to what you may be accustomed to, but we take pride in what the North can offer.”

The princess’s gaze softened slightly, a hint of warmth in her eyes. “The North has already offered me more than I expected. I look forward to seeing its hospitality, Lord Stark.”

There was no mockery in her voice, no hint of the condescension he might have expected from someone raised in the splendor of court life. Instead, there was a genuine respect, a willingness to embrace the new life she was entering. Cregan nodded, feeling that strange mix of pride and anticipation once more.

As the evening drew near, Cregan knew the feast would be only the beginning. He had secured an alliance, but in the dragon princess, he had gained something far more—a partner of equal strength, whose fire would one day burn alongside his own.

The Great Hall of Winterfell was alive with the low hum of voices as the feast unfolded, the hearths were burning high to accommodate a dragon princess in it. Platters of roasted meats and winter greens filled the long tables, while horns of ale and wine passed freely from hand to hand. The air was thick with the scent of food and the crackle of the great fires, but despite the bustle of the hall, all eyes kept drifting toward the high table, where Lord Cregan Stark and his betrothed sat in full view of his bannermen, retainers, and household.

Cregan himself sat straighter than usual, though his posture seemed almost relaxed, as if he were entirely at ease in this moment. His eyes often flicked to the princess seated beside him, watching her as she navigated the curious gazes of the Northmen with the same grace she had displayed all day. There was something undeniably striking about her here, amidst the rustic grandeur of Winterfell’s Great Hall—her silver-gold hair gleaming in the firelight, her violet eyes calm yet ever watchful.

When the time came for toasts, the hall fell into a deep silence as Cregan stood, his horn of ale in hand. The attention of every man, woman, and servant shifted to him, their lord. His voice, strong and sure, carried through the hall.

“Tonight,” he began, “we honor more than just a union between two houses. We honor the blood of dragons and the fire that has joined with the winter.” He paused, his gaze sweeping the room before landing on the princess beside him. “The daughter of Princess Rhaenyra, the only daughter of House Targaryen, has come to the North. She is now our guest, and soon, she will be my wife.”

A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, but it was tempered by the awe that still hung in the air. Many had never seen a woman like her, let alone one of royal Valyrian descent. To them, she was more legend than flesh and blood.

Cregan raised his horn higher, his eyes never leaving hers. “To the Lady of Fire,” he said, his voice full of pride. “To the daughter of Rhaenyra!”

The hall erupted in cheers, the echo of voices bouncing off the ancient stone walls. Horns were raised, clashing together in raucous celebration as the Northmen embraced their lord’s words. And yet, even amidst the noise, Cregan saw the way his men stole glances at the princess, admiration clear in their eyes.

The princess raised her own horn in response, a subtle smile playing on her lips as she inclined her head toward Cregan. "To the North," she said, her voice soft but carrying through the hall with a clarity that commanded attention. "And to the strength of its people."

The words were simple, but they carried weight. The hall seemed to settle after that, the conversations resuming with renewed vigor as the feast carried on. Yet Cregan’s focus remained fixed on her.

As the noise of the hall filled the space around them, Cregan leaned slightly toward her, his voice low so that their conversation would remain private. “You’ve impressed them already,” he remarked, his eyes glinting with a rare hint of amusement. “It takes much to win the respect of Northmen, but I see it in their eyes.”

The princess turned to him, her violet gaze meeting his with a certain calm, but there was a flicker of curiosity there too. “I hadn’t expected to win their respect so soon,” she said, her tone thoughtful. “But I do not think it is me they respect so much as the idea of the alliance—of what we represent.”

Cregan considered her words, his brow furrowing slightly as he mulled them over. “Perhaps,” he allowed, “but it’s more than just an alliance. They see you, a dragon’s daughter, and they understand the power that you carry. You’re no simple marriage prize.”

Her lips curved upward, just a fraction. “Is that how you see me, Cregan Stark? A symbol of power?”

He chuckled softly, the sound low in his throat. “I see you as many things, princess. Power is just one of them.”

Her smile grew more visible now, and there was something lighter in her expression, as if she were pleased by his words, even if she did not show it openly. “And what else do you see, my lord?”

Cregan leaned in just a fraction more, his voice dropping. “I see a woman with a mind as sharp as the blade she wears. I see a rider whose bond with her dragon makes her stronger than any queen. And,” his eyes softened, the faintest glimmer of admiration in them, “I see someone who will stand beside me, not behind me.”

She studied him for a moment, as if weighing the truth of his words, and then nodded, seemingly satisfied. “Good,” she said, her tone firm but carrying an edge of warmth. “Because I have no intention of standing behind anyone.”

Cregan allowed himself a smile then, something rare and unguarded. It felt easy, natural in her presence, something he hadn’t anticipated. She wasn’t just a symbol of fire and dragons—she was alive, filled with strength and grace in equal measure, and with each passing moment, Cregan found himself looking forward to what the future might bring with her at his side.

For the rest of the evening, Cregan’s mood remained light, his smiles more frequent than anyone could remember seeing before. The hall, filled with food, laughter, and music, felt brighter somehow, as if the fire she had brought with her from the skies had seeped into Winterfell itself. There was a warmth there that was new, a change carried on dragon’s wings.

Years later, when scholars and storytellers recalled that night, they would write about how Lord Cregan Stark, known for his stoic nature, had smiled more during that feast than any had seen before, save for two other occasions—on his wedding day, and when the first child of the Dragon Princess was born in the cold halls of Winterfell. But for now, the legend was only beginning.

As the feast wore on, Cregan turned to her again, unable to resist asking, “Do you think Vaetrix feels at ease here in the cold North? It’s far from the warmth of Dragonstone.”

She tilted her head, her silver-gold hair catching the firelight once more. “Vaetrix is not concerned with warmth or cold,” she replied. “She is her mother’s daughter, bred for strength and flight, and the North’s cold will not trouble her. Besides,” her smile grew, more playful this time, “she knows I will not be far from her.”

Cregan nodded. “She is a creature of legend, like her rider,” he said softly.

The princess turned her eyes to him, the faintest flush of warmth in her cheeks. For a moment, the fire of her Valyrian blood met the unyielding strength of the North in Cregan’s gaze, and in that shared moment, both knew their bond would be one of legend.

The fire had come to Winterfell, and it would burn for generations to come.

[just-some-random-blogger]

The Salt In My Blood

You were the beloved Jewel of the Realm, the youngest Targaryen born to Alyssa and Baelon. Though your nature resembled more a lamb rather than a dragon, you posed a threat at court, for a single word out of your mouth inspired a thousand actions from The King and The Rogue Prince. Thus, your match with the Lord of the Iron Islands.

Daemon Targaryen x Targaryen!Reader x Dalton Greyjoy | 6k+ | cw: fem!reader, targcest (sister!reader), reader has valyrian features (silver hair, violet eyes), power imbalance, graphic depictions of violence/assault/murder/death, canon divergence/inaccurate timelines, ye old misogyny, fuckedupedness of men, smut (dub con, loss of virginity, piv, biting, marking, breeding kink, corruption kink, baby trapping, cockwarming, cunnilingus), internet translated high valyrian, angst, social commentary, typos, etc.

A/N: !!mind the warnings!! This is really yucky because it is. all men do is hurt women. Also I did basic research for Dalton Greyjoy and just used him cuz I needed a character. idk what he's actually like and I'm 99% sure this timeline doesn't add up so, just roll w it ok? Ok. If my internet translated high valyrian sucks, well, it be like that. And surprise surprise i made another song for a fic because i should make use of my music degree while im jobless 💔 my heart goes out to @arabellasleopardcoat because her fic capital really poked my brain and got me fired up enough to write/create again, even if just for this fic. i love you.

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx @delicious-xx @deniixlovezelda @targaryenmoony @risefallrise @thebullship @sa3losa @sloanexx @azperja @happilyhertale

Father, father, shining star, save my brother from the war. Mother, mother, hold me close. I fear brother won't come home. So, I pray, night and day, I do my duty here. Find me, oh [a] husband, so fierce with not a fear. Father, father hears my prayer. Mother, mother dries my tears. All my strife ends tonight for my husband's here.

"But what if someone sees," you whisper.

Daemon clutches your hand tighter as you hurry down the hall. He looks over to you, your expression matches your shaky voice.

Perhaps, had the conditions been different, he'd be softened by your words. The ferocity of his protectiveness would have made him stop in his footsteps and clutch your cheek. Perhaps he would have promised to safeguard you.

But these conditions did not elicit such urges from him. No. It stoked the fires bacchanal in his gut. The stolen taste of your honeyed lips in the garden was not enough.

Daemon finally brings his darling sister into his bedroom, and there, he answers you, "who would dare spy on the king's heir, the prince of the realm?"

Your breath quickens at the sound of your brother locking the door.

The prince of the realm stalks over to you, a dragon gazing upon a meek lamb.

Again, you whisper, "what if someone finds out?"

Daemon could growl. He almost did as he grabs your waist and sinks his head into the crook of your tender neck. You don't even react when he does this, save for your gasp.

Oh, how like you, how docile and doe-like, never one to raise your voice, or fight back, especially not with him.

"Let them find out, sister," he claws your clothing, "then they will not steal you from me."

You are so pliant as he squeezes you, so soft as he roughs you back to his bed. You let him handle you like he did your dolls growing up. He treated them with less than a quarter of the gentleness you would; they'd end up tattered and broken because of him by the end of your playing session, much to your heartbreak.

Though you cried about it, you never once held it against him, because each time, Daemon would wipe your tears and apologize. He liked breaking your dolls. He liked being your comfort.

He knew without a sliver of doubt you'd let him do the same to your body. You'd let him break you, then kiss the tears off your cheeks. You'd let him, for he was your star, and you were his doll.

Daemon presses you beneath him. He lays you down where he sleeps. He kisses you, the way he has sometimes imagined he would while touching himself, or while in the arms of another. His long, silver hair cascades down his shoulder, joining your long, silver hair that's spilled on his pillows.

For so long, he's denied himself of you, because you were too pure, too darling to be tainted.

You whimper as he pushes your skirts up, bunching them by your ribs.

But now, it's all different.

His mouth suckles its way to your neck.

"Daemon."

Now, it's not about denial. It's about what's right. It's about what you deserve.

"Daemon-" you whimper when he reaches into the waistband of your smallclothes, "-wait."

He breathes hotly against your jaw. He grabs your knees and parts them for himself.

You push his shoulders back, catching his attention. He is displeased, and not even your glassy eyes could quell it. He warns you with an annoyed sound.

You gulp but mutter anyway, "this is wrong."

"Wrong?!" snaps he.

You tense at his anger, yet even then, you caress his cheek gently, "I am to be married to Lord Dalton Greyjoy."

"And you would have me believe you want him?" Daemon quips, "that you do not want me?"

You push yourself up on your elbows. Tears begin to spill from the corner of your eyes, "Daem-"

"Why do you think I am doing this?" He pushes himself against your core.

You whimper at the contact. He is hard.

He grabs your wrists and pins them to your sides, "I do this for your sake, little girl. To save you from your prison."

You gulp and blink rapidly, your silver lashes lace with tears.

The slightest semblance of remorse flashes on your brother's face.

With your head lifted, you watch as Daemon brings his hands to your ankles instead. He rids you of your shoes and chucks them over his shoulder.

Slowly, he strips you naked until you are left in nothing but the jewelry and the stockings he bought you once before.

You cover your breasts, and he lets you while he kneads at your slightly parted thighs.

His eyes are glued on your womanhood, on the curls that don't see the light of day and the flesh that's never been touched by a man.

Daemon clenches his jaw as his fingers inspect the heat there. The two digits find molten wetness flooding your entrance. You make a breathless sound and squeeze your thighs, trying, with pointless effort, to stop him. His eyes flick to your face, the look of embarrassment, of shock, of pleasure visible to him. He debates forcing your legs.

He licks his you-coated fingers and tuts instead, "open."

You look at him, your Daemon, with a faint line between his brows. You close your mouth and lick your lips. Your hands find their way back to your breasts.

The sight is maddening, especially with how the jewel of your necklace looks between the squished mount of flesh.

"Open," he commands with less patience.

Daemon watches his darling princess part her legs for him. His trousers strain more than it did already.

He watches you closely and motions with a finger to your chest, "those too."

You do not immediately comply. In fact, you look at Daemon with pleading eyes. He raises his brows at your bratty demeanor, and shakes his head, "are you disobeying me?"

You see the threat in his eyes.

"Kessa nyke mazverdagon ao rūnagon aōha dīnagon?" Shall I make you remember your place?

You shake your head and pipe softly, "daor." No.

Finally, you reveal your breasts to him.

He smirks, "good girl."

Your brother kneads your delicate flesh and grinds his clothed groin against your weeping cunt. The sound you emit makes the feel of the clothes on his skin unbearable.

He grabs your hands and places them on his waistband. He looks down at you as he rids himself of his top. By the time his burning chest is free, you've gotten half the wits to undo his breeches.

His eyes don't leave you as he takes off his shoes.

You timidly pull his pants down, sitting up slightly as you do. You make a soft sound when his manhood flings free. Daemon shoves you back and does the rest himself.

"Daemon. I don't think-"

Your voice is crushed by the feel of his cock sliding into you. A rush of heat ripples through your body. He leans down and kisses your shoulder as you whine.

"Enough," he pants. He uses all his restraint not to fuck you dumb then and there. He grabs your thighs, pressing them into your chest. He can feel your tension. If he fucks you now, he could leave you unable to walk straight. But as sweet as that sounds, he doesn't actually want to hurt you, not that way.

Daemon sinks down to your jugular and kisses you there before he brings his hungry mouth to your breast. He sucks and nips, imagining it being heavy with milk for his babe, the babe he'd put into your belly.

The thought makes his moan and rut his hips.

You make a strained sound and your hands push at his arms. You call his name again, soft and shaky.

Daemon tries to ignore you, his palm coming to your lonely breast on the other side, but the persistent call of his name makes him sigh.

He lightly grazes your nipple before he releases your flesh. He trails kisses up your skin until he lands on your face, your face, which was now wet with salt.

"You need to relax. Mmm?" he coos, kissing your lips, "skoro syt gaomagon ao limagon? Hm?" Why do you cry?

You adjust beneath him, repositioning your thighs, digging your fingers into his nape. You whimper, "lēkia."

Daemon's belly burns. Look at you, crying for your older brother.

"Kessa, ñuha hāedar?" Yes, my little sister?

"Iksan zūgagon," you mutter, tears streaming down your temples. Your nails scratch up his scalp. I am afraid.

Daemon, selfish as he is, does not like the fact that leaves your lips. His brows furrow. He rubs your thighs in an attempt to comfort you. He kisses the corner of your lips, "hen lēkia?" Of your older brother?

You shake your head quickly, rubbing your thumb on his jaw.

His brows furrow tighter. His hold on your thigh tightens, "hen bona Āegenka Āzma?" Of that Iron Born?

You stay still. You take a moment before mumbling, "Viserys said I should marry him for my own good-"

"Fuck that cunt Viserys," he spits angrily.

Your lips quiver.

The anger in Daemon's chest dissipates as you rub the deep line between his brows. He props himself up, sinking a hand by the side of your head. He looks down at you.

"You cannot protect me forever," you whisper, finally relaxing beneath him.

Daemon watches as you lick your lips.

You gulp, "I am a Targaryen princess. I have duties to the realm, to my family."

"Your duty is with me," he grabs your hand, bringing it to his chest.

Your violet eyes sparkle as you examine his features. You tuck the long tresses that block his face behind his ear. Your belly ignites at the fierce beauty of your beloved brother.

"I burn for you," Daemon says, "I know that you burn for me."

"But Daemon-"

The gentle thrust of his hips stifle your words.

You whimper and instinctively mold your body against him. Your legs tighten around his torso as his thrusts grow more and more confident.

"Enough," Daemon repeats this time softer, head sinking back into the crook of your neck, "you have always belonged to me, and you know it."

Daemon kisses you, delighting in the gasp you give when he plays with your pearl. He muffles the sound of your mewls with his mouth.

"They insult us all by daring to mix dragon blood with fucking sea squid," he pants, "you were meant to carry my seed, be my bride."

You moan, feeling a foreign force in your belly.

"I will not let that sewer monster be the one to make you a woman," Daemon licks a stripe up your neck.

You tangle your fingers into the roots of his hair, "Daemon."

His nails scratch up your sides, "twas I that watched you blossom into womanhood, tis I that should be the one to take it."

Neither of you speak after he says this. You both simply whimper, wordlessly agreeing your bodies were made for each other.

The prince had not a single care in the world. He urges you to scream out to him with the flick of his pelvis. He didn't care if anyone could hear, neither did he care that anyone would see the viscious marks he was leaving all over your throat.

You were better than he had ever imagined, and he was determined to make you his. He was intent on emptying his stones, over and over again, until you could take no more, until you were too exhausted to leave, until your body had no other choice but to carry him a child.

And when he finally does spill into you, coming with a grunt and a soft, "you're mine," you, the virgin princess finally understand the fuss over sex, and reply to him with an, "I love you."

Daemon fucks you until his bed is soiled with a mix of your come. He fucks you until every minute movement from him makes you shiver and whine. He fucks you until your skin is marked with tender bites. He fucks you until you beg for respite, and then he keeps himself inside you after.

You were a worn little thing, and yet you managed the energy to still cling to him as you dozed off.

He kisses your temple and sleeps soundly, knowing he's done it, he's made his claim; you were his. That was irrefutable. Only a madman would deny him of you now. He basks in the pleasure of your body, and in the knowledge his baby sister so wholeheartedly trusted in him to let him do this.

One can only imagine, then, the mortified horror you felt when you were given to Lord Greyjoy anyway.

This was not part of the plan. You were meant to meet Daemon. He told you you were going to speak to the king together, and yet here your eldest brother was, ushering you towards your captor-husband to be.

"My princess," Dalton says, reaching a hand to you.

You stare at his glimmering eyes, finding nothing but malice and lust behind them. You turn to your brother for help. You do not want to touch this man.

Viserys offers you none and looks away. It hurts when he does so, especially since he does so with such apparent scorn. He smiles at Dalton, "greet your lord. You will soon be wed to him, sister."

You muster enough artificial interest to smile. Goosebumps form on your skin when he kisses the back of your hand.

He notices and chuckles, rubbing where he kissed, "such demureness. Do not be frightened of me, my dragon. I would not hurt such a pretty thing."

You clasp your hands together after he releases you.

"Not unless you ask," he adds, bursting into a laugh.

Neither you or Viserys return the amusement. In fact, the latter's face contorts at the distasteful joke. His nostrils flare, "you dare jest such uncouth things in front of your king?"

Dalton Greyjoy is unbothered, but stifles his laughter. He clears his throat and bows, "my apologies, my king. Tis the Ironborn in me. I cannot help my nature, much like you cannot help yours."

You feel light headed the entirety of this interaction. The room feels like it was closing in on you, and you kept glancing at the door, praying that your other brother free you from this torment.

He does not. He does not come. In fact, you do not see Daemon anywhere the entire day.

Dalton keeps you by his side, taking your arm in his as he makes you stroll him around the Red Keep. You do so, of course, no matter how strong the urge to run away and hide from him was. The entire time, Dalton recounts his stories of battle, his stories at sea, his stories of life. He's sincere enough, but you are not interested in the slightest.

"I think you'd enjoy the feel of sea salt against your skin, just as much you enjoy the whip of the clouds," he grins with genuine enthusiasm.

Any response you have is put out by his next words.

"I can introduce you to my salt-wives."

"Salt-wives?"

"Aye," he says proudly, "I'd say I have about twenty, but I cannot assure you its accuracy."

You are horrified. Finally, you have the gall to pull away, "what?"

Dalton chuckles, somehow amused, but his brows furrow, as if irritated, "we Ironborn keep salt wives in our ships, to give us comfort and warmth when the sea gets too rough. Is this princess so sheltered to not know this?"

You curdle when he reaches for your neck.

"You needn't be jealous. You'd be my one and only rock wife."

You scowl at his condescending tone, "I thought that was just a wives' tale."

He laughs. It is rich, amused, and foreboding. He shakes his head, "it's about as much of a wives' tale as your dragons are, princess."

Later that night, you weep at the king's feet, begging him not to marry you off to such a man.

Viserys does not hear it, and it is only then that Daemon finally appears.

When he does, it's as if the gods themselves breathed life into you. Quickly, you run into him and sob into his chest.

Daemon holds you tightly and glares at the king, "what have you done to her?"

Viserys scoffs. The dark room, illuminated only by the fireplace and a few lit candles, feels to him like it's darkened because of Daemon. He shifts where he sits, "I? I found her a husband."

Daemon's eye twitches, "you gave her to me! You said it just this morning."

You look up at Daemon, hopeful at the sound of his words.

"I said I would think about it once you report your patrol at the City Watch to me."

Daemon releases you to impose on his brother, "I kept your city clean from crimes and safe for the people."

"And where did you go after?" Viserys narrows his eyes.

You rub your arms as you watch your brothers argue.

Daemon does not respond.

Viserys turns to you, "tell your beloved sister where you went after your patrols."

Daemon does not move.

Your chest tightens at the silence, "... Daemon."

The said man opens his mouth, "I went to get a dri-"

"A whorehouse!" Viserys blurts, rising from his seat to glare at Daemon. He turns back to you, pushing past him, "I would know. I paid every whore in Fleabottom to seduce him."

Your heart leaps into your mouth, "w-what?"

Daemon is stunned.

"See now," Viserys is close enough to clutch your cheeks, "your beloved brother is a man like all the rest. No more is the dragon righteous than the kraken."

Your eyes begin to fog with tears. Your hands begin to tremble. Why was he doing this to you?

"Greyjoy is no less a dog than the rest of us. He at least, is honoring a tradition. Daemon honors only his cock."

You turn to Daemon, hoping to find this was not the case, but his expression says it all. You let a pained whimper, "you teach me so cruelly, brother."

"I teach you," he swipes your tears with his thumbs, "for your own good."

"You fucking--"

You scream in terror as Daemon lunges at Viserys. You reel back and watch as the two crash down to the floor, the younger of them finding the upper hand. They roughly struggle against each other.

You can no longer remain simply screaming when Daemon grabs Viserys by the collar and slams him repeatedly against the ground, especially not when Viserys claws at Daemon's face to get him off. You dash forward just as the guards order the prince to stop.

It only takes another scream from you, begging them to stop, for the kingsguards to burst into the room.

You grab Daemon's arm, and out of instinct, he swats you back, hand hitting your nose with rage powered force.

You shoot back into a kingsguard, feeling your face throb in pain. You swipe your philtrum and find red on your fingers.

It takes Viserys screaming your name for Daemon to stop and realize what he's done.

The impact of hitting the armored man makes your back twinge, but it does not hurt nearly as much as the back handed hit you received from your brother.

The kingsguard catches you and stands you upright. He quickly asks if you are alright, but doesn't wait for an answer because he's then shoving Daemon back, putting himself between him and you when he tries to come near.

Daemon glares in offence.

"Throw him in the fucking dungeon," Viserys spits out as he is helped up by another guard.

Daemon fights back, but is no match against three guards.

He screams your name as he is dragged off.

You clutch your face as he tells you he didn't mean to hit you. You face throbs as he tells you he loves you, and only you.

For once, you doubt his words.

Viserys comes to your side, placing a gentle hand in your shoulder. You watch as he commands a servant to get something for your injury.

He clutches your cheek that was struck and sighs, "if you wed the Red Kraken, you will strengthen our hold on the Iron Lands. Dalton Greyjoy is a formidable warrior. I couldn't think of a more capable man to safekeep the Jewel of the Realm."

As he stroked your hair, you realized that Viserys was right. It didn't matter who it was, all men were the same. When your septa warned you of men's depravity, you believed your brothers to be the exception. Now, you knew exactly why you were called-

"Little lamb," Viserys coos, "I only want what is best for all of us."

You were too naive to believe in good things.

And so you marry Dalton Greyjoy the next day.

The haste with which the wedding is prepared is to prevent you from changing your mind, you figured. That, and to keep Daemon in prison for the least amount of time.

Part of you wanted to visit him, but part of you wanted him to suffer. In the end, you realized you were too weak to behold your brother as a prisoner.

Daemon screams and bangs at his bars, demanding he be released. But the prison guards have handled worse and throw cold water at him to shut him up.

He knew by the time he was free, he would be too late to stop your marriage, but still, he meticulously planned what he would do the moment he was.

That night, after the wedding festivities were over, Dalton takes you to your room and makes you his wife.

"It's been a while since I've had a virgin," Dalton says, caressing your cheek, "don't worry, I will be gentle."

You want to scream, you want tofight him back, but you remember you're not a virgin, and fear paralyzes you. You mumble, "m-my dragon riding."

Dalton pushes back bour silver hair and kisses your shoulder.

You can't help but think of Daemon in this moment, but it makes you feel sick, and so you will him out of your head. You mumble again, "my dragon riding may taken my womanhood."

Dalton pulls away and stares at you for a moment.

"I- I was told as a child, it happened to many Targaryen princesses."

He pulls his hands, which were on your hips, away then shoves you down on your bed. He smirks as he undoes his clothing, "then I can be rough with you, aye?"

You quiver at his gaze.

He laughs, shaking his head, "didn't I say I would not hurt you? Unless under your request?"

You inch back as he crawls over. He grabs your ankle, then the other, causing you to panic. You instinctively kick him off, but instead of being deterred, he is excited.

"Sh, sh, sh," he hushes, "it will not be unpleasant, my dragon."

Your skin pricks with gooseflesh when he removes your shoes, your socks, then sneaks his hand up your skirt.

You whimper and turn away, finding you could no longer kick back when he seizes your knees.

"Please-"

"Shhh," he hushes, giving you the first solemn look he has this entire day he's been smug, "I've had much practice from my salt wives. You, my rock wife, will taste the fruits of my practice... as I taste you."

You gasp when he suddenly rips your underwear off.

"I swear to you, your body will enjoy it, even if your mind wants you to believe otherwise."

You muffle your mouth with your palm when you feel Dalton sink in between your thighs.

He was right.

The entire time he touches you, it feels like your skin was being scorched. Your heart was not in it, but your body twisted in pleasure. You hated that you longed for Daemon, even after the fact you were not enough for him; he was still the only one you, and this moment proved it.

You were brought to tears at how pathetic it was. Tears streamed as you reached your peak, one of the many you receive from your... husband.

He handled you with carnal instinct, just as Daemon did, but unlike him, Dalton did not kiss your tears. In fact, he did not kiss your face once. It is you that initiates such a thing, amidst the throes of your lewd pleasure. He grabs your jaw when your lips connect, and quickly releases his load into you after.

Your peak is cut short because he pulls out just when you reach it.

You watch as he rolls over and goes to sleep without another word.

The next morning, the servants call you Princess Greyjoy and it haunts you.

"No need to look so sullen, wife," you hear over your shoulder.

If the cold from the early morning wasn't enough to make you shiver, the kiss on your shoulder was.

The ship rocks as you tear your gaze away from King's Landing, King's Landing that looked so tiny now from where you stood. A sea of tears laid between you and the home that will never be yours again. You turn to Dalton. He leans his elbows on the edge of the ship and looks up at you, "we can do many things to liven your mood."

You watch him as he rubs your hips. Your stomach curdles but you manage to offer a smile, "I... am flattered, but I do not want to distract the captain of this ship."

Dalton chuckles and straightens up, "trust me. The crew would appreciate it if you did."

You squeak when he yanks you into him.

"Right boys?!" he calls loudly, "shall I make a salt wife out of my rock wife?!"

The crew cheers and it makes your skin burn in mortification.

The next thing you know, you are thrown over his shoulder. He slaps your ass and takes you to his quarters. The crew laughs as he does.

You helplessly grunt when he drops you on his bed-- your shared bed. You silently peer up at him as he stares at you. You are relieved he paces across the room, towards his table. He grabs something and chucks it at you. You flinch but manage to catch it.

He sits on the table as you inspect the pouch. You open it, finding herbs inside.

"I heard you've been drinking that," he says.

You look up at him.

"Haven't you?" he asks.

You smell it and wretch. It smells exactly like-

"Moon tea," Dalton says, making your blood run cold, "for the bastard in your belly.*

You are frozen in your spot. Your stomach drops when he stands and walks over. He grabs your chin. It is not harsh, but it strikes fear in you anyway.

"I asked you a question, wife."

You open your mouth, but no words come out.

"HAVE YOU BEEN TAKING THE FUCKING TEA OR NOT?" he screams, grabbing your neck.

Your hands fly to his grip. Your fingers attempt to pry him away.

You wheeze when he squeezes you. Your flail your legs and try to kick him off. You can't. Just as your vision begins to go dark, he releases you. You fall onto the bed and frantically try to catch your breath. You cough and hear him smash things around the room.

And so you behold the man who said he would not hurt you unless you asked him, brutalize the furniture.

You think your chances are better in the sea rather than on this boat. You slowly maneuver towards the door while he is distracted. Just as you are about to sprint, he grabs you and throws you back down on his bed.

"You stupid slut!" he screams, "you think you can run?!

You try to scream for help, but the pain in your throat when you try to stops you. Not a second later, you scream anyway.

He slaps you across the face, promptly silencing you. The sting is ten times worse than what Daemon did.

"I was promised a Targaryen princess, not some whore of a dragon!" he screams, kicking the chair by his desk across the room.

You feel lightheaded. You see double.

He laughs angrily, shaking his head, "dragon riding, my arse."

Indistinguishable sounds leave your lips.

Your heart drops as he storms over.

"Who's the father of your bastard child?!"

"ANSWER ME!" he demands, grabbing your shoulders, dragging you to your feet. Your head recoils at the sheer force of it. You take a moment to steady your head.

Your eyes search Dalton's enraged features, hoping to chance upon a sliver of compassion... in vain. The sound that leaves your mouth is response to the bruising squeeze of your arms. You cannot help but whimper as tears stream down your cheeks, "you're hurting me."

He is further angered by this. He gives you a powerful shake. Your head lashes back again and you scream.

"Give me a name!" erupts the lord.

You no longer have it in you to hold your tongue, and so you confess, "Daemon!"

Dalton releases you. He is repulsed, "your brother?" He scoffs, "you revolting, little worm," he slaps you again, making you lose your balance.

Before you crash into anything, he grabs you and keeps you upright. You can feel your cheek and lips swell at his assault. You taste iron on your lips.

"And here they had me believing you were some meek lamb," he laughs dryly, brushing your hair back, "you're nothing but a whore, grown from perversion and abomination."

Your expression hardens. You glare at him and rebut, though your head was pounding, "and your sea rituals are more righteous than my family traditions?"

Without another word, Dalton shoves you back, propelling you into his desk. Your skull crashes against the edge with a horrendous thud.

You fall limp onto the floor. Dalton cares little if you were dead or unconscious. He walks out of the room right before he can witness the red staining your white hair.

Dalton is no fool. He knows better than to disfigure a Targaryen princess.

He walks towards the wheel of the ship and continues the course to what his crew believed to be a shortcut to home. In truth, he was bringing the ship to its doom, to face you with with a trail of the sea.

He would crash the ship into a chokehold of rocks, and if you survived, if he found your floating body, he would keep you, as you proved your resilience. But if you were swallowed into the depths, if he was unable to find you in the debris, he would praise the Drowned god for your riddance.

The same want with his crew.

Of course, there was a bit of this that felt like suicide, but he knew he was too vengeful to die, so he knew he had nothing to fear.

When the Greyjoy ship finally reached the rocky pass, Dalton was promptly warned of the danger by his lookout, who he obviously ignored.

He ordered to hoist the sails, and, blindly, the crew followed, even through apparent worry.

It didn't take very long after for the ship to crash into the cliffs.

The crew clamors. They scream and panic, turning to their captain that could not care less. He pretends to steer them to safety, but he actually slammed them further into their demise.

The deck begins to crumble. The mast snaps. The sails break off. Dalton calls to abandon ship.

The crew don't need any more convincing.

One by one, each man for their own, they try to escape with their life.

By the time Dalton jumps off the ship, the thing is half submerged in the water, crumbs of it on the side of a rock.

It was pure chaos.

Dalton swims far enough from the destruction, and knows his god smiled upon him and his decision when he sees a large wooden slab he can climb on.

He does just that and looks out to his crew, helping the ones that manage to swim over, commanding the others calling for help to simply swim or drown.

He looks around, trying to make out a body of a woman, a blob of a dress, a head of silver hair in the aftermath.

"My wife," he screams, "has anyone seen my wife?!"

He wasn't concerned, of course. He just wanted to know his fate as a husband, but this did make for a good alibi.

His surviving men look and swim around for you. They find no trance.

Dalton presses his lips, "little dragon couldn't fly away."

They take refuge on a cliff. Lord Greyjoy tells his crew not to bitch and panic because they will surely be found by a passing ship soon enough.

He had planned this shipwreck after all.

By the time Dalton and his remaining men were saved, a flash of red circled in the setting sky, hovering over the massive rock that held the shipwreck that bore the sigil of Greyjoy.

Caraxes screeches as his rider commands him to get closer to the scene. The dragon hesitates but eventually lands on the cliff. Waves crash upon the area, causing the beast to bleat when he is wet.

Daemon is frantic as he gazes upon the destruction. He is distressed unlike he's ever been. His voice is distinctly desperate and hysterical. He screams out your name, even though it was nothing against the roar of the splashing waves.

He heaves heavily as he erratically decides to dismount and jump into the water.

As he wades, he tries to convince himself that what he was doing was for naught-- perhaps you were not here to begin with. But the gut feeling was overwhelming; it was sickening.

He tries to believe that bottom feeder, Greyjoy, saved you before his ship crumbled. He tries to convince himself that cunt's lust for you was enough reason to keep you alive.

But he remembers the servant he threatened with a knife whilst demanding to know which route your ship would take. He thinks of how he almost shit himself while confesssing to Daemon that Greyjoy planned to pass through a rocky region as a shortcut. But Daemon's flown over that area, and knew it was out of the way to the Iron Islands.

After squeezing out what's left from that servant, Daemon's face falls when he mentions that rusted octopus had an argument with a servant girl that came to serve the princess a cup of tea.

Daemon was no fool. Dalton was a butish barbarian. If he found out you were drinking Moon Tea, he would do his worst on you for blemishing his pride.

And so he swam. Daemon swam, dove down, and searched for your body until he had to stop because Caraxes was getting restless. He commanded him to calm down, but he could only do it so many times until he, himself, was the same.

He eventually gets back on Caraxes. Daemon can't bring himself to leave just yet however, and finds himself praying to whatever god out there to return his love back to him.

Caraxes circles the area one last time before heading off. For some reason, Daemon feels the urge to check underneath a large slab of shattered wood. He commands his mount to lift it, and the dragon screeches as he does what he can with his hind legs.

The sound that leaves the prince's mouth is what could only be described as pure anguish.

A head of silver hair floats up and wafts in the water along with a tattered dress. Your body garnered a horrid tone of grey and you were missing your shoes.

Daemon cannot contain the tears that gush out of his eyes.

Caraxes carries your body in his claws all the way to the Keep.

The way in which he commands his ride to set your body down is frantic and incredibly detailed. Part of him realizes Caraxes probably recognized you, considering the way he laid on his belly and sniffed you as Daemon buckled to his knees and lamented over your frigid body.

He speaks to you in High Valyrian. His salty tears drip on your salt water drowned body. He promises he will never trick you, never argue with you, and never make you cry ever again if only you open your violet eyes.

He rocks back and forth with you in his arms, unsure which of you he was soothing by doing this.

He swears he will turn the sea red with blood and burn the whole Iron Islands to avenge you.

He is incredibly uncomfortable of the chill of your skin. He shakes his head, telling you dragons must not be kept cold. He kisses your face in an attempt to warm it up. He recounts a time where you accidentally spilled candle wax on him, burning his skin, and tells you that you still need to make up for your offence. He tells you he will forgive you if you simply hold him back.

Viserys had to account for three dragons by the time he found out what was happening, one was Daemon, whose grief morphed into murderous spite. He threatened to slay anyone who wanted to take you from him. Not again. Another was Caraxes, who refused to leave his heartbroken rider's side. The last was your dragon, who felt the loss of your connection, and went into a rabid state mourning.

It takes 5 people to secure your dragon in the pit, 5 people to subdue Caraxes, and 3 people to separate Daemon from your corpse.

The king takes a moment to clutch your hand. His face flinches. Where once your hand was so warm, no warmth now remained. He steps back and watches the maesters cover your body and take you away.

[frankcastleonlyfans]

Dad!Daemon is perfect!!! (mostly dad of a girl) that being said, I was wondering if you could write about baby! Alyssa taking her first steps towards him, please?

hii nonnie!! i love writing this little domestic moments with daemon, and here's how i thought alyssa's first steps went (i wrote it based on your other ask, i really hope you like it 💓);

Daemon Targaryen thought he knew love. Of course he loved you and his son Rhaegon, with his entire self, but when his first daughter was born, he came upon a whole different meaning for that word. In that little baby girl, he discovered unconditional love.

The connection Daemon and Alyssa shared was unpredictable. He named her after his mother, one of the only three women that he truly loved in his life — the other two being you, and now your daughter. She was daddy's little girl, and it was undeniable how much his heart melted for her. His grumpy facade easily vanished once his little stormfire was in his arms.

You had been visiting Dragonstone with your husband, and the children enjoyed the place as much as he did. Daemon would run around playing with Rhaegon and Rhaenyra's sons, and you loved to watch these special moments where your husband wasn't frustrated about political stuff, but enjoying life with his family.

Since you left King's Landing, you've been trying to teach your little one and a half year old daughter to walk. Alyssa had started saying a few words like "mama", "dada", "dragon" and "Caraxes", but most of the time you couldn't understand her baby accent. And just like she was curious about the words, babbling all the time, she was also trying to get on her feet constantly, but always ended up falling on her butt and crying.

Daemon would pick her up to his arms and kiss her tears until she stopped sobbing. He liked to talk to her in high valyrian, even though she had no idea what he was saying. It would take her attention for a few minutes and she'd be quiet just to listen to her father's voice.

"Daor ry zaldrīzoti emagon tīkuni, yn ry zaldrīzoti issi vēttan hen perzys. Īlon issi zaldrīzoti. Ao issi issa byka zaldrīzes." Daemon whispered as he kissed her temples and tickled her belly. (Not all dragons have wings, but all dragons are made of fire. We are dragons. You are my little dragon.)

"Zaldrīzes" Alyssa would repeat between giggles.

After many tries, eventually Alyssa finally got it. She stood on her little feet and looked around the place and searched for her parents. You and Daemon were a few meters away from her, playing tag with the boys. Alyssa thought about walking to you, but she was too afraid of falling without your help. She held on a chair to keep herself balanced and waited for you to look at her.

Unfortunately, for the little girl's patience, you were too busy chasing around the kids. Alyssa yelped loudly, and you finally turned your attention to her. You gasped watching her silver hair glow in sunlight, as she standed a few feet away from where you were.

"Mama!" She shouted.

"Alyssa!" You ran towards her and held her little hand helping her to stay on her feet. She took courage from your touch and gave one step, "Oh, Gods! Daemon! Daemon, come see this!"

Daemon chased after Rhaegon, that approached you. They both stopped.

"Dad, I think Alyssa is walking" The little Targaryen boy observed, getting closer to you.

Daemon's steps became slow, and he fell onto his knees discredited. His smile grew wide once the girl gave two more steps, giggling to the sight of her father.

"Dada!" Alyssa said excitedly.

You walked beside her, until you thought it was safe enough to let her go and try get to him by herself. Daemon encouraged her;

"Yes, 'Lyssa come to daddy. You're doing great, baby. Don't look at the ground, look at daddy." He'd say grinning widely.

She took a few more steps and reached his arms, almost falling on the ground from her own excitement from being close to her father. Daemon grabbed her by the waist and took her to his chest. He kissed her little face many times while spinning her body.

"You did it! My little stormfire is walking!" He kissed her chubby cheeks, while you watched with proud in your eyes, "My brave girl."

[oskea93]

Tis the Way the Wind Blows, Hummingbird (Intro)

Caleb Sykes x OC Horizon universe

⚠️ Warning ⚠️ Story will contain moments of physical, sexual, emotional, and verbal abuse, cursing, murder, suicidal ideations, childbirth, scalping, death, etc. Please do not read if you are triggered by any of these warnings. If you've seen the film or just read about it online, you already know that Caleb is a bad guy. He will remain a bad guy throughout this story as well. He will not be liked and will be vile in every way. Just a heads up if you were looking for a happy Jamie story.

Author's note: Hello and welcome to my new fic! So, I went and see Horizon (twice now) and I just had to write about everyone's favorite western villain. Jamie was amazing in this film, like he is in all his moves. Caleb is a ruthless asshole and he will stay a ruthless asshole in this story as well. I started off this story in the future - kind of like mid end just to give a small taste of the drama that will soon unfold. The next chapter will show the relationship between Elizabeth and Caleb - spoiler - it will not be pretty...

● If you would like to be tagged, please comment below ● Taglist: @austinswhitewolf, @carriewritesblog, @isla-bell-blog, @jcbbby, @eve18ahs

“You know that he’ll kill you once he finds you – even gets word that you're in these parts.”

I kept my gaze focused on the snowy mountains to the East of us, the warm spring wind flowing through my red locks, carrying with it a sense of both renewal and reckoning. As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden hue over the rugged peaks, I felt a surge of conflicting emotions welling up inside me.

"Maybe that's what I want," I whispered, my eyes connecting with the older man's beside me, his weathered face reflecting wisdom and understanding. "Maybe I want him to find me, to confront me, so I can finally make him feel the pain that he inflicted upon me for all those years."

Grady let out a scoff, his voice rough with years of experience and a hint of skepticism. "You thinkin' that you'll be able to kill that crazy sumbitch? That whole goddamn family is off their rockers, Elizabeth. That boy especially – his eyes are wilder than a banshee."

I let out a sigh, the weight of my words hanging heavy in the air. "I'm not afraid of them anymore, Grady." The truth spilled out, raw and unfiltered, a truth that I had wrestled with for far too many years. "As long as that little girl is nowhere in his sight or the sight of that pack of wolves he calls brothers-" I stopped mid-sentence, a sudden chill running down my spine as our gazes reconnected. "I don't care what happens to me."

The older man stayed silent for a moment, his face betraying a mix of disbelief and concern as my words lingered in the air, heavy with the weight of unspoken truths. "You're just gonna let that little girl grow up without a mama? Have her go to some home and let a bunch of strangers take care of her? I thought you had more sense than that, youngin."

"She ain't gonna be with a stranger, Grady," I insisted, my voice firm with conviction as I met his gaze. His eyebrows creased in confusion, a mix of surprise and uncertainty flickering in his eyes. "If I don't make it back, I want you to raise her just like you rais-"

"No-" Grady interjected, his hands waving in the air as he took a step back, a look of protest on his wrinkled face.

"Grady, listen, please," I implored, closing the distance between us as I followed in his tracks. "You are the only constant in both of our lives. You're the only one I trust with her – she needs you just like I did all those years ago."

His back, hunched over from years of work, moved slowly with each deep breath as he processed my words. "Emily loves you, Grady, and you love her too. At least if I do die, I will die knowing that my daughter will always be protected and loved."

"I'm too old to be carin for a six-year-old child, Elizabeth," Grady retorted, a smirk forming across my face in response to his protest.

"You've been saying that for years, Grady dear," I remarked softly, my hand resting gently on his shoulder. "Pretty sure those were the same words you uttered when I was placed upon your porch many years ago. Looks like you're still here, sir."

His aging body slowly turned around, his eyes glistening with threatening tears, a testament to the emotions churning beneath the surface. "Caleb is a ruthless man, Lizzie," Grady's tone was low, filled with a mixture of concern and a hint of fear. "He's the lowest of the barrel – capable of doing anything to anyone, including his wife and mother to his child."

I gave him a tight smile, my hand squeezing his bicep in a gesture of reassurance and solidarity. "I'll make sure he draws first."

[cafeinthemoon]

King - Chapter VI

Chapter 6

Wordcount 5,6k

Title A Kingdom of Women

Fandom Shuumatsu no Valkyrie / Record of Ragnarok

Previous chapters

1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5

Symbols ⭕ . ➕ . 🖤

Warnings: Mentions of unwanted pregnancies; multiple pregnancies; basically, Poseidon is not a good man

Tagging @cloveradora @the-dumber-scaramouche @mikkies @sl33py-zer0 @nooneknows8976 (If you want to be tagged in any of my stories, just leave a comment on this chapter or send an ask or a message)

N. A.: Wow, finally a new chapter for this story! Even I find it hard to believe lol As pointed out by a reader in the comments, this story demands a lot of effort, and one of the reasons is obviously the chapters' lenght. This time, it's longer than all the others, as a compensation for the lack of updates. Tbh many things happened in the last weeks that kept me away from my works, but I don't want to discuss them here. It's not worthy.

Here are some hints about this chapter:

I tried to make Poseidon's character closer to his mythological version, which includes his relations with women. Though he doesn't make a proper appearance in this one, his presence is felt in each event, each sentence. He's the main subject of the conversations, whether in a positive or negative way. I love when this kind of stuff is included in stories to emphasize the importance of a character, and I hope I managed to do it right :)

Here we will have the first solid (or not) info about Amphitrite. I like Amphitrite's figure, and I will turn her into an important part of the structure here.

Of course, the selkie's skin is in her husband's possession. The thing with selkies' skin doesn't sit right to me, and I used this concept to create another source of tension for this story.

Finally, I'm sorry for the big delay and I hope you enjoy this new chapter :)

Yes, you have to stay vigilant, but no one can do this forever. Even the strongest can get exhausted. So, you need to relax. The thing is that you must learn when and where – and with who – you will allow yourself to rest. This can be scary in the beginning, and you will feel the most terrifying loneliness, but experience will come, and you will find balance.

Remember: your home is where your friends are.

When you were sent back to the lodge, the only things you wanted were a bit of silence and a moment by yourself, so you could process the events of the last day, your new position as a married woman and the task that was now in your hands: how would you manage to do something that only the most experienced masters were able to do, you who were never trained in any form of combat, not even in the use of knives? Yes, you did get your wish of not bearing a child answered, but were you really successful in your negotiations with your husband? You doubted that, and as to keep you in your place, he made sure you didn’t think you were.

Well, contrary to your wishes, once you stepped into the room and were left there by the servant (the same who took you to the ceremony’s preparations), you were barely allowed to readjust in it, because Alyssa was just too excited to see you again: ignoring your requests for her to be careful, she left her spot at the window and almost ran toward you when the door was opened, her hands around her belly as to protect the baby from her own recklessness.

– Y/n?! Y/n! Is that really you?!

You sighed in relief when she stopped in front of you with no troubles, but didn’t have time to think of this because the girl wrapped her arms around you and gave you the tightest hug that her condition allowed her.

– You’re finally back! – her voice was a rushed whisper – You should have been sent back yesterday, so when the night passed with no sign of you, I feared that something might have happened to you! But I’m glad you’re okay…

Though you were touched by those words, you preferred not try to wonder what Alyssa had in mind.

– Thank you – you moved away to look into her eyes – He decided to keep me with him for the entire night, so I had no choice. I’m sorry for causing you such anxiety.

You went to sit with her on your bed.

– So, yes, I’m back, but I don’t think okay is the best word to describe myself right now.

The girl frowned.

– No? How so?

You stood in silence for a moment, trying to find the appropriate way to turn your thoughts into words... And, when you did, was solely to provoke in your friend a laughing crisis.

– So… – you started – You told me that many things could happen once I found myself in Poseidon-sama’s presence… But why didn’t you tell me that this included being carried around like a bag of potatoes?

The sound of Alyssa’s laughter filled the enormous room before you could even finish the word potatoes. Her body trembled as she fought to control it, covering her mouth and closing her eyes tight, tears rolling through her hands. At first, you showed impatience – after all, being laughed at by a god by what he saw as fragility was a serious matter to you – but her reaction was so genuine that you just couldn’t stay mad.

– Alyssa, that’s not funny, okay? I didn’t enjoy being treated like that! It was humiliating and I just want to forget it!

– A bag of potatoes! Just imagine the Lord of the Seas carrying one! I can’t!

– Stop it! – you yelled, laughing too.

She took a deep breath and, then, was finally able to speak normally again.

– I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t help it! I was so worried about you and then, when you finally come back, this is the first thing you have to say? – she raised her hands in rendition – It’s just too hilarious!

You rolled your eyes.

– I wish I could see things that way.

Calming down, Alyssa gave you another reason for her attitude.

– Well, actually, it’s not just funny. I’m also surprised that he did this to you as well.

Now, you were the surprised one.

– What do you mean?

– When I was brought to the altar, I was wearing a transparent dress, so the first thing that Poseidon-sama noticed was the size of my legs – the girl explained – He didn’t say anything about them, but his disappointment filled the space between us. When he grabbed my hand and took me to the chambers where our wedding would be consummated, he made a comment about me being too slow and started carrying me on his shoulder – and, as if deliberating with herself, – But you’re a bit taller than me, you know? You must be able to walk faster… – she shrugged – Well, I guess this isn’t enough for him as well… – turning back to you, she suddenly changed the subject – But what about the wedding? The first time you saw him? What did you think? How did it feel like? Tell me everything!

Your cheeks got warm when you recalled the wedding night. You still had mixed feelings about it, so that you weren’t cheering for all that happened, at the same time that you weren’t really sad. But since you were still trying to digest such feelings, you sensed that this wasn’t the time to discuss them; Alyssa could be an understanding friend in case you did it, but you wouldn’t overwhelm her when she was so content for having you back.

– Well, I… Since our family was never devoted to any god, I had no idea of what to expect – you started – I just thought that Poseidon-sama would be similar to the statues we use to see in the temples’ entries and the public spaces. So I was really surprised when I finally saw him – you lowered your tone – He’s beautiful… And with a beauty that’s simply impossible for any human!

– I know – Alyssa commented – He firmly believes that gods are the ultimate bearers of perfection, so he does anything to embody this idea.

You chuckled.

– And I have to say it works in his case. Still, there are some unsettling things about him, such as, when you only take his appearance into account, you might think he’s around our age, but when you look into his eyes, this illusion disappears, and he looks older than everyone, anything you know… – a shiver appeared on your neck and went down your back while you remembered the god’s eyes – Older and terrifying.

Alyssa had an explanation for this.

– He’s one of the eldest deities from Greece, and was chosen to rule over the Domain of the Seas before the mythological ages. Water is a primordial element from all known worlds, including ours, you know? It’s only appropriate.

– Makes sense.

– Besides… you probably noticed that he’s not exactly a mild-tempered man – she lowered her voice, as if afraid of being heard by anyone beyond you.

You remembered the quake on the day you arrived and could only agree.

– This is why I was so worried for you, y/n – Alyssa continued – You’re just so lucky that he didn’t find any reasons to be displeased with you…

You bit your lip.

– Well… maybe he already did.

Your friend opened her mouth and closed it again, and you felt her fear and preoccupation in that small gesture. She asked what were you talking about.

– When Poseidon-sama took me to the chambers where we would have our wedding night, I made him a request – you swallowed – I asked him not to impregnate me.

Alyssa needed to make a superhuman effort to not scream when she heard that.

– You what?! But, how did you…?! – she shook her head – Do you have any idea of what it means to ask such thing from a god? Even more Poseidon-sama?

You let out an impatient sigh.

– I didn’t want to come here and I didn’t want to get married! You already know that – and, calming down a bit, – Not bearing a child was the last hint of freedom I could think of maintaining in this place, so I risked everything I still had (which wasn’t that much) in a deal with him. I’m a merchant, don’t you remember? – you shrugged – This preservation instinct... it runs in our blood.

The other girl frowned, still not believing that you indeed negotiated with Poseidon.

– Well, can you tell me the whole story, then?

– Of course.

And for the next minutes you recalled the events of that night, as well as the mission you received from your husband that morning, moments before he sent you back to the lodge, not hiding anything – except the nickname he gave you. Alyssa listened to each word carefully, not making a single interruption, but the sudden changes in her expression as the story followed revealed everything you needed to know about her feelings towards it.

In the end, by the fact that you returned to the room and the consistence of your narration, she was convinced that the god answered your plead; besides, she remembered seeing a small table close to the bed with a bottle upon it, both similar to the objects you described, and it was easy to imagine that there was a contraceptive fluid inside it.

However, she didn’t think her husband agreed with this deal as if moved by anything that resembled mercy, and she said that to you.

– By what I could see from him, I agree with you – was your reply – The nature of this mission is a proof itself.

Your friend let a hesitant “hm” escape.

– Yes, but that’s not exactly what I’m talking about…

– How so?

She gave you a worried gaze.

– I guess I didn’t tell you everything you need to know about being married with the god of the Seas – she moved upon the bed in discomfort – Look… Having children with desirable traits is not the only reason why Poseidon-sama has so many wives. The fact that most of us conceive in our first time with him makes us… unavailable for quite some time, to start with. There are other factors that might separate him from us, such as sickness and recovering periods between one pregnancy and the next, as well as when his presence is requested out of his domains, mostly in councils at Valhalla, which forces him to stay away for weeks, sometimes for months. For all of this, it’s convenient for him that some his wives are infertile or ask him to not have babies.

You frowned. So, there were women who were unable to bear children among you, and that wasn’t a problem for him? And you weren’t the first to make him that type of request? Well, now that you thought about it, it was only logical that you wouldn’t be: Poseidon has been taking wives for centuries, and you couldn’t suppose that all of them were willing to become mothers.

Besides...

– So, you’re telling me that if I’m not having a baby anytime soon, it means that he will…

It was unnecessary to finish the sentence. Alyssa gave you a silent nod. It was now more than clear that your request wasn’t the most clever decision from your part, something that you could have avoided if you were familiar with gods and their whims.

So, he’s this kind of man, then? Honestly, this side of him was clear for all the time we were together.

Still, you had some counterpoints.

– Alyssa, if I’m not the first to make this type of proposal to him, why did you react that way?

– First, because of your courage, perhaps increased by the fact that you know little about gods. Second, because I could never suppose that he would say yes to such proposal coming from a human – she put her hand under her chin, deliberating – He might have had something in mind… Something that we can’t figure out for now…

– Yes, I see, but there are other things that I can’t ignore. For example, what about Amphitrite-sama? She’s a goddess and his first wife. She is above us. I don’t see why he would chase after us when she’s there for him.

The look your friend gave you told you that you were, for one more time, wrong.

– Maybe it’s time for you to know about Amphitrite-sama, y/n.

Alyssa told you that what existed between Poseidon and Amphitrite was a marriage of convenience: she was the daughter of ancient sea deities, who inhabited those lands long before Poseidon’s arrival, and who offered her hand in exchange of their permanence in them; Poseidon accepted the offer as a way to reassure his dominance over the seas, and it has been like this since then. At first, they even tried to live as a normal couple, but it didn’t take long for both to realize it wouldn’t work, so that today they were just two people who shared the same house, and were more like professional partners then husband and wife.

– Amphitrite-sama’s personal life is a mystery to all of us – Alyssa explained – She’s rarely spotted by any of the other wives, and talking to her is almost impossible for us. Only Poseidon-sama, Proteus-sama and the servants are in touch with her routine and habits. We don’t even know exactly her feelings and thoughts towards us: some of the girls believe she hates us, this being the reason why we don’t see her often, but others think she actually cares for us, because she was the first to know the god of the seas as a man, so she’s aware of what is like to be in our place. I’ve never seen her myself, and I’m not sure of what to think, but I think she uses to spend her time out of here, maybe with her family, friends or a lover. I suppose we will never know.

You, from your part, were sure that enduring days and nights beside a man like the Tyrant of the Seas and being forced to accept the presence of thousands of other women in her own house must have been anything but easy. You were able to feel compassion for the goddess, but tried not to think too much about it.

What really interested you about Amphitrite, to be honest, had nothing to do with her private life or marriage.

– I’d understand if she chose to live her life that way. I suppose I myself would do the same if I was in her place – you commented – But, about her role as the Queen of the Seas... how exactly does it work? What are the signs of her presence here?

About this, Alyssa had some words, but they sounded as mysterious as all the rest.

– As far as I know, she shares the administrative matters with her husband, though he’s the one who has the final word in every question – a strange glimmer appeared in her eyes – But I’ve heard some stories that said that she is the real responsible for the maintenance of the palace’s structure, which includes its physical premises, the organization of the staff and their daily routine… and even us.

– What? – you frowned.

– About this, I have my doubts – your friend shrugged – But some say that most of the servants answer directly to her, and that even Proteus-sama fears her. Besides, there are rumors that she has already helped women and their children to leave her husband’s domain forever, as a way to favor the ones who have suffered and to maintain the order, given that the number of women would always vary like this.

– I see.

– Well, whether these stories are true or not, Amphitrite-sama is the Queen of this place, and we should be careful if we ever have to deal with her.

***

During the period that preceded your wedding, you received all your meals inside the lodge by the same hours everyday: since you still haven’t been touched by Poseidon neither you were given the pair of earrings that identified his wives, you still haven’t the right to join the other women in the great hall for breakfasts, lunches and dinners. Alyssa had the said right, but due to the aching that her swollen feet provoked in case she insisted on the long walk to the hall, as well as to make you company, she preferred to eat in the room, where you had a small table prepared for this.

However, now that you were married and were free from physical restrictions, you no longer had reasons to keep yourself separated from the others, so right in the day after you were sent back, a servant came to lead you to have your first lunch in the hall.

Even though you were expecting for this, your heart jumped inside your chest with the perspective of entering a large place full of people who you didn’t know and who weren’t exactly receptive to your kind. You thought of asking your friend to come with you, but didn’t have the courage to do so: you would have to learn to survive there sooner or later, without bringing discomfort to anyone. But, without you expecting it, she offered herself to accompany you.

The servant raised an eyebrow at her.

– Are you really in conditions of walking to the great hall?

– I am – Alyssa replied with all the confidence – Besides, this is an important moment for my friend, and I want to be there with her.

The servant looked from her to you, then back to her, but didn’t argue. They asked both of you to follow them and closed the room’s door as you walked out of it.

***

The servant pushed the pair of golden doors before you with little effort, but they obeyed immediately, revealing the great hall in its full glory.

Just like you imagined, it was similar to other places you’ve been at, in a sense that it carried cleanliness, organization and luxury as its pillars, making it as beautiful as those other premises, with walls decorated with marine concepts, columns of white marble, large tables of noble woods and objects coated in gold – and it was as full as the center of a human city in a market day.

To anywhere you looked, you saw a mixture of colors, shapes and sounds created by priestesses of the Northern Waters, selkies, naiads and other kinds of nymphs, mermaids who were able to change their scales and walk with legs, and many other women from different regions of the known worlds, all of them wearing pearls like yours. Some would proudly exhibit the jewels as if they were the meaning of their lives, but others seemed to have forgotten about their presence on their bodies, just like the pearls became part of them; in fact, some didn’t wear them as proper earrings: there were girls who you guessed to be from the depths of the seas, having delicate, translucent fins instead of ears, and the pearls were pierced on their upper sides; others didn’t have visible auricular organs at all, so the pearls were on their heads, necks and, in some cases, on each side of their hairless faces, where their eyebrows would be.

The majority of the women, which bodies were of humanoid shapes, had their pregnancies evident, with rounded bellies covered in loosen dresses, like to the one you were wearing right now, but others seemed to be just like you, with no protuberance to indicate the presence of a child inside them; and there were some who, despite resembling the human form, were carrying baskets on the fold of their arms in order to transport eggs, and those eggs were from different numbers and appearances. You didn’t see children at that place, and this corroborated with what Alyssa told about them being taken from their mothers after the period of essential activities between them, such as breastfeeding.

Indeed, the scene was strange and beautiful, so much that if you didn’t know what kind of place you were at, you could be led to believe that you were in a kingdom of women.

As you walked through the main corridor, having the long tables at both sides, you recognized some of the girls who traveled with you, but most of them you were seeing for the first time. From their part, the reactions were similar to what you saw when you entered the carriage: at each step you took, the looks of curiosity, suspicion, disdain and explicit discontentment for the presence of, not only one, but two human beings in that sacred house burned your skin and made your heart beat faster.

You glanced at Alyssa and noticed her nervousness.

– Are you alright? – you whispered.

– Yes – she mumbled back, with her hands on her belly – It’s just that I’m no longer used to the distance between our room and this place.

– I see – you looked ahead, and spotted the space where you were supposed to take your food – Let’s get something for us and find a calmer spot to sit at.

You stopped in front of the large pans and the mixed scent of spices, seeds and meat invaded your nostrils alongside the steam. Everything seemed tasty, though you could barely recognize the foods. Unlike the things offered to you at the lodge – everything specially selected for your species – the foods were all mixed there, so Alyssa instructed you while you filled your plate, indicating what would be accepted by your body and what you were better stay away from. In the end, you managed to get a good combination of exotic seafood and typical spices from Midgard, and went to one of the tables.

***

The meal was excellent, and you were content for finding a good spot to sit despite the crowd around you. In order to not gather unwanted attention (at least not more than you already received), you avoided talking while you were there, unless it was strictly necessary. You were careful not to make a mess, and cleaned after ourselves before leaving the table.

To be honest, the hall wasn’t as noisy as you expected: it was more like a party were only the rich attended, with a display of good manners, elegance and the sound of soft voices spreading across the air. You never enjoyed being at that type of event while you lived with your father, but you knew how to behave, using your ears more than your eyes, pretending to be absorbed in your current task and only looking around a few times to make sure you became part of the landscape.

Still, a human who has entered the hall for the first time couldn’t be as invisible as she wished, and you noticed the occasional looks from the people near you. There was a woman in special, who were sitting on the opposite side of your table, three seats away from Alyssa, who wouldn’t take her eyes off you, even when you stared her back; she resembled a human girl in everything, from her brown, wavy hair to her olive skin, the only exception being the aspect of her eyes, bigger, in the slight shape of almonds, with their outer corners turned up. Alyssa noticed her looks and, moving her lips without letting her voice out, she identified her one word.

Selkie.

You’ve never seen an individual from that people before, but you’ve heard stories about some who has been living among humans since the old times; the relations between the two species were never easy, so that you wouldn’t be surprised if that one tried to bring this old feud to the depths of the sea. You already decided to ask about her later, but soon this precaution became unnecessary, for when you stood up and prepared to leave, the sounds of the room were supplanted by a clear, real voice.

– Another human being among us in so little time? Interesting. It seems that our beloved husband is planning to bring change to the family. For reasons only known by himself.

Your eyes turned automatically to the selkie’s direction, and you saw she was already looking at you, now on her feet. You noticed her swollen belly under a tunic of an opaque fabric that resembled a seal skin. The table was silent as the other women stared at you, some unsettled by those words, others eager to hear your reply.

Alyssa grabbed her plate and was going to walk around the table to reach your side, but you saw the look in her eyes, a quiet plead for you to not listen to the provocations, but you were just tired of that and decided to ignore the advice.

– If you’re going to say that I don’t belong to this kingdom and I have no right to be here – you took your plate from the table – Save your words, because I myself agree with you.

The selkie frowned: whatever she wanted to hear from you, it wasn’t those words.

– What?

You sighed.

– Do you really think one would choose to live in a place where their people are not welcome? – you looked around – Would someone here do something like that?

The woman bit her lip, but kept her composure.

– Whether you chose to come here or not, it’s good that you’re aware of this. You must be a careful girl.

You shrugged.

– Most of the times.

Alyssa, who finally stopped by your side, intervened.

– We’re not seeking for trouble, Melian – she spoke to the selkie – There’s no need for this conversation to carry on.

The other displayed a smile full of sharp, small teeth at your friend, but there was no sign of sympathy on her gaze.

– Why not? We’re having so much fun with it!

You spoke to bring her attention back to you.

– So, is there something you want to ask, or am I allow to leave? – you glanced at Alyssa – I need to take her back to her room.

Melian raised an eyebrow, as if thinking of a new provocation. But, as it uses to happen with people who are used to such things, she didn’t need much time to find one.

– You’re so worried about your human friend, but what about yourself? – and, inclining her head to the side in fake worry, – Don’t you need special care too?

– What?

– Oh, you’re pregnant, aren’t you? – Melian pointed at your ears – I can see you’ve already been with him, but were you able to do your part, or are you just like her, who needed a second trial to do the only thing she’s supposed to be good at?

Alyssa lowered her eyes, but said anything. You gritted your teeth: you could stand people talking at your back and despising you, but doing this with a friend was a different story.

You decided to speak out the truth and see what was going to happen.

– No, I’m not carrying a child and, heaven forbid, I will never do it!

A wave of shocked whispers spread among the girls.

“Is she unable to conceive?”

“Poseidon-sama didn’t touch her? Why did he bring her here, then?”

“Maybe he did touch her, but she didn’t get pregnant!”

“What if she refused to give him children? Can you imagine that?”

“Nonsense! Saying no to a god, and your husband? She could never...”

“If this was the case, she would certainly be punished, but she’s here, safe and sound!”

– Don’t listen to them – Alyssa whispered – They have nothing to do with this.

Melian, whose surprise hasn’t been completely hidden, still had some words for you.

– Is this some sort of punishment he gave you, or are you cursed? Why do you speak of your condition in such a cheerful manner?

– Because, to me, it’s a reason to cheer at – the firmness of your words silenced the whispers and made her swallow – When I was taken to my wedding night, I pleaded to our husband, asking him not to give me children… and he listened to me. I am able to conceive, but I didn’t wish to, so I begged him and got my request answered.

The air was heavy with that revelation. How dare you – was the question in each of the faces turned to you.

– I don’t believe you – Melian spoke between her teeth – If you did something like this, you should be dead.

– Yet, here I am – you hit back – Alive and not pregnant. What are you going to do about it?

The selkie gasped. Alyssa held your arm, as if begging you to leave the hall.

It was when a calm contralto voice raised in the room, and everyone turned to its direction.

– Melian, won’t you stop pestering the girl just because she did the very thing you wanted to do, but had no courage to?

The voice belonged to a woman with blue skin and fins on each side of her head, who was sitting on the same side of the table as Melian and somehow looked older than the women around her. You noticed that she was the only one who hasn’t raised her head to see the argument, but it didn’t mean that she wasn’t paying attention. You found it curious that, despite not having a prominent belly, her chair was positioned at a certain distance from the table.

The selkie turned to her, with a gaze that carried more nervousness than exasperation.

– Suriah, don’t start with your...

– Don’t you know our husband detests these kind of behavior? – the woman, Suriah, interrupted, unaffected – Besides, meal times are supposed to be pleasing, not a source of distress.

Melian’s skin turned pale with those words, less because of fear of the older wife than because of a non disguised anger.

The woman sighed and finally looked at you.

– You’re not just an inexperienced wife, as far as I can see, human – she started – You also know little about dealing with gods, don’t you?

You swallowed. You remembered that Poseidon himself said something similar to you.

– You could say that.

Suriah laughed.

– It’s pretty obvious, judging by the fact that you didn’t just plead to him… – she raised the spot on her face where there would be an eyebrow if she had hair – You tried to negotiate with him, didn’t you?

You gasped. How did she know?

– This type of thing might work among your people, but with gods, specially with someone like Poseidon-sama, things are quite different – she explained – He might have conceded you the favor you wanted, but what he asked from you in return… I suppose it made you shiver.

You didn’t reply.

– You don’t need to be so shy about it – she assured you – There are others like you around here, and they know what it’s like to be in such position. Our husband indeed loves us, but he doesn’t get along with rebel women. In this sense, Melian is in a better place than you.

Melian, who was still in silence, lowered her eyes at those words.

You, from your part, wanted to leave that place and forget about this unsettling conversation at first, but your curiosity, as well as the fact that you needed to gather information, overcame this urge, and you stood there.

– Suriah, right? – she nodded positively at your question – You seem to have experience in matters with gods. Can you tell me more?

Suriah seemed satisfied with your request.

– Of course I can, and I’m going to make things easier for you to understand by telling my own story. When I first came here, I knew the basics about my future husband and the life that awaited me, yet I think that if I knew more, I would never get into this situation – she sighed – Just like you, I wasn’t willing to carry children, so I begged for his favor, he gave it to me… But with a price.

You sensed a tension spreading among the women when the word price reached their ears. Suriah ignored this and carried on with the story.

– There’s a certain game, very popular among the gods, which I won’t bother to describe to you. I should learn the rules in one week and play one time with a subordinate of Proteus-sama, who’s a master at it. The result would determine if my request would be answered: if I won, I wouldn’t be impregnated that year; otherwise, I would have a child for each mistake during the game… every year.

You gasped.

– Every year? – your voice trembled – How is this possible?

Suriah chuckled, not refusing an explanation.

– The physiology of my people is such that allows us to endure multiple pregnancies. If I make love once, I will have one child. If it happens more times, consecutively, I will have the equivalent number of children. This is precisely what I bargained with Poseidon-sama: no child, or the number of my mistakes. And I lost.

You swallowed, but found the courage to ask what you had in mind.

– And how many mistakes you made?

The woman revealed the reason why her chair was distant from the table: she had a basket with lilac eggs on her lap. An unsettling wave of whispers spread among the girls when she raised the basket, and Melian slowly sat down. You couldn’t take your eyes off the basket’s interior, but found yourself unable to count the eggs: you only knew that they were many.

Answering the question you didn’t make, Suriah spoke:

– There are fifteen eggs here – she looked at them with affection – Fifteen beautiful children waiting to be born. Just as there were fifteen of them last year, and there will be in the next one.

Chapter 7

[librosamarillos]

passed down like folk songs

chapter 39: i will just let you down

Maegor Targaryen x OC

Also on Ao3

chapter index

Tags: hurt/comfort, friends to lovers, angst, mature themes, targaryen incest, violence, Maegor is a red flag himself, characters are ooc probably, MINORS DNI

“Please bring more pillows. Her grace will need to be comfortable.” Rowan asked one of the maids preparing the rooms for their upcoming guests. She had already seen to Aenys and Viserys’ rooms being prepared, and all that was now left was to ensure the expectant Queen’s comfort during their stay. 

“Right away, my Lady.” the maid closest to her said, heading out to get more pillows. She wasn’t sure if it would be too many, but then Alyssa could remove them as she saw fit.

“Thank you.” Rowan smiled, looking around the room, seeing the bath being prepared with lukewarm water, as per the maester’s suggestions. All was done. She could feel the servants taking discreet looks of her and she tried to not mind it too much. She knew she looked ridiculous, so she could blame no one. 

“My Lady, the King and Queen have arrived.” a young pageboy announced as he ran through the door. Rowan’s breath was stuck in her throat for a second, before she thanked him and began to leave the Queen’s room.

She took a quick, final look in the mirror, taking a moment to straighten her skirts and make sure she looked presentable, trying to ignore her horrid hair framing her face so unevenly, and made her way down to the front entrance, where Aenys, Alyssa and Viserys were stood.

Aenys looked pale, far paler than he’d ever looked before, as well as significantly thinner. He had dark undereye bags that betrayed his lack of sleep, that she could only assume was weeks long. Alyssa, thank the gods, looked far healthier, as well as little Viserys who was looking around curiously. 

“Welcome to Dragonstone, your Graces. I hope your journey has been a smooth and safe one.” Rowan greeted them with a warm smile and a polite curtsy. Aenys returned her smile and opened his mouth to reply, but Alyssa seemed confused.

“Has the Dowager Queen not been made aware of our arrival? Why is she not the one here to greet us?” she asked, looking beyond Rowan, to see if perhaps Visenya was about to make a late entrance. Aenys bit his lip, and Rowan straightened her back.

“She has been made aware, your Grace. She… did not wish to greet you and has sent for me to do so.” she explained, giving the Queen an apologetic smile as she repeated exactly what Visenya had told her to say, albeit without the condescending tone, but Aenys at least seemed to understand that it was implied.

Alyssa seemed displeased with the response and looked at Aenys almost expectantly, but it was clearly not a battle that Aenys wanted to fight at the moment. Instead, he smiled at Rowan, and she could swear his lilac eyes seemed bloodshot.

“Thank you, Lady Evergreen. Our journey has been smooth.” he said, looking down at Viserys, who was looking up at the sky. Rowan assumed he was looking to spot dragons flying over the castle, and she knew he did not have to wait long. While Vhagar enjoyed a more solitary day, most of the unclaimed dragons liked to fly around. Rowan still found them all unnerving despite all the years she spent around them.

“I’ve had the maids draw baths for all three of you. I am sure you must be exhausted from your travels. Please, allow me to show you to your rooms.” she said, leading the way through Dragonstone’s all too familiar halls. 

After showing Viserys to his room and showing his nursemaid where everything was, she showed Alyssa to hers, which was just across the hall from her son’s room. Alyssa seemed happy to rest, though she did not seem to let go of Visenya’s slight. Rowan was certain this was going to become an issue, but she knew the Dowager Queen would love for the fight to break out. Before she could say farewell to Aenys, he stopped her.

“May I have a moment, Rowan?” he asked before she left the room. His servants had just finished unpacking a few of the many cases of things he had brought, but he had stopped them, asking them for privacy. She could only nod.

“Of course, your Grace.” she replied, earning a smile from the King, who let his silent complaint against formalities be known. “Of course, Aenys.” she corrected herself, now earning a nod from him.

He seemed exhausted and Rowan wanted to ask him why not fly to Dragonstone on Qucksilver, who true to her name, would’ve been here a lot quicker than a ship. But then she rationalised it by thinking that after the attempt on his life, he would not wish to leave Alyssa and Viserys alone, and perhaps she would be uncomfortable to fly with him, even though she was still early in her pregnancy. Rowan decided not to bring it up at all.

“Can I ask?” he asked, almost shyly, looking at her face, or rather, her hair. “What happened to your hair?” he asked again, trying to not offend with an amused tone. She appreciated the politeness, but still looked away in shame.

“I…” she sighed. “I just had… a lot of emotions about being back here, and I somehow gained an incredible confidence to make a change to my appearance.” she gave a very watered down answer, trying to fight the embarrassment. “And yes, I regretted it immediately. I know it looks awful. It’ll… It’ll grow back. Eventually, I mean.” she mumbled, praying for that time to come soon so that she’d finally not have people stare. 

“A lot of emotions?” he asked, his tone full of empathy. “About… him?” he asked once more, almost hesitant to scratch Rowan’s open wounds. She took in a slow breath. She understood that he’d want to know, that he was curious. She just didn’t expect it to come up so quickly, but then again, her sudden change of appearance warranted questions.

“Coming back here after what he did… I don’t know. All I could think about was that just outside the castle, he chose to marry another woman.” she finally said out loud. “I thought I was calm, sad but calm, but when I was done with my duties and I was all alone with my thoughts, it all became overwhelming. As if all the memories we had together here have been tainted with grief. As if I have the right to such grief.” she said with a shaky breath. “We… we used to play out there when we were small, you know?” she added, even though it felt like rubbing salt on her wounds. She was not his wife. She was not the one he betrayed. Yet no matter how many times she repeated that to herself, the worse it all hurt.

“Hey, don’t say that.” he approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder, his tone comforting. “You’ve every right to feel that grief. He hurt you.” he frowned, as he thought for a moment. Rowan took another deep breath, trying to shake her head, to pretend she was fine and that it was all fine. “Have you… heard from him?” he asked slowly, like he was unsure of what her reaction would be. Perhaps he was afraid she’d cut her hair again.

“I… yes and no.” she answered truthfully. “He keeps a correspondence with his mother and she sometimes tells me how he’s doing.” Rowan explained, leaving behind the fact that he indirectly addressed her in his letters. It was just too much to talk about with his brother, who he planned to dethrone. “Do you wish to write to him?” she asked, wondering if his question was trying to pry at how easy it would be to send a message to his exiled brother.

“No.” he said a bit too quickly. “No, I do not. I have nothing to say to him, I was only worried about you.” he explained further, as if his defensive tone didn’t betray him. Rowan returned his look of sympathy and bit her lip slightly.

“May I… May I be candid with you, Aenys?” she asked, trying to approach the subject lightly and carefully, so as to not scare him off.

“Of course you may. You always may!” he replied with a small smile. Rowan wanted to return it, but she felt too guilty. She felt there was a genuine foundation for friendship between them despite the formalities that held them back, and they were able to be really vulnerable with each other. Yet, now, she couldn’t be fully honest with him.

“Why not call for him? Ask for his help? Let him bring things back in order?” she asked slowly, hesitantly. Aenys seemed taken aback by her questions for a moment, but he shook his head, a small smile of disbelief on his lips as he walked away from her.

“Of course you’d suggest this.” he sighed, almost disappointed. “Do you wish to see him?” he asked, his tone suggesting this was an accusation. Rowan shook her head, ashamed for bringing it up.

“I am angry.” she started. “You have no idea how angry I am at him for all the grief he has brought upon me, for all he did to Ceryse. But Aenys, you cannot keep doing this. They made an attempt to kill you! How long until they try again? And Aegon and Rhaena? What if they become targets?” she asked, trying to get him to see reason.

“You think I don’t know this? Is it not clear as day that I do not sleep?” he snapped, his voice still low, trying to not shout. Rowan frowned, ashamed at the implications of her tone. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be sharp.” he sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“But you’re not taking any action! So let Maegor do it. Ask for his help, and then when things are calm again, you can see what to do about his banishment. The city will fall apart if you don’t do something.” she pleaded with him, trying to swallow her guilt.

“You think he’ll actually do it? Come back after I exiled him; after our shouting match?” he mumbled, contemplating for a moment. “He’d sooner laugh in my face for failing than ever complying with my orders again.” he frowned deeply. His relationship with his brother was clearly a very sensitive subject at the moment. It was something they both shared it seemed, a big sensitivity to the topic of Maegor Targaryen.

“He’s your brother. No matter how angry he is, he will not ignore your call for help.” she approached him, trying to reassure him that his brother would return if he called for him to. Yes, she knew that he had much bigger plans than to just help his brother, but she knew that deep down, Maegor also wished their relationship was better. 

“I think if you call for him, he’ll do it. He’d fly here as soon as he had your letter in his hands.” he laughed dryly. Rowan hated how her heart fluttered at his words. It hurt, it all still hurt so much, but she’d be a huge liar to say she didn’t love him with every fibre of her being. “How humiliating that I’d go running back to my little brother, after such a scandal.” he sighed again. “I see them all, you know, my Kingsguard, and how frustrated they are with me. How they’re all silently comparing me to him, and sometimes, I cannot help but do it too. I hesitate, I know, and he does not. The one time he did hesitate, it cost him you, and he won’t hesitate again. That’s why they all would rather have him here instead.” he confessed, his voice slightly above a whisper, leaving Rowan speechless.

Her heart was in a twist, hearing Aenys speak out loud about that fateful day. It was true, Maegor told her himself, that he hesitated to argue further with his father in order to please him, and it cost him their life together. It hurt further to also hear that it was the reason he became so ruthless, even though she knew it deep down. It was too much for both of them.

“Please rest. Have your bath and sleep. Please sleep.” she patted him on the back. He looked so frail up close, it was worrying. She would tell her worries to the maester as well as the ladies in the kitchens. Some more hearty meals, something to give him more energy, it would do him good. Aenys appreciated the kind gesture and offered her a kind smile.

“Let me think about it.” he said. “Thank you once again for your honesty, Rowan. And I’m sorry about your hair.” He escorted her out of his room and offered one last smile before closing the door. 

Rowan felt horrid for knowing about Visenya and Maegor’s goals and knowingly urging Aenys to make a decision that would help aid those goals. She found herself walking the familiar route to Visenya’s rooms to let her know that the King, Queen and young Prince were settling in, all the while she contemplated her own actions. 

Would it not be for the best if Maegor returned? She had to think of the stability and safety of the people, and the huge political and economic unrest that these rebellions would bring to everyone. While yes, her house had the utmost privilege of being well protected, what of those who weren’t? What of all those caught in the crossfire? And the effects all of this would have on the smallfolk, who depended on all the houses to make good decisions?

She hated to think about what would come next, about the conflict between the two brothers once Maegor’s plans became real. Because in what way would there be a smooth transition of power? Still, she thought that Aenys would be much happier without the heavy burdens of the crown. He’d get to sleep calmly and not worry about the safety of his children, perhaps travel around the seven Kingdoms… Perhaps Rowan was deluding herself into justifying Visenya and Maegor’s plans. 

She entered Visenya’s room with a heavy heart, finding her lounging on her chair, a letter in her hands. A sight that was very common these days. She looked up, urging her to come in and sit as well, before passing the letter to her.

“Your father wrote to me. He worries about you, says you haven’t written back to him, or to Erin and Finn.” she explained as Rowan read over her father’s letter. “What’s wrong, my girl? You normally write to them all the time.” she said, cupping her cheek.

“I’m sorry.” Rowan felt ashamed. She had tried to write to her family, and yet when she was alone in her room, all she could do was wallow. She’d lie in bed trying to rationalise all her emotions, and then her mind would take her right back to that altar outside the castle gates and all she’d think about was that day, that decision, that ceremony, that she did not even witness the same way she did Ceryse’s, and yet it hurt a thousand times more.

“Why are you apologising to me?” Visenya asked with a gentle tone. When Rowan did not answer, she patted the space next to her. “Come here, sit.” She complied, and was welcomed into Visenya’s embrace. 

Neither said anything.

She felt that Visenya was, once again, being extra gentle with her, like she was made of glass. She could not protest, as she was sure that she was acting like a nervous wreck. And her father, her sweet father, whose letter to Visenya was full of care and concern for her, his only child? Gods, she felt so guilty. Normally she’d write to her family so often, that her lack of letters now had raised concern. But what would she write? ‘Forgive me father, I was a wreck because I am haunted by memories and I also cut my hair and I look ridiculous’?

Visenya did not need her to say anything at all. She knew. And Rowan could not be more grateful to have her in her life. She gave her the space to wallow and cry, and she hugged her and played with her hair. It was everything she wished her mother could do if she were still alive. Thankfully, Visenya had gladly taken the role. 

“How about tonight you write to your father, hm?” she asked softly, as she moved stray hairs out of her face. Rowan nodded. She had to write back eventually, better start now. “Then you can tell me what Alyssa’s face was like when she saw you instead of me.” she japed, rubbing her shoulder and trying to get a smile. 

Aenys paced around his room. He was restless and even after a bath, he could not wind down to sleep, for there was far too much happening in his mind. He felt everyone’s eyes on him, something he used to relish in before all this mess, looking on expectantly, ready to be let down once more. He found himself on the desk, staring at a bank parchment, quilt in his shaking hand.

It could be a horrible idea, to unleash Maegor in all his anger and resentment onto the realm, to burn all those not fiercely loyal to the crown. It was everything his parents told him to never do, but as he stared at the parchment and thought about the fact that his children were in danger, that his wife could be next, that everything could crumble beneath their feet, what choice did he truly have?

How could he even begin to address his little brother? How could he put into words all the dread that consumed him? Would his brother even accept his plea of help? Perhaps it would be best if he asked Rowan to write to him. He would never hesitate to come to her aide if she were to ask, while Aenys was unsure he could claim the same. 

Dear brother,

Then what? What could he even say that wouldn’t be awkward? He felt like a dog with its tail between his legs, running back to his brother who he exiled for his help. He sighed. Then what was to come if he accepted? Would he bring Alys Harroway back to King’s Landing with him and force him to acknowledge her as his wife the same way Ceryse was? That would cause an even bigger rift between the crown and the faith, along with his good sister’s family. Perhaps if he asked him to return alone? Or even better, if he asked Rowan to write to him and ask him to return alone? Surely he would.

His attention shifted from the parchment to the door, when his guard announced the arrival of his wife. Aenys was surprised to see her walking about, as he had expected her to relax and rest after their long travels. Alyssa looked concerned as she approached him, her eyes searching his face, looking for something.

“I thought you would like to rest, my dear, why are you all dressed up?” he asked, reaching for her hand to place a kiss on when she came close. She was much more dressed up than he was, looking like a proper Queen, while he was dressed down as he felt exhausted.

“I could say the same about you. I thought I’d find you sleeping.” she smiled. He felt guilty as he nodded. He was not fully honest with her about losing sleep. They did not share a room on most nights, much less now that she needed all the comfort she could get, so she did not see him lying wide awake at night. She did not need to worry about him as well. Alyssa’s smile fell as her eyes darted to the parchment in front of him, as she realised who he was planning to write to. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m… I’m not so sure myself.” he confessed. “I thought I could ask my brother to return, to help us. But I fear I cannot find the words.” he explained further, looking back down at the letter, partly avoiding his wife’s gaze. She looked upset.

“Aenys, have you really thought this through? Why not send an army, or call our bannermen? This cannot be the best option.” she protested, looking at him like he was crazy. She looked bewildered that he would actually consider it, as did he.

“He is my brother, Alyssa.” he said, trying to find the right words to explain how he felt, but he could not. His mind was such a mess that he could not trust himself fully.

“Your brother who disrespected and undermined your word? The son of the woman who mocks you and cannot hide her disdain for you, despite the fact that you are King?” she asked, her tone still bewildered. She was right, of course she was, but still…

“I’m thinking of our family, of our children, of you and the babe! Believe me, I would love a better, easier solution, but as every single person keeps reminding me, I am running out of time!” he snapped, immediately regretting his tone, but Alyssa did not waver. Instead, she took his face in her hands, placing a kiss on his forehead.

“We will find a solution, one that will not make the realm hate and ridicule us.” she reassured him as she cupped his cheeks. “But now we must go speak to your aunt. It was a huge slight, what she did this morning. Sending her lady in waiting instead of greeting us herself. No matter how she feels regarding Dragonstone being passed to Aegon, you are still the King. She should not disrespect you like this with no consequence.” she said. 

“I do not have it in me to fight with my aunt.” he sighed, looking away from her eyes. It was already hard enough knowing his aunt still frightened him, just as she did when he was a child, and the fact that he was now here because it was safer, because she made Dragonstone safe, he could not handle any arguments, or her cold comments. He was tired.

“If you do not, she will only get worse. My love, let us go see her and at least hear what she has to say about her actions.” she insisted, and Aenys could do nothing but relent.

She called for the servants to come dress him, as he could not make a statement in his plain clothes. The fine purple robes felt heavy, everything did. His wife was right, he could not keep accepting disrespect, but he was in no mood to make a fuss. 

Accompanied by his Kingsguard, they made their way to the chamber of the painted table. His aunt was dressed regally, a statement of her own, but she was not overlooking the table, rather preferring the window. As always, her lady Rowan was by her side, writing down what she was telling her. Rowan looked up, surprised to see him and Alyssa, and curtsied promptly. Visenya remained unmoving, not acknowledging the King and Queen, a silent challenge to see if he dared to speak. 

“Your grace-” Rowan spoke up, ready to fill their cups, but Alyssa stopped her.

“We would like some privacy, lady Evergreen.” Alyssa said, offering Rowan a kind smile. Rowan did not leave straight away, instead looking up to Visenya, to see what her orders would be. His aunt did not move from her place, but nodded at Rowan to dismiss her. 

She offered them all another curtsy before leaving the room, but Aenys could swear she shot him a worried look, one that told him to watch his step, to not make enemies.

With Rowan gone, the room had an eerie silence. He could hear his own heart beating in his ears. He felt like a child about to be scolded, but Alyssa was angry at his aunt’s blatant disrespect. His wife shot him an expectant look, telling him to speak up. He took a breath and wished Rowan was not dismissed, as she could perhaps keep the peace between them.

“I hope you’re not feeling ill. I could only assume so, since you did not come to greet us.” he tried to sound confident, the way Alyssa needed him to be. His aunt still did not move to face them, but her face hardened. He could feel a lump in his throat as he braced himself for impact.

“Did you find my lady’s greeting lacking?” she asked coldly, her tone harsh. The question was ironic, as it was another challenge to push him further. He felt Alyssa shift next to him.

“It is customary to greet your King and Queen in person.” she said, her voice moving dangerously close to passive aggressive. His aunt, once more, refused to turn. Her eyes were pinned somewhere outside, in the yard.

“Is it now?” she asked coldly. “As you can see, I am terribly busy preparing the castle for potential attacks- I know the concept is completely foreign to you both, but it is a demanding task.” her words dripped with condescension. Both Aenys and Alyssa stiffened, as Visenya slowly turned to face them, looking down at them as if they were but bothersome children and not the King and Queen. “Tell me, how did you manage to humiliate yourselves even more, then come running here demanding I come say hello to you?” she asked.

“What happened in King’s Landing was… unfortunate. As you know, the Red Keep is not yet finished and…” he trailed. It was a lie. What happened shook him to his core, but he had to stand tall, or at the very least try to. “I can only hope your feelings toward me need not be made public. I do not wish to reprimand you for disrespect.” he managed to say, before his aunt let out a cold laugh.

“Reprimand me?” she laughed. “Where did this nerve come from?” she challenged him, but Aenys did not know how to respond, so she went on. “You exile my son, you grant his title to your brat of a son, and yet what do you have to show for it?” she spat, her anger no longer masked. He did not have time to react to the insults before Alyssa did.

“Aegon is the heir to the throne.” she stated, her tone hiding an almost threat, like she was trying to put his aunt in her place. “It is only natural that he is the Prince of Dragonstone. Your husband was the one who planned this.” she said that last sentence with a pointed look, like she wanted to hit her where she knew it would hurt, angered by the insult hurled at their son.

Aenys froze completely when she brought up his father. Alyssa was never this bold or fierce before. She was lively and charming and kind, but never quick to anger. He assumed it was because she was with child, her instincts to defend her children being heightened. Not to mention all the stress of the past moons. He wanted to admire her, had this not been the worst possible thing to say to his aunt.

Visenya’s eyes hardened and if looks could kill, they’d be dead where they stood. Her gaze was ice cold and he could feel himself shrinking in fear as she slowly walked closer to them, until she was standing right before them, towering above him like he was still a small child.

“Strong words coming from a fool. Do you think your boy will even have a throne to inherit with how you’ve been running things? Where is he now? Being chased down by rebels?” she asked, staring Alyssa down. Aenys just wanted to disappear.

“Is this amusing to you?” his wife demanded when she saw the smirk on his aunt’s face.

“Hilarious.” she spat. “It is hilarious to me that you come to my home demanding respect you’ve done nothing to earn, but I suppose it cannot be helped, since you’ve both been spoiled rotten.” she crossed her arms as she stared them both down. Alyssa went to answer, but this time, he interrupted.

“I do not wish to fight, or argue with you.” he said, his tone almost pleading. He could not say the same for Alyssa. “I wish to protect my family from rebels. I’ve tried asking them what they want, to come to me with their concerns, but they only hurl insults at me-” he began to explain, before he saw the flash of anger in Visenya’s eyes.

“You are a fool and a weakling, nephew. Do you think any man would’ve ever dared speak so to your father?” she asked. Aenys did not even have to answer, they all knew no one would dare. “You have a dragon. Use him. Fly to Oldtown and make this Starry Sept another Harrenhal, or give me leave and let me roast this pious fool for you.”

Her words hung in the air and he found it hard to breathe. His first instinct was to say no, to deny her call to violence. But was this not why he was considering calling for Maegor to return? His aunt was right, no man would dare speak to his father the way the rebels spoke to him, and neither would they speak so to Maegor. They knew better.

He could not imagine himself flying into battle with Quicksilver. He flew often, at least he used to, before his father’s death. His mother would take him flying on Meraxes when he was small, until his Quicksilver was big enough to ride, and then they’d take to the skies together. He was no warrior, and neither was his dragon. He could not risk her getting hurt by his own foolishness. He loved Quicksilver, she was a part of him. She flew above their ship the whole time it took for them to sail here.

“Do not speak to him like that!” Alyssa’s voice snapped him back to reality. Her first instinct was to defend her husband, another trait he would admire if he was not worried his aunt would strike them both down with Dark Sister, which she carried everywhere. 

“Or what? What will you do?” Visenya asked, her tone almost amused, like she was arguing with a child throwing a tantrum, which only angered Alyssa more. 

“Please, enough of this!” he pleaded, standing in between them. “The hour grows late, let us all rest. We shall discuss this tomorrow.” he looked at his aunt, trying to silently ask her to see him and not ignore his presence.

“Very well.” his aunt concluded. 

The tension was still thick in the air, but the guard’s announcement of Lady Rowan’s return brought a sense of relief to Aenys. She rushed in the room, not offering any pleasantries or curtsies, instead walking up to his aunt, her face flushed with worry.

“Your graces, forgive me for interrupting, but the news I’ve just received are rather urgent.” she apologised, showing the raven scroll in her hands. Aenys could feel his heart stop- had something happened to his son and daughter?

“What happened?” his aunt asked promptly, meeting her lady halfway across the room. It was then that he recognised the opened seal on the scroll, green, a Hightower seal. He shared an alarmed look with Alyssa, the realisation that something could’ve happened to their good sister hitting them. Rowan took in a shaky breath.

“Lord Manfred Hightower is dead.” she announced to them all, but her eyes were on Visenya, whom she handed the scroll to. “A fever has taken him.” she added, with worry clear on her face. Her mind was clearly going to her friend, Ceryse. “His eldest son, Lord Martyn Hightower is now the Lord of the Hightower, the head of his house, beacon of the south, defender of Oldtown and the Citadel and Lord of the Port.” she finished the announcement, trying to sound as proper as she could.

Aenys was once again speechless. 

taglist:@heartstalked@stupidocupido@discowizard88@slytherisstuff

[stellar-solar-flare]

Okay I love your Steve fics to death but I’m so curious about your Tony fic you have in progress. Knowing you it’s amazing but I still would love a sneak peek into your brain!!

Thank you for the love for my Steve fics and for sending an ask! (Ask is referencing WIP Tag Game post.)

So, Tony fic is one of my favorite tropes aka fake dating! Information and an unedited 700-ish sneak peek under the cut.

TW: cheating on Reader (not by Tony), crappy friends, drunkenness, age gap (Reader is around 30, Tony is 43).

Reader is at a high-end night club celebrating her bachelorette, when she receives an email that has a picture of her boyfriend kissing his coworker in the car park of his job.

And turns out her friends knew about it.

🍾.

“I’m sorry you had to find out this way,” Alyssa’s [the maid of honor] sorrowful voice broke through your thoughts. "I don't know who this woman thinks she is."

No. No. That was not the right reaction. She was not talking about Jennifer. [the woman he cheats with] She was talking about the message. Why was she talking about the message? Why was she mad about that? Your gaze snapped up to her face. Where was the shock? Where was the anger? Where were the threats that no one would ever find Tristan’s body? It was conceivable that Vanessa [the person who sent the email], who knew nothing about you would think this was okay with you but not Alyssa, not after knowing you since middle-school, not –

“But I’m sure she means nothing to him.”

No. No. NO. You swallowed the bile from your throat, trying to get some air into your lungs as the music around you seemed to swell into a cacophony that no longer made sense. It was one thing to be betrayed by Tristan but if –

“Did you know?” you spat.

“Look, hun, it’s –“

You stepped back as she was reaching to hug you. No. She didn’t get to touch you, not before she cleared up her words, denied that she’d ever known about this and threatened to come up with a plan to humiliate Tristan so badly he’d never crawl out of the hole he’d dug himself. Your mouth tasted like salt, and you had no idea why until you realized the tears were already falling. Alyssa folded her arms back against her chest and sighed.  

“Look, you guys have been together since forever. You have a good life. He cares about you, I mean, he’s giving you the wedding of your dreams and look at that ring,” Alyssa gestured toward your two-carat rock. “We didn’t want you to be upset, we were trying to… Everybody wanted to believe in you two, and yeah, he has his faults but honestly, with everything else... You’re living the dream. You’ve always been together. We thought this wouldn’t tear you apart, either.”

You didn’t know which part of that statement was the most fucked up. Who the hell was this woman? How could you… How could she… We didn’t want to upset you? Your brain was refusing to process it all, grasping for something concrete, something you could address.

“He wanted the fucking wedding to impress his buddies,” you said, almost like you were just now realizing the fact.

We. We. We. You thought about the three other women sitting at the table reserved for you, people you’d known since high school, people who’d seen the beginning of you and Tristan, people whose names you refused to know anymore because clearly, you hadn’t known them in the first place. Snakes. All of them. Some random lady you’d talked to once at a party had cared about you more than your best friends. And fuck Tristan and fuck Jennifer but your friends? Your friends, who had sat there making delighted noises at your fucking wedding dress fitting, knowing that your loving fiancé was probably somewhere chasing a skirt.

“Did everybody know except for me? Jesus Christ, how many of you he’s fucked?”

People closest to you were turning to look as your voice climbed, and on some other day, you would’ve cared, but the look on Alyssa’s face drove the knife deeper into your chest.

“Not me,” she said, finally, without meeting your gaze.

Apparently, it was possible that at some point, you ran out of ability to be shocked anymore. All it took was your entire life crumbling down around you. With a very deliberate movement, you set the drink onto the bar. Apparently, Alyssa took your blank stare and complete lack of reaction as a sign to keep talking, and honestly, some sick part of you was dying to hear this. If not for anything else, to spit it all onto Tristan’s face once you saw him again.

“You know how it’s always been with Tristan. Everybody wanted him, even back in high school. He could have anyone, but he always comes back to you. That means you win. That means you’re better than any of them. They don’t mean anything to him.”

🍾.

So she finds out that both his status-oriented investment banker piece of crap of a fiance and her friends have betrayed her. The MOH calls the fiance, who comes over into the bar trying to get her to calm down and listen, and she throws her drink in his face.

Which is when Tony happens to come from the Avengers' VIP booth to the bar and sees that. He comments something along the lines of liking her style, and asking what's wrong.

She's a mess, so she spends the rest of the night spilling the whole sorry story, crying onto his shoulder, and drinking champagne in his VIP booth, and ends up in his house - absolutely nothing happens, since she's so drunk, but he wasn't going to abandon her and make her go back to the shared apartment.

In the morning, he gets her breakfast, and they come up with a plan: since his ex thinks he's all that shit, making money on the stock market, et cetera...

Then how about Tony showing him how a real rich guy treats his girlfriend. Obviously, it's all fake; Tony loves the drama and the idea of getting back at her ex this way, and she's in the mood for some righteous vengeance - and what's a better way to humiliate a status-focused idiot than to 'upgrade', so to speak.

It's all fake... Until it isn't.

[damn-stark]

Part 2 The Golden & The No Name Knight

Part 2 of The Lion and The Dragon

A/N- I’ll continue the rest of this series!

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Lannister!fem-reader

Warning- Angst, language, forced marriage, violence and blood.

Episode- takes place before 1x08

(Let me know if you want to be tagged)

————

The sounds of swords clashing mixed in the breeze, making Nyra’s words beside you difficult to hear.

“….repeat it!” She exclaims the last bit of her sentence.

You shake your head and narrow your gaze. “I—what? I didn’t quite catch that. Repeat it.”

Nyra groans and parts his lips to repeat herself for the second time. “I said...”

Yet her words once again get tuned out the moment you catch your dear and loving husband, Prince Aemond, in the training yard.

He’s quick and swift with each swing and every duck to evade the knight you know as Ser Criston Cole. For someone so slender compared to his dueling partner, Aemond is quite strong and manages to push off Ser Criston’s sword before he kicks him away with ease.

Hm.

He hadn’t noticed you watching yet—or so you think. But you did take in every step he did and memorized it, wondered if that could ever be you, training like them in public.

It’s not to say that you wish to become a man to hold a sword, no, none of that. You wondered if you could ever become a fierce woman warrior just like Queen Visenya was, be as comfortable in ringmail just as you are in silk. Just like how it was told she was. That’s your wish.

To be remembered as something fierce and not be forgotten, or written down as a simple wife and mother.

Sometimes—no, most of the times when you daydream, you like to imagine yourself holding a sword and fighting like the brave warriors.

“Ah,” Nyra finally comments, having given up trying to teach you what was in the scripture for now. “Gawking are we? It was that good,” she snickers.

Your eyes widen and you quickly snap your head towards her to swat her arm. “Nyra,” you hiss and proceed to navigate your way through the damned castle. “Quiet. I told you to be quiet.”

Nyra lingers behind for a bit before she giggles and skips to catch up to you. “Tell me did he show you his eye?”

You roll your eyes and walk back inside the castle to try and return to your chambers after having wandered a bit too far. “Why—” you sigh and shake your head. “No he did not show me his eye.”

Nyra hums and stops, forcing you to do the same.

“So he slept with the patch on?” She questions.

You press your lips together and let out a deep breath before turning and shaking your head again. “No,” you tell her. “The prince did not end up staying the night, so I wouldn't know.”

Nyra scoffs and steps towards you to continue walking. “Well, regardless, he totally saw you just now. So if you ask nicely maybe he’ll teach you a thing or two.”

“Yeah,” you scoff. “Sure, but my dear Nyra, I am but a fragile maiden, I cannot touch a sword,” you add sarcastically. “Who knows what might happen, my arm might fall off, or worse yet, I may grow a pair of balls.”

“See,” Nyra retorts with a pointed glare. “It’s this attitude that made him not want to stay the night.”

You giggle and clasp your hands behind your back as you turn yet another hall that looks like all the others.

“This castle is too big. I swear we just went in a circle,” you complain.

“So is your belly swollen,” Nyra blurts and touches your belly. “Are you expecting?” She smirks.

You smack her hand away and snap back. “No! It’s been five days!”

Nyra shrugs. “So?” She quips. “You know Alyssa Hill?”

You squint and think, but can’t come up with a face. “No. There was like three of those.”

She sighs and snaps her fingers. “Alyssa Hill, the blonde, dark eyed one. Eyes black as coal?”

“Oh! Yes! Her! What about her?” You question.

Nyra smirks again as she gets all smug. “She began to show five days after she lay with her husband.”

You scoff. “That’s because she was also with the stable boy before getting married,” you retort, making Nyra stop and gasp.

“How do you know that?!”

You stop and peer back to smirk at her. “I know things,” you shrug. “I was the lady of Casterly Rock, it’s my job.”

Nyra skips towards you and hooks her arm around yours to continue walking and getting even more lost.

Nevertheless, it’s as you’re trying to navigate your way back to your chambers that you actually stumble across your husband and his brother.

Nyra spotted them first just as you were going to turn the corner and quickly yanks you back.

“What are you—”

She slaps her hand on your mouth and puts her finger against her lip to shush you and then point out to the hall.

At first you don’t understand, not until you recognize his voice.

“….she is no Valyrian or Targaryen,” you hear Aemond say. “True. I didn’t get as lucky as you, brother.”

He’s talking about you.

When you understand that you meet Nyra’s amber gaze and pull her hand off your mouth.

“No, you didn’t,” Aegon counters. “You got married to a plain looking Lannister. The handmaiden is far prettier, lay with her, or I can introduce you to some silver-haired woman if it pleases you.”

You clench your jaw and drop your gaze, and wait, actually fucking wait for Aemond to defend you, but that was foolish of you to hope for.

“My wife,” he says, “is tolerable, but it’s what her family offers that brought forth our match. Don’t forget that Aegon.”

The marriage was not one out of love, yes, but there was still some part of you, a small part within that hoped he at least found you agreeable. It isn't so, and that stung.

“It’s not for me to remember,” Aegon retorts. “Yet, that’s beside the point, marriage doesn’t mean dedication.”

Aemond scoffs and then footsteps continue to come forward, causing you and Nyra to panic and begin to stumble as you both try to turn to walk back where you had come from.

“Fuck, fuck,” you whisper and try to pull her back. “Fuck.”

However, it’s as you’re pushing yourself forward and stumbling over your own feet that Nyra accidentally pushes you to the wall. And rather than hitting it and coming to a sudden halt, the wall moves and you fall back into some hidden hall, pulling Nyra with you.

Aegon and Aemond get closer so instead of getting out Nyra and you close the wall, or the door, whatever it is and hide behind it to wait for them to pass; thanking the gods that they had dropped their conversation about you and instead Aemond seemed to be scolding his older brother. Their conversation was a bit muffled behind the wall to hear clearly.

“Did they pass?” Nyra whispers a few minutes later.

You shrug and snap back. “I don’t know, how am I meant to know?”

Nyra pushes the wall just a bit back to let you peek your head out.

“So?”

You look from side to side and see no one. Thank the gods. “It’s clear, let’s go,” you urge her and grab her hand to help her out.

Nyra pushes the wall close and lets you drag her away.

“That was close,” she whispers. “I thought I was gonna piss myself.”

You touch your chest and sigh. “Me too.”

“That was,” she brings up slowly. “Something. I wonder where those halls lead to.”

“Probably, my guess around the castle,” you share. “If only it led to my room.” You grumble. “I think we’re lost.” You let her hand go and walk in silence, guessing for the most part where to go, basing it mostly off memory and trying not to think of how deeply the Prince just wounded your pride.

Is there a point in trying to impress him any further? Sure it’s only been a few days since your marriage began, but if he found you so plain and barely tolerable then what is the point?

“I don’t think he meant it,” Nyra blurts.

Great. It’s like she’s reading your mind.

Then again much like you, that’s all she was probably thinking about since she heard him.

“What?” You act clueless.

“Prince Aemond,” she clarifies. “I mean it’s not like he’s the type of person to be all affectionate. I mean he doesn’t look it.”

You scoff and carefully fiddle with your fingers. “My marriage is one made of convenience. I’m rich, his family wants my fathers money. They want to secure our money with our marriage. That’s all it is, I’m not wounded by his words, especially not the words of his brother,” you spat.

Nyra hums and steals a look at you, catching the sad frown and obvious hurt look on your face that cracked through the feigned nonchalant expression.

“And as true as that may be, love can still grow from such a sour match,” she tries to assure you. “Only if you try.”

You quickly shoot her a narrowed look and counter. “Was it not you that said that it didn’t matter if there was love or not?”

Nyra smirks and meets your gaze. “Yes, but I’ve changed my mind.” She grabs your arm and leans towards you. “I want you to make him fall madly in love with you, my lady Lannister. Show him your wits, show him that no other woman in this world compares to you…”

The corner of your lips begin to tug to a smile but you try to play off your fluster by shaking your head and hiding your face.

“Be the badass bitch I know you are,” she continues. “Show him what he is missing.” She grins. “Be the lioness that—”

“Shut up,” you giggle.

Nyra drops her head and laughs at the floor as you turn the corner of some hall. And since you had your eyes downcasted you only barely manage to catch the pair of knights walking towards you.

The moment they stop you do too and intend to walk past them, but as you glance up you notice your beloved brave knight.

“Ser Robert,” you greet with a smile.

The old knight bows his head. “My Lady,” he says and looks at your side. “Nyra.”

Said girl smiles at the man and then can’t help but drift her eyes to the side to the knight beside Ser Robert, at the same time you do.

Your look is brief at first of course, you’re focused on your friend mostly, but then when you notice how blue his eyes are contrasted to his dark hair you take a second glance.

He’s quite charming actually. Maybe as tall as Aemond by the looks of it. Striking and a strong facial structure, a perfectly cut beard decorates his face, and mustache to accompany it. There's a cockiness in the way he stands, in his serious gaze piercing into you.

Aemond has this brooding and intimidating look that attracts you even if it shouldn’t, but this man…this talk and dark haired man is eye-catching in more of a…well, who knows really. He’s just eye-catching.

“If I may ask my Lady why is it you’re all the way out here?” Ser Robert asks and pulls your attention back to him.

“Oh,” you mouth and glance around. “To admit the embarrassing truth…” you laugh softly. “We’re quite lost. If you may, could you help us back to my chambers?” You smile sweetly.

Ser Robert smiles and nods. “Of course, it actually works out quite well. I was actually on my way to you.” He points his head forward and begins guiding Nyra and you back to your chambers.

“And why is that?” You question as you fall by his side.

Ser Robert glances at you and sighs before he focuses back on his path ahead. “We’ll speak when we reach your room.”

You look over at him and hum as you grow concerned.

“So tell me,” Ser Robert chuckles breathlessly. “How did you both manage to get lost? You’re near the training yard.”

You clasp your hands in front of you and avert your gaze. “Well,” you sigh. “We walked to the gardens. After our time there we intended to return to my room, but I think we took the wrong turn.”

“It was more the Lady’s pride that got us lost,” Nyra interjects, making you peer back to glare at her.

Ser Robert shares a hearty chuckle and rather than speaking, the other knight does. “The castle is quite big,” he says with a thicker accent, in a bit of a huskier voice. “I got lost for about a month before I managed to finally find my way around.”

“How did you find your way?” You ask with a faint smile.

The knight sighs and laughs. “Uhm, I had help for a month. A guide.”

Your smile deepens. “Well without my dear husband at my side to help,” you say with a hint of smugness. “I think I might be needing one as well, I wouldn’t want to get lost and never find my way.”

The knight scoffs in amusement. “Well whenever it pleases my Lady, I would be honored to take you on a tour so you can map the castle.”

You look at him over your shoulder and offer him a sweet smile and a nod.

Silence falls over the group soon after, but anticipation for what Ser Robert needed to talk about rose higher with each you took, and the more you recognized the halls as you got closer you got to your chambers. There were many instances where you wanted to end such silence to probe, but you knew Ser Robert wouldn’t give in so easily, so pleading would be useless. You had to wait. You did for what felt like eternity.

The moment you made it in your room, you didn’t bother to ask why the second knight walked in behind Ser Robert, your eagerness to know made you forget your manners.

“So what is it?” You ask the old knight eagerly.

Ser Robert pulls a chair back and motions you to sit, you hesitantly do so and then watch him sit across from you as Nyra serves wine to the both of you.

“Ser?” You press in his dreading silence.

The knight grabs his cup of wine, but doesn’t drink, he just looks at it and then meets your gaze and sighs deeply.

“It’s,” he finally begins to speak. “It’s your father, he’s asked me to return to Casterly Rock with him when he leaves.” He swallows thickly and you go rigid and only take a long sip of wine.

But Ser Robert was meant to be appointed to you, to stay with you. Besides Nyra, he was the only piece of home you could bring with you. Now he’s leaving. Now you wouldn’t be able to see the only parental figure you really had after your mothers death.

He’s leaving….

“But,” you mutter and put your cup down to keep meeting his gaze with anger that begins to spark within you. “He said you’d stay here with me. You said you would.” You blink and swallow thickly.

Ser Robert nods slowly and his gaze softens. “I did, but your father the Lord has requested my return, I can’t fight him.”

Of course, of course. You’re nothing compared to your father, a man, a Lord.

You grip onto your cup and nod slowly as you begin to gnaw on the inside of your cheek briefly before clenching your jaw and growing stiff and serious. “What happens now? Am I meant to fend for myself? I know I’m no princess or queen to protect, but no one here is loyal to me….” Your voice breaks even if you try to show no emotion.

“You have your uncle,” Ser Robert reminds you in a lighthearted tone to try and make you smile. But you just form a scowl on your face. “His guards.” He pushes his cup aide and leans a bit forward to get closer to you. “Prince Aemond is a great swordsman, even I admit, he’ll protect you as well.”

You scoff and drop your gaze to avoid looking at his face.

“My Lady,” he calls for your attention, but you just pull your hands back and begin tapping your finger on your cup. “Y/N.”

You slowly glance up and show your gleaming eyes, the anger that disguised your sadness.

“I would’ve preferred to stay back with you, but when your father gives a command I listen, it is my job. I’m sorry,” he shares softly and sits back. “But, I leave you in great hands. Someone I trust to look out for you.” He looks past you. “Ser Erwin Reyne.”

Footsteps approach and you catch the gleam of his armor in front of you, but you’re too angry and bothered to look at him right away.

“He’ll be at your command,” Ser Robert continues to say. “I trust him, I can vouch that he is excellent with a sword.”

You let out a deep breath and slowly drag your eyes up the young knight.

“It’s my honor to be your protector, Lady Lannister. Just as my father serves yours as a loyal bannerman, I will serve you now as your faithful protector.”

Your face softens, and you offer him a partial smile and a stiff nod.

“Reyne,” you point out. “You’re from the Westerlands? From home?” You ask.

Ser Erwin nods with a partial but proud smile of his own. “Yes. I am a fifth son to Lord Reyne.”

Your smile softens, and you do feel a sense of security at the mention that he’s from near your home. “That’s comforting,” you admit.

“Maybe it will be more comforting if you come watch me compete in the tourney at the end of the week, that they’ll have in honor of your marriage to the Prince,” Ser Erwin suggests. “You’ll be able to see if I’m worthy or not to be your protector there. If not, I won't take offense if you change your mind about me.”

Right that. Huh.

You stiffen at the reminder of what’s to come and add a tightlipped smile, even if Nyra in the back was being a tease about this interaction.

“That’s right,” you say and avert your gaze. “I will see you there, hm.” You slide your hands down to your lap and spare a side glance at Ser Robert. “But if Ser Robert says he trusts you…then there is nothing for me to see, I take his word, I trust you too Ser.”

The young knight nods and his smile turns softer and grows wider. “Thank you my Lady, you honor me. Still it would bring me a sense of pleasure to see you at the tourney.”

You scoff and smirk. “It is in the honor of my marriage, so I’ll be there.” You share a quick and knowing glance with Nyra and then hide your cocky smirk by drinking wine.

When you set your cup down and return your gaze to Ser Robert, he stands up and bows his head. “We’ll talk later my Lady, I’ll leave now that I’ve shared the news.”

You nod stiffly as you keep your eyes averted, and watch Ser Erwin bow his head before he follows Ser Robert out of your room, leaving the room silent for a moment until Nyra reaches the table.

“It would be his pleasure,” Nyra mocks you with a growing smug smile. “I’m sure it would,” she giggles and grabs a cup of wine.

You roll your eyes but can’t help but smile.

“Now, now what would your dear husband say about the switch to a much dapper, and stronger knight?” Nyra keeps teasing.

“What would he say?” You retort. “Nothing. I'm no silver-haired woman, remember. I’m just tolerable.” You take a drink of your wine and grow serious again.

Nyra rolls her eyes at your snide but then sits back and crosses her leg over the other as a smirk tugs on her face. “We’ll see won’t we?”

——

*DAYS LATER*

“Okay, Nyra,” you say as you smooth out your flowy black dress and walk out to your room. “How about this one, hm? It’s easy to take off and has both…” you trail off as you look up and catch Aemond standing in front of the door.

“Oh,” you swallow thickly from shock. “Husband,” you greet and share a quick nervous glance with Nyra.

“I’m here to escort you to the tourney,” he breaks his silence and clasps his hands behind him.

Your eyes slightly widen as you nod. “Alright, I was just debating what to wear.”

“You’ve had the entire day,” he quips, making you grow serious, and slightly furrow your eyebrows.

“And you’re not a woman,” you snap back and turn around to debate between the black dress you're wearing that’s really open in the cleavage area but accompanied with a silk golden bralette, or a more covered golden and red dress.

“You put on a suit and call it a day, people don’t turn their heads, but I am a lady, highborn at that,” you continue with confidence, even if his stance alone was a bit frightening. “They expect a lot from me.”

“Who gives a shit what people think,” Aemond interjects, and you scoff lightheartedly before you turn on your heels and meet his gaze with a pointed glare.

“I do. I am giving them what they want, and exceeding at that everytime,” you add and watch Aemond lift his head before he just hums as his eye remains pierced on you.

“Alright Nyra,” you sigh and glance at her, catching her eyes widened in surprise and her lips twitching to a smirk—“The one I have on, or the red dress?”

Nyra lets out a deep breath and opens her mouth to voice her final opinion, but Aemon interjects in that moment with his.

“The one you have on,” he says, causing your stomach to churn and your heart to skip a beat, whilst Nyras jaw drops.

You draw in a deep breath and nod stiffly. “Okay,” you breathe out. “Thank you.” You hang the other dress up and face him again. “I’m finished, we may go now.”

As you walk out of your room, you walk at Aemond’s side, and before you can get out, you share a knowing glance with Nyra that makes her depart from your side to walk the opposite way. Leaving just Aemond and you alone.

It isn’t awkward, silent but not uncomfortable, it’s just tense…with what you know he said about you, and the fact that he kept looking over at you like if he wanted to say something—or well who knows really, he’s hard to read.

“So, husband,” you break the silence. “Will you be competing at the tourney today?”

Aemond scoffs right away. “No. Tourneys are shit, I’m only attending because it’s required of me.”

You hum. “I think tourneys are quite exciting,” you share even if he didn’t ask. “Watching men’s ego break once they get beaten down is the funniest thing.” You smirk.

Aemond slowly looks over at you and then scoffs.

As you hear him, you look over at him and meet his gaze, noticing the corner of his lips upturned to a very faint smirk.

Rather than ignoring him, you can’t help but smile at him for a brief second before you look away so as to avoid feeling…everything that your heart is currently feeling. The rush of emotions that rush in your heart and mind. That’s why you choose to walk the rest of the way to the tourney in silence. Thankfully as well, you met your uncle Ser Tyland, so he filled most of the silence with nonsense you didn’t bother to care about since your mind was occupied on something else entirely.

Once the tourney started, as knights began to jouste against each other you did have a brief moment of distraction after one knight fell off his horse and began to fight the other; the knight was so wounded by the fact that he had been knocked off on the first attempt that he went to pull the other knight off his horse to begin beating him up. However, the other knight got the upper hand and beat him in combat too.

It was funny seeing the knight get so weepy and upset.

“And they say women are emotional,” you murmur under your breath with an amused smile on your face.

Aemond catches your comment and looks over at you and catches your smile over the interaction. He doesn’t say anything of course, or do anything, he just recalls your conversation and finds your smile quite amusing, whereas others would find your smile cruel because the knights were beating each other, especially more so because you’re a lady.

Nevertheless, after that match ended you began to grow worried and even more nervous for what was to come. More than before. Thankfully Nyra arrives and helps ease your current anxiety, most of it anyway.

“Ready,” she whispers.

You don’t look at her and just give her hand a gentle squeeze as you watch the current match.

And since the match is quite short and boring, it ends quickly, leaving you with your chance to take a short leave.

“I’ll return,” you announce to Aemond as you get up.

He keeps his eye on the contenders and just hums as a response while Nyra follows after you out of the audience box.

“Where is it?” You ask while you bounce on one foot as you’re taking off one shoe and walking down rows of tents.

“Ugly tan tent at the fifth row,” she says quickly and rushes you towards it.

You proceed to hurry up and struggle to pull off your other shoe. Once you reach the intended tent, Nyra shoves you in, snatches your boots to throw them aside, and begins loosening the strings on your dress so you can slip it off.

“Oh, by the bloody gods,” you complain as you run to your bag on the table to begin pulling out shiny light gold armor pieces. “I’ve never had to do this so quickly.”

Nyra rushes to your side and dumps the bag out to begin helping you put on your chainmail.

“I told you, stop this foolish activity, but no,” she grumbles. “You insist on keeping up this ruse.”

You smile down at the armor you’re putting on now and quip. “And you’re doing what exactly?”

“Helping,” she retorts. “Or else without me you’d be caught. You’d get in trouble and be shamed for the rest of your life. But this time maybe your husband would feed you to his dragon.”

You scoff softly and smile over at her. “I think that would be a pretty fun way to die,” you tease.

Nyra snaps her eyes over to you to shoot you a glare and snap back. “You better win this damned match.”

You grow serious and sigh. “Let’s hope. If I die at least I’ll be relieved from my match.”

Nyra finishes attaching the pieces of armor in record time and leaves you to put on your boots.

“Okay,” you roll out and shove your foot in. “I’m ready. Pray for me.” You get up and put on your helmet before you rush out of the tent and run to your horse.

“Hello there,” you greet the white horse as you carefully pet his neck. “Don’t worry I won’t let them hurt you.”

“You’re late, Knight,” the man with the lance and shield says.

You pull your hand away from the horse, and simply hum before you climb on your white horse and snatch the lance and shield from his hand. You then ride the horse to the field where you wait at the other end of your competitor.

“Now, Ser Moore from High Garden will compete against…the No Name Knight!” The announcer shouts to the crowd.

You roll your shoulders back and take one glance at the audience box, spotting your ever so beloved husband sitting and watching with no emotion, right by his brother who seems far more entertained. What would Aemond say if he knew you were under the light gold armor? That you were the No name Knight?

He said not to care what people think, but would he think the same if people talked about you, his wife?

Your father and step mother would be pissed to say the least. You had to wonder what he’d say? What would he do?

“…set, go!” The announcer catches you off guard.

You secure your grip around the reins, and loosen your tight grip around your lance before you encourage the horse to sprint forward, towards your competitor.

The moment your horse moves, time moves rather quickly, but for a spare second as you breathe out, time moves slowly; you drop your gaze and catch the knight shifting his shield just an inch above his abdomen that he leaves open enough for the right target.

With that in mind you tilt your lance and look back at him, noticing him tilt his lance up towards more of your neck and face region. You don’t shift your shield up however, you keep it where it is, and as the point of his lance comes near, you throw your head back and see it swing over your face as you miss getting hit.

On the other hand, you. You jab your lance into your target you had spotted and manage to knock him off his horse with one blow.

The people cheer and clap for you whilst you bring your horse to a slow pace as you reach the other end of the field. It’s hard not to rejoice in the commotion towards your victory, you usually don’t like to be excited when you compete in them at home, but there’s way more people here, it’s louder, it’s hard not to at least smile with pride as you climb off your horse.

“See,” you whisper to the horse. “You didn't get—”

“Sword!” The other knight yells and makes you stiffen.

“Ser Moore has chosen to continue in a contest of arms!” The announcer shouts.

Some worker runs up to you and hands you a borrowed sword, you take it hesitantly and slowly turn to face an angered knight storming towards you.

Usually it’s far more entertaining watching this unfold than actually being a part of it.

“Shit,” you murmur and begin to slowly meet the knight halfway.

“You fucking cunt,” the Knight sneers and swings his sword at your neck. You parry however and spin behind him.

As he begins to turn you swing your sword at his legs, making him move his shield down and leaving you with the chance to kick him down. He proceeds to curse up a storm as he falls back, letting you run up to him to point your sword at his neck so he’d yield.

Nevertheless, just as you stride over to him he pulls out his sword and swings up before you can move your shield, managing to gash your hand, ripping the strap of your shield and cutting straight through your glove and your skin.

“Fuck,” you wince and stumble back as your shield falls.

The knight pushes himself and runs up to you, he swings his sword on your face and kicks you down to the ground, making sure to quickly climb over you to try and press the side of his sword against your neck.

You however, let your sword go and grab his wrists to try and push him off. Albeit the knight is stronger and pushes down harder. He’s going to cut through your neck, but you quickly swing the tip of his own sword up to him and smack his face over and over again until he lets go and lets you kick him off you.

Even if your hand hurts and blood begins to trickle down the gash on your palm, you turn and push yourself off the ground to swipe your sword off the ground, and then snatch his in the process to walk over to him with heavy pants and trap his neck with both swords.

“I,” he hesitates, “I yield!”

The crowd booms with excitement and you scoff softly under your helmet before throwing the swords aside and striding off with pride. You don’t even bother to look over at Aemond, you know he’d still be bored, you just walk back to the end you had ran through and collect your bag of money before returning to your tent with no words ever spoken to anyone.

“I saw,” Nyra says as you barge into the tent. “Congratulations.”

You pull your helmet off and smile at her before you hand the bag of money to her for her to keep. Like all the other times. “Here.”

Her eyes linger on you and she doesn’t fight against you anymore. She’s done so many other times, but she knew you wouldn't keep it, you already had so much money that you didn’t know what to do with, you had no need for pocket money as Nyra calls it.

“The bastard cut me,” you sneer as you pull off your armor in a hurry.

Nyra rushes over to you to help you undress and pulls your hand towards her. “We’ll stitch it once we return to the room, for now I’ll just wrap it.”

You nod in agreement. “That’s what I was thinking too,” you say between pants. “I’ll tell him, I cut myself—”

“He won’t notice,” Nyra blurts.

You meet her gaze and can’t help but agree. As harsh as her comment sounded. “Right.” You focus back on removing your armor.

Since it’s two of you working at the same time, and you’ve done this multiple times, you take off your armor quickly and remove your chainmail even quicker to then slip back in your dress.

Before you can return though, Nyra wraps your cut tightly so the wound would stop bleeding. “Just hide it and you’ll be okay. Don’t move it too much.”

You nod as you plop the sweat off your face. “I know,” you assure her.

Nyra ties the wrap and you finish at the same time, so you then rush back to the audience box. And Aemond as expected doesn’t bother to ask questions or even look over at you.

“What did I miss?” You ask him as you grab your cup of water.

Aemond scoffs. “Nothing worth mentioning,” he mutters and steals a glance at you without you noticing as you focus on the next contender in shiny golden armor riding towards the audience box.

“Lady y/n Lannister!” The golden knight exclaims, making you sit up straight and lean forward, whilst Aemond shifts up and watches closer.

The knight takes off his helmet and reveals himself to be Ser Erwin Reyne.

“I would humbly ask for your favor.”

The corner of your lips tug to a soft smile as you reach for a flower crown laying on your side. Yet, as you reach over you feel a sharp pain from your wounded hand, and have to quickly pull your hand away to hide it in between the ruffles of your dress before you walk to the edge to throw the flowers on his lance. “I wish you good fortune, Ser Erwin.”

The Golden Knight offers you a charming smile and bows his head. “Thank you, my Lady, I hope today's match eases your doubt.”

You beam at him and return to your spot to watch with more curiosity than you had for any other match. While Aemond clenches his jaw and narrows his eye on Ser Erwin after sharing a brief look with his brother.

“Who is that?” Aegon asks as he leans over his brother to question you.

You briefly glance at him so as to not miss the match.

“A knight from the Westerlands. My new appointed knight.”

Aegon shares a taunting smirk with his brother, and Aemond just ignores him but keeps his eye pierced on Ser Erwin as the match starts.

Unlike with your match, Ser Erwin urges his brown horse forward towards his competitor and they both miss, making them both turn for another round.

Your heart races with excitement, and you have to lift your head to watch more intently.

Now Ser Erwin fixes his grip on his lance and drops his shoulders before making his horse sprint forward again. This time he shifts his lance up a few inches and as he’s about to pass the other knight he lunges his lance forward.

The force of his jab is so strong that the point rams through the knight's throat, knocking him immediately off his horse and taking Ser Erwin’s lance with him as his limp body falls on the ground.

The crowd cheers and claps for Ser Erwin’s victory, and you grin and push yourself off your seat to clap once, but end up wincing and hiding your reaction by shifting your hand to clap lightly on the upper level of your hand.

You think no one notices your quick reaction to your pain, and no one does, no one except for Aemond. He catches the sound of your quiet complaint and immediately notices the bandage wrapped around your hand that wasn’t there before. Not when they first got here, nor when he was in your room.

It could’ve been done when you were away for that long period of time, but he then remembers The No Name knight that fought when you were gone and recalls how they got their palm cut on the same hand your bandage was.

You weren’t sweaty, or dirty, and now that’s thinking about it more thoroughly, your handmaiden wasn’t with you at the start, she came during the middle of the match and you left soon after she got here. You came back and she wasn’t with you again, and one thing he’s definitely noticed since you got here is that you were both inseparable.

Couldn’t be a coincidence.

Hm.

He’s intrigued now more than you know.

.

.

.

.

Tagged: @winter-soldier-101 @whateverooooooo

[hahagiggle]

Intro Post!! ⋆｡°✩

HII !! We're the Hamsterdance Collective :D You can call us Hamster, or address fronterz by name (which is wats preferred) IRL Scemo. 22 yearz old bodily. This is a WIP i'm kinda distracted rn!!

I have a SOULMATE @profoundlysick <3 <3 who is our syspart but I'm looking for more friends. It'd be nice to meet more ppl like us, maybe... gah. this is all so much tbh. I'm new to this, and being open about it.

Tragic Backstory

We are a DID system :P Im gonna be 100% transparent, we split due to being a victim of a school shooting incident in 2019 as well as repeated violence against us growing up and have TCC introjects as a result. It's been a source of a lot of shame and distress in our life but idkk. i think getting a space 4 them to actually express themselves might Help with internal communication, and to finally face and lessen the trauma. Sorry if that's uncomfortable for u!! We're tryn to play nice, and will be on BEST behavior.

Fronters

Adam 🐹 [he/it/none] Adult. AKA. AL, hamster. I'd prefer not to be called by any of my old monikers unless we are close. Hello. I have mixed feelings about all of this. Though, I suppose there is little I don't have mixed feelings for.

Alyssa 🐺 [she/her] Ageweird. AKA. Al, Allie, wolf, wolfie. Adam and I are likely 2 be the most active on the tumblr!! I like scene and emo shit, Animal Jam (NOT giving out my username, perverts XD) and umm. IDK. XD do u want me to reference my old YouTube profile rofl I'm currently writing this intro post ALL by mah damn self cuz IM the responsible one around here LOL can't u deadbeats do anything -eyeroll-

Brenda 🐴 [she/her]

Seung-Hui 👽 [he/him] AKA. Cho.

Robert 🐶 [he/him] AKA. Robbie, dog, doggy, little bitch.

Thomas 🦅 [he/him] AKA. Tom, Tommy. Yeah this one is fresh sorry.

Other Tags

💞 RIDEORDIE - syspart tag!!!! Stuff we've saved for them or made by them :P

🏠 Headspace - pix that look like headspace :D for visualizing and comfort lols

All the excess notes will be moved to our individual posts when I/we wanna make that ("ᗒᗜᗕ)՛̵̖ - Alyssa

[middleearthpixie]

Better Days ~ Chapter Four (was Human Touch)

A/N - I changed the title because I think this fits better. Sorry for any confusion. 😁

Summary: Frerin Durin had the perfect life, until he found out his wife was cheating on him. Now, he’s navigating uncharted territory as an about-to-be divorced single dad. Dating is a mess, he’s dealing with the fallout where his kids are concerned, and really, he would just love a vacation away from all of it. 

Elena Madison is new to Sidleburg, new to the history department at the high school, and also navigating life as a newly single parent. The last thing she needed was for her daughter to come down sick, when she hasn’t even had time to unpack the moving boxes, never mind find a pediatrician. And the last thing she ever expected was to meet a man like Dr. Frerin Durin…

Neither Elena nor Frerin were looking for anything, but fate has a way of messing up even the best laid plans. However, both have been hurt and both aren't at all sure they trust themselves, never mind trusting someone else...

Pairings:  Modern!Frerin  x ofc Elena Madison

Characters: Frerin, Flynn, Maura, Jake, Elena, Alyssa

Warnings: None

Rating: T

Word Count: 6.9k

Tag List: @mrsdurin @i-did-not-mean-to @lathalea @linasofia @fizzyxcustard @legolasbadass @kibleedibleedoo @xxbyimm @arrthurpendragon @exhausted-humxn-being @rachel1959 @laurfilijames @sketch-and-write-lover @sherala007 @enchantzz @knittastically @notlostgnome @myselfandfantasy @medusas-hairband @guardianofrivendell @jotink78 @sorisooyaa @ruthoakenshield @frosticenow @quiall321 @dianakc @buckybarnes-thorin @glassgulls @evenstaredits @heilith @asgardianhobbit98 @albionscastle @absentmindeduniverse @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @sazzlep

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here. 

Frerin yanked off the black mock turtleneck he’d just pulled over his head and hurled it toward the hamper. Christ, it’d been two decades since he’d had to worry about making a good impression on a first date and he’d forgotten what a pain in the ass it could be. And while this wasn't his first date since he and Toni split up, it was the first one where he was this concerned about making a good impression. The last time he’d had to worry about it, he was a cocky nineteen year old more concerned with figuring out how to get into Toni Francetti’s jeans than he was with making a good impression. 

Of course, he found his way into those Guess jeans and ten months later, he then found himself newly married, staring down at his newborn son, wondering just how the hell he was going to finish college and support a family at the same time. Toni wasn't supposed to get pregnant. They’d only been out a couple of times and he was seeing a couple of other girls on campus as well, and neither one of them had said anything about being exclusive. Never mind being young and stupid. Young and stupid and drunk at a frat party when they got carried away. But, her family had money and her father made it clear to him that walking away was not an option. So, thanks to Toni’s family, he was able to finish college, and medical school, while she stayed home first with Flynn, and then with Maura, and then finally with Jake. 

He was far from a perfect husband. School, residency, working his way to an attending position meant time away from home, away from the family. He’d come very close to having an affair with a charge nurse, but stopped it before it went beyond a steamy kiss in the parking deck. He’d come clean to Toni and they tried to salvage their relationship, deciding to try for their third and final child, but in the end, it was Toni’s affair with a boy only slightly older than Flynn that delivered the final blow. 

He had to admit, it was for the best for all of them. The kids were adapting to their new lives and with far less tension in the house, they were all better for it. If he was absolutely honest with himself, he and Toni never should have gotten married in the first place. They were too young. Too selfish. Too immature. 

Of course, at the same time, he wouldn’t trade those kids for anything. 

He sighed as he tugged open the door to the walk-in closet and flipped the light switch. The closet ran the length of the bedroom, and was almost a room in itself. When Toni still lived there, they divided it half but since she’d moved out, he’d taken it over and had more space than he really knew what to do with. Suits and trousers and shoes were on one side, more casual clothes on the other. He peered out the window overlooking the front yard to see it was snowing lightly. Maybe they’d have a white Christmas. It’d be the first one in years. He and Flynn spent the previous weekend putting out the Christmas lights, while Maura and Jake took care of decorating inside the house. They did their Christmas baking last weekend and they would spend Christmas Eve with him, but Christmas Day with their mother and he didn't want to think about that. It wasn't the first Christmas he wouldn’t see them, after all when he was an intern and then a resident, his schedule included nights, weekends, holidays. Now that he ran the department, he had a bit more say in his schedule, but he also made sure he pulled his fair share of crappy shifts along with the other docs on his service.

Frerin frowned as he flipped through the rack of button down shirts, then moved to the stack of cubes where he kept tee shirts and long-sleeved shirts neatly folded. He chose a black henley and tugged it over his head, then moved to the mirror in the middle of the closet. Better than the mock turtleneck by far. Why did he even still have those stupid mock turtlenecks? He never wore them. Toni’s mother bought them every Christmas for him and they remained folded and unworn all year long. 

He flipped off the light as he left the closet and closed the door behind him, then moved to the chair under the dormer window in the far corner to pull on his favorite pair of shoes—brown Doc Martens Crazy Horse boots. 

The kids were in the family room, and he paused in the doorway and just watched them—Flynn and Maura were watching The Mandalorian, Jake was doing his homework. “Okay, guys, behave. I’m heading out. Jake, Maur, Flynn’s in charge and don't give him any trouble.”

As Flynn offered up a smug smile, Frerin was quick to add, “And no abusing your power, or else I put Jake in charge next time.”

“Nice,” Jake said, offering up his best impression of an evil smile.

Maura looked over her shoulder at him. “Have fun on your date, Dad. Be careful.”

“It’s just dinner, I doubt I’m in any danger.”

“Still, be careful.”

“I will, Mom.”

That earned him a smile and she turned back to the television. “Have fun.”

“I will. I won’t be too late and I’ve got my cell on.” He lifted his jacket up from where it lay across the back of the sofa. “Jake, bed by nine.”

“Dad, can’t I stay up a little later?”

“No. Bed by nine.”

“Man…”

“I’ll see you guys later. Like I said, I won’t be too late.”

“Don't hurry on account of us,” Flynn told him with utter seriousness, “especially if she’s cute.”

“That’s enough.”

“He’s right, Dad. You have our permission to have fun.”

“What kind of fun can they have over dinner?” Jake asked.

“You’d be amazed,” Maura told him.

“Enough.” Frerin dug his keys from the jacket pocket, and moved to the front door. As he pulled the door shut behind him, it was as Jake was asking one of them to explain what kind of fun they meant.

A sigh touched his lips as he walked down to his car. In the year since he and Toni separated, Maura and Flynn seemed okay with the few dates he went on, but this was the first Jake really paid any attention to it. And while he’d been out a few times over the course of the last year, he hadn’t slept with any of the women he’d dated, and he had no intentions of bringing any women home to spend the night unless there was actually a possible future, and since that was something he was not looking for right now…

He sank into the leather seat and turned over the engine, then got the heat going. As he backed down the wide drive, he tried not think about how quiet the house would be in the coming days. He didn't like it when the kids were at their mother’s, when the house was too quiet for his liking. He and Toni had worked out visitation with only a little fighting, and while they’d been doing this since the summer, Frerin still wasn’t used to the silence that came with an empty house.

The only good thing was he’d be able to get his Christmas shopping done before his shift began Saturday. Of course, that meant he’d have to wrap everything, which he did not look forward to doing. He sucked at it and as a result, Toni usually wrapped everything but her own gifts. 

“I’ll worry about that Saturday,” he muttered as he eased to a stop at the end of their street and peered into the mirror. He scowled, raked his fingers through the dark hair that would be curly if only he’d let it. That was how he knew when he needed a hair cut, when it refused to lay in any way that wasn't bushy. “I should do like Thorin and just let it grow out.”

He was just pulling into traffic when his cell rang. Leda. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I’m sorry to bug you, Frerin,” she said. “And I hope I’m not calling at a bad time, but Andrea’s temp has gone up.”

He shifted into Drive. “What’s it gone up to?”

“One-oh-one and she’s really cranky.”

“She’s most likely uncomfortable from the fever. Have you given her anything?”

“Some Tylenol about half an hour ago.”

“Give it some time to work. Do you want me to come by and take a look at her?”

Leda hesitated. “Are you home?”

“On my way out, but it’s no problem to swing by.”

“Are you on call tonight?”

“No. Believe it or not, I’ve got a date.”

“What?”

He grinned. “Yeah. But, she’ll probably understand if I call and tell her I’ll be a little late.”

“No, God, don't do that. I’ll give it another half hour or so and try her temp again.”

“Leda, it’s not a problem if—”

“No, Frerin, please don't change your plans. I know I’m just being a nervous mom, but—”

“Leda, it really won’t be a big deal. If it’ll give you some peace of mind, I’ll call Elena and tell her I’ll be a little late. She’s a mom herself. She’ll understand.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll be there in just a few minutes.”

“Okay. But only if you’re sure.”

“Leda.”

“Bye, Frerin.”

He grinned as the call disconnected and he pulled up Elena’s number, smiling as she said, “Hello?”

“Hi, Elena, it’s Frerin. Durin.”

“I know it’s you,” a smile came through in her voice, “your name comes up with your number, remember. What’s up?”

“Uh, I’m going to be a little late. My sister-in-law, the one with the twins, just called. Her daughter’s temperature’s gone up again so I told her I’d stop by. I know you were planing dinner for six, so if you want to do this another night, I’d understand.”

“I’ll keep a plate warmed for you.” She hesitated, then added, “Unless you’d rather do this another night.”

“Whichever is easiest for you. I don't usually do house calls, but it’s my brother’s kids, so—”

“No, you don't have to explain. Family comes first.” She cleared her throat. “So, if you still want to come by—”

“I do, Elena. It shouldn’t take me long.”

“Okay. Then swing by when you’re done. Unless it’s really late, that is.”

“It shouldn’t be. But, what do you consider really late?”

“Eleven?”

He grinned. “I won’t be that late. I promise you that. I’ll let you know if anything changes, but I think my niece just has a cold.”

“Take your time. Chicken isn’t going anywhere.”

“I’ll call you when I’m leaving Thorin’s, okay?”

“Sounds good. See you later, then.”

“You will.”

 She clicked off and he drummed his fingers lightly against the steering wheel as he made a left onto Willoughby and headed out toward Route Seven. Thorin and Leda lived on the northwestern side of Sidleburg, in a dark gray Victorian with Pacific blue trim on three acres of land. A silver Honda Accord and a white Jeep Grand Cherokee sat in the driveway, with Thorin’s antique Mustang most likely in the detached garage, and he eased to a stop behind the Jeep. Snow began falling as he climbed out and made his way up to the wide, wraparound porch. 

Leda must have been watching for him, for the door opened before he could even reach for the doorbell. Her eyes were heavy-lidded, with dark circles smudging beneath them. She wore no makeup and her long blonde hair looked like she had a permanent case of bedhead. “Hey, Frerin, thank you so much.”

“No problem, Leda.” He stomped the snow from his boots before stepping over the threshold. “When was the last time you slept?”

“Uh… what day is it?”

“Leda.”

“I know,” she rubbed her face with both hands, then lowered them to add, “but Thorin’s got his hands full with the Dunraven and neither James nor Andrea is sleeping much, so…”

“I told her I can handle it,” Thorin thumped into the room, his screaming son in his arms, “but she’s fucking stubborn.”

“Thorin,” Leda spun around to glare at him, “that doesn’t help anything.”

Thorin rolled his eyes, gently bouncing James against his shoulder. “Neither does you being a zombie, Leda.”

“I am fine!”

“Okay, guys, don’t start fighting just yet. Let me take a look, okay?” Frerin cleared his throat as he reached for James. “Hey, little man, shhh… giving Mom and Dad a hard time?”

The baby let out a cry as Frerin laid his hand across James’ forehead. “He’s warm. What was his temp last time you took it?”

Thorin rubbed his forehead. “Uh… just below a hundred, I think.”

“Have you given him anything?”

Another shrill cry rang out, this one from the living room to his right and Leda tripped over her own two feet as she went to fetch Andrea. 

“Thorin?”

“No. Not yet.” Like his wife, Thorin’s eyes were ringed with bruise like smudged and his forehead furrowed as if thinking was hard to do. “I’m sorry, Frer. I’m so fucking tired, I can’t even see straight right now.”

“Yeah, I know the feeling well.” Frerin sighed. “Get the Tylenol and let’s give him some and see if that helps.”

“I thought fevers were good?”

“They are. It means their immune systems are working, but they’re miserable, Thorin. There’s no reason for any of you to suffer if none of you has to. Give them the Tylenol and hopefully they’ll sleep. And you and Leda both need to get some sleep as well.”

“Yeah, tell me something I don't already know,” Thorin growled as he thumped toward the kitchen. “How did you do this and get through med school and residency? How do you work those shifts still?”

“Toni took care of the kids when I was a resident and now? I’m used to it, more or less. And trust me, it will get easier. Sooner than you think and faster than you can imagine.” Frerin smoothed a hand over James’ hair, which was thicker and even blacker than his sister’s. The baby quieted against him, while his sister’s screams made up for it, and Leda looked ready to cry as she came back into the family room. 

Two pack’n plays were set up by the sofa, and Frerin carefully set James into the first one, then turned to Leda. “Let me see her, Leda.”

“She feels even hotter now,” Leda told him, rubbing one eye after he took Andrea from her. “Maybe we should just take her back to the ER.”

“Let me see first, okay?” He moved to the sofa to set Andrea on one of the cushions and unbuttoned her fleece sleeper. Andrea began fussing again, shoving a fist in her mouth to chew on. “Shhh, mimûna,” he whispered, laying his hand against her forehead, “You need to let Mommy and Daddy get some rest, too, honey.”

She let out another cry and Leda sank onto the cushion above Andrea’s head. “Shhh… baby… please stop crying…”

Andrea quieted for a moment as Frerin looked her over. “Get me the thermometer, please?” he said without looking up.

“Sure.”

“I got it.” Thorin came back into the room with a tympanic thermometer. He handed it to Frerin. “It’s got the little ear condom on it already."

“Thanks.” Frerin took the thermometer and gently slid it into Andrea’s right ear. She squirmed slightly, but then the thermometer beeped, so he eased it back out. “She’s at ninety-nine, Leda.”

Relief swept across her face as she sank against the arm of the sofa. “So, why won’t she stop crying?”

“When did she eat last?”

“About half an hour ago.” 

“She might have reflux. It’s fairly common in babies her age. Are you still nursing?”

She shook her head. “No. It was killing me, Frerin. We put them on formula a few weeks ago.”

“You might have to switch it up, try a few different ones and see if that helps.” He refastened Andrea’s sleeper and scooped her up to rest against his shoulder. She snuggled up against him, with a soft, tired sigh, and continued chewing on her fist. “In the meantime, I can give you a prescription for something, but honestly? I’d try an over the counter gas reliever like Mylicon first.”

“I can just get this at the store?” Leda asked.

“Yeah. It should be with the children’s cold medicine and cough syrup and the like.”

Thorin sighed. “I’ll go pick some up.”

“It should help. If not, let me know and I’ll write you the scrip.”

Leda let out a long sigh as Thorin clumped into the kitchen and grabbed his car keys. The kitchen door opened, then closed and a few minutes later, the Accord purred to life. 

“I’m so sorry I pulled you away from your date,” Leda told him, rubbing her eyes once more. 

“It’s okay. She understood.” He carefully got to his feet to rock Andrea gently as she cooed and gnawed away on her fist. “She’s got a kid herself, so she knows.”

“Tell me about her.”

He grinned. “There isn’t much to tell, Leda. I met her the other night in the ER and—”

“You dirty dog,” Leda let out a laugh, “you hit on a patient?”

“No. I’m not a grown-up doctor, remember? My patients are all under eighteen and I don't hit on any of them.”

“So, a sick kid’s mother? I’m not sure that’s better, Frer.”

“I didn’t hit on her in the ER. I just met her there. Remember the woman who came in to ask me about the discharge papers? The one you told me to hit on.”

“Oh, so you did take my advice. Then it’s all good.”

“I sort of took it. I didn't hit on her in the ER, though. I actually hit on her in the gym, instead. Her daughter is down with the flu, and she invited me over for dinner.” He smoothed his hand along Andrea’s back as she drifted to sleep. “And when I told her what was going on with these little ones, she understood.”

“Still… she’s the first one since you and Toni split up, isn’t she?”

“No,” he moved to the other pack n’ play and bent to carefully set Andrea in it, offering up a silent prayer that she remained asleep, “I’ve been out a few times, but they never amounted to anything.”

“Why?”

“I just… I’m not really looking for anything serious and most of the women I’ve met so far are hearing wedding bells instead of the restaurant’s daily specials.” He moved back to the sofa and sank onto the cushion on the far end opposite her. 

“At least tell me you’re getting hot sex out of it.”

He couldn't hold back his laugh. “I wish.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re not?”

“I’m not. And that’s okay, because I haven’t really been looking for that, either.”

“What?”

“I know, Thorin thinks I’m nuts, too. But to be honest, I don't have the time, Leda. Between work and the kids and boring-ass dates with women who don't really do it for me? Sex has fallen pretty low on the list of priorities.”

“It’ll happen again. Maybe with this new woman.”

“Yeah, maybe.” He raked his hand through his hair. “But if not, I don't even think I’d care a whole lot right now. I’ve got enough going on and this is only dinner. I’m not thinking much past it right now.”

Leda glanced over at the fireplace. “What time were you meeting her?”

“She’s cooking for me.”

“What?”

“Yeah. I mean, she’s not cooking for me. She was making dinner and just invited me to join her and her daughter.”

“Wait, she is cooking for you and you stood her up? Are you kidding me?”

He shook his head. “She isn’t cooking forme, Leed. And she understood.”

“Oh, Christ, Frerin, get out of my house and go have dinner. Thorin will be back in a few minutes and they’re both asleep, so get out while you can.”

“You sure, Leda? I can wait until he comes home.”

“Yes!” She laughed as she nodded. “I’m very sure. Go.”

He smiled as he rose from the sofa. “Call me if either one of them spikes another fever, okay, Leda? Don't worry about what time it is or where I am. If you need me, call me.”

“I will. Now, go.”

“What time is Dr. Hottie supposed to be here?”

Elena shot Alyssa a look. “I thought you weren’t going to call him that?”

“I said I wouldn’t to his face. And I won’t.” Alyssa didn't look the least bit contrite as she pushed her chicken around on her plate. “But, what time?

“He was supposed to be here for six, but his niece is sick and he was making a house call.”

“Mom, how cool would it be if you and Dr. Hottie got married? I’d never have to go to a doctor’s office again.”

Elena resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Okay, first off, Dr. Hottie and I are not getting married. We haven’t even gone out yet and I’m not looking for a husband, besides. I had one of those, remember?”

“Dad is an ass. It doesn’t count.”

“Watch your mouth, Alyssa, and whether or not he is an ass is immaterial. I’m still not looking to get back into any serious relationship right now. I’m fine with this—” She gestured between them. “And even if, by some crazy twist, I did end up with Dr. Hot—Durin, you would still have to go to the doctor’s office because you’re almost old enough to no longer see a pediatrician if you really didn't want to, not to mention, it would probably be weirdly uncomfortable for both of you and I can’t imagine he would be willing to treat you as a patient anyway.”

“Yeah,” Alyssa’s nose wrinkled, “it wouldn’t be cool to have to get undressed in front of my stepdad. Or,” she amended as Elena shot her a look, “my mom’s boyfriend.”

“Exactly. Even if your father was a doctor, he wouldn’t treat you, most likely.”

Alyssa set down her fork. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m just not that hungry. I kind of want to just to back to bed.”

Elena bit back a smile. Alyssa did look utterly exhausted, her face still pale and her eyes still on the heavy-lidded and sunken side, with faint purplish smudges ringed beneath them. “Okay. Go get into bed. Do you want some tea or hot cocoa?”

“Maybe some tea?”

“Okay. Go get settled and I’ll bring you some.”

“Okay.” 

Alyssa pushed her chair away from the table and made her way down the hallway to her room. Elena remained where she was for a minute, just staring at the empty chair in the tiny dining room that was really more alcove than room. It was a far cry from the five-bedroom beach house where Alyssa had spent her first thirteen years. The two-bedroom, first floor apartment was a fraction of the size of that house, and yet they’d both adjusted with relative ease. It was amazing, how the absence of constant friction, of constant tension, and of frequent fighting rendered the size of the living space perfect. Elena found she didn't jump at creaking floorboards the way she used to, she didn't hear a car drive by and have her stomach twist into knots. She didn't have to worry about strange voice mails or why Dan was suddenly so protective of his phone. 

From where she sat, she could see the microwave on the counter beneath the cabinet that held their plates and bowls. It was nearly eight o’clock. Hopefully, Frerin’s niece was all right. Unless, of course, the niece was a ruse to get out of seeing her. That made her wince. It wouldn’t be the first time a guy lied to get out of seeing her, but she usually made it past a first date before being stood up.

Then the doorbell rang and a hint of shame swept through her. Not all men were Dan. She had to unlearn all of the self-preservation tactics being with him had left her with. 

She stood and made her way to the front door, smiling as she peered through the peephole to see Frerin on the other side. She’d forgotten how cute he was, and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime, her belly felt alive with butterflies as she unlatched the chain, flipped the deadbolt and tugged open the door. 

He jumped, but then smiled. “I know I’m really late,” he said by way of greeting, holding up a narrow paper bag, “but I brought wine so I hope that scores me a few points.”

“You’re late, but a sick baby is a perfectly good reason,” she pulled the door open wider, “and wine helps.”

“Good. I hope chardonnay works for you. Or did I just lose those points?”

“Chardonnay is fine, but the chicken might be a little cold.”

“Cold chicken is good.”

“Come on in.”

He stepped into the apartment as she said, “How is your niece?”

“She has a cold and probably reflux. She’ll be fine in time.” Frerin shrugged out of his black leather bomber jacket and draped it over his forearm. “Her parents might not survive it, though. Neither one of them is sleeping much and I’ve never been so thankful I didn't have twins.”

“That’s got to be rough on them, especially if they’re both sick. Here,” she reached for his jacket, “let me take that.”

She moved to the closet, pulling the door open as he said, “Yeah, their kids are not quite six months old, teething, and sick. The first year is always the roughest when it’s one baby. But two? No, thanks.”

“Right?” The jacket was heavier than it looked, and as she slid it onto a hanger, a softly spicy scent wafted from it. Frerin’s cologne, most likely. She couldn’t place the scent, but it was a nice one, whatever it was. 

“How’s Alyssa feeling?”

Elena closed the closet door and gestured for him to come into the dining room. “She’s feeling better, but tired.”

“Yeah, the flu knocks you for a loop, even kids.” 

“Sit down and I’ll fix you a plate.”

“Elena, just point me in the right direction and I’ll fix it myself. Sit down, have a glass of wine. You don’t need to wait on me.”

She smiled. “It’s only a plate.”

“I know.” He winked. “I can manage.”

“Okay. Then manage.”

“I will.” 

“Would you like a glass?” She held up the bottle of chardonnay.

“I’d love one.”

She retrieved the corkscrew and two glasses, then came back to pop open the wine and poured it into both glasses. Then, she sank back into her chair and watched him fix a plate from the dishes on the table, then went into the kitchen. “Where do you keep your waxed paper?”

“Top drawer underneath the microwave.” 

“Got it.”

A few minutes later, he settled in Alyssa’s chair. “See? I managed.”

Elena stiffened at the steam curling away from the potatoes and chicken on his plate. “Oh, damn… I told Alyssa I’d bring her a cup of tea. Excuse me a minute.”

“No problem.” He speared a bite of chicken. “I’ll be right here.”

She hurried back into the kitchen to set the kettle on the stove and turned on the burner, then came back to her chair. He smiled, lowering his fork. “This is delicious, Elena.”

“It’s just a roast chicken.”

“Yeah, but I do most of the cooking now and I am not a good cook by any stretch of the imagination.”

“Are your kids starving?”

“Jake might be.”

“How many do you have?”

“Three. Two boys, with a girl sandwiched between them. My daughter and Alyssa are in math class together. My oldest is a senior and my youngest is in the fifth grade over at the intermediate school.”

“Are you a weekend dad or full time?”

“Full time.” He lifted his wineglass for a sip. “My soon-to-be ex-wife gets them every other weekend for now.”

“For now?”

He lowered the glass, and sighed softly. “Our divorce is dragging out. She’s fighting me for custody. She should only know how I have to insist they go with her on her weekends.”

“How long have you been fighting over them?”

“Since day one.” He traced his finger along the glass’ stem. “They don't want to live with her. They’re in the house where they grew up and they’re old enough where I think a judge will ask them as well. But, Toni is stubborn, so…”

Elena didn't miss the way his jaw tightened with his words, the darkness that seemed to come to his eyes with them. “Can I ask what happened?”

“Sure.” He shrugged. “It’s nothing earth-shattering. Married too young. Kids too soon. We kidded ourselves we could work out all of the problems, but that was a lie, and then she had an affair. With a kid only a few years older than our son.”

Elena didn't know how to respond to that. What could she say? He said it bluntly, with almost no emotion in his voice, but at the same time, it hit her far harder. “What?”

“Yeah.” He rubbed his bearded chin with one hand, then lowered it to reach of his wineglass. “She was a stay at home mom until about two years ago. Then she decided she wanted to go back to school and finish her degree. Like I said, we got married way too young, and Flynn came only a few months after our wedding, so she didn't get the chance to finish college. The kids were old enough and I thought it was a great idea, so she went back. Then she gets paired up with this kid as her lab partner and the next thing I know…”

“An affair.”

“Yeah.” He met her gaze then, and offered up a humorless smile. “The kid’s younger brother was in school with Flynn. On the baseball team with him.”

Elena pressed her lips together at the soft words, at the pain that flashed in Frerin’s blue-gray eyes. “I can guess what happened,” she said softly.

“You’d probably be right. Flynn defended his mother and nearly found himself off the team as well.”

“Nearly?”

“Yeah. He got a two-day suspension, but the coach knows him, and knew what happened and let him stay on the team. It was a mess, but it’s all behind us now, thank Mahal. He’s doing a lot better than he was last spring.” He lifted the wineglass, took a sip, and lowered it to add, “And that’s a lot to drop on you and I’m sorry. You can just kick me under the table to shut me up.”

“No, it’s fine,” she said with a smile, shaking her head. “I appreciate the honestly. Too many guys would be all she’s crazy and fucked up and any other excuse they can offer to make themselves look good.”

He paused his chewing and just stared and for a moment, Elena wondered if she’d said too much. Then, he swallowed and with a shake of his head, said, “So, I shouldn’t tell you how you’re not like other women, then?”

“Only if you want me to toss out of my apartment.”

He smiled then. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The kettle began whistling, so she said, “Excuse me,” and went to switch off the burner under the kettle and moved to grab the box of tea bags from the overhead cabinet. She set one in the cup she’d taken out for Alyssa and poured boiling water into it.

As she waited for it to steep, Frerin came into the kitchen, plate in hand. “I didn't freak you out, did I? I mean, I know my sad life story is really fascinating and all, but you didn't need me unloading like that.”

“It was fine,” she told him, leaning back against the counter. “And it’s not unloading. I asked because I wanted to know.”

“Yeah, but still…”

“No, no but still.” She smiled up at him as she took the tea bag from the cup with one hand and reached for the bear-shaped bottle of honey with the other. “I did want to know. And I’d like to know more about you.”

“More? Like what else?”

“Well, how long have you been a doctor? How long have you been at the hospital? What do you do when you’re not putting worried moms’ minds at ease with your incredible bedside manner?”

He chuckled. “I graduated med school ten years ago. Finished up my residency and boarded five years ago and I’ve been at the hospital for the entire time. I matched there out of med school, and they offered me my current position two years ago.”

“And what is your current position?”

“I run the pediatric department. So, when I’m not covering the ER or putting worried moms’ minds at ease, I’m stuck in budget meetings and buried under paperwork.”

“Poor Dr. Durin.”

“Hey, you should see what my in box looks like. I’m lucky I get out of my office alive some times.”

As he spoke he stepped closer, looming over her, all broad shoulders and wide chest. He was almost a foot taller than her, and seemed to block out the light from that single overhead fixture. 

“It’s a good thing you’re surrounded by doctors then, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah.” He nodded, bending toward her. “It is. At times.”

He hesitated, but then leaned closer still. Her heart sped up, a thousand butterflies going wild in her stomach at the thought of his kissing her. 

His lips were soft, his kiss gentle, and as he eased an arm about her waist, she did the same about his neck, and let her fingers creep up into his soft, wavy hair. His hand splayed across the small of her back, heat from his palm seeping into her as his lips parted, as his tongue eased between her lips to slick slowly along hers. 

His beard scratched lightly against her skin. The arm about her waist tightened, the edge of the counter bit into her hip as he pressed her up against it. For the first time in well over a year, Elena’s body hummed with desire, her fingers twisted of their own into his hair, her back bowed and as her breasts pressed firmly into his broad chest, she didn't miss the way his breath hitched. His kiss deepened further, his tongue tangling with hers now, slow and thick and teasing, and the hand on her back slid down over her left butt cheek to cup it and gently kneaded it. 

“Mom?”

Frerin pulled away, somewhat breathless as he nuzzled her and whispered, “The tea…”

Her head spun from the fire in that one kiss, the one that left her breathless as well, with a delicious heat swirling through her. Her face was warm as she cleared her throat and whispered, “I should probably take that to Alyssa.”

He drew back, his eyes heavy-lidded, his grin on the boyish side. “Probably.”

“I’ll—I’ll be right back.” She slowly pulled away from him, reaching for the mug with one hand, drawing her index finger along her bottom lip with the other. It had been a lifetime since anyone kissed her with that much fire, that much passion, and a hint of shyness swirled through her as she moved to the doorway. There, she paused, and smiled as he turned toward the sink and with a light whistle on his lips, ran hot water into the sink, then tackled the dishes in the basin. 

“Where do you keep your dishtowels?” he asked, smiling at her over his left shoulder.

“The bottom drawer on your right. But, you really don't have—”

He winked. “Alyssa’s tea is going to be cold.”

She smiled back at him. “Well, far be it from me to stop you washing dishes.”

“They’re in good hands. Trust me.”

She ducked her head and made her way down to Alyssa’s room, which was dark except for the glow of the television on her tall dresser. “Did you get lost, Mom?”

“Funny. No, I didn’t. I had to let it steep, remember.”

Alyssa narrowed her eyes. “Why do I not believe that?”

“Lyss.”

“Okay, okay. You were letting it steep.” She sat up and flipped on the lamp on her bedside table. “Did Dr. Durin make it or are you still waiting for him?”

“No, he’s here. He’s doing the dishes.”

“What? What guy does dishes willingly?” Alyssa took the mug and sipped, then added, “Aside from one who’d probably hoping for a good night kiss.”

“Lyssa.”

“What? You should totally kiss him, Mom. I bet it feels weird because he’s got a beard.”

“I wouldn’t know. I’ve never kissed anyone with a beard before.”

“Well, maybe tonight you’ll find out.”

Elena smiled as she smoothed the comforter across Alyssa’s lap. “Don’t you be worrying about that. You try to get some sleep.”

“I will, Mom.” 

She took another sip of tea, then her expression grew serious—serious enough that Elena said, “What is it, Lyssa?”

“Well, I think you should let him kiss you. Then you can tell me if it’s scratchy and weird or not.”

“Why do you need to know this?”

“A few of the boys at school have beards, like Grayson Markham, and I don't think I’d mind it if he kissed me, but I think it would feel weird.”

Elena bit back a sigh. Her mother always described Alyssa as an old soul and more often than not, Elena agreed. However… “You’re not even fourteen years, honey. You should be thinking about school and homework, not kissing boys with beards. And how old is this boy, anyway?”

“He’s a junior. He just got his license on Monday.” Alyssa sighed softly. “And it doesn’t matter anyway. He’s got a girlfriend and even if he didn’t, he doesn’t know I’m alive.”

Thank God for small favors. But, of course, she could say that out loud, so Elena patted her through the covers. “Your time will come, honey. I promise you. Don’t be in such a hurry.”

“I know, but still…”

Elena smiled as she bent over to kiss the top of Alyssa’s head. “I know. Thirteen is a tough age. But, you’ll be grown up before you know it and I’m not at all ready for that, so let’s not hurry it along, okay?”

“Okay, Mom. You should get back to Dr. Hottie. He’s probably wondering if you’re ditching him.”

“In my own home?”

“You never know.”

Elena ruffled her hair. “I’ll come check on you in a little while. You should try to get some sleep.”

“I will.”

“Call me if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Elena flipped off the light and after a last look in over her shoulder, left the room, pulling the door by as she did. As she rounded the corner of the kitchen doorway, she smiled at the sight of Frerin stacking the clean plates in the cabinet. 

Dr. Hottie, indeed. 

“Tell me I’m not putting things in the wrong place,” he said without turning around. 

“No, you’re fine.”

“Good. My former mother-in-law used to move things in my kitchen—would put them where she thought they should be instead of where we actually kept them, and it drove me insane.” He closed the cabinet and turned toward her, leaning back against the counter. “So, if I did that, please yell at me.”

“I’m still deciding where things should go, so I don't think there really is a wrong spot just yet.” 

“Even so. Tell me, okay?” 

“I will.”

“So,” he draped the towel over his shoulder as he towered over her, “I was thinking we should go out sometime, Elena. You free Sunday night? I know it’s a weird date night and ordinarily, I’d suggest something on Friday, but I’ve to work Friday.”

“I’m free most nights, so Sunday would be fine. It just can’t be too late, since I have to work on Monday.”

He smiled as he dried his hands on the towel. “Sunday it is. Dinner? Movie?”

“What’s playing?”

“I have no idea. I don't even remember the last time I was in a movie theatre.”

“Me, neither, so why don’t we skip the movie and just do dinner then?”

“Dinner sounds good to me.”

She looked up at him and smiled. “Dinner it is.”

“Good.” His eyes glittered in the soft glow of the single overhead light. “I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“No, I’m sure.” 

“Okay, so do you need to get home or do you want to maybe see what’s on television?”

“If you’re not throwing me out, I’ve got no where else to be.” He folded the dishtowel and laid it on the counter. “Do you watch The Walking Dead?”

“I thought that was on Sunday nights?”

“It is, and that’s why God invented On-Demand.”

“Oh, is that why?”

He nodded. “Oh, yeah. So, do you watch it?”

“No, but if you don’t mind my asking questions, I’m game.”

“I don't mind.”

“Then I’m game.”

[vividaway]

mini analysis on the finale

yall im not even gonna lie..........i liked the season 5 finale. the concept that these are teenagers who have been beaten and worn down to a crisp to the point of multiple mental breakdowns from both marinette and adrien.........like of course marinette didn’t tell adrien. she’s a literal child, and she loves him, and honestly? its really not her PLACE to tell him. emilie knows about gabriels involvement with the miraculous. nathalie knows about EVERYTHING. there are multiple ADULTS who can step in and talk to him about this, and they chose not to. multiple people have said it: of COURSE adrien deserve to know, and i will be very upset if they never write in him finding out. but it also seems excessively cruel to do that to adrien. as far as adrien is aware, his dad was trying. he thinks his dad is a man chiseled away by depression and grief, who turned towards his works to cope with the loss. he believes there was a turning point where his father started to try. he allowed him to go to school, to make new friends and go to their house, allowed him to quit, started to show up to school events, and finally started to show him affection. adrien is none the wiser on WHY, and it feels extremely cruel to take away what little happy moments he had left with his father. what is the bare minimum to us, is literally EVERYTHING to adrien, and to me, that does mean something. to me, seeing gabriel sacrifice himself for adrien and his wife-- means EVERYTHING. it is what differentiates an evil, unrecoverable person, from a dynamic character who was never meant to be a good person. we were never meant to like gabriel. he’s the villain! but that doesn’t mean we aren’t supposed to be sympathetic to certain aspects of his journey.  i really do think his character was written well. gabriel is a bad, unredeemable man, who did one good action. i personally can’t look at gabriel from season one and say, “he shouldve sacrificed his life in place of his wives life sooner”, it feels wrong. gabriel from season 1 was EXTREMELY different from gabriel from season 5. we see him change (for the worse) over the course of five seasons. 

and the thing about how gabriel is written is like, its realistic. gabriel isnt just a cartoon villain from some kids show, he show’s patterns of real life villains as well. the manipulation, the lying, the guilt tripping, the abuse-- all of it. and thats why, i understand why some people are pissed he got redeemed. but for me, i see the build up. lila has the photographs from gabriels house, and she knews he was monarch. on top of this, it seems like she’s the successor to the butterfly miraculous. people know what he did, and its not just the people on the good side. i don’t see gabriel staying a sympathetic figure for much longer. but all this being said, i dont think it was the worst. the pacing was great, and the animation was top tier for me. theres so many episodes where i can predict whats going to happen next, but i couldn’t with this one. some thing about it just felt....special. like if you showed alyssa from 2016 the finale, i could literally die. no need to show a peasant child, just showing Season One Era fans what happened and how it looks and we’d just. die. everything about it 10x better than we couldve imagined. the writing, the animation, the pacing, the score, the dialogue, the way the world has expanded and been built up and how often we’re interacting with “background characters”.  for once, it felt like i was watching a real show, with a plot that made sense, and wasnt a dumpster fire. but...from reading the #MLBS5Spoilers tag....yall do NOT agree with my sentiments! and thats okay! 

[novaursa]

hello !! do you think you can do a request where at the family dinner , aemond doesn’t do his speech but instead expresses his desire to marry reader who is rhaenyras oldest and only daughter ? and a little smut but nothing like too smutty please , if you can 💛 thank you in advance !

The Ties That Bind

Requests are closed!

- Summary: After Luke was named rightful heir to Driftmark by your grandsire, King Viserys I, during the feast, Aemond, makes a claim of his own.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: The reader is the oldest child and only daughter of Rhaenyra.

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (just to be safe)

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

The hall is filled with the warm glow of countless candles and the hum of lively conversation, yet you feel the tension woven beneath it all. It has been a long, arduous day. Vaemond Velaryon’s blood still stains the floor of the throne room, though servants scrubbed at it tirelessly. Your mother, Rhaenyra, sits at the high table next to your grandsire, King Viserys, her face a mask of calm, though you know well that her heart is heavy with the strain of politics, the weight of family expectations, and the ever-present danger to her children.

You sit beside her, the only daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen, surrounded by your younger brothers. Luke, who has just been named heir to Driftmark, smiles hesitantly at you, as though seeking reassurance. Jace offers him a comforting smile, but you know well enough that the blow of Vaemond’s death still lingers in their minds. Across the table, Alicent Hightower’s gaze flits between her children and your family, her brow furrowing as if anticipating what will come next.

Aemond sits at the far end of the table, quiet, yet his presence is like a storm gathering on the horizon. He catches your eye now and then, though you look away, pretending to focus on the feast laid out before you. You’ve known him since childhood, grown alongside him in the shadow of the Red Keep, but something has changed in the last few years. He’s no longer the boy you remembered—he’s a man now, hardened, sharp, and dangerous.

You can feel his gaze, heavy on you, even as he lifts his cup to his lips, the sharp planes of his face cast in shadow by the flickering candlelight. The toasts are made, starting with the King, who, despite his frailty, speaks with a warmth and hopefulness that rings hollow in the tension-laden room.

“Let us be one house,” Viserys says, raising his goblet with a trembling hand. “Let us honor our blood, our traditions. For the good of the realm.”

The silence that follows his words is filled with unspoken promises and buried grudges. You swallow down the bitter taste of wine, wishing for the feast to end, for the night to be over. But just as you think you can retreat into your own thoughts, Aemond stands.

All eyes turn to him.

There’s a palpable shift in the room. You feel it in your bones as you watch him, tall and imposing, his one good eye gleaming in the firelight. He raises his cup, and for a moment, you think he will speak words meant to inflame, to goad your brothers like he did once before. But his gaze does not shift to Jace or Luke. Instead, it lingers on you.

“I have a few words of my own,” Aemond begins, his voice smooth yet commanding, cutting through the murmur of the hall. The silence that falls is heavy. “My family, my kin,” he pauses, glancing around the room, “I wish to honor my blood tonight. And in doing so, I wish to speak of marriage.”

A murmur ripples through the guests, uncertain and shocked. Your heart pounds in your chest, faster with every breath as his words sink in. He cannot mean…

“I speak not of mere alliances for political gain,” Aemond continues, and his gaze finally locks with yours. “I speak of love.”

The entire hall seems to still. Your mother stiffens beside you, and you feel the weight of her hand on your arm. Alicent watches her son with narrowed eyes, while Helaena seems to shrink into her chair, confused. Daemon, seated across from you, raises a brow in interest, though he does not seem surprised.

“I have long admired you, niece,” Aemond says, and there is an intensity in his voice now, an edge that makes your heart skip a beat. “You are the embodiment of Targaryen blood—strong, proud, unyielding. It is my wish to wed you, to unite our houses in the truest sense.”

The breath catches in your throat. The words hang in the air like a blade, cutting through the festering tension. You glance at your mother, who looks torn between fury and shock. Her gaze is steel, but beneath it, you can sense her worry. This is not what anyone expected.

For a moment, the world seems to tilt. You, a daughter of Rhaenyra, the rightful queen, proposed to by Aemond, the man who once took Vhagar and burned with resentment for your family.

King Viserys coughs, breaking the silence, and forces a smile. “An admirable proposal, Aemond. It... it seems fitting.” His words are strained, as though unsure whether to accept or reject the offer.

Your own voice is caught in your throat, uncertain of what to say. The looks on your brothers’ faces tell you all you need to know—they hate the idea, but they can do nothing but seethe in silence. The politics of the realm are far more dangerous than personal feelings.

Later, when the feast has ended, you find yourself walking alone in the gardens outside the castle, seeking the solace of the night air. The moon is full, casting everything in silver. The tension of the hall still buzzes in your mind, and you wonder what your life would be like if you accepted Aemond’s proposal.

The sound of footsteps approaches, and you turn to see him, his pale hair catching the moonlight like spun silk. Aemond’s face is unreadable, but there’s something in his gaze, something raw and yearning.

“You left without saying a word,” he says softly, his voice far gentler than it had been during his speech.

“I needed time to think,” you reply, your heart beating faster as he steps closer.

He studies you, his eye trailing over your face, as though he’s memorizing every detail. “Do you hate me for it?” he asks, his voice barely more than a whisper.

You shake your head, though you don’t know if you’re lying to him or to yourself. “I don’t know what to think.”

His hand reaches for yours, and though you should pull away, you don’t. His touch is warm, steady, despite the cold night. “I meant every word I said, Y/N.”

“I’m not a prize to be claimed,” you say, but there’s no venom in your words.

“I don’t see you as such,” Aemond replies, his voice soft and sincere. “I see you as my equal. My match in every way.”

The silence between you stretches, filled with the unspoken tension that has existed for years. And before you can stop yourself, you close the distance between you. Your lips meet his, hesitant at first, but then the dam breaks. There’s no more uncertainty, no more doubt. The kiss deepens, and Aemond pulls you closer, his arms wrapping around you with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

When you part, the air between you is charged, and before you know it, you’re leading him to your chambers, your steps quick and urgent. Inside, the room is dimly lit, the fire casting long shadows. The moment the door closes behind you, Aemond is upon you, his lips crashing against yours, his hands roaming over your body with a hunger that matches your own.

The rest of the world fades away as you pull him closer, your hands tangled in his silver hair. His touch is all-consuming, his mouth claiming yours in a way that leaves you dizzy. When you fall into the bed together, there’s nothing left but the sound of your breathing, the feel of his skin against yours, the taste of him on your lips.

He moves over you, his touch both gentle and fierce, as though he’s trying to memorize every inch of you. And when he finally enters you, it’s with a tenderness you hadn’t expected. The world shatters and rebuilds itself around the two of you, your bodies moving in sync, as though this was inevitable, as though this was always meant to be.

When it’s over, you lie together in the dim light, his arms wrapped around you, your head resting against his chest. The weight of what’s happened lingers between you, but there’s no regret. Not now.

[areseebee]

13 books

tagged by @private-bryan, which is the best because i love talking books!

1. The last book I read:

little rabbit by alyssa songsiridej. this was an interesting one. i didn't take to it the way some people did but i enjoyed myself. though tbh i'd just read bad behavior by mary gaitskill right before it which casts the kind of relationships similar to the one depicted in little rabbit in a bit of a different light so that may have influenced my perspective.

2. A book I recommend:

for my writer friends, bird by bird: some instructions on writing and life by anne lamott.

3. A book that I couldn't put down:

i tore through tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow by gabrielle zevin and cried at all the parts i was supposed to cry at. but i read it as part of a book club with my two oldest friends and they were pretty skeptical of the whole thing so your mileage may vary on this one.

4. A book I've read twice (or more):

i'm choosing two: call me by your name by andre aciman (this could also have been my book i recommend) and my all-time re-read, a room with a view by e.m. forster. i have revisited it at several different points in my life and always glean something new from it.

5. A book on my TBR:

learning to talk by hilary mantel

6. A book I've put down:

the idiot by elif batuman. i think it just wasn't the right time for me to read it when i last picked it up, but i could barely get through the first 10 pages which bummed me out. elif batuman is a big reason why i decided to study comparative literature and her book of short stories/essays, the possessed: adventures with russian books and the people who read them, was pretty formative for teenage me.

7. A book on my wish list:

i covet all taschen books because they're beautiful, but the one i've currently got my eye on is a garden eden. masterpieces of botanical illustration by h. walter lack because i love botanical illustration and because i want to display it in my home.

8. A favorite book from childhood:

basically anything robin mckinley published before 2005. rose daughter and her damar series were an especially big presence in my young reading life.

9. A book you would give to a friend?

in addition to recommending it, i would also give bird by bird by anne lamott to my writer friends.

10. There is no 10!

11. A nonfiction book you own?

the color of money: black banks and the racial wealth gap by mehrsa baradaran. excellent, excellent book on the history of financial disenfranchisement of black americans.

12. What are you currently reading?

i want to die but i want to eat tteokbokki by baek sehee, trans. anton hur

13. What are you planning on reading next?

probably the final girl support group by grady hendrix!

tagging @strideofpride

[coolcattime]

Home and Free: Chapter Three - That's Not a Nightingale

Characters: Captain Capsize, Sonja Firefox, Skipper Redbeard, Jordan Captainsparklez, Tucker Jericho, Tom Syndicate, Martha the Mystic, Mot Screziato, Alyssa Countybat, Waglington, Farmer Steve, Prince Andor, Jeriah, Lady Ianite (mentioned)

Relationship: Captain Capsize/Sonja Firefox, Captain Capsize/Jordan Captainsparklez (onesided)

AO3 Link

Full Story Tag

There were still a good few hours before the sun was due to set as Redbeard was hooking up their horse, Phillipe, to the cart that he had now safely loaded up. Enough light left that the first leg of the journey would be doable, but also close enough to dark that he knew Capsize would worry. It was silly, he had made the journey enough times to know that it was safe, and she was the one that plotted his route so surely, she knew in her head that it was safe and straightforward, but still every time she worried. Since he couldn’t exactly stop her from doing so, he had taken it as a positive, a sign that she truly would miss him if he disappeared forever, rather than her just thinking he’ll get himself into trouble in even the simplest of situations.

“We’re not going to get into trouble, are we boy?” He said with a laugh to Phillipe. He could swear as the animal snorted, it was actually sighing attempting to respond in opposition. The traitor always agreed with Capsize, and frankly he thinks she bribes him. Though, of course, that was silly. Their horse didn’t really have a complex opinion on the two, but Redbeard spent enough time alone with him that he possibly personified him a little too much. That did pose the question as to why he thought he typically agreed with Capsize rather than himself, but he was going to use his better judgement and not think too deeply about that. “Bit of a bigger load than last time. Shouldn’t be too heavy for you, but we’ll figure out more rest stops if it is.”

He took the whinnying as approval as he tested that the ropes and straps attached to the harness were properly secured. He wanted to figure out a few more rest stops anyway, for when he and Capsize could finally move from this town. There would still be the possibility of her not being able to ride for very long, after all. Her leg had been healing well, she rarely needed the pain relief tinctures anymore and she clearly walked more than she had in the first few months after the accident, but he had some doubt that she’d be able to ride for as long as he typically did between rest stops. So, even if that was just a feeling, he'd need to figure out a few more stops for the route, even if just for a temporary pause rather than a camp. And figuring it out on the next few trips would be far preferable to having to do it while travelling with Capsize.

Thinking of Capsize, he wondered how her task had been going. While retrieving the sellable items from the cellar that they had been using as a workshop, she had been at her worktable tinkering away at the lockbox, occasionally muttering what he was sure were curses under her breath. Of course, he’d tried to assure her she didn’t need to fix it, but she’d batted him away with a playful reassurance of having it handled. And, of course, he had no doubts that she did, but he would need to leave soon. He didn’t want that to be without probably saying goodbye, but he had a half-hearted worry that if she was not finished, she may try and insist he stay until she was. He honestly had no idea if this was a situation where her stubbornness would win out or her logical side of not wanting him to either be late or travel in the dark would, nor if he’d have the heart to argue with either decision. But he couldn’t just stand about waiting for her to possibly emerge.

“I’ll be back in a few minutes,” He said to Phillipe, who seemed overall neutral about the man walking away. The horse was already paying far more attention to the sparse grass on the road. Redbeard walked off the road onto the small path in their garden that looped around their house to the cellar door. However, he would not actually make it inside before his attention was caught by a call.

“Redbeard! Glad I managed to catch you!” Jordan called out from the bottom of the path. He had cleaned himself up since his late morning meeting with Capsize. Though he still carried his bow, he had sold his prey of the day, no longer carrying them from his belt, and he had also changed most of his clothes. The only thing he was wearing from earlier in the day was his long red coat, which he was rarely seen without. Yes, from his clothes to his hair to his general stance, Jordan had put enough into looking good at this particular moment. He hadn’t fully dressed up, this wasn’t his proposal after all, but he looked far more cleaned up than he typically would in the late afternoon. Redbeard noticed the oddity and was unsure what to make of it as he approached the man. He certainly got along with the champion far better than Capsize, but he couldn’t help but be slightly weary considering his sister’s words about the man earlier in the day.

“Well, you got here just in time,” He said, well-practiced in hiding uncertainty beneath a smile and a good demeanour. For Jordan to want to see him right before he left town, it was unusual but not out of the question. Typically, he would see the man more casually, going to the tavern for a few drinks, but he did on occasion see him before leaving to ask for things from the city. Despite how the champion seemed quite happy within the town, he, like everyone, occasionally wanted things unavailable in such an isolated place and Redbeard was more than happy to bring them up for him. But he didn’t think that was the current reason for him being here. He looked, somewhat uncharacteristically, nervous. “Must be something important, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look nervous.”

“It’s pretty important, yes,” He said, wishing his nerves were not so obvious. He had no reason to think this wasn’t going to go his way, and yet he couldn’t shake them. The siblings were extremely close, that’s the reason he was doing this, but it also meant if this went wrong his chances with Capsize could be snuffed. Though, of course, that wouldn’t happen, he just needed to get the words out. “I’d… I’d like your blessing to marry Capsize.”

“Huh?” He almost thought he was hearing things because the request had come out of absolutely nowhere. And worse, as it dawned on him that he had in fact heard correctly, he had no idea how he was meant to respond to the request. He liked Jordan well-enough, from what he could tell he was nice enough, and he certainly didn’t want to upset the lad, but he also knew his sister couldn’t stand him. She avoided saying so through words, skirting the issue as best she could, but she was not a good liar. Her, what he was going to charitably call annoyance, shone through every time she talked about the man. Yet, somehow, he wanted to marry her. Had he just stepped into another universe? “You want to marry Capsize?”

“Yes! I’ve never met a woman as perfect as she is,” Redbeard barely managed to hold back a laugh, not wanting to disparage the man who seemed to be expressing genuine feelings. But his description of Capsize versus her own of him a few hours earlier was tickling. Of course, it was less funny considering she had occasionally complained of him not seeing her as a person, and his description of her as ‘perfect’, but he tried to quell that concern as each one just misunderstanding the other. Still, he had no idea how exactly he should respond. He could give his blessing, but as soon as Capsize found out she’d be pissed, which was something he didn’t particularly want to deal with or found particularly fair for either party. Jordan could feel his hesitation, setting a worry in him that felt wrong. There was no reason he could see that he would say no. He’d built a friendship with him, not hard when he could get discounted drinks at the tavern, and even he had to be able to see how perfect he and Capsize were for each other. “I’ll treat her as brilliantly as she deserves, she’ll never want for anything. I just, I can’t imagine being with anyone else.”

“I’m not doubting that I just… Well, I’m not going to stop you. If you can get Capsize to agree, obviously you can marry her,” Redbeard felt like that was a pretty big if given that she barely wanted to talk to him, let alone enter a committed relationship with the man. However, Jordan’s face lit up and he felt a twinge of guilt. Both men had a very different vision of how a proposal to Capsize would go, and though neither knew what the other was thinking, Redbeard could not imagine Jordan was picturing the sort of disaster he was. There was absolutely no way she was going to say yes, that was so clear to him, but he didn’t exactly want to say that. It felt undermining to his sister to say what he thought she would do, even if he was sure he’d get an earful of complaints from her later. Also, he was leaving so he didn’t have time for a half an hour conversation explaining to Jordan that Capsize didn’t like him.

“You won’t regret this! You’ll see when you get back, we’re going to be the perfect couple!” Jordan said, forgetting he had ever been nervous about the situation. He had her brother’s approval, which meant he didn’t need to worry about any sudden rug pull after the man returned that would sour the start of his marriage. He had to start preparing the proposal, make it as great as Capsize would expect from him. So, he rushed off, intending to see how Tucker was coming along with his side of the preparations.

Redbeard, now left alone walking back towards the cellar, contemplated if he had just made a massive mistake. He didn’t want to say no. He both didn’t want to start an argument and didn’t particularly want to act like he could forbid his sister from doing something, but he felt a little like he had taken anyway her scapegoat for whenever she was confronted by the proposal. Maybe, he thought, he should warn her about it, tell her before it was a shock. But what good would that really do? She’d just get annoyed, since she certainly wasn’t going to feel able to confront the man about it, and she was already routinely stressed enough. They certainly weren’t currently in a relationship, so if they weren’t even dating, so he assumed that a proposal had to be a while away. Plenty of time to warn Capsize and get her prepared for that disaster once he got back. He had no idea how wrong that assumption was.

Before he had time to think any more on the situation, the cellar doors opened in front of him, Capsize emerging with a smile. He could only feel relieved that she had not exited half a minute earlier, as he could not imagine how that would’ve gone. Yes, he decided, perhaps against his better judgement, that he was going to keep his conversation with Jordan a secret. No point souring their last few minutes together for the next few weeks. He much preferred leaving on a positive note. And she looked happy, how could he spoil that? The reason for the joy on her features became clear as day as in her left hand she held up, wrapped in a semi-transparent fabric, was the lockbox.

“You fixed it!” He said, not intending to sound so surprised. She fixed trinkets all the time, it was literally her job. However, she had never done it so fast, nor on something quite so explosive, but that wasn’t a reason to doubt her abilities. If she ever got such a notion from him, she wouldn’t appreciate it. Not that he would dream of doing such a thing, she was far more competent than him and he was quite okay with that. He knew the moment they were out of this town, she’d be in charge of the market stuff too, and he was honestly just looking forward to her being the captain again. It was not that he particularly minded being in charge, he just felt like it should be Capsize.

“Pretty sure I have! Just leave the fabric on, I think the glyphs are resetting when they’re touched,” She said as she handed it over to him carefully. She couldn’t say for sure that was the problem, magic was mysterious and annoying after all, but it was her best guess as to why the object had decided to once again explode that morning. She almost wished she had more time to figure out the mechanics, almost. Mostly she was glad to see the thing gone. The twinge of sadness as she handed it over was not due to losing the box, but rather the fact that this was it. He was leaving for another three weeks. Obviously, he’d be back, and it would be faster than she expected, but she never quite got used to being alone, to this town where it seemed that no one really understood her nor wanted to.

“Well, I’ll do my best to find someone who wants the devil box,” He said with a laugh, attempting to hide his own sadness about leaving. He didn’t need to show that, it was better to not make her worry anymore than she was already going to. He appreciated her worrying, it meant that she missed him, though she always claimed it was because she didn’t like him being alone with his run of luck. But he knew it was because she missed him, after all she trusted the routes she planned to be safe, she just didn’t want to admit such a thing. Not that he had ever asked, but he could tell these sorts of things, some people just had their feelings written on their face. And yes, he was correct. Capsize knew she was going to miss him dreadfully and the worry was coming in waves with all the possible reasons he might never return circling through her brain.

“Have you got everything?” She asked as the two began to walk towards the cart. She knew she didn’t really need to ask the question. As focused as she had been on the lockbox, she hadn’t missed him carrying the boxed-up trinkets and furniture pieces out of the cellar. And while there was now a tarp covering the loaded-up cart, she knew from a quick look around herself before exiting that he hadn’t missed anything. She just wanted him here a little longer, and that was the only thing she could ask. He didn’t need to change as he had packed his nicer clothes for when he arrived, and he had on a thick enough coat for a journey that would take him through autumn nights, the long green one that he had had for so long yet still didn’t look worn despite everything. And she sincerely doubted he had forgotten to pack the saddle bags currently on Phillipe.

“Of course, but I can check again if you’d like,” He said, knowing that a couple of checks had never done any harm. Capsize, however, quickly shook her head.

“No, I trust you,” She said without any hesitation in the statement, though her words still sounded a little unsure. She wanted him to not leave for as long as possible, but logically she knew such a thing was silly. There wasn’t time to keep him here to recheck everything. While there were still a good couple of hours until sunset, that still meant a good portion of his travel through the woods would be in darkness, she didn’t particularly want to make that longer. Though she hadn’t travelled in them, the most she had done being travelling to them and back on days when she truly couldn’t stand being in the town anymore, she was sure there was something wrong with those woods. She couldn’t exactly investigate that feeling, she was typically walking, and the journey there and back already made her leg burn and complain, and she also guessed that she shouldn’t investigate such a feeling, but it bothered her. It felt like staring into a haunting, being so close to something impossibly and unexplainably dangerous. And, of course, everyone knew about the predators in there. As much as she hated listening to Jordan talk about his hunting, he’d mentioned enough that she knew that there were dangerous animals, even if they typically minded their own business. That, though mundane, was enough a reason itself to want her brother in there for as short a time as possible. “Just make sure to stay on the route. I don’t trust the woods.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of letting the terrifying monster in the woods get me!” He jokingly mocked as he unbuckled and lifted part of the tarp to find a place for the last item. He only chuckled more at Capsize mildly annoyed sigh. She was too superstitious by half, which never failed to amuse him. Superstitions were expected of sailors, and heck he had some of his own like still wearing the amulet bearing Lady Ianite’s symbol meant to bring safe waters despite having been years now since he’d been on them, but in this situation there was really no reason for her to worry. He’d been through the woods enough to know they were perfectly safe. The road was well used, and the predators had little reason to bother people when there was easier prey already in the woods. Honestly, he saw absolutely no reason to fear the journey. As he found a free and secure spot and began resecuring the tarp, he saw in his peripheral vision her approach Phillipe, who of course greeted her with a cheerful whinny, the absolute traitor.

“When my brother gets himself got by a monster, you come and find me, so it doesn’t get you too. Alright Phillipe?” She said with a gentle rub of his neck. Redbeard laughed quietly at her words, wondering how he’d rank compared to the horse. He could almost hear her joking that Phillipe was practically family if he ever asked such a question, but she would be joking at least, he hoped. Well, at least if for whatever reason he was attacked by a bear or something, the horse will miraculously have understood what Capsize was telling him and get her assistance.

“I’ll await your rescue from the bear’s den!” He said, far too loud but neither of them cared and they devolved into laughter. For the briefest moment, they both forgot that they were about to be separated. As he walked around, to her and the horse, and less literally towards leaving, the laughter quieted. When they were next to each other, she gave him a soft smile, pulling him into a hug.

“Come back safe, okay.”

“I wouldn’t dream of anything else,” He said, softly and without a doubt in his mind. Everything was going to be fine, there was no reason to believe otherwise. As they parted, Capsize looked more stoic, biting her worries down and trying to look like she was focused on business.

“I told Jeriah you’d get him a couple bottles of liquor.”

“Easily done. Any personal requests?” He hoped she’d have a few, though she typically didn’t. He knew there were things she wanted, things that would help quell her boredom, but she never actually asked for any of them. Well, he’d figure out gifts for her even without her direct requests, it would just be nice for his sister to admit she wanted something.

“No, I’m fine.”

“Well, if you insist. So just a bit more alcohol than usual and a rose,” He said with a smirk as he saw Capsize’s nose scrunch. Eventually continuous buying her the flower would get old, but that was not today.

“You’re the worst,” She said with an amused shaking of her head, smiling despite her words.

“I know,” Redbeard said with a chuckle as she climbed into the saddle. He was glad, as always, to part with a joke and a smile. “See you in three weeks.”

🌹 🌹 🌹

Hours had passed, night having long since fallen as Redbeard had unexpectedly come to an impasse. Having reached a fork in the road, he held his map close to a lantern, but not as one might suspect to check which way he was supposed to travel, as he knew that perfectly well. It was rather that the way he was meant to travel was blocked by a fallen tree which he had no chance of getting past or moving. So, for the first time he was studying the map beyond his sister’s carefully marked route, hoping that the other direction would, at some point, join back up to his usual route. He didn’t particularly want to have to plan out a full new route, especially as it would most certainly be much more roundabout than Capsize’s, but he was fearing that might be his only choice. It was with a shaky hand that he traced along the map, following the unknown fork to see exactly where it went.

The path he traced didn’t make sense. It appeared to be completely superfluous, just a longer route to the next fork he would hit after this one, with only one branch with the long road itself, where the other path led to a dead end. And it was a much longer route, going far into the woods before returning to the original road. He bet it would take an extra hour, but he couldn’t complain at actually having an accessible route. As much as he was confused by the existence of such a thing, at least he now had a path forward.

“Come on, Phillipe, let’s get going,” He said, folding the map and putting it into his pocket, knowing he’d need to reference it again before he found his way back onto his usual route. As he guided the horse towards the unblocked path, Phillipe hesitated for a moment. He had to admit, he also had some hesitations about the path as it certainly looked in worse repair than the usual one, disregarding the tree of course, but he didn’t exactly have much of a choice. He gently patted his neck. “I know, it looks bad, but the sooner you move, the sooner we’ll be back on the normal path.”

As if understanding, the horse began to move again, turning onto the unfamiliar path. Slowly, but at least they were moving.

It didn’t seem all that bad at first, as it seemed just as a less frequented road through the woods would, bumpy and filled with an uncomfortable sense of foreboding as Redbeard couldn’t quite be sure of the direction being correct. But he had felt the same on his first journey through the woods on the normal route, it was just a fear of getting lost while being none the wiser. And that was how it seemed for the first ten minutes. However, the further in he travelled, the more the pit in his stomach grew.

The trees started to get wilder, none of them blocking the path, but branches hung down and jutted out at odd angles that felt like they were grasping out for him. Without leaves, he almost mistook them for fingers and claws despite how nonsensical such a thing was. A bitter rain had begun to fall, not heavy enough for its impact to hurt, though the cold certainly wasn’t pleasant, but it did obscure his vision. He could barely see beyond the small circle of light illuminated by his lantern. That was a worrying problem as, if it didn’t clear up by the time he reached the turn, he wouldn’t be able to check the map to make sure he headed back to the main road rather than down the dead end.

Worse, as he tried not to dwell on his nerves of possibly heading in the wrong direction, he became acutely aware of just how little he could hear. With the noise of Phillipe, the cart, and now the rain, he could barely hear anything, and if there was one thing you didn’t want while in the woods, it was both limited vision and hearing. He didn’t exactly fear much from the woods normally, he knew them well enough to know the few places he needed to be careful. But here, he felt vulnerable and that was only made worse by having such limited senses. Because, as much as he always mocked the idea of getting into trouble on the journey, he was sure he could hear something moving.

He knew he was being ridiculous, just giving into his fears and that it wasn’t good when he was already on edge, but he could swear there were things moving through the overgrowth of the trees. He felt like he needed to hear, to know what was approaching. And he found himself straining to make out any hint of a noise or sight of what was lurking in the darkness. Because he was hearing something, some movement through the trees, low growls that made his heart race. Even if it was sure to be his imagination, he was hearing something.

A howl pierced through the noise, far too close for comfort, others joining from further away. How many were there? He felt his heart racing as he realised he was in the middle of a pack. Of course, it wasn’t exactly common for them to attack people, but that wasn’t comforting him when they were so close. It was odd, despite all his actual knowledge, it was as if he knew in his gut that he knew that he was not safe this time. A feeling unfortunately proven true when a wolf leapt out towards him, barely missing its mark.

“Shit!” He whipped the reins, Phillipe quickly breaking into a run as he too did not feel like getting torn apart by wolves. Having strained to hear before, Redbeard now felt as though he could hear nothing but the wolves hot on their tail. He needed to stay ahead of them, he didn’t have time to think or second guess. He had no idea how long Phillipe would be able to keep up a full sprint, he just had to hope it would be long enough for the vicious animals to lose interest.

His mind rushed through the ways he could deter the animals, so much so that he barely noticed the fork in the road ahead. He forced a turn quickly muttering apologies as Phillipe barely managed to turn while actually remaining on the road. He had no idea which path he was now travelling down, the one leading back to the usual route or the odd dead end. It was not as if he had the time to check such a thing and it likely didn’t matter anyway. He was still hours away from a rest stop, away from light or other people that might scare off the pack. Unless he could think of something himself to scare them, this was purely a game of stamina. What chance did they really have of winning such a contest?

The further they were chased, the more the path grew unseemly. It felt as though they were travelling over terrain so uneven that the cart could fall or break a wheel at any moment. The trees seemed to become brambles, thorns sticking out of the branches that were stretching ever closer to the road. All the while the rain fell, the intensity increasing and making it ever harder to guide the panicking horse to make sure he didn’t run headfirst into thorns. There should’ve been no way he should be able to outrace the wolves, he knew that even as he desperately tried to flee. But that was not the only impossible thing that happened over the next few moments.

As the plant life suddenly peeled away into a far more open area, the wolves skidded to a stop. They whined, and quickly fled seemingly for no reason. He tugged on the reins, slowing their speed as he tried to calm the still spooked horse. Redbeard looked back to try and figure out what might have caused such a reaction from the wolves, and it was then he realised he had not ridden into a natural clearing. Consumed by some of the brambles were a rusted gate, forever stuck open but apparently still acting as a barrier as none of the wolves’ paw prints passed where it would stand if it were shut. Confused by the oddity, he rode forward a little more, not feeling completely safe to dismount yet. And then, even through the rain, he saw that this was not merely some gated clearing, some overgrown private garden, as ahead of him stood a castle. A castle that for some reason was not marked on his map. Why would such an estate not be marked? What kind of oddity had he stumbled into? He had no idea if he should be weary or grateful for the possible shelter. He settled on the latter, if only since he would prefer not to be out in the rain while waiting out daybreak.

He slipped off Phillipe, taking a hold of the lantern and going to unbuckle him from the cart. He’d come back and put him in a stable if this place had one and the owners let him, assuming this place had owners. It didn’t exactly look occupied, with the state of the overgrown plants and the rusted gate, but it also didn’t look abandoned. The building looked strong, no sign of it being left to disrepair despite that clearly being true of the gardens as large thorny bushes stood overground throughout. He almost hesitated to let Phillipe wander on his own, in case he stumbled into one, but he had at least a little confidence in the animal to not wander into danger.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” He said, as if such reassurance would mean anything to a horse. Yet he did find it necessary to say, as if he was actually reassuring himself that he would re-emerge from the building.

As he wandered closer to the castle’s imposing doors, the lantern illuminated one of the bushes. Unlike what he had assumed, they weren’t just barren brambles. In fact, he almost laughed despite his dire situation as before him was a rosebush. The thorns surrounding him were filled with the flowers that he sought out to annoy Capsize. Honestly, he’d never seen such big flowers this late in autumn, most had wilted by this month. What he was looking at was far nicer than any he would get at the market this time of year, and perhaps for most of the year. He felt for the small knife in his pocket, carefully reaching for one of the flowers while avoiding the thorns. He knew he shouldn’t do this, that he’d need to come up with some excuse if this place wasn’t abandoned, but how could he not want to take such a beautiful flower back home? With the cutting technique he’s learnt from the old flower seller at the market, it should last for months as all the others had, so there wouldn’t be a worry of it wilting before he got home to Capsize. Surely the owners would understand and if they didn’t, he could pay for it.

As the flower separated from the bush, he pulled a handkerchief to wrap the stem, and with the flower now in hand, he walked up the steps towards the entrance. He reached up, knocked as hard as he could to be heard over the storm, only for the door to creak open upon his touch. Had he really hit it that hard? He must’ve done, but it felt odd that his mere knocking could’ve caused such heavy wood to shift. But, not wanting to spend another moment in the rain, he headed inside despite such uncertainty.

The room before him was by far the fanciest he had ever been in. Even with the darkness he could tell such a thing. Though it seemed as though it was not too taken care of, with dust floating in his lantern light, clearly this was a grand place. He felt lost, more so than he had outside, as he stood in the quiet entrance hall, wondering if another person had been in here for years.

“Hello?” He called out into the darkness, his voice travelling through the building. He was acutely aware of how much power someone who resided in such a place would have. Though if there was someone of such power so close to the town, he surely should’ve heard of them, so it seemed more likely that the place was just abandoned. But then he heard it, quiet but most definitely a noise. Someone or something was in this building. But how was he meant to confront such a fact when he was not supposed to be here? He strayed a little closer to the noise, hoping he could figure out if it was being made by people. “I was chased by a pack of wolves through the woods, and I don’t think I’ll be able to find my way back to my normal route through the rain. I was hoping I could have a place to stay until morning.”

There was silence at first. In fact, for long enough that he almost thought he might have imagined the noises originally. Maybe he was just still on edge and imagining things. That wouldn’t be impossible. However, as he stood in the darkened room, he saw a dim light from one of the doorways. That wasn’t there when he walked in. Someone was here. He took a cautious step towards it, hearing hushed conversation as he approached.

“Don’t you dare! The amount of trouble we’ll get into!”

“Oh, come off it, she’ll never know!” He heard a man reply to a woman. He hesitated for a moment, not wanting his presence to cause anyone any problems. He’d be happy to sleep in a stable if staying inside would cause them trouble, but he hesitated to speak when he was eavesdropping. Maybe he should just call out again in general? However, before he could do that, there was a noise that began to approach him, but it was not one he would say it sounded like footsteps. It sounded more akin to Capsize’s cane hitting the ground, a single object hitting the ground as opposed to multiple. He wasn’t quite sure what could be making such a noise without anything else accompanying it, after all he heard voices that should mean people so there should be footsteps. However, when what was making the noise came into view, Redbeard stumbled backwards slightly, dropping his lantern in disbelief that he was seeing something blatantly impossible. “Of course, you can stay here! We’d be more than happy to host you! You’ll never have stayed in a nicer place!”

“Errrr…” What all that could escape from him. In front of him ‘stood’ a candelabra, one beautifully carved from gold to look like a man in finery holding two candles with a third sat on his head. To carve such a design must’ve taken tens of hours, but that was not the focus of his mind. Rather the fact that he moved and spoke. The candelabra spoke. If Redbeard had been a more cautious man, a more logical man, he likely would’ve fled at such a sight. Yet, his mind did not bring him fear, but rather a question he had often found himself asking. “Am I drunk?”

“No! At least not yet! I’d be more than happy to find you a fine vintage while you dry off,” The candelabra answered the rhetorical question, his offer and general welcoming nature putting Redbeard at ease despite how he was literally talking to a piece of furniture. He wondered briefly if he had hit his head at some point, and this was merely some fantasy cooked up by his dreams after such an injury, but he decided that even being able to consider such a thing likely meant it hadn’t happened. And if he was stuck in a dream, hopefully he’d dream up some nice booze. Before he could laugh at his own thought, and accept the offer he really couldn’t refuse, an ornate table clock approached.

“No! Thomas do not give this man any alcohol,” The clock, apparently the woman he had overheard, said. She too looked incredibly well made, with wood he guessed in the dim light to be hawthorn embellished with silver inlaid into spiral engravings. He could see a winding key on her back, though he had little idea what it was for as, while her face had painted features that were looking intensely annoyed at the candelabra that he guessed was Thomas, it lacked any actual clock hands that would need to be wound. And she was annoyed, not that Tom ever knew her to have any other emotion, because letting this man stay was going to end in disaster. She knew it would. How could it go any other way? But Tom didn’t just want to stay quiet and let the man leave, because why on earth would he actually listen for once?

He was not the only person not listening to the clock at that moment, as Redbeard had begun to look in fascination. For one object to talk, that was slightly terrifying, but more than one and he had clearly stumbled into some place enchanted. He wished more than he ever had on any journey that Capsize was with him as this place would give her enough excitement to almost make up for the amount of boredom she'd spent her time in the town experiencing. He only got drawn out of his thoughts when the clock he was staring at started trying, despite clearly lacking the ability, to shove him back towards the door.

“It was very nice to meet you, but you really can’t stay here.”

“If I can’t stay in the castle, could I at least stay in a stable or an outbuilding? Just until the storm clears, so I can drive off the wolves if I need to.”

“Well, I suppose if you��re quiet that—”

“Oh shush, you Mystic busybody,” Tom said, getting her away from the man simply by beginning to shoo as his flames got uncomfortably close to her. This was the first person that had come here in years, he wasn’t about to let this golden opportunity slip out of his hands. What Princess Fluffles didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and what she did know might fix this whole situation if they played their cards right. “Please, right this way sir. No point sending you out into the cold without drying off first.”

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” He said, deciding not to question the hospitality when he was beginning to realise just how soaked he was. He followed ‘Thomas’ as he gestured towards and then hopped into a room. He didn’t know what he had stumbled into, this place where furniture talked, but that wasn’t any reason to leave. With the way the storm was progressing he was going to lose time on the journey from needing to dry his clothes wherever he rested next, doing so in a castle just seemed like a nice option.

As the two men disappeared into the next room, the clock followed after a slight hesitation. She needed to at least try and stop this. She’d come up with a way to persuade the man to leave, hopefully without returning with a mob. However, as she followed, she didn’t notice, as the two men hadn’t, the figure lurking in the shadows on the landing above. Far bigger than any human, just watching and quietly seething at the trespasser in her castle.

As Tom entered the drawing room, the fireplace roared to life. Redbeard looked in amazement, wondering what it took for a place to have magic to just react to a presence. The small amount he had seen from the trinkets Capsize repaired always needed to at least be touched, but this didn’t even need that. He could’ve never imagined actually seeing such a thing. But he had also never imagined being ushered towards a chair by a talking candelabra so perhaps he needed to stop being surprised by comparatively mundane things. Before sitting, he shrugged off his coat, realising with a little annoyance that the rain had soaked through and into his shirt. What would he have done if he hadn’t found shelter? He grateful took the seat by the fire, the warmth as welcome as it ever could be. With the man clearly relaxing, Tom decided to start work on his master plan.

“See, much better than a musty old stable. Is there anything else you need? Food, drink?”

“My horse is still out in the rain. I’d appreciate him being given shelter.”

“Of course! We’ll give him shelter, get him fed and watered. Martha, make yourself useful will you?”

“Why on earth should I help a trespassing thief?” The clock said, eyes locked onto the rose in the man’s hand.

“Oh, come off it, no one cares about those bushes,” Came a new voice as a small plant pot hopped into the room. She spoke with a younger cadence than the clock and the candelabra, though Redbeard wasn’t sure if that at all made sense, and looked less ornate, just a simple brown clay pot with facial features carved in, but that was more than made up by the number of colourful and beautiful flowers growing within. Much like the roses outside, most of the flowers were certainly not ones currently in season, but that was the least of the oddities about this place. He appreciated being defended, mostly since he couldn’t exactly put the rose back now, he’d already cut it from the bush. The clock glared at the plant pot. How did none of them see that they needed to get this man out? The plant pot thought little of the glare, instead getting as close to the man as possible. “I can get you something nicer if you want, the rose bushes have taken over most of the garden but there’s still some other flowers growing! I bet there’s enough for a bouquet still if you--”

“I know you’re excited, but don’t leap up at the man Alyssa,” A snuffbox said as he came into the room, a little slower than his daughter. Similar to the candelabra, he was crafted from gold, though at least half of him was embellished with green crystals. Much like the other furniture pieces, he had facial features, though they were more hidden among the design than any of the others’ were. On his lid was a coat of arms that Redbeard didn’t recognise, which was not out of the question, he wasn’t exactly the most knowledgeable on such things, but certainly could be of note to the castle he also hadn’t heard of the existence of.

The snuffbox himself was more excited than he was letting on. How could he not be excited about the first person he’d seen in gods knows how many years? But he worried about his daughter jumping up in such a way. She was fragile. He was always scared she might crack or break, and what such a thing could mean if they ever fixed this curse. Tom decided to spin the caution once again towards the obvious end goal here.

“Yeah, Batty, you don’t want to jump up and crush the rose. How can you help him craft a beautiful romantic bouquet if you ruin the first flower?” Tom said, knowing Alyssa would stick her tongue out or shove him if she could. Redbeard almost immediately laughed at his words, not meaning to but unable to hold back the reaction given how far from reality the idea of him wanting a romantic bouquet was. The candelabra smirked. This was a good sign. He hopped forward, thinking about how to phrase his next question without scaring the man off. “Is it really that funny? A handsome guy like you not into romance then?”

“Well, I’m not against it, but the rose is for my sister,” He was pretty used to the questions about if the roses he brought were for a sweetheart back home, though they still made him laugh. He was less used to being called handsome. He didn’t exactly think he was unattractive, but unruly ginger hair and heterochromia with one bright green and one deep red eye hadn’t gained him many compliments. If he weren’t currently talking to a piece of furniture, he’d assume he was being flirted with. He supposed he shouldn’t write that off, but he had no idea how such a relationship would work. If they weren’t made of metal, Tom’s eyes would’ve lit up at the mention of a sister.

“A sister you say? Is she interested in romance?” He asked, being far too forward for the taste of everyone else in the room, but he would not receive an answer. Before Redbeard could question as to why he could possibly want to know about his sister’s relationship status, loud footsteps began to approach the room.

The fire began to flicker and shake as if a great wind was whipping through the room. It made no sense, as the air was still and even if it wasn’t magic fire shouldn’t be affected by such a thing, but that was what made it all the more uneasy. The furniture fell silent, the clock not slipping the ‘I told you so’s that she had on her lips, instead just hoping the Mistress would pass by, that the trouble she had predicted would not come to pass. Redbeard knew something was wrong, obviously anyone would at this moment. He stood cautiously, taking his coat in hand as he did, almost sensing the upcoming need to flee.

By the time the footsteps stood outside the door, the fire had completely blown out, alongside Tom’s candles. There was still some dim light remaining, from the embers and a tiny amount from the outside, but that did little to light up the figure that threw open the door. It was large, large enough to block the entire doorway if it were not currently on all fours. From the size, he would assume he was looking at a bear, grizzly or bigger, but the build was wrong, not to mention it had horns. Whatever he was looking at, it was not a normal animal, and it was growling at him. He didn’t dare move. No one dared to move except the snuffbox.

“Why is a stranger here?” The Beast growled, Redbeard trying not to react to hearing it speak. It spoke with a woman’s voice, though one that sounded as if it had not been used in many a year. The snuffbox approached with caution, knowing how quickly this could go wrong. He could not allow the Beast to be harmed, but at the same time he couldn’t let her harm an innocent traveller.

“He’s just an unlucky traveller, seeking shelter from—” A growl cut him off as he was stepped over by the Beast that he was trying to reassure. How long had it been since she had listened to him? Even before the curse, her doing so had been happening less and less. But who wouldn’t try in such a desperate situation? She approached Redbeard, who tried badly to disguise his nervous steps back. Was it too late to take his chances with the wolves?

“You are not welcome here,” She growled as she stalked closer. He could see a little aside from a basic outline, but he could hear claws scraping against hardwood with every movement of her limbs. He had never felt so vulnerable, been in a situation where it was so clear that he was prey. And he knew he had to flee, to get out of this place while he had the chance. But he wasn’t sure if he even had a chance anymore. She was blocking the doorway, to get out he’d need to pass her. And what chance did he really have of that?

The next to approach the creature was the clock. She was already annoyed that the others had allowed the situation to progress this far, she was not about to let something even worse come to fruition.

“Yes, I told everyone as much, and this is precisely why I was about to escort him out! If you’ll just—” She was cut off by a much louder roar, barely getting out of the way before the Beast batted at her, a giant pawed hand swiping through the space where she had been. Redbeard barely held his nerve at the sight, at seeing the terrible thing that could soon be aimed at him and seeing perhaps his only hope at escape dashed. And now, the attention of the Beast was completely on him.

“Who are you? How did you find your way here?” She was close enough to grasp him now. A single wrong move and she would have him.

“I’m just a merchant, my usual route was blocked so I took another one and it led here,” His usual way with words and excuses were nowhere in such a situation as there was no excuse he could muster. If the truth that this was truly an accident didn’t save him, then what could? He tried to further back away, but he had no way to get away from the Beast now she was so close. Maybe if he tried to run? But he was sure that such a creature would be faster than him. Another step back caused him to stumble slightly, not enough to fall, but enough for his amulet to shift out from his shirt. She growled at the sight of it.

“You came looking for the Beast? She sent you to stare at the great monster?!” She would not believe this to be some accident, not when he wore the symbol of that goddess, of the one who cursed her into this form. No one came here, no one had since the curse had begun. But now one with that symbol came through the doors and she was meant to believe he had just stumbled across the place?

“No! I don’t know what you’re talking about! I swear I just came here looking for shelter!” For once, Redbeard was not lying or exaggerating. He was far too scared for any of that. Yet, it was also this moment where his words were being disbelieved more than any other in his life. His desperate pleads fell on deaf ears, the Beast took a hold of him by the chest. He dropped what he was holding, attempting fruitlessly with both hands to pry to claws off himself.

“You want shelter? I’ll give you shelter!” For a moment, she held him close to her face, and he saw everything. He saw the Beast’s face bared in anger towards him, and he felt more terror than he had before in his life. But there was no way for him to escape. He could only struggle and beg for mercy as the Beast half-carried, half-dragged him out of the room. She would not let him go. She wouldn’t let him escape. As she left with the terrified man in tow, she slammed the door closed, leaving the furniture in the darkness, the only sign of the man’s brief time in that room an abandoned coat and rose.

Outside, still in the rain, the horse heard the roars. As any animal would, it spooked, running out of the rusted open gate and back towards the safety of home.

[grapefruit-personified]

I posted 3,191 times in 2022

That's 1,947 more posts than 2021!

1,047 posts created (33%)

2,144 posts reblogged (67%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@tiernatime

@usahockeybutmakeitgay

@footygirl114

@smithsfc

I tagged 358 of my posts in 2022

#woso - 155 posts

#uswnt - 82 posts

#nwsl - 62 posts

#woso imagine - 61 posts

#woso imagines - 61 posts

#uswnt imagine - 51 posts

#uswnt imagines - 51 posts

#alyssa naeher - 44 posts

#canwnt - 21 posts

#chicago red stars - 21 posts

Longest Tag: 129 characters

#i care if the ladies get the money they deserve truly bull that the men would have gotten so much more for lackluster performance

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Touch I crave (Alyssa Naeher)

Hello Lovelies this fic is longer then I had anticipated so I hope y’all enjoy it. Let me know what y’all think though!

As always any and all feedback is welcome! My inbox is always open to just chat or for request so just send them my way!

Y/N’S POV

Human touch was something I always craved. Whether it be a simple pat on the back to a long deep hug from someone I trust. I had always been like this, seeking out the little attention I could from my parents. My teammates always dogpiling me at the end of a winning match knowing I was one of the few who actually seemed to enjoy the sudden pressure that I felt all over my body.

That’s what made being with Alyssa hard at times.

It’s not that she doesn’t love me, I would hope I would realize if she didn’t after being together for going on three years. But she wasn’t one for a lot of physical contact. Sure there was the light touch of my hand in the middle of the night as I rubbed her back as we dozed to sleep, or the gentle hand on my hips as she keeps me balanced as I try and reach too far for something in the cupboard. But the cuddling I craved was rarely done, the simple act of being held not something Alyssa was overly comfortable with. Sure at times, we would find ourselves in those moments her arms wrapped around me as we watch a movie play across the screen in our small Chicago apartment. 

But those were few and far between but over time I grew to be comfortable in the fact that that was just our relationship. Alyssa didn’t mind that I seemed to always find Christen at camp instantly claiming her as my said cuddle buddy for however long we were stuck together. While I didn’t mind that Alyssa showed her love through acts, like fixing the crooked mirror I could never get straight or making sure my bag had my recovery tablets that I always seemed to forget, a small note almost always attached letting me know she loves me. 

For many, they saw our relationship as unbalanced and maybe even unfulfilling, but it felt like the opposite, both of us getting just enough of what we need to know the other loves them. 

___________________

The balance we had seemed to always work well until these past two weeks. We had been prepping for the World Cup in Australia and New Zealand, camp was long and you could tell we were growing tired. My usually cuddle buddy was no longer wanting to be touched as she did her best to stay focused. My body was tense as I did my best to stay calm, my anxiety coursing through my veins as I tried to stay focused. 

My shots were going wide and my passes kept getting intercepted the longer the training went on. My starting position was becoming more and more fragile the worse I did in training which resulted in me being benched from our first game against South Korea. Only getting subbed in at the eighty-minute mark, I played the best I could assisting on a goal for Christen. My heart soaring at the dogpile afterwards. My energy suddenly revived just a little as I played with a vengeance for the last few minutes of the game. The final score was five to zero, the whole team making their way onto the field in celebration. The first game of the tournament was a major success. 

I go around giving handshakes to the other team and receiving hugs here and there from my own teammates. When I finally make my way over to Alyssa the taller woman brushes me off with a quick side hug and a whisper.

“Not here, there are cameras everywhere.” Her voice is rough from yelling as she quickly ducts her way off the field. My eyes falling towards the green grass under my feet, Tobin’s hands on my shoulders being the only thing to draw me back into reality. I knew Alyssa was hesitant about being public, people already dug into our life more than we liked. Finding any little moment we shared to blow up into a major moment, any little touch, or any pictures taken of us out and about in Chicago. But I had never thought she would pull away, not during this moment in our lives. 

The rest of the tournament was spent in a similar manner, the only physical touch I was able to find was from playing well. This meant I played as well as I could finding goals when I could and assisting on every opportunity I could. I still didn’t find any attention from Alyssa, her main focus was on the games and her family who sat up in the stands watching on. My heart cracking as I watch on completely unsure if I would even be wanted over there with them. 

___________________

Our last round of sixteen games was successful landing us a spot in the quarter-finals against Sweden. The tension was both fueled by excitement and anxiety as we face the reality that a repeat of our past Olympics could happen, something we had trained for but could so easily collapse. 

“Hey,” I whisper quietly as I sit down next to Alyssa, her back rigid and her face serious. “Are you okay,” my hand going to rest on her knee. 

“I’m fine,” Alyssa says, pulling herself away from me. 

“I understand if you're stressed,” I sigh, my thumbnail becoming extremely interesting as I do my best to keep myself from reaching out to the blond woman, her discomfort around my touch clear as day to me. 

“I’m not stressed,” Alyssa snaps out “just because I dont always want to be suffocated by you doesn’t mean I'm stressed.” The room falls silent, many of our teammates turning to see what caused the sudden anger. “Y/N,” Alyssa sighs after a moment, her face dropping as she tries to take my hand. My instant reaction is to pull away, standing suddenly as I rush out the door. My mind reeling as I try to not let the thoughts overtake my mind. 

I had been raised with the constant feeling of tiptoeing around my family. My parent's lack of affection leaving me always feeling like I was on thin ice, doing my best to please them in hopes of receiving even a little praise from the people I craved it from most. I knew when I got into a relationship with Alyssa that she wasn’t big on physical touch, but she had always shown her love in other ways but these past few weeks had clearly put a strain on not just our relationship but the relationship of the whole team as we went into one of the hardest games of the tournament. 

I spend a while just wandering the halls, the cool air was a relief as the sweat on my body slowly dried. I knew the bus was going to be leaving any minute now but my desire to find my way back was small as I found myself lost in the maze of halls. 

“Y/N?” I hear from behind me, the slight echo bouncing off the walls. Turning around I see Sam Kerr making her way towards me. 

“What are you doing here?” I ask as she pulls me into her arms, the hug tight and warm. 

“Well, came to watch the competition, but also wanted to check in on you, it's been a while,” Sam whispers into my ear as I hold on tightly, the familiar woman bringing me comfort. After our time spent with the Chicago Red Stars, we stayed in touch going to one another to vent and find relief from the friends around us. 

“Alyssa texted you didn’t she,” I sigh as I finally pull back. 

“She may have told me she had upset you,” Sam’s eyes meeting mine “and that you may need a ride back to your hotel, the bus left about five minutes ago.” 

“Of course it did,” I breathe out, running my hand through my hair, yanking the ponytail it had been in loose as my hair falls around my shoulders. 

“You want to talk about it, you know now that we aren't trying to rush you to the bus.” Sam's words are soft as she sits down on the floor, her back against the concrete wall. 

See the full post

299 notes - Posted January 11, 2022

#4

We're in this together (Leila Ouahabi)

I want to be very upfront this story does contain some heavy topics around the loss of family so please keep that in mind when going to read this.

Hello Lovelies sorry this took me so long to post I’ve been having a bad mental health time but thankfully something sparked in me and I was able to get this finished tonight. Now I really love this family dynamic much like my Alexia and Arlo fics (quick update on that we may have more of that coming soon 😏) so I hope y’all enjoy it as much as I do! 

As always request and messages are always open (for request they may take a while but I promise to try and get to them) if y’all ever even just want to talk send those messages my way!

Y/N’s POV 

Waking up to that phone call nearly broke me. I hadn’t expected to hear the heart shattering cries of my mother at three in the morning but when I did all I could do was frantically rush to get a suitcase together. Waking Leila up in the process, barely holding myself together as she groggily asked me what was happening her half awake state making her own panic rise as I struggled to get words out. 

“She’s gone there both gone,” my throat tight as I willed myself not to cry my hands frantically folding any piece of clothing I could grab not caring that it was possibly Leila’s and not mine. 

“Who? Babe I need you to tell me what’s wrong,” my hands suddenly getting grasped in hers as she brings my frantic movement to a stop. 

“My sister,” tears were leaking from my eyes as the wall finally broke. “My mom called, she's gone, her and her husband are both gone.” 

“Oh mi alma,” Leila’s arms gently wrapping around me as she pulls me back onto the bed “you need to breathe for a moment let me help you,” my eyes meeting hers after a second my breath still jagged as I stare back at her. The dim light from the street lamps being the only thing to light up the room, Leila’s face is covered in shadows as she holds me tightly. “What is the plan?” The question is quiet as Leila watches my face hoping to not set me off again. 

“I have to go back to the states, I don’t know for how long. There’s Atlas that we need to figure out, he’s only one and he’s already lost his parents,” the tears I had been able to dry up made a sudden reappearance at the idea of my nephew being alone. The only family he had was me and my mother and she wasn’t able to raise another kid, not after all of these years. 

“Then you go home, you see if they had made plans in case this happened and we go from there,” my head falls gently to her shoulder, the exposed skin from the way her tank top had slid down her arm was warm my eyes closing for just a moment as I take a deep breath doing my best to calm down. 

“We?” I ask quietly “I don’t expect you to stick around through this, this will change everything and I can’t hold you back,” my voice is soft, barely audible had I not been right up against Leila I doubt she would have been able to hear me. The churn in my stomach makes me cringe slightly as I think of all the ways my life was about to change. Was I going to have to move back to the States? My dreams of playing with Barcelona for at least another season could be coming to a sudden end. 

“Y/N there was never the idea that it wouldn’t be we, this isn’t something that will end us because I'm going to be right there with you.” Leila’s hand gently rubs up and down my arm, her head bent down to whisper softly in my ear as my eyes drop closed for just a moment, the loose t-shirt I wore as a night gown slowly sliding down my arm as she did her best to comfort me. 

“But,” I start, Leila’s soft shush putting a quick end to the thought as her lips gently meet the top of my head, her check resting on the crown of my head as she wraps her arms tightly around me.

“No buts mi alma, no buts.” We sat in silence for a while longer knowing deep down that there was no way I was leaving Spain anytime before dawn, her arms never letting me go as the tears slowly fell down my face wetting her shoulder. 

___________________

The trip to the states was grueling, having a layover in London and then another in New York City before landing back in Chicago. The comforting arms of Alyssa were the first I met in Chicago, the usually hug adverse woman wrapping me up tightly as I cried into her chest. The familiar comfort of the woman who took me under her wing at my first camp with the national team. 

“I’m sorry Y/N,” Alyssa whispers as she holds me tightly, no doubt blocking the view of those around us as she pulls me tightly against her. 

“I’ve missed you,” is the only thing I'm able to choke out as we pull apart, her hands gently brushing away the tears that slid down my cheeks.

“I’ve missed you too kid,” Alyssa grunts as she takes my stuffed carry on which I had managed to squeeze half of my closet as well as some of Leila’s into. 

My arms wrapped around my stomach as Leila’s hoodie clung to my skin, the slightly slimmer woman’s clothes never fitting me quite right but the smell of her hoodie brought me too much comfort to leave behind. 

We sat in near silence as Alyssa drove me to the suburb of Chicago, Evanston's welcome sign bringing a dark cloud of sadness over me as we near my mothers home. The small white picket fence home was quiet as Alyssa parked, her hand gently squeezing mine before getting out of the car to grab my bag. I sit still for a moment longer, taking deep breaths to calm myself before going into the home I was so used to from my childhood. Taking one final deep breath I pull myself out of the car, Alyssa’s comforting presence making it a little bit easier to climb the brick steps to the front door, unsure of if I needed to knock for the place I used to call home. Thankfully I never have to make the decision as the door swings open, the loud cries that had been kept contained in the home were now flooding out into the street. 

“Oh honey thank goodness you're here,” my mothers arms wrapped tightly around me, her blotchy and swollen face showing just how much she had been crying in the past few days. 

“Of course I'm here,” my voice muffled by the older woman's chest as she held me against her, almost afraid to let go. “Is that Atlas?” I ask after a moment the cries from inside the house never getting quieter. 

“He hasn’t been calm in days, nothing I’m doing is working.” The distress is evident in her voice, her bloodshot eyes meeting mine as fresh tears start to form.

“Okay,” I whisper, doing my best to keep it together, I gently take the bag from Alyssa, giving her a quick hug promising to text her soon. Walking into the house sends shivers down my spine as I place my bag by the door. Atlas’s cries bouncing off the walls being the only noise coming from within the home. 

“He’s in the guest room, I had to step away for a few minutes.” My mom's voice comes out strained from behind me as I look up the stairs knowing exactly where the cries were coming from. 

“Why don’t you lay down for a while, I’ll go and try to calm him down.” My hands gently resting on her arms as her exhausted face falls. The little bit of energy the older woman had was shot and you could tell she was grasping at straws. 

With a small nod she heads to her bedroom down the first floor hallway. Climbing the stairs was more challenging than I thought it would be knowing that at the top I would be met with what had been my sister's room, the pastel pink walls and the canopy bed. My mom, having never had the time to change the room to something else, left it in the state that my sister had left it all those years ago. Now it was simply a relic in time, a time capsule per say. I finally make my way down the hall past my childhood room and towards the very end of the hall, the high pitched cries getting louder as I crept closer. My hand gently rested on the knob for a moment before turning it, the door swinging open. The small red face of the young boy nearly broke me, the fear and sadness clear on his face. 

See the full post

307 notes - Posted May 20, 2022

#3

You've proven yourself (Alexia Putellas)

Hello Lovelies this fic has been sitting in my WIP folder for the past seven months but I somehow got the energy to finish it! I had been at WICC and the games were amazing and meeting Alexia and many other Barcelona players made my life (plus somehow running into Lindsey Horan while she was walking Fergie is a story for the books because only my mother would not realize who she was and absolutely gush over just her dog LOL) I hope y’all enjoy this story its a little more broken up into short scenes instead of one long drawn out story so I hope it isn’t to choppy for y’all!

As always my messages and inbox are always open so please don't be weary about reaching out. Also request are open just be warned that they may not get done quickly but I will try and work on some of them soon!

Y /N’s POV

It’s been a long year, one that had many lows and not so many highs. Portland had been locked down for months the rest of the country was in a similar state. No travel in or out of the country was permitted. That left me with many nights staying up later than usual, just trying to get a sliver of time with her.

Alexia had spent the past months in Spain, I mean, of course she was, her life was there. She is from Spain, she plays for Barcelona and the country's national team. She couldn’t just leave all of that to come to Portland so we could quarantine together. 

That left me alone in my small apartment staring at the wall as I did my best to keep my skills up in hopes that the NWSL would be able to resume play sooner than later. Slowly over time, Providence Park opened up to practice fields for us to work on. Still alone. The mental drain of constantly trying to challenge myself when there was no keeper to stare me down, no pressure from the other women around me. 

This caused the already gray clouds of the pacific northwest to feel even darker, the chill of the rain no longer welcoming as I longed for the sunny skies of Barcelona, only wishing to be held in the warm embrace of the one woman I craved attention from. 

_________________

“Oh mi amor,” Alexia sighs as I lay with my face pressed into my pillow. “Tell me what's wrong please.” 

“I just miss you, I miss Spain,” I mumble knowing Alexia would barely be able to hear me. 

“You’re always able to come stay with me,” Her voice soft.

“I can’t,” I sigh, running my hand down my face doing anything to keep me awake a little longer. “There are rumors of an international club competition coming to Portland and if I leave now I would probably miss out.” My mind racing with the recent whispers of competition coming back to the states. I had heard that Lousiville was planning on putting on a tournament as well, but my hopes were up that the rumors were true and we may have one in Portland as well. 

“You know I could pull some strings and you could play here,” Alexia’s voice floats through the phone, her upturned eyebrow adding an air of mischief to the conversation.

“I know you could,” I whisper, “but I want to earn a spot at Barcelona, not get given one.” 

“You have earned a spot, they are just too blind to see it,” Alexia’s frustration is clear as I close my eyes, willing sleep to stay away for just a few more minutes. 

“I wish that was true my love, just not quite yet,” I say with a soft smile as her eyes burn with a fiery passion, the intense hazel color staring back at me. 

“I just want you here with me,” The Spanish woman says growing quiet as she watches me drift to sleep. 

“Maybe one day,” I whisper “I love you.” 

Alexia's voice fades slowly as I drift to sleep, the Portland nightlife causing a quiet buzz to fill the apartment. The last thing I hear before fading into silence is Alexia’s “I love you too” as she ends the call. 

_________________

The weeks continue on, training slowly but surely turns into group training as we all make our way back into the routine of training at Providence Park. The group continues to hear whispers of the WICC making its way back to the states. Articles being published theorizing on who would be invited and where it would be held. It seems that the main consensus was that Portland was to host as the reigning challenge cup champions, the idea that Houston was to be the other American team was also pretty much confirmed. 

The big question was what two European teams would fill the vacant spots. Part of my heart craved for Barcelona to be selected but my expectations were kept low as I hadn’t heard anything from Alexia about the possibility of the group traveling out of Spain anytime soon. 

“So who do you think will be the other teams,” I hear Rocky ask the team, all of us spread out around the field stretching out after a long practice.

“I’m thinking probably Arsenal and Olympique Lyon,” Meghan shouts from across the field. 

“I don’t know maybe Wolfsburg and Chelsea,” Kelli says with a shrug of her shoulders. “What about you Y/N are you hoping for any team in particular,” Kelli’s question clearly holding a double meaning as some of the other ladies giggle like school girls. 

“I’m not getting my hopes up,” I grumble as I lay down on the turf, the sun's rays heating up the plastic underneath me. 

“Oh come on, give us a guess,” Rocky instigates. 

“I’m hoping for Barcelona and Manchester City,” My eyes closed as I take in the ambient noise of downtown Portland. “But knowing my luck,” I grunt as I sit up, “It will probably be Bayern Muchen and Olympique Lyon.” 

“I guess we'll just have to wait and see,” Rocky says, her smile wide as she pats me on the back before heading towards the locker room. 

See the full post

317 notes - Posted March 24, 2022

#2

Life is like art (Mapi Leon)

Hello Lovelies I hope all of y’all enjoy! I am open to writing more in this universe just need some ideas! 

As always my inbox is always open weather it be to chat or to send request so please send them my way!

Y/N’S POV

The sun beats down on the group of screeching seven year old girls, their excitement filling the whole area with joy as I watch on, their smiles being the only reason the school had talked me into coming today. Football fields were not my normal stomping ground, never finding much interest in the sport but when it came to the young girls I taught art to every week I was willing to put that aside for their happiness. 

The small girl's private school I worked for had been on a short list to join Barcelona's women’s team in a training season but the physical education teacher had to call out at the last moment, leaving us uncertain on if the girls would even be able to go. That's how I ended up out in the boiling heat as the sun beat’s down on us, my long skirt and tight blouse no longer feeling appropriate for the day as I stood off in the little bit of shade that I could find. 

“Ms. Y/N,” the soft tug on my skirt drew my attention down to one of the smaller girls, her eyes showing clear nerves as she anxiously waits for a response. 

“Yes, Sofia is everything ok,” kneeling down to her level, careful to balance in the heels I had unfortunately chosen to wear that morning. 

“I’m nervous Ms. Y/N what if I’m no good,” her question is innocent as the young girl's nerves get the best of her. 

“Well Sofia from what I’ve seen you're extremely good, and even if you weren't we're all here to have some fun and that's all that matters today doesn't it.” My hands gently rubbing the girl's arms trying my best to calm her as I watch a few players step out on the pitch behind her. “In fact, it looks like they're about to start so why don’t you go show them how good you are.” The young girl's smile reappears on her face as she quickly rushes off towards the other girls. 

I stand off to the side, not paying much attention to anything outside of my girls, making sure they are both behaving but also having a good time. Many of them are sending smiles my way with excitement very present in their eyes as they start to do simple passing drills with some of the players, many of them looking familiar but none I can put a name to. 

“Are you not joining us today,” A raspy voice says from just behind me, making me jump slightly as I turn. A blond woman smirks back at me, her Barcelona training top giving me a clear idea that she's one of the players. 

“I’m not really dressed for it,” I joke after a moment, scanning the woman up and down I notice the very obvious tattoo placed right on the middle of her throat. Looks can be deceiving, the words drawing an interest.  

“Did they not warn you about where you would be today?” Her question would be innocent enough had her eyes not had a mischievous shine to them. 

“It's not the normal trip I would bring the girls on, they don’t usually send the art teacher out into the wild.” My comment elicited a soft giggle from the woman, my stomach fluttering with nerves as she looked me in the eyes. 

“An art teacher you say, what got you out here?” The question is simple and innocent enough but the anxious butterflies in my stomach get even more noticeable as I continue to stare at her. 

“Our physical education teacher is out sick and I guess I love the girls too much to say no,” my eyes drifted back to the young girls playing around the field as the older girls went easy on them, their laughter causing a small smile to form on my face. 

“Well I’m happy you were able to join us, not every day we get pretty ladies out here,” Her flirting is clear as my cheeks flush bright red. 

“Oh, I'm sure there are plenty of pretty ladies for you to watch if you wanted,” My words catching her off guard clearly not expecting me to retort back. 

We stand there for a moment longer in silence, my smirk growing with each passing second. 

“Mapi,” one of the women on the field yells “are you going to join us, or are you going to keep flirting,” The blond woman or I guess Mapi quickly snaps out of whatever daze she had been in sending me a quick smile before jogging onto the field. 

___________________

The girls play games with the ladies for a little while longer before their time is concluded. 

“Okay girls let's get our stuff together,” I shouted out to the small mass of children that had formed around me. 

“Leaving so soon,” The familiar voice says as she approaches me. 

“Sadly we have to get back to the school, their parents are surely excited to hear all about their day.” My eyes meeting hers again, the same butterflies appearing again. 

“Do you have someone you're going to be sharing the story of your day with,” her question not being subtle at all. 

“I only have my cat and he hears everything,” I say with a soft laugh as I turn back towards the kids watching them all shove things into their school bags as slowly as possibly not wanting to leave quite yet. 

“Well, would you want to maybe go out tonight, tell me all about your day Ms….. Y/N,” Her eyes shooting down to the id badge around my neck trying to as discreetly as possible figure out my name. 

“I would like that Mapi, I’ll see you tonight, you can pick me up from the school I'll probably be hanging around anyway,” the grin becoming seemingly permanent on my face as I turn to round up the children quickly ushering them to the bus. 

See the full post

316 notes - Posted August 7, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Thank you for everything (Ona Batlle)

Hello Lovelies this is the Part three we have all been waiting for! I hope you all enjoy it if you have anything specific you would like to see in part four let me know! Also if you see any major grammar and plot flaws please let me know I gave it a read through but I have to head to work and may have missed a few! 

Part one

Part two

My messages and inbox are always open and feedback is greatly appreciated to send it my way! I hope you all enjoy and that you’re looking forward to more!

Y/N’s POV

“Aunt Y/N,” the high-pitched toddler voice screeches from across the field, my attention quickly pulled away from the passing drill currently occupying the team. My face lit up with joy as I turn towards the young child running towards us. Her toothy grin is almost as wide as mine. 

“Hi baby,” I squeal out quickly scooping the young girl into my arms. “I’ve missed you,” I say as I kiss the young girl's cheek. 

“You didn’t tell us Barcelona was going to be this warm,” the voice belonging to the tall brunette met my ears. The older woman’s jacket unnecessary under the hot Spanish sun. 

“What did you expect from Spain in June,” I laugh out as the women wipe the sweat from their foreheads.

“You said it was cooler than in Florida,” The blond huffs out. 

“It is cooler than in Florida Ash, but that doesn't mean it's not hot.” My voice filled with cheer as my arms wrap tightly around the squirming child doing my best to keep her from escaping my grasp knowing she was bound to run towards the other women all of which were still actively training. 

“How are you kiddo,” Ali asks softly, wrapping her arm around my shoulder pulling me in for a quick hug. “Are you excited?” 

“I’m good, we’re good,” I say after a moment taking in the older woman's affection. “I’m really excited, I never thought I would be here,” I whisper after a moment, doing my best to not let my emotions get the better of me.

“You deserve it sweetie, you deserve this happiness,” Ali’s voice is soft as she rubs my back, my head resting lightly on Sloane's head taking in a deep breath my eyes closing for just a moment as I think back on the late-night conversation that changed so much.  

_________________

I had never thought marriage would be something I could have, that someone would love me enough to want to be with me forever. Then Ona came into my life. The patience and care she had for me made all of the pain and anxiety that I had around my family and the idea of forever disappear. When she had first brought up the idea it had been after the SheBelieves Cup, we were back home in the United Kingdom and my emotions were all over the place as I struggled to work my head around what I thought was the end of a chapter. 

“We could just do it,” I remember Ona saying as we laid in bed late at night trying our best to get some sleep before the Manchester derby the next day. 

“Do what,” I had asked, half-awake, unaware of Ona’s racing mind. 

“Get married,” her voice is soft as her hand runs through my hair. 

“Why do you say that,” I whispered as I looked up at her. 

“We’ve been together for a while,” Ona starts “I love you, you love me. We could go back to Spain together.” Her voice goes quiet as she thinks about her home. 

“Are you wanting to go back to Spain,” I asked quietly, already knowing the answer? Of course, Ona wanted to go back to Spain. It was her home where she was from, her family both blood and found were all there. Barcelona was there, the club she had spent her youth at where her friends were the opportunity for growth she could probably never imagine here in Manchester. 

“I want us to both be with people who care for us, I just know we could find it in Spain,” Ona said after a moment. The memories of the post SheBelives celebration flashing through my mind as Alexia pulled me into the middle of the Spanish team's celebration including me as if one of them. 

“If we can find a way to go to Spain then I’ll go as long as it's with you,” My smile is soft as I place a gentle kiss on the tan woman's jaw, the tension in her body disappearing as we drift to sleep. 

_________________

That’s how we found our way to Spain, Barcelona had been in talks for Ona’s rights for a while. Doing whatever they could to get her back on their team, but one of her clauses was that she wouldn’t leave Manchester if I wasn’t coming with her. Barcelona had seemed hesitant at first, already having a stacked midfield meant they really didn’t need me but when one of the players decided to go play in France a spot was open and Barcelona quickly took Ona up on her offer as a quick way to fix that gap they now suddenly had. Sure at times, it felt like I was an add-on they needed to take but the ability to see Ona this happy everyday made it worth it. 

“So what are the plans,” Ali’s hand gently takes mine as I open my eyes squinting at the bright sun overhead. 

“Now that you three are here we are open to doing it whenever, just have to find a time when we aren’t playing.” Ona and I had decided to forgo a big wedding, having just moved to Barcelona we didn’t want to add that pressure on to the already stressful time. Opting for a city hall wedding that we hoped to keep as private as possible, having opened up to the public through a simple Instagram post back before the change of teams. We had known deep down that it was going to be made clear as day to the fans that we were together, firstly Ona’s contract clauses were bound to surface at some point, and second, it is wildly suspicious that two players seem to just change teams together. 

The post had gone over okay, of course some people were disappointed that Ona was no longer single but most seemed happy. Many said they already knew and that it was super obvious. Nerves around the scrutiny I thought would come mainly my way quickly disappeared with the flood of Spanish players' support all of them happy for us and excited for what had been our upcoming move. 

See the full post

421 notes - Posted April 8, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[branwendaughterofllyr]

WIP WORD SEARCH GAME

tagged by the lovely @setnet who gave me the words:

river | help | often | shimmer | interests

I really only have one big WIP, so we’ll see what I scrounged up 😁

river - from “The Golden Slipper,” original

Katenka never thought she would feel sorry for a fish. Yet, when Papa handed her the bucket, she felt a stab of sympathy. The gleams of green scales circled continually against the dark wood planks, and when she saw how the pike-perch’s long striped fan of a fin knocked against the side of the bucket over and over again, Katenka knew she was going to be hungry tonight.

Mother peered over Taisiya’s shoulder, looking into the second bucket. “Osip, how much did you waste on these?

“Nothing, my love.” Papa grinned, his nose red as his lips. “It was actually in return for a favor. I lent a fisherman a hand last spring, hauling up his catch from the river, so he gave me these fish as thanks.”

Mother stood up, hands on her hips. “You worked for someone without getting payed!”

Papa shook his head and laughed. “It was just a small little favor, my love.” He grabbed Mother and kissed her. “We get what we give.”

help - from untitled Jonsa fic, ASOIAF

Her mother had taught Sansa how to swim when she was still too small to be scared. She remembered her mother taking Sansa into her arms, and lowering them both into the waters of the hot spring. Her small feet kicked out, as she explored the feeling of weightlessness. Sansa held her mother’s hands while she treaded water, helped up by both the water and her mother’s grip.

Catelyn showed Sansa how to float, to lay back and gaze at the frame the trees of the godswood made against the sky.

Sansa used to practice holding her breath, spending long moments completely below the surface. Curling her feet up, she wondered.

often - from “a poison tree,” HoTD/F&B

Cousin Rhaenyra may have Syrax, but she never goes anywhere on the dragon, not really, not like Lady Jeyne who always has the dust of somewhere else on her, with her steady horse and coin for ships. She was always going to and fro on her own business, from Maidenpool to Duskendale to Harrenhal and back again. She may go wherever she likes, even to Gulltown, simply because she wants to, and there is no one tell her different.

Alyssa thought she might very much like to travel, if it was in the company of Lady Jeyne, who never laughs but smiles often.

She had told her father that she might like to be a widow, and he had laughed. “Already plotting to do your poor husband to-be in? That’s the sort of thing you might get in trouble for.”

shimmer - from “a poison tree”

It was a child’s harp, made from a pale golden wood, with ravens carved up the pillar. Alyssa ran a hand along the strings, listening to the shimmering sound. “Is this for me?” she asked in wonderment.

“Indeed, it is,” Lady Jeyne said with warmth in her voice. “It is the same one I learned on as girl, and it’s been gathering dust at Harrenhal for years now. I thought it might be worth making it sing again.”

“Thank you, Lady Smallwood. But,” she said, frowning, “I do not know how to play.”

“I thought I might be the one to teach you.”

interests - from “a poison tree”

“I have never sought the crown, Rhaenyra. I have no taste for ambition, not for myself or my child."

“Nothing is final, as you said, Uncle. Have you not told me before that you had my best interests at heart? Your daughter is a Targaryen, a princess. She should be married to one of our own.”

Great fun!

tagging @cappymightwrite, @woodswit and @notbloodraven with the words and variants:

 salt | crackle | soft | hover | run