artlhuwsia

[askefrueee3]

Boot Dark Riders preparing for a mission :DDD (I love drawing them so, so much!) 7th sketch for @kelly-dreamway-sso 's SSO Promptoween. Sorry for a break in posting, I will catch up with everything now, I needed a bit time off. I hope you will enjoy some simpler sketches as well.

[say-al0e]

Electric Touch

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18, Minors DNI!

Summary: Following your marriage to Prince Aemond, you did not imagine there would be a bedding ceremony. Nor did you imagine yourself falling so quickly for the one-eyed prince. But you quickly learned he was more than met the eye. | Ft. Anon request for "“What part of I want you and only you do you not understand?” + “Love makes you weak but, god, I’d rather be weak with you by my side than face a life without you.” Warnings: Bedding ceremony, PinV, guarded Aemond, Aegon is an asshole (briefly, then he's gone), one mention of death in childbirth (not graphic, very brief), allusion to Aemond's brothel trip. Anything I missed, let me know and I'll tag it. Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!Reader (wife!Reader) Word Count: 5.1k Requests are Open | HotD Taglist

The fire blazing in Aemond’s eye was not what you expected. It was not fueled by desire, a lust for his new bride or the exciting conquest of claiming your maidenhead as you’d long been warned. It was not bright or joyous, a fire befitting the occasion of your wedding night. Instead, it was dark - angry, a wild blaze threatening to torch everything in its path with little regard for the consequences.

Though your new husband had been nothing but kind to you, polite and even occasionally charming, for the first time since stepping foot into King’s Landing, you finally understood why so many tended to avert their gaze lest they face Aemond’s ire. 

Before you stood Aemond One-Eye, a fierce dragon rider whose presence commanded attention, and you struggled to keep from withering beneath his gaze as you held his dark look with an even one of your own.

Around you, his apartments teemed with life. Drunken revelers laughed as they surged into the room and circled the pair of you, some of them shouting tawdry jokes while others lamented the loss of the right to the first night. Regardless of their mood, it seemed as if every man in the realm fought to be at your side in a room that once felt so spacious but now left you struggling to catch your breath as they began tugging at pieces of your clothing.

As many hands clumsily tugged at well-tied laces and the heavy fabric of your gown, a few highborn ladies - friends you’d made in the short time you’d been at Court - dutifully removed Aemond’s clothes with much less vigor than their husbands or brothers or cousins.

Aegon led the charge, grin on his lips and breath reeking of wine as he leaned in close. Aemond’s gaze faltered for only a moment, turning to his brother and flashing a warning even the drunkest of men could read very clearly, before it returned to you as Aegon pointedly ignored him. Your drunken good-brother chose, instead, to tip your chin with fingers sticky with wine and draw your gaze away from your husband.

“Do not worry, good-sister,” he began, voice loud, despite his performative attempt at a whisper. He spared Aemond a look, eyes glinting with a mirth that bordered on malice - before he returned his gaze to you. “I made sure my brother was well-educated in the art of pleasure but should you find yourself wanting, you need only say the word.”

By design, you were not given the chance to respond. The last of your garments was removed from your body and Aegon released his grip on your chin to grab your waist. 

The sea of revelers parted. Amidst a cacophony of cheers and jeers, a few murmurs as to how it was a shame your father had agreed to wed you to a man they saw as less than whole, Aegon and one of his friends carried you through the crowd and deposited you into Aemond’s bed.

It was only when you were settled amongst the furs and linens that they were all finally ushered out of the room.

If you were honest, it surprised you that Aemond allowed the bedding ceremony in the first place. The idea was put forth by his brother, a suggestion he’d barely blinked an eye at, but it was plain to see just how adversely the entire spectacle affected him as he approached the bed.

Aemond Targaryen, the very image of his house’s beauty and fire, stood before you with his face a mask of composure you had yet to see fully slip. There were cracks, glimpses into the churning abyss that lingered just beneath the calm surface, and you could see them beginning to spread as a jeer from the crowd echoed just beyond the steel and wood of the door.

There was a flash of hurt, a glimpse so brief you felt certain you’d imagined it, before he swallowed and his jaw tensed. He steeled himself, his resolve, and you could see the mask slip back into place.

“My prince,” you began, voice far quieter than you intended as you sat upright to meet his gaze. “I do not-“

A hum escaped your new husband as he stepped closer, pressing a knee into the soft surface beneath you and shaking his head slightly. “We will speak when there is no crowd standing guard just outside, waiting for evidence our marriage has been consummated. For now, we must fulfill our duty as husband and wife.”

There was an edge of finality in his tone, no room left for argument as he reached for you. Though his touch was not harsh, not as insistent or eager as the men who’d taken great joy in stripping you bare, it was firmer than you’d expected. In the weeks of your courtship, he’d lended an arm as you descended the steps in the garden or offered a hand as you climbed them - each touch soft, almost tentative, and as brief as could be considered proper. 

It was wistful, possibly even naive, to believe the softness of his touch was affection or that it would continue as he pressed you back into the pillows. Aemond was not an outwardly affectionate man, that much you knew to be true, nor was he used to being treated so tenderly. His life had been one lived in a gilded cage, acquiescing to everything expected of him with little argument and even less connection. Love would not come easy to him, nor would affection.

Only time would bring him comfort, trust in you and the ability to be vulnerable, so you made no argument as he settled himself over you. 

The dim candlelight made it difficult to see much - and you wondered how Aemond might react if you allowed yourself to savor the sight of him - but you took the brief chance you were offered to study him. Tall, lithe, muscular; he looked every bit the fearsome dragon rider and well-trained swordsman. Pale hair cascaded over his shoulders, a curtain that cast shadows over the sharp features of his face, but you could clearly see the intrigue in his eye as you lifted your hand to gently cradle his jaw.

Had you not been studying him so closely, so desperate to see some glimpse of warmth beneath the cool surface of your new husband, you might’ve missed his sharp inhale or the way his eye narrowed. Had you not been so enthralled by his appearance, you might’ve missed the way he swallowed or the split second he allowed himself to lean into your careful touch before the impassive mask returned.

Friends, some long married with babes while others had just wed, whispered and giggled when they shared what you could expect. Most of your friends lamented the act itself, thankful only that it often seemed to be over quickly,  as many of their husbands were older lords in need of young wives to produce heirs. It seemed that few cared much at all about their wives’ pleasure and you’d wondered throughout your courtship if Aemond - though young, a man of your own age - might prove similar.

Now that the time had come to find out, you still felt wholly uncertain.

For a long moment, Aemond simply studied you. The deep lilac of his eye traced your face, shadowed by his hair and framed by your own locks - now free from the style your handmaids worked so hard to perfect - and his lips parted. He seemed poised to speak, though before he could, the sound of fists pounding the wood of the door broke whatever spell existed in the solace of the room.

Loud jeers from a drunken crowd reminded you both of your purpose, the reason you had been stripped bare for half the kingdom to see, and Aemond was the first to act.

Though you hoped for little and expected even less, Aemond wanted nothing more than to prove everyone wrong. He wanted to prove that he could be a husband, an adequate lover, a man who had everything and more. You had no way of knowing his motivation, not then, but you could see the flame in his eye as his hand fell to your hip.

With the hand still cradling his jaw, you managed to hold him in place as you leaned up and pressed your mouth to his. Since speaking your vows earlier in the night, you’d managed to steal two chaste kisses from your new husband - one just after the ceremony, in the few seconds you had alone before the feast began; the other, tucked in a corner before you were whisked away for the bedding. He responded well to both, stepping just an inch closer and allowing his lips to linger for a long moment, and you were pleased to find that he responded just as well to this kiss.

The ladies at court often lamented their husbands’ lack of skill or desire to share a kiss. They all sighed and confessed that the men found no use for it, no fun in it. It made you wonder if Aemond was humoring you, allowing you the kiss that seemed almost tender in nature, in return for your maidenhead - for your hand, your house’s newly pledged loyalty - but you knew well enough that your new husband was not one to indulge in anything he did not want to.

Hope bloomed, then, just beneath your ribcage that he might, someday, even grow to enjoy it as much as you suddenly found that you did.

Calloused hands began to explore your skin, touch light for a fleeting moment - almost reverent, almost tentative - before it grew steadier, more certain. The tips of his fingers left a path of fire in their wake, his skin always running hotter than anyone you’d ever met, and you nearly expected to find a visible path seared over the expanse of your torso as his hands dipped to your thighs.

As of yet there had been little outward sign of affection from your husband - everything felt like a courtesy, the actions of a well-educated prince, chivalrous out of duty only - and you knew that it might be wishful thinking to believe the slow drag of your husband’s hand up your inner thigh was anything more than slight trepidation. But you swore you could see the anger that burned so bright only moments ago morph into something closer to lust, desire, need.

Aemond’s fingers pressed firm into the plush of your thighs as he parted them and you bit the inside of your cheek to smother your gasp as his sharp gaze finally raked over your bare skin.

For all the wandering eyes, the lustful gazes that burned into your skin as so many lords of the realm crowded into the small room, it struck you in that moment that Aemond waited until you were alone to truly look. He waited until you were pliant beneath him, until you’d sated your own curiosity about him, to allow himself a glance at anything other than your face.

And despite the insistent jeers of the crowd beyond the door, he seemed determined to take you as he wished.

“They are expecting to hear us,” he reminded you as his fingers drew closer to your center. “Do not deprive us all of your charming voice.”

A handful of compliments had been levied at you from your new husband - more in regard to your intelligence than your most beautiful gowns, though one had ended with him calling you beautiful - but you still felt your cheeks heat as his fingers grazed your slit.

The swipe of his fingers was almost clumsy, less self-assured than he always seemed to be, but the thought gave you some comfort. Neither of you could disappoint the other if you were on somewhat equal footing.

Aemond’s touch grew more insistent, more assured, from the moment his fingers grazed the small bundle of nerves that wrenched a gasp from your throat and had your nails pressing into the muscle of his shoulders. He focused there, thumb circling the now aching pearl, as his fingers gathered the increasing slick. The deep lilac of his eye had almost vanished, replaced nearly entirely by lust-blown black, but it remained on your face - watching intently with every noise that spilled from your lips.

As desperately as you wanted to close your eyes, to hide from the intensity in his gaze, you found yourself unable to look away from his face. The sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips, the barely there flush that set high upon his cheeks; he was beautiful, regal, and you couldn’t help yourself.

“Gevi,” you breathed, hoping the word sounded as effortless falling from your own lips as it did from his. Your thumb brushed his cheek, just beneath his scar, and you could see the flash of an emotion you could not recognize in his eye.

For a moment, he remained silent, fingers slowing to a barely there press, before he tipped his head. Your hand slipped, fell to his jaw, and you realized it was calculated - purposeful - even as his gaze softened. “My clever wife,” he hummed, matter-of-factly, as the corner of his mouth lifted in something akin to a smile. “Full of surprises.”

A response formed on the tip of your tongue, nowhere near as witty as you hoped for, but the press of Aemond’s fingers into your core stole your breath and all coherent thought. The sensation was odd, unlike any you’d ever experienced, and you could feel your brows furrow as your body attempted to make sense of what was happening. It was not as unpleasant as you expected, nor as pleasurable as you hoped for, but you imagined that both would come in time.

Despite his appearance, his brusque manner, Aemond was not harsh. His touch was no longer soft, no longer tentative, and you could still feel the weight of his hands on your thighs despite his touch having moved, but he seemed to take note of the way you winced when his fingers began to press a little too quickly - a little too hard - and adjusted accordingly.

Soon enough, you found a delicate rhythm - an insistent press of his fingers, an exploration unlike any you’d ever felt, as you used the grip on his jaw to pull him into another kiss.

This kiss was different, heavier. It was hungry, a clash of teeth and tongue and noses that made the backs of your eyes sting. His teeth nipped at your bottom lip, a bite harsh enough to draw blood, and you inhaled sharply as he lapped at the copper staining your lips. 

The copper tang seemed to spur Aemond on, remind him of his duty and the audience waiting for it to be done. He moved with a renewed vigor, with a confidence you’d quickly come to associate with him. His fingers pressed deeper, searching, and he only seemed content when you broke the kiss to fill the room with a breathless moan of his name. 

Warmth spread over your skin, a combination of his body heat surrounding you and your own pleasure coursing through your veins. Every swipe of his fingers, every circle of his thumb over the aching bundle of nerves, made the edges of your vision white and the air harder to obtain.

It was then, as your stomach tied itself into knots and your nails sank into the toned skin of his back - his shoulders, his chest, his arms; wherever you could reach, desperate for some tether to reality - that he replaced his fingers with the filling warmth of his cock.

With every noise that fell from your lips, the noise outside the door grew louder. It felt as if the whole of the realm waited just beyond the wood, ears pressed to the door, and Aemond seemed acutely aware of your audience. Gone were the tentative touches, the firm but still careful brushes of his hands. After a few careful initial presses of his hips to yours, he began to sink into you in earnest.

A cry of his name rang through the room, fanning the flames of the fire outside, and your body seemed trapped in the path of the blaze.

Every word of gossip you’d heard from friends seemed true, impossibly, all at once. There was an ache between your thighs, a stinging pain that replaced the pleasant ache of desire, and a dull pinch at your hip as Aemond’s fingers pressed into your skin. The entire room was too hot, almost stifling, and the noise rang in your ears. The tawdry jokes and laughter in the hall, the rustle of linen, the lewd sound of Aemond’s cock pressing into your center, the keening of your moans, the huff of his breath; it was almost too much.

Each sensation that washed over you was distinct but beginning to muddle together.

Despite yourself, your best efforts to take the affection given to you by your husband and appreciate them, you found yourself hoping for something softer, something easier, something better. 

Aemond was lost in that moment, stuck somewhere in the back of his own mind, and you could only whisper his name in hopes that he might allow you a moment to catch your breath.

��Aemond, I - please.” The whispered plea, gasped into the night air and barely audible over the cheers still echoing in the hall, seemed to break his reverie. It returned him to the moment at hand - the pinch of your brows as the ache between your thighs plagued you, the curve of your mouth as you fought to keep your composure, the sting of your nails biting into his shoulder - and gave him pause. 

The snap of his hips faltered, slowed from the near manic thrusts to something more even, and you eased the grip on his shoulder as you inhaled eagerly.

That deep purple gaze swept across your face, searching for something you could not readily provide, before he squeezed your hip in what you chose to interpret as an apology. You accepted it, easily, and offered him a tentative smile as he continued pressing forward - still firm, still deep, only slower now.

Giggles from the past, old whispers that there was real pleasure to be found in bed, began to return to the forefront of your mind as Aemond’s new pace began to replace the pinch and ache between your thighs with that devastating warmth you’d only just experienced. Everything felt too hot, too bright, too much, and the thought must have been clearly written across your face as Aemond hummed.

“Take your pleasure,” he encouraged, voice low in your ear as he leaned in close. “Then, I shall have mine.”

Warmth continued to flood your veins. Fire lapped at your skin, consuming you entirely, and you took no notice of the noise that escaped your parted lips as you allowed Aemond to continue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

The end was as beautiful as you’d heard, as blissful, and you could feel yourself melting into the plush of the bed as goosebumps erupted across your skin and your heart thundered in your chest. All that mattered in that moment was Aemond; the weight of him atop you, the warmth of his skin as he pressed himself impossibly closer, the low rasp of his voice as he all but whispered expletives. 

That pleasure was only heightened by the warmth that flooded you as Aemond stilled atop you, a curse on his lips and head thrown back.

It was a beautiful sight - something worthy of committing to memory, something so beautiful you only hoped to see it again and again. And you only hoped your new husband felt the same as he tipped his head to study you once more.

Aemond lingered only for a moment, his gaze softer than you’d seen directed at you, before he pulled away. Another squeeze to your waist was the only affection he spared before he stood and pulled the white line from his bed. He shifted you carefully - almost tenderly - to remove the fabric then strode across the expanse of the room to the door.

Without ceremony, he wrenched it open and tossed the stained fabric into the crowd.

A loud cheer echoed through the halls, drunken revelers delighting in the evidence of your consummation, but was quickly cut off with the slam of the heavy door.

The crowd grew quieter, noise drifting back in the direction of the hall still filled with older revelers - opting to spend their time discussing matters best saved for an in-person meeting - and you took the brief moment to catch your breath as Aemond did the same.

For just a moment, he lingered near the small table that held a pitcher and glasses, before filling them with wine and bringing them to bed. He handed you one, nodded his acknowledgement to your thanks, and settled back onto the plush fabric at your side.

Silence fell over the room then, a welcome but almost overwhelming lack of sound after hours surrounded by a cacophony of noise. For the first time since you woke that morning, you found that you could hear yourself think.

Every thought centered upon your new husband.

Aemond Targaryen was a mystery. Rumors about him swirled through the realm and whispers abounded at court. None seemed to be in agreement, however.

Some thought him to be fierce, a fearsome warrior who would make a fine knight should he find himself so inclined. Others insisted that Vhagar was his only asset and that he was nothing more than a loyal hound devoted to his family. Others still insisted that the only person Aemond could ever be loyal to was himself and his own interests.

There were whispers that he was cold, unfeeling. There were rumors that he had no interest in anything other than books, that living people meant little to him. But you were beginning to see the truth.

Try as he might to hide it, the nature of his soul that he buried so deeply, you were beginning to see him for who he truly was.

Aemond wanted the things he’d never been given. He sought reassurance, comfort, love. He wanted to be wanted - truly wanted, desired; not needed because he possessed the largest, oldest dragon. And though your match began as a political alliance, you hoped to prove that he was worthy of his desires as you shifted closer and reached for his hand.

“Aemond,” you began, voice quiet as you hoped desperately he would not push you away, even as he tensed. To your relief - and surprise - he did not. Instead, he simply glanced at your linked hands before turning his full attention to your face. “Believe what you wish, but I am glad that it is you I married. I do not want Aegon or any of the other lords lingering about the castle. I did not accept this betrothal without thought and I hope that you will believe me when I say there is no other I could want.”

Though it was slight, you could see the raise of his eyebrow. So, with a sigh, you placed your cup onto the table and grasped his hand with both of your own.

“When my father made it known that he intended to offer you my hand, I was given more attention at court than I ever wanted. I never cared much for it all, but suddenly, it seemed as if everyone wanted me to join them.” With a weary sigh, you began to trace nonsensical patterns over the back of his hand. “Everyone had a tale of Prince Aemond they wished to share. Some heard word from a brother or cousin, others whispered tales from their own trips to the Red Keep. I heard so many whispers about you that I began to lose track of who whispered what. I have always held whispers in little regard but it grew so frequent that I nearly worried I might meet a monster.”

The moment you paused, Aemond hummed thoughtfully. “Targaryen’s are said to be closer to gods than men. Perhaps monsters are included.”

“Perhaps,” you agreed, pausing your tracing to glance up at him from beneath your lashes. The deep lilac of his eye met yours and you felt your cheeks heat. “But you are no monster. You are just a man. I was given the chance to reject our union. One word, and I would’ve been spirited away to some lesser lord. But I chose to stay.”

“Why?”

It was a genuine question, accompanied by a look you recognized as being tinged with skepticism. In response, you smiled at him.

“Despite your flaws, real or imagined or embellished, I find myself drawn to you. You have the beauty and fire of your house. You are proud, but not a braggart, quiet but not without charm. You are a noted swordsman and a dragon rider, yet you take no pleasure in tourneys. You are young and capable, intelligent and thoughtful. Of all the qualities one could want in a husband, you possess most."

This earnest admission was met with yet another hum of acknowledgement from your husband, a thoughtful rumination as he allowed the compliment to linger for a moment. Only then, after seeming to savor your words, did he ask, “Which qualities do I lack, wife?”

Had you not grown so accustomed to studying every twitch of his brows, every curve of his mouth, you might’ve missed the hint of a smile he wore. It was a question asked in jest, teasing, and you allowed yourself a laugh.

“Time shall tell,” you assured him, returning his barely-there smile with a soft one of your own. “Though, I would never dare call you perfect, lest your head swell to the size of Vhagar’s.” Aemond allowed you a glimpse of a true smile then, fleeting, but you savored the sight just the same. It brought a strange warmth to your chest, wound the hope that bloomed beneath your ribcage into a tendril that squeezed your heart, and you offered his hand a gentle squeeze. “I understand why we were wed. But I have hope that even if we do not find love in one another, we shall find friendship at the least.”

“You would not ask for more?”

“Men’s battles are fought in fields, at sea, on dragon back,” you answered, carefully turning his hand in yours to trace his palm. “A woman’s battle is fought abed. If I were to die there, my only hope is that it would be for someone I cared for, someone who cared for me.”

That lilac eye studied your face once more, more intently, and you could see the weight of your words settling on his shoulders as he realized that he was no longer alone, nor did you have any misunderstandings as to what this life meant for you both. Though he was the spare, pushed down in the line of succession by his brother’s children, he was expected to have a family and in return for giving him heirs, all you asked of him was companionship.

“I believe you shall be a fierce warrior,” he declared, gaze dipping to your fingers gently sweeping across his heated skin.

“And I believe you are all I could have hoped for in a husband,” you confessed, hoping he might agree - that he might declare you to be all he could’ve hoped for in a wife.

And though he seemed unopposed to you, he instead asked, “Do you believe that truly?”

“I do,” you confirmed, pausing your tracing to meet his eye. “I’ve long been afraid of marriage, of becoming trapped with someone who cared little for me, but I am more afraid that growing to love you will be easier than I ever imagined.”

“Love makes you weak,” he all but whispered, though the words held little conviction and even less weight. They were the words of someone afraid, someone unused to love and affection, and you met them with a gentle smile.

“Perhaps it is a good thing we are married, then. I believe love makes you stronger. My father loved my mother and he fought like hell to return to her each and every battle he waged. Love provides motivation,” you offered, only to be met with another thoughtful hum. Rather than pressing, you shifted the conversation after a moment of silence. “Why did you allow the bedding ceremony?”

Aemond paused for a moment and seemed to consider his answer. “I had every intention of forgoing it,” he confessed, free hand tracing the lip of his glass. “Then, we met and it was selfish, I suppose. I have something most men in King’s Landing will covet - a comely wife from a noble house who has made me the sole object of her affection. Allowing the ceremony provided an opportunity to boast, to show that while they may look, you are mine. No other will know the pleasure of your company.”

The reasoning behind his allowance was understandable, even more so when you considered that he was the second son of a man who scarcely remembered his sons in the first place. It was not often he was given something others desired, not often he could be envied, and you could not begrudge him the opportunity he’d taken.

“I am yours,” you agreed, lifting his hand to place it over your heart. “While I believe love will make us stronger, I would not mind being seen as weak, just so long as you are by my side. Others may whisper or believe what they wish but know, lord husband, that I want you and you alone. I look forward to the future and hope the gods bless us with a long and happy marriage.”

“I shall leave faith to you,” he declared, though the words were softer than you believed he intended. “But I have little doubt that you will be left wanting.” Aemond turned, then, and removed the eyepatch covering his eye. The sapphire glimmered in the dim candlelight and you squeezed his hand to keep yourself from reaching out for him.

“Gevi,” you repeated, smiling upon the full face of your new husband.

Aemond’s mouth curved once more, a touch more noticeable, before he sighed and shifted to lie amongst the pillows. “Sleep, dear wife,” he encouraged, pulling you into the pillows at his side.

With the morning sun, your new life would begin. As tentative as you’d once been, you no longer felt any fear. There was far to travel, much to be gained in the way of your new husband’s trust, but you imagined he was right; neither of you would be left wanting, so long as you had the other.

_________________________________________________

Author's Note: It's my first time writing for Aemond (or anything GoT/HotD related) so I hope it's alright. I didn't want to go too soft but I also didn't want to go too mean/cold? I dunno. Let me know what you think! :)

[captain-joongz]

The moon hangs heavy; Dragonheart ch.2

Pairing: OT7 dragon!BTS x knightess!reader

Genre: dragon rider AU, high fantasy, soulmate adjacent, slight enemies to lovers (if you squint), angst, fluff and humour, eventual smut

Chapter summary: The depth of mistrust between dragons and humans is tried when Jungkook attempts to welcome a new addition to his life. Meanwhile his rider fights her own demons in her own home.

Word count: cca 13.8k

Warnings: there's pov switches beware!! first person is reader pov, third person is bangtan pov!!, a bit of toxic family, slight angst, otherwise not much

Series masterlist | Previous Part | Next part

Lore | Dictionary | Character studies

A/N: alrighty folks! here we go, the next chapter of dragonheart is here! things are picking up and now we'll spend a lot more time with all of the dragons! i always love to hear what you think, so don't hesitate to let me know! i hope you enjoy yourselves <3

I couldn’t even remember when I first started putting together the plan to dismantle this empire brick by fucking brick, but I’ve carried hatred against it for as long as I knew what an empire was. Maybe it was my father’s fault, maybe I saw his ways and I wanted to go against that, maybe it was because ever since I was small he dragged me with him between all these dinners and balls and banquets, and I saw all that depravity, all that mold, the rotten heart of the beast.

Wars, suffering, endless toil and loss, and for what? For spoiled nobility and cruel kings? For an empire that saw its people as endless supplies of weapons in battles that they didn’t want and that brought back nothing? The Li Dynasty in its thousand years of reign only brought terror onto the land, into the hearts of its people, and onto anyone who ever dared to go against it.

Once upon a time, this was nothing more than a small struggling kingdom, Wuyun nothing more than a little town with barely a fortress, and now it spanned across half the continent. It devoured everything around it and squeezed it dry, pulled it into its machine of death. War after a war, battle after a battle, until there was nothing left to conquer, but still wanting for more.

Around us kingdoms rose and fell, and the only reason Gong-li didn’t also hit its expiration date was the endless exploitation of the dragonkind. If the emperor didn’t have them to fall back onto, if dragons weren’t too dangerous to fight against and other still surviving lands weren’t too afraid to invite war with such beasts against them, this dynasty would have died a long time ago.

But with such powerful dangerous weapons (it does pain me to say that, but unfortunately that is what dragons have become) in the hands of children (because that’s what we were in their eyes), we still sat at the top of the food chain and became practically impossible to dismount.

Hubris was a terrible thing. And it would always lead to a downfall. I vowed myself to be that downfall.

Tightening my training attire one more time and giving myself last look in the silver mirror, I gave myself a firm nod and left to join the family at breakfast.

As soon as I entered the dining area, my father gave me a curt smile and gestured to the seat to his left side. My brother was sitting to his right, silently eating and reading through a stack of documents. Unlike the older male, he barely even acknowledged my presence and continued on expressionlessly in his task.

I tensely returned the smile and folded myself to the dark comfortable pillow, immediately hungrily digging in. The General lightly patted me on my shoulder, his good mood reflected in the way he happily ate his food and interacted with us calmly, which made me fight the scowl off my face to not accidentally aggravate him.

Ever since I returned from the banquet, I’d been in my father’s good graces. Somehow word has already travelled to him that I had been around the Bangtan thunder and I returned to a suspiciously pleased father sitting in the drawing room area waiting for me with praises. He’s been more open to me since, now that he had a chance to peacock about my accomplishments again, and it was putting me on edge. I was more used to being on his wrong side, and through the years I learnt that it was safer to skirt the grey area, as he tended to be more infuriated when we disappointed him after we’d “been so good”.

“You’ll come to the castle with me tomorrow,” the man simply stated, in a manner that revealed he was used to being obeyed. It took me a moment of silence to realise he was speaking to me and not my brother, and I looked up surprised, meeting his dark eyes.

“Yes, father,” slipped the automatic answer through my lips, “Why am I needed?” I needed to ride this good wave for as long as it was possible, so I’d also been playing it safe with him and was being more agreeable than usual. If he thought it suspicious, he said nothing about it.

“You will meet the emperor. He’s curious about Bangtan’s new rider.” The older man satisfiedly licked his lips, like a lazy spoiled cat getting cream, while I froze in my seat with a spoon halfway to my lips. Dread like no other gripped me, spreading through my body in cold currents and turning my stomach to lead. I almost felt a little dizzy with the impact of the statement.

“Yes, father,” this time it came out only a shaky whisper, but the man didn’t care, didn’t look my way again, only nodded and left us siblings sitting there.

When I finally managed to tear my gaze away from the spot our father occupied just a moment ago, I looked straight into my brother’s blank eyes. He regarded me wordlessly for a few long seconds and then stood up as well, food left unfinished on his plate.

“Don’t do anything stupid, please,” he muttered and walked away.

I looked after him almost mournfully, but in the end forced myself to get back to my own breakfast. A lump in my throat made it somewhat harder to swallow, but I did my best to push those feelings away and not dwell on how my brother’s dismissal was always a bigger gut punch than our father’s.

I didn’t remember the older man as ever being gentle, but the memories from my childhood, before we were both ruined by the General, plagued me every time I was faced with this new cold version of the once happy boy. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. How far into our hearts did our ruin reach?

When finished, I quickly moved through the house to collect all needed belongings and got on my way to the training grounds.  The nervous shake in my hands started up again, and in panic I tried to go over some strategies in my head over how I wanted the noon to go. Chances were it wasn’t going to go according to any of them, but it didn’t hurt to try.

Jungkook was already waiting by the training area, leaning into the wooden pole fencing off the sandy duel ring where one on one sword training usually took place. Coming closer, I had to temp down some evident excitement suddenly coursing through my veins, and I internally scolded myself. Now wasn’t the time to lose it, I had to keep it together.

Just as I was about to shout my greeting, I realised there was actually another person with him. His dark blue hair shined under the sun, and the silvery scales on his beautiful face made the light reflect in a way that almost seemed to be too stunning to be real. By the blush that immediately arrived on my face and made me stutter in the light jog, I knew I was once again in the company of the one and only Jimin.

But out of the corner of my eye I saw another presence.

Jungkook already spotted me and waved me over. There were some awkward greetings and smiles before uncomfortable silence stretched around us. Jimin was watching me with a spark of amused curiosity, but I saw a shadow of something darker in his gaze. Something mistrustful and wary. Which, dragons had every right to be apprehensive at first, but something about him put me on edge, like it was about more than just the usual gap between our kinds.

The third person finally joined us, jogging happily to us with a wide smile stretching across his face. I saw both of the dragons’ faces immediately relax and soften, and I realised it must be another member of their thunder.

With a wildly beating heart and clammy palms I fully took him in, still feeling a little star-struck in the presence of such a powerful pack. His hair was wavy, falling into his eyes and around his ears in artful arches, the sun reflecting powerfully off of the copper reddish colour of the locks. I noticed some beads weaved into them as they bounced with his movement. But the most prominent feature were the beautiful horns sprouting from his hairline – they were curved back slightly, following the shape of his head, and antler-like. They were as long as the top of his head, cutting off above the crown of it. I tried not to gawk at them too obviously, but they were beautiful, so I probably failed miserably. Not that he seemed to mind.

His lithe form was brimming with energy and the man seemed to have a joyous personality, face shining with a smile and eyes full of mirth. I understood immediately why just looking at him set the boys more at ease, even I felt myself getting more comfortable and loose under the rays of his happiness.

“Hobi-hyung!” Jungkook shouted out, nearly vibrating and full of toothy grins. Based on his reaction (to which I didn’t secretly smile at all, I was cold as stone definitely) it was probable that the older dragon decided to drop in unannounced.

“Hello younglins,” the man greeted us with, extending the expression to me as well, which… fair. His smiley face turned to me, eyes scanning me head to toe with a calculating gaze, a sliver of seriousness surfacing through.

“My name is Hoseok. Nice to meet you, potential rider,” he introduced himself in the end. Whatever he saw when looking at me, I nervously hoped it wouldn’t make him get Jungkook to reject the bond.

With anxious eyes flitting around, I bowed to him which he reciprocated and then shook his offered hand, both of ours gloves firmly on. Jungkook and Jimin were both watching us with sharp eyes and bated breath, Jungkook hopeful and Jimin with that strange darkness I couldn’t fully place.

“Nice to meet you too, Sir Hoseok,” my voice wavered slightly, but I hoped they’d disregard it as usual nervousness when people met them, and wouldn’t read too much into it. That they wouldn’t find out just how desperate I was for this to work out.

“No sir here, young mistress, dragons don’t get titles,” he said it teasingly, but a little bitterness still wormed its way into his voice. I swallowed, finally taking my hand back after realising I’d been shaking it for a suspiciously long time and gave him my own wonky smile.

“I will call you Hoseok-ssi then,” I insisted, carefully toeing the line between polite and smarmy, “My name is Kang Y/N, of the northern clan.” I saw clearly how Hoseok tried and failed to keep his face neutral, how his smile froze and his eyebrows pulled together in a frown the moment he realised what family I belonged to. I tried not to let it hurt me. Tried not to panic that this was the end for me, and he’d never allow me near his thunder again.

“Neither of you rascals mentioned she is General Kang’s daughter,” he gritted through his teeth and stiff grin, eyes shooting daggers towards the two younger dragons. Both of them watched him with wide eyes, guilty and innocent all at once, trying to buy themselves some leeway.

I had no idea whether they didn’t mention on purpose or whether they forgot, but I had to quickly get on top of this.

“You know my father, huh?” I chuckled awkwardly, jumping in panicked before anything else could be said, “He does have quite the reputation.”

When Hoseok turned his gaze back to me, it was a lot less warm even though he was still grinning at me. I felt the shiver run through me at the change, my instincts suddenly kicking in now that he looked significantly less friendly.

“I fear there isn’t a single person in this city, maybe even in this empire, who doesn’t know your father,” came his stilted reply. And it made sense really, all of the dragons must have known my father for all his life. They’ve probably had to deal with him ever since he himself entered the Academy some 30 years ago. Yikes.

What does one say in a situation like this? Sorry about that? I would have killed him years ago if I didn’t need him alive still?

Another bout of extremely awkward silence blanketed over us, and with every second stretching I felt the dread pull me deeper and deeper into the mud, mind racing and trying to come up with a way to save this. My chest hurt from how fast my heart beat and I felt the panic licking at the seams of my mind, but in the end the atmosphere was saved by Jungkook himself.

“Don’t be too scared, hyung just has a personal vendetta against him,” the young dragon suddenly blurted out, immediately flushing as Jimin barely covered how he burst out laughing. Hoseok also froze and in wonder I saw some of the coldness melt away into embarrassment, the man rubbing at his neck awkwardly.

“You shouldn’t be saying things like that in front of her,” he whined lightly, and it was both a tease and a warning, but finally I shook myself out of my stupor and laughed as well.

“Don’t worry about it, as his daughter I’m more than used to people having grudges against him,” I said amicably, playing it as cool as I could with my hands shaking and tongue stuttering me up, “as I said – he has quite the reputation.”

Hoseok laughed politely, but his gaze was stuck on Jungkook, promising some kind of a dressing down later when they’re alone, which the young dragon steadily ignored with an easy smile, but in a way that made me queasy. It was foolish of me to forget the weight of tossing my surname around like that.

And I knew that tomorrow I’d meet the emperor and he’d give me his blessing, and then the thunder would have to accept me as Jungkook’s rider whether they wanted to or not. And I wouldn’t blame them for hating me.

“Hyung’s just stopping by,” Jungkook stated to me, turning from the red-head’s burning stare, “He had some of his own errands to run. He works with the infirmary.” It felt both like a weak attempt to ease my nerves and a careful nudge in the direction of the dragon’s abilities, as it was considered rude to ask.

He was a healer then, a nature magick gifted dragon. I took him in once more, ignoring the way he was now more wary of me and concluded that it fit him very well. In those brief few moments he didn’t yet know me he seemed to be the kind of person to heal you just by their presence, and stupidly I felt a pang of sadness at having lost that, no matter how fake of an attempt to be friendly it was.

Instead I turned to the tattooed dragon and smiled, falling down the polite small-talk rabbit hole for a few more sentences before Jimin took a seat at the top of the wooden fence and Hoseok eventually jogged a few steps away to lean against a stone archway of the building nearby to feel the relief of the shadow.

I was stuck in the blaring sun with Jungkook, already feeling the uncomfortable heat and sweat gathering under my black training clothes. It was hard to gauge what was Jungkook’s tolerance, but he seemed fine with a pep in his step and an easy grin on his face. I would almost call him excited.

He led us inside the ring, but no swords were in sight, leaving me to wonder what he had in mind. We stood there for a moment, staring at each other. Jungkook looked increasingly more and more amused, watching me struggle in the silence and unsure of what was in store for me, and admittedly I did want to smack him a little for it, but I swallowed the urge down with a little crooked grin.

Then suddenly the dragon flew into action. My first instinct was to bring my arms up in defence, expecting him to try and land a blow. Meetings like these usually consisted of some more fighting and duels to allow the dragons to check the strength and abilities of their potential bondeds, but Jungkook didn’t do any of that sort. He started warming up with jumping jacks.

A little confused, I caught onto the agenda and started imitating him, casting unsure glances towards the two packmates that were watching us jump in the middle of a sandy ring, but their expressions gave me nothing. The pack probably must have gone through this specific thing millions of times and have since settled into a routine.

“Do you know what my magick is?” he asked suddenly, mischief dripping off of him like this was a cheeky first date and not a military affair. I shook my head, but as the silence stretched and his eyes watched me expectantly, he was clearly waiting for some sort of verbal explanation.

“I only knew of Jimin-ssi’s powers,” even through clearing my throat my voice still came out scratchy and unsure, gaze nervously flitting to the mentioned dragon to catch whether he was upset or not. Jimin still gave me nothing, silvery blue eyes just as stormy and closed off as before.

I reasoned with myself that he was less flirty and playful because this was a serious matter, but he still unnerved me, and I faced similar looking rejection way too many times to not immediately recognise the beginning stages of it. He displayed mistrust beyond the usual reasons, and I had no idea why.

“I-I know you have a fire dragon in your thunder. And an atmokinetic,” the stutter came from me scrambling to keep up with Jungkook when he dropped to the ground and seamlessly transitioned into a squatting without any warning, but it was no less embarrassing. He hummed. Jimin and Hoseok looked on. I sweated. It was a mess.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly public knowledge what most of their powers were. Since the curse was first laid, dragons have learnt to be quite secretive when it came to the full extent of their special abilities and tended to choke the information so that only what they wanted was known. As such, I was only sure of three of their abilities – Namjoon’s fiery magick that often came into the public eye during battles, Jimin’s water magick that he was known for due to the worrying line of admirals who liked to bond him temporarily to gain upper hand in naval skirmishes and Yoongi’s darker and scarier powers that allowed him to bring rains and storms and pull black clouds and strong winds to us that made all our days just the more wearier.

There were rumours of course – whispers about a dangerous dragon capable of mind control and manipulation, or tales about one who shone as bright as a dying star, as the sun itself, who commanded light in a way that both warmed and hurt. But those were just that, rumours. I had no names to those, and the thunder certainly wasn’t forthcoming with anything, just as the emperor liked to control what we knew about them.

Bangtan was powerful and mysterious and that was it. That’s where it started and ended.

Jimin’s sudden chuckle brought me back to a pouting Jungkook doing squats like his life depended on it while I did my best to keep up.

“Nobody knows what our baby does yet,” he teased him, “Don’t worry Kook, you’ll put the seed of terror into all their hearts by the end of this year.” It was the kind of mocking that wasn’t meant to hurt and flew between people who actually liked each other and knew the limits of other’s senses of humour, and I curiously watched as Jungkook played up the pout even more before bursting into a toothy grin.

Then it caught up to me what the blue-haired dragon said and I stopped dead in my tracks, shocking Jungkook into freezing too. There was a suspicion at my heart that would explain everything that was happening right now, and I didn’t hesitate to speak it into the universe.

“Wait… is this your first year participating in the unit?” I blurted out and saw Hoseok tense up out of the corner of my eye. Jungkook spiritedly nodded and I felt both relief and horror.

“Kookie’s never had a rider,” Jimin supplied, really speaking to me for the first time since I arrived, “He’s only reached adulthood sixty years ago.”

A myriad of questions suddenly had answers in my mind – Jungkook fumbling the polite traditions at the banquet, the overprotective hovering that Jimin and Hoseok were exhibiting right now, the combative energy both of them lowkey exuded while Jungkook himself was a ball of excitement. Stepping into the unknown, for the first time.

At the bottom of it all was a huge boulder falling off of my chest at the thought that I wasn’t completely alone in this frightening and exhilarating new experience we had in front of us. Now, looking at us both be clueless and anxious and eager, I found myself relaxing considerably. We could be stupid about this together, and that was a relieving thought.

Jungkook was staring daggers into his hyung and whining that he was more adult than he made it sound, but his ears were red. Hoseok in the background fondly watched on, and suddenly I felt like too much of an intruder.

Clearing my throat, I called for his attention again and asked: “So what is your power?”

Jungkook’s big dark innocent eyes were back at me and he straightened up, only to start doing lunges. I scrambled to follow his lead, warming up with him with no idea what he was planning to do today.

I wondered whether he had any other potentials, but thinking back I haven’t seen him interact with any other of the first years. I hoped that whatever trials he prepared for me, I’d be able to successfully get through them.

“My magick is elemental,” the tatted dragon started explaining, “much like Jimin-hyung’s. But mine is earth.” I itched to ask more questions and get more details out of him, but I didn’t want to overstep. Jungkook may have looked like he’d gladly answer everything, but generally dragons didn’t like it and didn’t think it proper to probe, and I didn’t want to aggravate the two high strung hyungs stepping around the training grounds and watching their younger packmate with hawk eyes.

I watched them out of the corner of my eyes, and their warning gazes were already glued to me, but Jungkook looked at me with expectant eyes just begging to be asked for more details. Sweating bullets, I swallowed my silent tears and opened my dumb mouth. This is going to be more challenging than I thought, but in a way I could have never anticipated.

“How does that work?” I gritted through my teeth, trying to ignore Hoseok’s narrowed eyes or Jimin’s outright stare. Jungkook, though, brightened and changed back to jumping jacks for ease of talking.

“Much like hyung manipulates water, I can manipulate earth,” he begun cheerily, “tear it apart, tear chunks out and throw them, cause a chasm to open or small-scale earthquakes. I can also work with and manipulate stones and ore, not just dirt.” I gave him a wide-eyed stare, surprised to learn the extent of his powers, though some things were still a little vague. But I didn’t dare to ask more questions, I’ve already tried their patience too much.

“It also means he has tough skin. Impenetrable. And it makes him very strong, like a boulder,” to my surprise it was Jimin who volunteered this information, his curious eyes flittering cautiously between me, Jungkook and Hoseok still standing a few steps away.

“There’s a downside though,” Jungkook continued, “every power has its downside. Like a weakness. It’s tied into the nature of our magick. Like fire magick’s weakness would be water and ice.” The horror that seeped into Hoseok’s face quickly clued me into the fact that Jungkook just shared something he wasn’t supposed to say.

“Yes, but that isn’t something we need to talk about right now,” Jimin jumped in, shaken and panicked, throwing the youngest dragon a stare that could only be interpreted as a warning. Unsure, I stopped and glanced between the three dragons locked into some sort of a silent battle. After a few beats I realised they must have been talking telepathically, as that was something mated dragons could do.

“She’ll have to know anyway, as my bonded,” Jungkook said finally, firmly looking from his hyungs and offering me a smile. Shakily, I attempted to returned it, but it was hard with the burning I felt from the other’s stares. I couldn’t even fully process the fact that Jungkook basically announced that we would bond, the statement barely registering in my anxious mind.

What in the hell was going on?

Then Jungkook took off, only looking behind to beckon me as he started on a lap around the training grounds. Giving one last nervous glance to the two tense dragons, I took a deep breath and ran off after him.

Jungkook was fast and it took me a moment to catch up to him, but after a lap or two we settled into a comfortable pace side by side, and I slowly came to realise what this was. Endurance test. He wanted to know how strong and trained I was. With one less unknown to worry about, I fell into step with him and steeled myself to keep up for as long as I was capable of.

The silence was comfortable between us, a nice change from the charged atmosphere around the older dragons, but I couldn’t blame them for being so cautious, especially since it seemed Jungkook’s enthusiasm was sometimes faster than the well-earned distrust towards humans that every dragon harboured deep inside their heart. I dreaded to think of someone else in my position, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to take advantage of his true earnest nature.

But even I was a risk – even I could misstep, hurt him. Even I could end up being a danger to him and his thunder. I had to make sure I wouldn’t.

“Have you ever met a dragon before?” Jungkook’s quiet voice pulled me out of my troubling thoughts. It was an unusual question, one that I had no idea how to interpret the intentions behind. What was he really asking?

“Well, yes... I’ve been coming to the capital with father for quite some time,” I drawled out, weighing in my mind on how much to share, “but I really just saw them around. Didn’t really speak to anyone, I wasn’t allowed to.” Painful memories of a smiling brown-haired man resurfaced in my mind, just how they so often did ever since he left. I chanced a look at the tatted dragon, and he watched me like he knew there was more. He waited whether I would continue. A wave of strange unfamiliar emotion rose inside of me, and I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand. I was so confused. But then I spoke anyway because it felt right to do so.

“When I was little,” the words slowly trickled out of me, like I had to use force to push them out, “maybe eight or nine, a dragon-knight and his bonded came to our fief. They stayed with us for a little over a year. The knight was a merry man, full of laughs and jokes, and his dragon was one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” The young dragon smiled gently and gestured for me to keep talking as we ran laps. I started becoming a little breathless now that I had a story to tell, but I pushed through.

“I spent a lot of time with him, to me he was the manifestation of all things magical and fantastical,” the soft laugh that tumbled out of me surprised me, but I carried on, “He took to teaching me. Brought me out to forests and meadows, taught me about magick and nature, about dragons, about kindness to living things and cooperating with the natural world. He always called it ‘the old philosophy’. That this is how dragons used to teach their young.”

Looking back at it now with the knowledge I have, it wasn’t that hard to understand why he was such a thorn in the emperor’s eye. Why he was running away from the palace, trying his luck away from the capital. It was rotten fate that he ended up on a land that belonged to my father out of all people.

Next to me Jungkook hummed, reminding me of his presence, and suddenly the exercise caught up with me and I realised I would need a break soon to catch my breath. The young dragon seemed fine though, as he jogged on by my side with a soft smile.

“What was his name?” he asked, with reverence I haven’t heard from him yet, the quiet wonder at this mythical teacher from my childhood visible in his eyes, and it warmed me to see it. With a smile of my own I answered: “Hwan.” As simple as that.

I didn’t tell him his real name. I couldn’t yet. My teacher was a controversial character, a forbidden topic, and these dragons were most definitely aware of him, as his sudden disappearance happened only something over a decade ago. He was the first dragon in centuries to openly go against the throne, and the first person I’ve ever met that was part of a resistance against the empire. Hwan was the name he went by while he stayed with us, when he pretended to be human while going to the town’s market with me.

I’ve already learned from my mistake once. I wouldn’t reveal his name until I was sure it was safe.

“I don’t remember a dragon with that name,” Jungkook thought out loud, contemplative expression taking over his youthful face, “do you know what his magick is?”

“I’m not sure where he is currently,” was all I answered with, shutting down the conversation with firm gentleness. Thankfully the man understood. He gave me one long curious silent look, eyes taking me in from head down to my toes, something a little unreadable settling into them. But an air of softness remained, one that made me comfortable in his presence against all facts and reason.

“Let’s go try horse riding now,” was all he finally said, a little more mischief bleeding into his features, “last time you barely even rode. I need to know you can keep yourself in the saddle.”

With a nod I followed after him, silently musing on whether the bond manifested in things deeper than just compatibility for magick. Things that would explain why the pull towards the younger dragon exceeded reason and strayed into the territory of complicated feelings of comfort and safety.

Jimin shuffled nervously right next to his hyung, shuddering under the barrage of negative emotions flowing into him from Hoseok’s side of the bond.

“You shouldn’t encourage him so much, you know,” Hoseok chided him softly, even though the water dragon felt the weight of his hyungs fears and anxieties. But he didn’t think he was deserving of a scolding nevertheless.

“What do you mean? I barely even did anything,” Jimin grumbled under his breath, eyes trained on the duo running side by side by the fence, one ear listening into the conversation and heart enquiringly checking on Jungkook’s emotions. Hope, curiousness, tender joy. All that shined through, and he knew that his hyung felt it too. And didn’t like it one bit. “He spilled everything all on his own,” Jimin added for good measure.

He subconsciously rubbed at the tender skin of his wrist, mind going back to the night of the banquet, as it so often did these days. He couldn’t shake off the buzz of the bond as it shocked through him with such intensity for a moment he thought she touched him and not Kookie. Sometimes, it would still run through his nervous system like a phantom pain, even days later.

“Kookie’s excited about his first bond,” Hoseok said, but his voice carried no happiness that would be normally present during such occasions, that was all taken away by the circumstance of the situation, “but this whole thing is rubbing me the wrong way. I just don’t want him to get hurt through this. Bonds have a way of influencing you, and especially the first ones can feel quite intense. I don’t want him to be blinded by it to what might be happening here.”

Jimin looked to his hyung with alarm, heart painfully contracting under the wave of freezing cold dread seeping through his bones.

“You think there’s an ulterior motive to the bond,” the younger dragon meant it as a question, but at that point it was useless to ask. Hoseok obviously thought something else was going on under all this, and the possibility of it lit some sort of primal fear in Jimin. Bonds used to be a sacred thing, thinking that they could be stripped from all their beauty and used so villainously, it never failed to tear him apart. Never failed to remind him of all that was taken from them.

“Think about it,” Hoseok stated seriously, eyes similarly glued to Jungkook and watching his smiling face with a hint of despair, “We’ve never felt a bond similar to this one. Neither the hyungs nor Joonie have ever heard of something similar. She’s a daughter of a man as close to the throne as one can be. Is it really such a stretch to believe that he may have tampered with the bond?”

“But would that even be possible?” Jimin asked, voice quiet as the horrifying feasibility sunk into his mind, “It can’t, right?” That would change everything. It would take away more than they’ve already lost – it would warp the very nature of their souls. Haven’t they already destroyed enough? Would they go as far as to mess with natural magical bonds?

“He’s already done so much and he continues to want even more,” Hoseok argued firmly, no traces of the smiling man left in his demeanour, “I have no idea what Kangdae’s end goal is, but if there’s someone capable of this, it’s him. And she’s in his closest circle, her father serves him more than he serves his own family.�� No matter how many times Jimin heard the emperor’s name flow out so effortlessly in conversation, he still got an uncomfortable feeling. His hyungs using it like that didn’t feel right – it made him too scared for them, like they were committing a grave sin. Yet they never budged.

Looking back to the young duo, a chilling sensation gripped Jimin’s insides. Could this be a trap? What would even be the purpose of manipulating a bond like that? Was she originally not meant for them?

“I worry for him too,” Jimin muttered finally, “We’ll have to keep an eye on him.” The things they needed to keep close eyes on just kept stacking up and Jimin was about to lose his mind if this continued. The threat hanging over all their heads somehow felt more present than ever. Not even the thought of his all-knowing hyungs made him feel better. Quite the opposite – feeling their quiet dismay, their wide eyes and hushed whispers when they thought they wouldn’t notice, it drove Jimin even more wild with panic.

“I wish we could consult the ancients on this,” the blue-haired dragon whispered quiet enough that had his companion not paid attention, he’d miss it, “the closest we got to that is Jin-hyung and he’s as lost as we are.” Hoseok’s tiny fond chuckle lifted some weight off of Jimin’s shoulders, the younger dragon turning to his hyung with a smile.

“Don’t let him hear that or we’ll never hear the end of it,” the healer teased softly, reaching out to mess with Jimin’s hair. Silence settled around them, but it was oppressive in a way he hadn’t felt for a long time, not around his mates. He shivered with it, tried to withstand it, but couldn’t without the warmth his lovers offered.

Reaching out for his hyung’s hand, they shuffled around until Hoseok was protectively holding him curled into his side as they both watched on, hearts heavy and minds racing a mile in a minute.

Jimin noted to himself all that she shared, vowing to ask Jin-hyung later about that dragon she spoke so highly of. He hoped, and Jungkook might never believe him this, but he really hoped she wasn’t deceiving them. Not because of her, but for Jungkook’s sake. He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if this ended up hurting their youngest packmate.

Bonds cut deep, especially when they ended badly. Yoongi-hyung still carried those scars in him to prove that. He himself knew the pain of bonds that were forced on him – how oppressive they were to his own mind and heart, how every time he was used for a battle and then discarded, his soul wept for the loss of a bond that never really existed in the first place.

For all their might and power, dragons were tender beings. Easily swayed by shiny trinkets and a little kindness, they got attached so readily, and felt grief deeply when everything died in the end and they carried on.

Whether she betrayed him or died, that wound would stay with Jungkook for the rest of his nigh eternal life, and he so desperately wished he could protect him from that.

Jimin, in that moment of all-consuming terrifying despair and helplessness, knew he would give everything, even his own life, to ensure the crash and fall of the empire just to tear Jungkook out of the way of a sure tragedy in the form of his new potential rider.

“Has Taehyungie had any vision about this?” Hoseok’s voice suddenly cut through his spiralling thoughts, pulling Jimin from his little circle of doom, “Last I asked him he said he can’t see anything.” The blue-haired man thought back to the day before, to his younger mate with his dark red, heavy curls falling into his eyes, the worried frustrated expression on his face translating into the wobbling lip when he came to Jimin absolutely shattered that he can’t help his hyungs in any way, the fear dripping so thick off of him the water dragon almost tasted it in the air. Tae was devastated at his own inability to induce a vision on the young knightess, even though he privately shared with Jimin that it didn’t feel completely wrong, only that he wasn’t supposed to know yet (which according to him happened sometimes, but it still felt awful). Nonetheless it only added to the unsureness that hung about them when it came to this bond.

“No, he’s trying really hard but can’t see anything,” Jimin whispered towards his hyung, even though he was pretty sure Jungkook wasn’t listening he’d still rather he didn’t hear this on accident, “Please don’t ask him about it, hyung. He’s feeling terrible.”

Hoseok gave him a sad smile and nodded, his hands tightening on the younger worried man as he himself sunk into the troubling thoughts. Jimin hated the sudden air of uncertainty hanging over their heads that irritatingly everyone except for their youngest seemed to feel.

Jungkook kept his oblivious care-free aura while everyone around him panicked about the future of the pack, even future of dragons at all. His hyungs were running themselves thin trying to find out what this meant while he sat around the town house and talked about how he couldn’t wait for the bonding ritual.

Jimin was as angry with him as he was worried for him. But only time would tell which way this would go. And deep in his heart he knew that even if the world was falling apart, his hyungs would never let them get hurt.

Squeezing Hobi’s hand back, he finally allowed himself to relax into the warm man’s embrace.

Maybe somewhere in this country still were children who felt comforted and encouraged by their father’s presence by their side, but I certainly wasn’t one of them. The stifling aura of him hovering behind me put me on edge, the threat of ‘impress him or else’ hanging in the air over us. Father would never say it outright, no, that wasn’t his style. But it was always written into him, into his features, into the firm grip of his hand on my arm when he wanted me to check myself.

Brother stood next to him looking bored, doing his best to miss all of my pointed stares, so I redirected my attention back to the gold-plated doors in front of me, waiting for them to open and invite us in.

The emperor sometimes liked to keep people waiting. If it was just my father, he’d be let in immediately, but since it was our entire family he felt the need to show power and let us stand outside for a while. I felt the mounting wave of frustration and annoyance, pursing my lips together to keep myself in line. None of us spoke and it made the time tick by even slower. Two stripes guards flanked the door on each side and nervously evaded our eyes, no doubt wishing they were anywhere else than in front of the increasingly more displeased old general.

Then finally, after what felt like a whole hour, the door slowly creaked open and I suddenly found myself on the forefront of our little group, first to be seen, first to move and first to speak. It was unnerving.

It took a little shove to my lower back (I wasn’t sure which one of the men it was, but it was effective) to make me move into the room, and I did so sluggishly – focusing on putting one foot in front of the other and not on the man sitting leisurely on a sofa at the centre of the room. Subconsciously I straightened and adjusted my black and silver uniform, even though he didn’t look up. He actually looked like he couldn’t care less and for a moment I pondered over how my father managed decades of sucking up to a person like that. My patience would have run out so fast I’d be executed before my pillow even had the chance to permanently dent into the shape of my head.

Even though I knew the emperor was a few years older than my brother, he looked young, maybe even younger than me. He didn’t stand, and he didn’t have to, but we still kneeled on the little carpet and bowed to his uninterested form. It was humiliating and rage inducing, my hands curling into tight fists as if I was contemplating lunging at him and punching him. I wasn’t, I just wanted to go home mainly.

The emperor asked us to meet us in one of his salons that he sometimes used for official visits, so instead of the throne room we found ourselves in a pompously decorated room with a theme that I could only describe as “rubies”. The man himself sat on a sofa that was on a little platform, step above everyone else, and he stood out as a sore thumb with his golden aura in the sea of reds and crimsons.

I twitched towards one of the sofas, but a hand on my wrist immediately pulled me back into place, and so we just silently stood there some more, waiting for some command or a simple acknowledgement, but the golden man kept wordlessly scribbling something onto a stack of documents. After the fourth line I felt the frustration return with full force (and then some more), gritting my teeth as we humiliatingly waited with heads hung low in respect.

Then the sound stopped. The man clapped twice and everything set into motion. I was pulled by my father to a sofa, and I confusedly let myself be manhandled into place while I watched the flurry of servants run in with tea and sweets and carry the stack of documents out. A second later the emperor’s eyes were on me, for what felt like first time in my life.

For some reason I was surprised by his beauty. I didn’t know why, I’ve seen him before but always from much further away. I had a better idea of what his father looked like, and at the end of his life he turned into a bitter mean old man, therefore the youthful charm took the wind out of my sails lightly.

He was bathed in gold, from head to toe – from his attire and jewels to his skin, to his burning bright hair. Even his eyes had specks of gold swimming in the brown. But the longer I looked at him, the more I saw the signs of his cruelty, things that no amount of grace and allure could hide – his stare had no warmth in it despite his polite smile, instead it froze me down with its poorly hidden brutality; his sharp features didn’t as much add to his handsomeness as they brought out the shadows on his face, underlining the haunting savagery of his faux kind smile. When his lips stretched to reveal his white perfect teeth, I was almost expecting to see them pointy and sharp enough to tear flesh to shreds.

“Yeong-su, Man-young,” he greeted with a nod first my father, then my brother, before his eyes redirected to me, “and you must be Y/N then.” His voice was strong and firm, with a tone of courteousness so false it felt sleazy. I shuddered, barely managed to hide it from his inquisitive eyes and then shakily smiled back with my own nod.

“Your majesty,” father greeted, just as slimy and with a similar looking smile. I supressed the disgust crawling up the sides of my stomach and kept to myself. This might have been the first and only time I was happy about the general insisting I don’t speak so I don’t embarrass him.

“I hope your morning has gone well, our empire,” he continued, head bowed so deep his chin was digging into his breastbone, “we, your people, are joyous for the opportunity to meet with you.” Seeing Man-young going into a slight bow again, I scrambled to follow, not giving myself the space to inspect that pile of insincere grovelling bullshit.

“Thank you, general,” came a simple answer, “I hear you are here for the purpose of your daughter’s bonding. Your eyes are on Bangtan, general?” It felt both inquisitive and threatening, like a thinly-veiled warning. I curiously watched my father, the proud man that he was who would rather die than let anyone disrespect him, as he ducked his head in pretend humility. I’d never realised that he was such a damned good actor.

“Of course not, our empire, we wouldn’t dare to demand your dragons, we can simply hope and beg for your blessing.” That seemed to have satisfied the young sovereign, and I had to wonder whether he was genuinely stupid enough to believe it or whether he didn’t care because he knew his place of power and trusted in his invincibility. Surely, everyone could tell these were all fake sentiments, even the man that’s been listening to them since his birth?

A nudge broke me out of my reverie and I realised my father wanted me to grovel alongside with him, but before I could think of anything to say, a knock to the door interrupted us.

“Oh, perfect timing,” emperor exclaimed, for the first time with a real sense of excitement which put me off slightly, and then he was gesturing for the door to open. And the most curious group of people stood behind it.

The first to stroll leisurely into the room was Duke Lee, and I barely suppressed the obvious disgust on my face. He only shot me a single unfriendly glare before his expression melted into a similar smarminess of all the council members in the presence of the emperor. I tuned out his dick-sucking-esque monologue that the ruler seemed to eat up to take in the other three newcomers. Well, except that they weren’t truly new to me.

The silver-haired dragon I’ve seen a mere week ago when my father dragged me to the council meeting still had his signature cold expressionless mask on and he silently made his way through the room without acknowledging anyone to sit on a chair by the emperor’s sofa.

The other two were a surprise to me.

Jungkook wearing a uniform I’d never seen before (and that he seemed exceedingly uncomfortable in) and constantly squirming in place tried to greet me, but was promptly stopped by his companion. A dragon I knew very well despite the fact that I haven’t officially met him before. He was only slightly taller than Jungkook, but his muscular and wide form made him seem towering, alongside the power and authority that was pouring off of him in waves that attempted to drown me. His golden fiery eyes were fond yet firm on Jungkook’s squirming form, before they turned into the room and became as cold and hard as stone. I had to fight back the urge to kneel and bow to him just like we did to the emperor.

I was face to face with Namjoon, the head of Bangtan thunder, a fire dragon and one of the most easily recognisable faces of the dragonkind staying in or around the castle.

The second our eyes met I shot to my feet and bowed full 90 degrees to him, shocking the room into silence as everyone’s attention was suddenly drawn to me. When I straightened back up, Namjoon was giving me a strange look, but said nothing. He only pulled Jungkook with him to a sofa opposite of us and they made themselves comfortable.

“You’ve served me well since my coronation, general,” the emperor started again, “and my father for long years before that. You know it would be a pleasure to have my dragons in your family’s care.” Now it was my father who stood up and bowed fully, dragging me with him to extend the same courtesy, which I did with significantly more difficulty than when I bowed to Namjoon.

Duke Lee found his place on the same sofa as the two dragons, watching the exchange with fiery eyes, lips turned to a thin line. I didn’t even know what he was doing here, and his salty aura was really ruining the morning for me even further, so I did my best to ignore his very existence.

“Jungkook is your bonded, then?” this question was aimed at me, but the king was already eyeing the two Bangtan dragons sitting uncomfortably next to the slimy duke. They knew better than to speak and only inclined their heads, though I could see Namjoon fighting off words.

“Not yet, your majesty, though I hope for his acceptance,” I chose my words carefully, once again trying to dangerously toe the line of politeness and smarminess, desperately trying to please both sides and escape suspicion, but by the unhappy twitch of emperor’s lips and the cold expression on Namjoon’s face, I was failing at both.

“You have my approval, that’s more than law,” the gold-clad man stated firmly, voice void of the falseness it held before, “Do you want him to be yours?” This was the real man on the throne. Only now we truly had the pleasure of meeting him.

Now, that was the question, wasn’t it? Everything and more on the line with a single word – yes, of course I wanted to bond Jungkook. Did his thunder wish for the same? Would they ever forgive me for not giving them a choice? Those both had the same answer, one whose outcome I had to risk either way, and I hated it. Not more than them, though.

“Yes, your majesty,” I settled for, not wanting to drag it out. It was safer to stick to short answers and the man himself wasn’t interested in anything more. Namjoon sat in his place, frozen – not with shock, I don’t think at that point he had it in him to be surprised at this anymore. It felt more like resignation. Jungkook still looked the same, looked at me the same, but the heaviness in his shoulders spoke of his mate’s emotional turmoil.

“Very well,” were the next emperor’s words and with that it was decided. I sat back down and kept my head hung low. I was too guilt-ridden to look at the dragons anymore, the humiliation swirled in my stomach and made me sick, and all I wanted was to just have this all behind me. Once bonded, it would get easier – and then a whole lot more difficult.

“Duke, how is the rest of the unit?”

Well, that had my attention, but I pretended not to watch the exchange, keeping my gaze at the table and the variety of colourful chocolate sweets that still sat untouched on the beautiful decorative plate. I just saw Namjoon’s tense form and Jungkook’s squirming legs while he found it hard to settle down into the furnishing. The straight posture of my brother to my side told me he was also diligently keeping up, though I couldn’t understand why this would fall under the umbrella of his interests. My brother was a shadow, he had nothing to do with the horns.

But the most curious was that Lee seemed to be involved to this extent.

“Excellent, our empire, from what I’ve heard three others have already found their dragons as well,” the duke’s irksome voice replied, and I was minutely reminded of baron Kim and his overt friendliness, “Only two remain undecided.”

When did he become the spokesperson of Qinglong? As far as I was aware, he had nothing to do with the unit. I haven’t even really seen him around the dragon-knights, so how come he was suddenly being summoned like this to speak of the unit and the new arrivals? How has he managed to weasel his way in here, when just a few months back he was mostly whining about mining and gems?

“Splendid. I want the bonding ceremony to happen in three days,” the sovereign demanded, in the manner that he was used to – speaking it into existence, “It will be the full moon. Make sure the others are ready as well.” There was some more small-talk, mostly the duke bending over backwards to agree and promise he will make it happen, while the rest of us watched him with varying stages of appalment.

“Oh, that’s right duke, I’ve heard your son showed a brilliant performance with a sword,” it was a statement uttered thoughtlessly as part of the polite conversation, but just as the information sunk into my brain and I froze, I saw Jungkook do the same. Almost on instinct we looked to each other, similar sense of horror looming over us both, and I saw Namjoon’s eyes flit between us in alarm out of the corner of my eye.

The bad premonition got confirmed when the duke suddenly straightened in joy, and if he had a tail, it would be wagging wildly behind him at that moment, and he started prattling off about his son championing the banquet.

Peacock. His son was Peacock.

Well, that didn’t complicate anything at all! I should have fucking known the moment I looked at that bastard, this particular brand of being an awful person truly did run in the family. And it explained the duke being all salty and mad about me interacting with Bangtan. With him weaselling into the emperor’s graces and into the higher layers of the dragon unit, he most probably aimed for his son to be the one to snatch Jungkook or Jimin. I wondered whether his son was one of the two who still didn’t find their dragons or whether they managed to find someone pleasing enough. I thought back to the poor dragon with fire red hair and hoped that he wasn’t a potential connection to that ass.

It also explained the sudden change of the banquet activities and the fact that Peacock knew of the details before anyone else did. It wasn’t because Lord Kim was sucking up to his father, it was because Duke Lee somehow found a way to involve himself with the unit.

Oh, father would not be happy about that…

“Your majesty,” Namjoon’s deep rumbling voice cut through the duke’s uninteresting chatter, and immediately commanded the attention of the whole room, “If you don’t mind the suggestion, I had hoped that young mistress Kang would be first introduced to the thunder before we make the decision to bond with her. Three days is quite fast.” Clearly the date bothered him quite a lot, and I felt a pang in my heart at the closed off unhappy expression on his face when he spoke of me.

But before the emperor could answer him, and by the look on his face he wasn’t very happy with the dragon, Jungkook hurriedly interjected. “I have already made the decision to bond with Y/N-ssi,” tumbled out of his mouth in a rush and surprised both me and Namjoon. I felt a light blush rise to my cheeks and this time my heart hurt from the timid joy at such an earnest confession, while Namjoon watched his youngest mate with hard warning eyes.

To everybody else in the room though it felt like a hasty attempt to smooth out the fire dragon’s uncompromising words, including the visibly displeased sovereign sitting above us like a ruler of the universe.

“The decision has been made, dragon,” the golden man spit out, a beastly sneer sneaking onto his face when he looked over the hundreds of years old magical being that he thought was beneath him, “You have two days to introduce her to the thunder.”

I was getting ready to intercept and try to save the situation a little, syphon away a little bit of that anger the man clearly felt at not being listened to unconditionally, and as much as that made me dislike him even more, I did have to suck up to him in situations like these. But then he scoffed and continued.

“Or better yet, do it today. That’s an order.” All the peace-making words died in my throat, and I nervously glanced towards the fire dragon, who was discreetly trying to hide the daggers in his eyes. He said nothing and nodded, holding Jungkook’s wrist. The younger dragon looked towards me with troubled eyes, and that was that. Stellar.

My irritation towards the emperor steadily rose, as he seemed to be adamant on making this as hard for me as possible, so I just quietly gulped everything down and sat patiently and politely by my father’s side.

The rest of the meeting flew by and I barely even paid attention, too busy trying to think through the buzz of nerves how to ease the tension, but ultimately deciding that I had to ride this one out, see and think quick on my feet based on their reactions. Namjoon, similar to Hoseok yesterday, had that air of gentleness when he looked to Jungkook, and while that all disappeared the moment his eyes weren’t on his mate, I still hoped he wouldn’t be unmovable. I’d learn what I’d have to do to earn his trust, all in good time.

In the meantime I let myself be comforted by the fact that Jungkook seemed to be fully in acceptance of this bond. I wondered whether he was able to feel anything from me. Maybe my genuinity shined through the connection, maybe deep down he felt he could trust me. I desperately didn’t want to let him down.

When the emperor finally sent us on our way, my family didn’t even waste time talking to me. With a curt nod both the men stepped through the door and set out towards the Academy, only my father pausing shortly to send me a distinctive warning look that screamed ‘don’t fuck this for us’ before he walked off.

Jungkook was cautiously smiling my way, but Namjoon next to him stood tensely, unreadable gaze glued to my father’s back. I hoped that there wasn’t much bad blood between them, but given my father’s personality you simply couldn’t spend the last 35 years in the same circles without inevitably ending up hating him, so that was probably a foolish wish.

When the golden gaze shifted to me it felt like a whole mountain was suddenly sitting on my shoulders, the weight and depth of his eyes pressing me into the ground. He was a respectable man, taking his place of standing between his thunder and the emperor very seriously, and it reflected all in his straight back and dark eyes. To me it was the first time I found myself firmly in the centre of his attention, and I wasn’t prepared for the intensity of that stare that felt like it was burning through me straight to the deepest most hidden and vulnerable places in my soul.

He wasn’t happy with me. He didn’t like me accepting on behalf of Jungkook. I could read it all there, and I felt deeply ashamed.

The silence stretching was weighing down heavily on me, I couldn’t help myself but shake in the tense atmosphere. Even Jungkook only quietly watched his thunder leader, not daring to speak out while Namjoon’s calculating gaze took me in.

Finally buckling under that stare I hesitantly bent at the waist, bowing to the man in the same manner I did to all the other dragons from this thunder I met, but inside I was second-guessing everything.

“Authority, it is an honour to meet you,” it was a miracle I didn’t stumble all over my words and stutter, that was the effect the dragon had on people around him. I saw the surprise written over his face at the title used, Jungkook smiling proudly next to him and trying to catch his eye in a ‘look at me, I was right!!’ way.

The term ‘authority’ was an old title (well, now it was an old title, just a few hundred years back it was completely normal) used for leaders of thunders. It was the correct way of addressing the dragons in positions of power among their peers, and while it was a little heavy-handed in the human language, it was a direct translation from draconic. It didn’t need to make perfect sense in the context of our speak. And it wasn’t really used here anymore.

I would bet that most didn’t even know a term like this existed – and I wouldn’t have known either if it wasn’t for Hwan who taught me a little about dragon history and hierarchy.

“No need to address me as such, I hardly am an authority anymore,” the man grumbled, but his energy was a lot less hostile. Now he just seemed resigned, which also wasn’t good. I didn’t want to argue with him, so I just decided to let it go.

“Namjoon-ssi, if today isn’t suitable for you, I can come a different day,” I offered him, head still humbly lowered, “Or I can come for dinner.” The man just waved his hand around like dismissing an annoying fly and set out, Jungkook scrambling to follow after him.

“There’s no reason to. Just come,” he said simply over his shoulder, not really looking back to see whether I went after or not. With a deep sigh I willed my feet to run after them, resigning myself to a cluster-fuck of an afternoon.

Their town house was on the other side of the castle, hidden in the shadow of the big black rock the structure sat on – maybe somewhat poetically. All in all it looked very similar to ours, which was slightly worrying given the fact that our household hosted only three people, while this thunder had seven. Though mated dragons would most probably have less need for individual bedrooms, but also there was absolutely no space for them to turn forms.

Which, unfortunately, was a thing that dragons rarely got to do unless humans commanded them to. Even though they needed to regularly spend time in both forms, people often got antsy around the massive beasts and didn’t like to see it. So dragons mostly turned only if they needed to fly or they left the city and spent a few hours out in the woods.

I took the dwelling in – it seemed quite ordinary and it was obvious on first glance that it wasn’t a place they considered home. The most beautiful and cared for part of the house was the little garden in the inner courtyard, which I supposed was Hoseok’s work.

The house was quiet as we stepped through the main gate, it seemed completely empty and for a moment I wondered whether I’d have to spent hours sitting here only with Jungkook and Namjoon, because I wasn’t so sure I was quite ready for that.

But it was an unnecessary fear as I came to realise when we stepped inside, heading towards the dining room – the thunder was already sitting ready around a traditional table with pillows strewn around and a warm feast waiting for us to dig in. Three pillows were empty – two at the opposite ends of the table and one to the right side of the closer empty one.

Both dragons left me standing unsure in the doorway into the room, heading straight for the table – Namjoon sat down at the head of the table, next to a broad-shouldered pink-haired man with massive wings spanning from his back and a very unfriendly looking man with long black hair and black horns curling around the crown of his head. That one I recognised – it was very hard to forget Yoongi once you’d seen him once. Especially when you’ve found yourself at the receiving end of that stare. Which I had before. It was not pleasant.

For the second time that day I found myself bowing respectfully, though now to considerably bigger number of dragons.

“Thank you for having me,” it was hard to say in a volume louder than a whisper – it felt like it should be whispered. It was useless politeness, given the fact that they were ordered to have me for lunch, but it was better than not saying anything.

Jungkook, who took the empty seat by the end of the table patted the pillow next to him and I slowly walked over to take it, folding myself down. No one spoke. When I chanced looking up, I found that their gazes seemed quite neutral and they were just taking me in. Well, except for Yoongi, who never gave much thought to pointless politeness – and strangely enough Hoseok, whose eyes had something unreadable but definitely not good in them.

This seat put me directly opposite of Namjoon, and much like before in the hall he left the silence stretch until I had time to spiral all the way down thinking I had already managed to fuck up a first meeting given the fact the cheerful nature dragon was looking at me like he’d need to protect his den from my murderous rage by the end of this meal.

“Let me properly introduce myself,” I started in the end, though at that point it already felt a little too late, but the quiet had a way of messing with my head. I had spent too many hours under my father’s wordless disappointment to keep my cool under such heavy gazes. “I am Kang Y/N of the northern clan.” Nothing more was needed to say.

Everybody already seemed to know though, so at least we saved ourselves that awkward realisation.

“Welcome to our house, Kang Y/N of the northern clan,” the pink-haired dragon spoke, and I was so relieved I could cry of happiness. The man had an aura of unnatural beauty about him and in my head I went through the packmates I still haven’t met trying to guess who he was. Taking in the air of maturity and a sense of duty that exuded from him, the firm yet gentle voice he spoke with and the wings that looked very uncomfortably folded over his back and bent over the ground, I was betting on the eldest.

“That’s Jin-hyung,” Jungkook whispered to me, though his voice was still loud enough to be heard through the whole room, drawing some smiles from the rest of the men. It broke the ice a little, draining away a bit of that tenseness from their shoulders, which I was infinitely grateful for.

“It’s an honour to meet you, Seokjin-ssi,” I greeted the dragon properly, bowing once more with a small smile – which he accepted graciously.

Turning to the two other dragons I’ve met before I gave each a small bow as well. “And nice to see you again, Jimin-ssi, Hoseok-ssi.” Their smiles were significantly less enthusiastic, but I’d take it. Better than nothing.

Now there were two dragons left – one that I recognised as Yoongi and one that had to be Taehyung, but neither of them seemed eager to introduce themselves. While Yoongi still kept his air of careful hostility, Taehyung looked at me curiously but with very obvious apprehension. I saw his hand tightly gripping onto Hoseok sitting next to him and given the fact that he sat at the end of the table, opposite of Jungkook, he looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. I tried not to take it personally.

Choosing to stop dancing around it, I took the moment to look into his eyes, hoping to convey as much genuineness as possible in that single glance and said: “It is an honour to meet you as well, Taehyung-ssi.”

The man didn’t look away, didn’t flinch, only turned his head slightly as if thinking. His eyes took me in, as if looking at me for the first time, before he finally straightened and leaned away from his older mate, instead choosing to watch me with intensity rivalling that of Namjoon. But while under the Authority’s eyes I felt like he was searching my soul for any wrongdoing, Taehyung’s eyes were like those of a curious child faced with an exciting experiment.

I had no idea whether that was a good thing, but it seemed better than before.

The last dragon didn’t even really give me a chance to speak, just nodded at me recognising that I knew him and to move on. So I did. Out of everyone here, the atmokinetic was the one I wanted to antagonise the least, so I just let it go and settled more into my seat.

“Well, let’s dig in,” Seokjin announced, still a little wooden, but the prospect of food worked like a charm to loosen up the atmosphere. Now we didn’t need to speak and the silence could be filled with sounds of eating, saving us from the inevitable awkward ‘what are your intentions with my son’ conversation.

“So, Y/N.” Or not.

I looked up to Namjoon, who sat tensely in his seat, something little pulled onto his plate just so he wouldn’t stand out, but both his hands were clasped together in front of his face and he peered at me over them.

“Yes, Authority,” I answered, hoping he wouldn’t take offence to me bringing back the title now that we were in the privacy of his home and thunder, and while he didn’t react much, at least he didn’t tell me to stop. Everyone else at the table though turned to look at me shocked, and I burned under those six gazes, rather choosing not to dissect the meanings behind their eyes for the sake of my own psyche.

Seokjin at least seemed somewhat appeased, though Yoongi started frowning even more if that was even possible. I felt the examining probing gaze of Taehyung, but I didn’t turn.

I wondered whether I was trying a little too hard a little too soon. I hoped that I was laying down the foundation of future partnerships. If nothing else, I knew that Jungkook strangely remained firmly on my side.

“Why Qinglong?” Namjoon asked, neutrally watching me over the rim of a glass he picked up. If possible, my heart sped up even more when all the dragons paused and looked towards me, eyes reflecting various stages of curiosity and mistrust.

“I…” I felt my throat go dry, thoughts racing in my head, all trying to come up with the best way to put this without antagonising anyone even more.

“I’ve honestly always wanted to work with dragons,” I settled on, giving them a shaky smile. No one reacted, their faces stayed passive and gazes inquisitive, waiting for me to continue. “I had a teacher, when I was younger-” I was prepared to launch into the whole explanation again, but Seokjin’s quick response stopped me.

“Oh, that’s right!” the pink-haired man exclaimed, “Jimin and Jungkook mentioned the dragon you knew. Hwan, am I right?” I nodded, a little shocked, hesitantly looking over to Jimin. Jungkook telling his thunder was expected, but Jimin wasn’t even a part of that conversation. What could he possibly had to say about it?

The water dragon in question stubbornly avoided my gaze though, watching his plate as he chased unruly vegetables around with his spoon. He had nothing more to add now. The anxiety of his sudden change in demeanour was haunting me – of course it was something different to joke around when we barely knew each other, but I would have lied if I pretended his new attitude didn’t sting.

“Yes, that was- is his name,” I stumbled through the sentence, dragging my eyes back to the eldest who was giving me a stunted polite smile. He tried really hard to maintain some sense of normalcy, and for that I was grateful, now that Jimin and Hoseok barely looked at me, Yoongi and Namjoon outright didn’t like me, Taehyung unsettled me and Jungkook awkwardly sat through it all with a smile on his face.

“Was? Is?” the dragon repeated with an uncomfortable confused smile, “I only met a single dragon named Hwan, and I doubt you met the same one. I don’t recall any other dragons of that name.”

“I am not sure where he is now,” I repeated the words I said to Jungkook yesterday noon, “He spent only a year at our fief. He and his knight-“

“Were travelling knights,” Seokjin jumped in, the smile a little more wooden, “Yes, Jimin mentioned you said that.” The atmosphere in the room was plunged into something more tense and uncomfortable, I could feel it charged between us.

“Therefore,” I forced out a little firmer than I wanted to, “I cannot say whether you knew him or not. I don’t know when and for how long they were in Wuyun, if even." Seokjin looked at me for few long moments, the table silent. No one was saying anything, all the dragons watching the interaction with bated breaths – especially Jungkook who for once actually squirmed with nerves, unsure of how the situation would spin.

But then Seokjin smiled again, digging back into his food with a polite expression. The others followed his example and the table rang with cutlery clinking against porcelain. I nervously followed suit. The stress took a toll on me, and I felt almost resignation settling into me. I was tired, and I was fighting a losing battle.

I knew I had to try harder, longer, and I was prepared for that. I’d earn it.

The dinner carried on, awkward small-talk springing up here or there between bouts of tense silence. None of the dragons tried to stray towards any conflicting topics again, choosing to talk about benign things, mostly with each other letting me tag along.

Yoongi didn’t say a single word the entire evening, and neither did Taehyung, though both of their energies varied strongly.

I desperately tried to hold on, letting the dragons speak and only occasionally adding something, eyes ever so often searching Jungkook’s, begging for the reassurance that I knew I’d find there. And he always delivered, smiling at me in a way that said ‘don’t worry, it’ll be okay’, and I so desperately wanted to believe that. Guess I’d have to give it time.

The first dinner could have gone better, could have been less charged, less infused with unsureness and fear, but that evening I still left filled with hope quivering in my heart, buzzing with resolve I hadn’t known for a long while.

“Duke Lee weaseled his way to the Emperor like the rat he is,” the general hissed, and I sighed into my cup knowing exactly what was coming next. “I made a mistake not paying attention to Qinglong. He thinks he can fuck me over, sneaking through the back like this. He’s always had it in for me.”

I stabbed my fork around my plate, chasing the food around and playing with it, trying not to catch the man’s attention. Whenever he got like this it was rough, and sometimes no matter what you did you still ended up at the receiving end of his fury.

He didn’t take well to any perceived competition, and Duke Lee sleazing his way into father’s personal meeting with the emperor definitely displeased him.

Even with the slight pride I was able to win him in these past few days, during the duration of this very uncomfortable lunch I felt his eyes stray to me more than once, an unreadable look on his face. I knew it quite well – he was planning something, and I didn’t like that somehow I seemed to be involved in that.

My brother sat opposite of me as usual, gaze curious and impassive all at once trained on the quietly raging man. He also seemed to be aware that he was in the clear for this one, given the relaxed nature of his usually tense form.

I was waiting for the shoe to drop, attempting to at least somewhat enjoy the food presented – after all, it wasn’t the cook’s fault the general chose this time to throw a temper tantrum and spin his evil plans.

“Y/N.”

I froze mid-bite, heart contracting painfully for an agonising moment before I untensed and turned to face the older man.

“Yes, father?” I hoped that bundle of nerves choking me wasn’t audible in my voice, that I didn’t sound as strained as I felt. I was hoping to escape this for now, though I knew I couldn’t keep the man off my back for long with just a few promises to fly Bangtan.

“There is a general leading the Qinglong unit, right?” he asked, far-away contemplative look in his eyes as he barely regarded me.

“Yes, father, Qinglong is led by General Yun and her dragoness Ha-rin,” I answered dutifully, a bad feeling settling into my stomach and weighing it down. The man only hummed, swirling the glass in hand. He minutely looked towards my brother, the two men holding eye contact for few gut-wrenching seconds before he turned back to me.

“I will look into the affiliations, but considering the size of the unit I cannot imagine there’s many ranked,” the general scoffed, something vile creeping into his eyes, “There’s at most two captain generals, which would mean around four corporals and four captains. Horns have always banked more on infamy then numbers.” The cruelty in his mocking sneer never failed to shock me, not when he always found a new way to remind me of all of his worst qualities. Just like today.

“Man-young is working hard to climb the shadows’ ranks,” father said and gestured towards my brother who still leisurely ate dinner, “I will not have you pull him down by not trying for the same. Bangtan is only the beginning.” I’ve already heard these demands before, but he’s never said them with so much undebatable conviction. There was no arguing – and I would not attempt to.

“Yes father,” I recited obediently, bowing my head in show of submission and satisfying his ego. What was it they said? Revenge tastes sweeter when the lamb trusts you with their very life? The betrayal never feels better than when they never thought you’d be the one to stab the knife in?

My father thought he knew me the best. He thought he knew how to control me the best. I fought to stifle my smile. I still had a surprise or two down my sleeves, general.

“I will pull some strings, they will not embarrass me by not having you promoted by the end of the year,” the man continued, lost to his own thoughts swirling around in that machine for destruction he called brain, hand carding through his greying black short hair and silver stubble, stormy grey eyes glazed as he already planned his next steps. “Once you become captain, you need to pull your own weight. I want you a corporal within the next year, Y/N. I hope you chose the right dragon for battle.”

I ignored the remark about Jungkook and nodded again, head still bowed politely as I agreed once more, the false promises falling out of my lips easily. My brother watched me, eyes inquisitive but none-the-wiser, and I smirked his way. I saw the exact moment disappointment ran through him, thinking I’m still nothing more than that rebellious kid hell-bent on making his life harder, and though it stung, it was the better option. He was not my friend and he would not be my ally, no matter what.

“You’ll be my tool to claiming Qinglong back to my favour. I will not stand for that vermin trying to run things on my turf.”

This was between me and the goddess of creation, the mother of nature.

But one thing I did have to give to my father – there was one thing he was most definitely right about. Bangtan was only the beginning.

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[theflamingredwolfarts]

Made a traditional portrait of Johnny Blaze, Ghost Rider as played by Nicolas Cage in Ghost Rider: Spirit of Vengeance using Colored Pencils in the span of 29hrs!!

This artwork has been on my to draw list for years now & I am just so incredibly happy to have finally gotten the chance to draw it!

Finding out how to draw the texture of the leather jacket was a pain in the ass, it took a lot of experimenting & I'm pretty happy with how it's turned out. I really enjoyed working on the reflections of the fire, it was very interesting and I learned quite a lot, same with the fire, this was my first time drawing fire & it was quite intimidating but it was easy to break it down & lay down the colors but getting it to LOOK like fire was a really difficult challenge!!

I can't believe I'm saying this but the skull was the hardest part to draw, there was so much to break down, draw & color & so many changing colors too, it was hard & the flames that are on top of it, didn't make it any easier!

Overall, I'm really really happy and proud of this artwork, I'm really proud of the contrast, how dark the darks are and how bright the highlights are, plus, he looks really scary which was definitely a vibe that I was going for!

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Prints of this artwork and more are available for purchase at: https://www.inprnt.com/gallery/theflamingredwolfarts/

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If you have any criticism about the artwork or an aspect you don't like, leave a comment about it, I'd love to hear it, bad or good & if you can, be sure to tell me how I can improve on the aspect you don't like or criticized about!

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Follow for more art & if you like this artwork, be sure to press the like button or double tap the image

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Materials:

@fabercastellglobal Polychromos Colored Pencils

Touch Twin Alcohol Markers

Electric Mono Eraser

@dalerrowney1783 Red and Yellow Smooth Cartridge Paper

Sakura Gelly Roll White Pen

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Time Spent: 29hrs

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Size: 16.5 x 23.4 inches

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If you want to repost my art, make sure to credit me!

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If you would like to use my art as reference, feel free!

Thank you!

[callsign-rogueone]

hi liz!! how are you doing?

I just wanted to ask if you could do a halloween edition of all the girlfriends dressing up

hope you ok

hi!! I’m doing okay. long weekend this week 🥳

here are my thoughts!! I had the hardest time picking costumes for some of them that could be possible in their universe — so like not pop culture references or anything. and I added how they’d be at a party, too.

Duchess is the one hosting the party, despite it being Xaden’s house — he lets her have the reins because he doesn’t do holidays, even if they’re dark and broody. I’m stuck on what she would dress up as. her and Brennan might not, honestly, with the excuse that “they’re getting too old for this” but at the very least she’d wear a nice fall-colored dress, not her rider’s clothes. she also lets her hair down for the occasion, which Brennan likes very much.

Angel dresses up as an angel, of course. cute, peaceful, and a reference to her nickname from Garrick and the boys. it’s easy enough to put together; a little white dress and a halo. Gare is a big fan of the exposed leg and the wings she’s got on. he’s going to try to pull her away from the party multiple times that night, but Angel is too polite and too shy to leave early, so Gare is a little pouty about that.

Spark is one of those people who does not care about any holiday ever. but Liam is excited about it, so she’ll play along, because she does care about him. Her costume probably consists of a t-shirt and pants, maybe a hat or a headband, but that’s it. Plunk some ears on her, and she’s the black cat to Liam’s golden retriever. Love attempted to convince her to let her draw some eyeliner whiskers — that went about as well as you’d expect it to.

Peach, our sweet healer girl, borrows someone’s flight jacket and dresses in all black to be a rider. (Dain gets over it when he sees how starry-eyed Sawyer is about this.) Later in the night, she steals the hat from Sawyer’s costume, looking him in the eye while she does. he blushes so hard, nearly choking on his drink, but thankfully these city kids don’t know the rule: wear the hat, ride the cowboy.

Darling is hand-making treats for the occasion, obviously, because she’s extra like that. she borrows a dress and shoes from Love or Duchess and is a ballerina 🥹 (this will make more sense whenever I finally finish one of her chapters… anyway) she’s classy and practical through and through, so she’s wearing tights under. and she encourages everyone to drink water and eat some real food to balance out the alcohol and churam.

Love dresses up as a fairy (because she has Tinkerbell energy). it’s easy enough to put together — a little pastel dress (of which she has dozens) and some wings, which she can make flutter with her little wisps of air. she’d make a dramatic entrance by floating down the stairs. Dain is probably a little anti-Halloween in the sense of it being “impractical” and “for children”, because there is no whimsy or fun allowed in the Aetos household, but when he sees how happy Love is, he’s on board. like Garrick, he’s into the dress and the wings, but he has the restraint not to drag her away from the party.

Sweetheart doesn’t want to stand out too much. she’s probably not going to dress up. or if she did, it would be something simple. maybe she’s another black cat with Spark — Liam plays that sunshine role for both of these withdrawn, “cold” girls. she hangs back at the edges of the party most of the night (with Xaden!) and watches it all unfold.

Sunny is also one that’s stumping me right now. she wouldn’t have any impractical clothes or shoes to wear, so she’d have to borrow something from one of the girls or make something herself. she spends a lot of the time bartending for the party, as she’s experienced in that. Aaric stays closeby the whole time, helping her, even though he has no idea what he’s doing. he probably didn’t dress up — he doesn’t seem very whimsical.

[kckt88]

Rooks Rest & The Silver King.

Summary:

The dragons dance and a Regent is crowned.

Warning(s): Swearing, Dragon Battle, Injuries, Blood, Anger, Resentment, Argument, Smut, Rough P in V sex.

Word Count: 3020.

Author Note: A companion piece to Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye, The Fallen Queen & New Beginnings.

But can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Picture credit: Battle at Rook's Rest by Kamil Winczewski @hive_mind_3ddesigns

Aemond stretched his arms across the bed and panicked when his hand met the cold empty space next to him.

“Vaera” said Aemond as he shot up, looking wildly around the room.

“Husband”

Aemond looked towards the lounge area and breathed a sigh of relief when he spotted Vaera and Rhaegar sitting together, eating breakfast.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” asked Aemond as he clambered out of bed and pulled on some breeches and a loose tunic.

“I didn’t want to disturb you” replied Vaera.

“Daddy. Sit” said Rhaegar patting the seat next to him.

Aemond smiled slightly as he sat next to Rhaegar, who was busy colouring.

“What are you drawing?” asked Aemond curiously.

“A picture for Aemon. Mama said we could put it in his special place” replied Rhaegar.

Aemond took Vaera’s hand and squeezed it tight.

“Are you, ok?”

“I’m ok” replied Vaera quietly.

Since she had almost thrown herself from a window in the Red Keep, it had taken some time for Vaera to come back to herself.

Aemond and Rhaegar were a constant presence by her side. Helping her during her darkest days. Where they would curl up together in their chambers and hold each other until the darkness ebbed.

Even though his ashes had been entered into the great sept. Aemond had a special plaque made in the gardens for Aemon. Despite his desire to be just like his father, Aemon always loved the gardens, especially when he would chase after Rhaegar the pair of them would roll on the grass together giggling.

It gave Vaera a sense of comfort, as she would often spend hours just sitting in front of Aemon’s plaque talking and reading his favourite book.

Her other salvation came in the form of Cannibal.

Her fiercely loyal dragon who gracefully took to the skies with his rider and flew for as long as they both needed too. Sometimes Brightfyre would accompany them, the dark blue scales of Aemon’s dragon shimmering in the sunlight as he broke through the clouds, chirping expectantly at Cannibal who had no qualms about keeping his hatchling in line as he would often throw a customary snarl in his direction.

But the war between the Greens and the Blacks still raged.

Aemond was still no closer to discovering what had happened to Lucerys and the realm was up in arms over the murders of Jaehaerys and Aemon.

Something had to change, Daemon still held Harrenhall and Rhaenyra remained holed up on Dragonstone.

Aegon had grown tired of his grandsire’s inaction and lack of progress, so he removed him from his position as Hand of the King and temporarily promoted Ser Criston Cole instead.

The former Kings guard offered a more aggressive strategy.

One that involved Aegon, Aemond and their dragons. Vaera offered to help but it was imperative that she remain in Kings Landing.

Her Cannibal was the second largest dragon in the world, and he would provide an ample defence should the need arise.

In addition to the dragons Vhagar and Sunfyre, Aegon and Criston marched out of King's Landing with 100 knights, 500 men-at-arms, and three times as many sells words: thus about 2,400 in total. The forced addition of men from Rosby and Stokeworth would have increased this to slightly under 3,000 men by the time they reached Duskendale.

First they reached Rosby and Stokeworth, whose lords were Blacks but had been captured in King's Landing during the initial coup, and agreed to bend the knee in order to spare their own lives. Having secured their submission, Aegon’ s host passed bloodlessly through both castles and even added their strength to his own.

During the sack of Duskendale, Lord Gunthor Darklyn was beheaded for treason. Most of his household knights submitted to King Aegon, although a few loyal knights decided to follow Gunthor in death.

Then they marched to Rooks Rest, where a trap was set for the Blacks.

Lord Staunton closed the gates of Rook's Rest, but he was unable to prevent Criston from burning his fields or killing his smallfolk and livestock. He asked for assistance from Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen by sending a raven to Dragonstone.

Nine days later, Rhaenys Targaryen, the Queen Who Never Was, and her dragon, Meleys, the Red Queen, arrived above Rook's Rest to aid Lord Staunton.

However, Criston was prepared and had his archers and scorpions fire at Meleys. The dragon was largely unharmed by these attacks, and she responded by burning Criston's soldiers with dragon fire.

Meleys was then attacked by King Aegon atop Sunfyre and Aemond atop Vhagar. The aerial combat between the two dragons of the Greens and the one dragon of the Blacks not only saw the death of the Red Queen Meleys but Rhaenys and Aegon were severely injured.

Aemond, Criston, and the surviving Greens took Rook's Rest and killed Lord Staunton and his garrison of one hundred soldiers.

Rhaenys was sent back to Driftmark to recover from her injuries and Aegon was carried back to Kings Landing atop Vhagar with an injured Sunfyre returning to the dragon pit.

The severed heads of Lord Staunton and Meleys were paraded through the streets of Kings Landing in a show of the Greens victory over the Blacks.

Vaera however grateful that her grandmother Rhaenys had managed to survive, did not take too kindly to the treatment of her dragon Meleys.

“You are the rider of the mighty Vhagar, the last living remnant of Aegon’s conquest, how could you desecrate the symbol of our house in such a manner” snarled Vaera.

“I did what needed doing. She would have killed Aegon”.

“But to parade the head of my grandmothers dragon through the streets of Kings Landing as some sort of trophy. It’s sick” said Vaera.

“That dragon was responsible for the deaths of hundreds when she burst through the floor of the dragon pit, the people of Kings Landing need to see their King defending them”.

“Whatever you say Aemond” retorted Vaera as she hauled Rhaegar into her arms and stormed out of the room, leaving an irritated Aemond in her wake.

During the battle of Rooks Rest, Aegon suffered a number of burns and had broken his leg and arm.

He was far too injured to properly serve the realm as its King.

So, the decision was made to crown Aemond as regent until Aegon recovered.

Vaera stood with Rhaegar as she watched Criston place the conquerors crown on Aemond’s head.

As he sat on the Iron Throne, the Lords present lowered themselves to one knee and pledged their support to Aemond Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdoms.

In the aftermath of Rook’s Rest, the Red Keep, had become so eerily quiet. No mindless gossip or laughing children running through the corridors.

No words were spoken as the people of Kings Landing held their breath to see if King Aegon would survive his injuries.

Before this, on the nights when sleep would escape them, when Aemond was still a constant presence in their chambers, the nights when he had been demanding, ravenous and insatiable.

The nights when his slender fingers moved over the soft womanly curves of her body, the nights where he would nestle himself between her thighs and press his mouth against her hot wet cunt, her breathless moans echoing around their chambers.

But those nights were nothing more than a faded memory. Aegon’s injuries, and the deaths of Aemon and Jaehaerys had cast a dark cloud over the Red Keep.

Now, Vaera could count on one hand, the dwindling number of times she had seen her husband in the wake of the Council naming him Prince Regent in his brother’s stead.

Vaera cannot stop the resentment that forms deep inside her as she watches him get dressed.

The scalding wretched blackened thing that slithers and coils in her stomach like a snake as he presses a brief kiss her cheek before he leaves, slipping seamlessly from their chambers like the ghost he was.

She almost despises it, this nameless ugly thing that has robbed a husband from his wife and a father from his son.

This thing that keeps taking and taking, even more still.

The deep-seated resentment continues to grow and fester even as he slips into the bed behind her sometime during the night, pressing his body against hers, before drifting off almost immediately after looping his arms around her.

Sometimes she would remove herself from his grasp and go sleep in the nursery with Rhaegar. Night after night she would lie staring at the ceiling wishing her husband would pay her some semblance of attention.

But the crown weighed heavy and the responsibility even heavier still.

One night after seeing Rhaegar to bed, she finds Aemond sitting silently in their chambers, staring into the fire.

"Husband" said Vaera, watching as Aemond flinched at the bite in her voice.

The urge to snap at him grows and festers like a wound.

Yet before she can utter a word, a flash of crimson catches her attention.

Vaera’s eyes flick to the side briefly to see his crown, the crown that belonged to his brother, placed on top of her vanity table, the ruby twinkling at her as it caught the low glow emitted from the fire.

Vaera stands over the crown, staring down at the blackened metal. Every time she sees it, the uglier it becomes, this relic of long dead Kings, the beginning of the Targaryen dynasty.

It paled in comparison to the crown her grandsire Viserys once wore.

This thing was as dark as a shadow, all consuming, sweeping over the Red Keep and everyone in its path. Leaving no room for the light.

The longer she looks at it, the more she loathes it. This object that has stolen her husband and deprived Rhaegar of his father.

She’d had enough.

“All you care about is that damn crown” snapped Vaera.

“What?” asked Aemond his single amethyst eye widening.

“You heard me. This thing, this ugly disgusting crown. You care more about that, than you do me or your son” snarled Vaera as she took hold of the crown and launched it across the room.

The clang of metal hitting the wall, echoed around their chambers.

“Everything I do is for you and Rhaegar” snarled Aemond as he rose sharply from his chair.

“Yeah right. You’ve been far too preoccupied with those insufferable pricks on the council to even notice me or Rhaegar” retorted Vaera.

“I have a duty to the realm, I cannot fail” said Aemond.

“But you’ll happily fail in your duty as a husband and father” quipped Vaera.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK TO ME LIKE THAT” shouted Aemond his lip curling.

“No how dare you. Ever since that fucking crown touched your head, me and Rhaegar have been nothing but an afterthought to you” snarled Vaera.

“That’s not true”.

“Yes, it bloody well is. Haven’t you noticed that Rhaegar no longer calls for you to read to him at bedtime, or how he never asks you to take him to see Valaerys anymore?” said Vaera.

“I didn’t ask for this” exclaimed Aemond as he wrenched off his eyepatch and threw it on the chair.

“Didn’t refuse it though, did you?” snapped Vaera.

“How could I? Aegon is injured. Jaehaerys is dead, and Maelor is naught but a child. I’m next in line for the throne. I have to be the one to wear the crown”.

“Even if at the cost of your wife and son?” asked Vaera.

“What do you mean?”.

“You don’t care about us. All you’ve ever wanted is that crown and now you have it. I hope it was worth it” said Vaera.

“Worth it?” questioned Aemond.

“It cost Aemon and Jaehaerys their lives. It might even claim the life of your brother and yet you still clamour for it like a desperate child wanting to be fed” said Vaera.

“How can you even say that?”

“Because it’s the truth. Maybe if your grandsire wasn’t so relentless in advancing Aegon as heir, this might not have happened. Aemon might still be alive. Jaehaerys might still be alive and Luke-“ said Vaera.

“-I thought you understood. Aegon is the first-born son, the Throne was his by right”.

“What if I was my mother’s heir instead of Jacaerys? What if I was in line for the Throne? Would you still be saying the same then? Or would you snatch your own sons birth right from under him?” screamed Vaera.

“It’s irrelevant. You are not your mother’s heir. She passed you over in favour of that strong bastard boy of hers” replied Aemond.

“I will take Rhaegar and leave Kings Landing. Leave you and your fucking crown”.

“YOUR NOT FUCKING GOING ANYWHERE” snarled Aemond viciously.

“Going to stop me, are you? How exactly are you going to do that when you barely pay me any attention. I bet you wouldn’t even notice that I’d gone” balled Vaera.

“You will not leave me. You will not take my son” ordered Aemond as he drew himself to his full height and stared down at his wife, his lip curling.

"I will fly my Cannibal across the narrow sea and you will never see either of us again" threatened Vaera as she stood against Aemond, her body pressed against his.

"NO YOU WON'T!"

“I shall and you will never-“ stuttered Vaera as Aemond suddenly lunged forward and pressed his lips to hers.

Vaera ripped herself away from Aemond. Staring at him as she put a hand to her mouth.

The resentment swirling in the pit of her stomach was now morphing into something else. The dormant fire of their relationship was roaring to life once more. Coursing through her body.

One kiss, that was all it took. She needed more. She needed him.

Suddenly Vaera wrapped her arms around Aemond's neck and drew him in back in.

Their kiss was rough and vicious. Consisting of teeth and tongue.

It had been so long since they’d shared any form of intimacy.

Aemond backed Vaera towards the bed, his hands tearing off her shift until it was a ragged mess on the floor.

It was an eruption of frustration and passion. Hands everywhere, grabbing, scratching, and pulling at one another.

Aemond took a brief minute to yank off his tunic and shirt before he shoved Vaera on the bed, her back colliding with the mattress with a soft thump.

His body covered hers as he sucked and licked the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaera moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Aemond pulled away to unfasten his breeches and push them down, freeing his hard cock.

Vaera lay back on the bed, her heart thumping wildly in her chest.

Aemond runs his hand up and down the length of himself, eyeing his wife with an animalistic hunger, a smirk on his lips as she parts her legs for him.

As he guides himself to her entrance, she barely has a moment to adjust before he is pressing his cock forcefully inside and stretching her brutally, causing her to cry out.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond, wrapping a hand around her throat while the other digs into her hip, pulling her aggressively against him to meet each one of his hard thrusts.

Vaera can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaera.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

As Aemond’s hips begins to falter in their movements, Aemond snakes a hand between their joined bodies, his long fingers expertly circling her pearl, causing heat to bloom in her stomach.

He presses down more firmly, making faster movements against her bud making her shudder, as a sudden warmth crashes over her in waves making her cry out, her cunny tightening around him.

“AEMOND!!” screams Vaera as her hands claw at his back.

“Fuck!! baby, that’s it come all over my cock!” growls Aemond as he moves to grab the headboard, bracing himself as he continues to pound his hips against hers.

“A-Aemond” gasped Vaera.

With a loud animalistic groan, Aemond stills, leaning over his wife, his cock pulsating as he spills his seed deep inside her.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” asked Aemond quietly as he observed the reddened marks that littered his wife’s pale skin.

“No” whispered Vaera, the tears rolling down her cheeks.

“Y-Your crying” muttered Aemond.

“I-I’m not crying because I’m hurt. I-I’m sorry for what I said” whispered Vaera as she pressed her face into Aemond’s side.

“Vaera” exclaimed Aemond, wrapping his arms around his wife’s shaking form.

“I would never leave you and take Rhaegar. I just feel like I’m losing you. Ever since Aegon was crowned everything has gone wrong” sniffed Vaera.

“I know” murmured Aemond pressing his lips to Vaera’s head.

“We’ve lost Aemon and Jaehaerys. Luke’s dead and we don’t know if Aegon will recover. Your grandsire said crowning Aegon would prevent a war, but it started one” replied Vaera.

“We had no other option. If your mother took the crown, she would have killed us”.

“Y-You don’t know that for sure” whispered Vaera.

“Yes, I do. Her rule as Queen would never be stable, there would always be discord and calls for Aegon to be King. He is Viserys’ first-born son. In order to secure the throne for herself, she would have to put us to the sword. Then there’s Jacaerys, a known bastard. Do you really think the realm would accept him as King once your mother passed” said Aemond firmly.

Vaera shook her head, she knew what Aemond was saying was right. War was inevitable.

“We need to be together in this Vaera. We cannot be divided any longer” urged Aemond.

“I know” muttered Vaera sadly.

“You and Rhaegar are my sole reason for existing. I would gladly lay down my life if it meant the both of you were safe”.

“No. Aemond” sobbed Vaera desperately clinging to Aemond.

“I just need you to know how much you and Rhaegar mean-”.

“-Love you so much” said Vaera.

“I love you too” replied Aemond.

[akiramona]

Non-human SSO designs dump

Welp--- Today I drew the umm... how I imagine the aliens and extradimensional beings in SSO :> Or I mean... disclaimer xD i CAN'T stress enough how much more i would like to know about the Dark Riders to draw their designs properly IF THEY'RE ALIENS TwT like are they even the same type of alien?? No clue alright--- so i decided to picture how i feel it ^^ i'll make notes to it accordingly--- *cough cough* tada!

Now I know what you're thinking, it's a bit empty, it's a bit muddled because of how small it is--- which is because i made the canvas with the intention to compare the size to something else---

My design opinion for a long time about Garnok was that he is too fleshy of an alien--- if Aideen brought life to Jorvik, she's the embodiment of it... so i decided to redesign Garnok into something really "out of this world"--- a 2D puddle of shapes in a 3D environment :> His generals kind of mimic that design like... they look like their human selves but if you were to put them in a similar environment as Garnok is in, they would start to dematerialise too :D I also noted in the dark riders post that i didn't like that Garnok is so pink (since--- Aideen's magic is also coded in pink so unless they wind up to be the same entity or something like Marika and Radagon and i am making a fool of myself here xD) so i added a bit more colour to him--- like i think it might be that the shapes are starting to catch pink due to Pandorian energy xD

Oh and speaking of Pandoria...

Since Ydris is really the only pandorian we know to date (except for Zee but i couldn't land on good shapes for her ^^) i kinda had to jur reverse engineer this design. Like we know pandorian's have masks and the only creatures we've seen in pandoria were shadow-seekers and those cliché manta rays--- so i added a bit of both to my design... I think i'll be using this as my default for designing pandorians in the future (i have an OC, wink wink, nudge nudge ;3) It is very likely bro will just be a masked humanoid in pandoria, but i really like to think of Pandorians as beings UNRESTRICTED BY SHAPE OR FORM and such xD

I would really love to do something more with these designs i had in my head for a while but erm... this will have to do for now ^^"

I'd love to hear opinions of these--- are they good? are they bad? are they ugly? xD And what's your take on the creature design for them? Idk, i have read neither of the books so... i'd love to hear the take of someone who has and has some inside info on this 👀

[saleemb]

Sabtja; Sabine came back after the altercation with the Soul Riders and MC. (she grumpy guys) I'm so sorry I struggle with drawings recently, so uh... Have this little food, I may draw them soon tho <3 (happy bday lesbians, have two lesbians) --- Katja was lazily running her hand over her violin, the clouds passing and Mortifa peacefully grazing making a good distraction as she patiently waited for Sabine to come back with the fireworks. Katja wasn't really reassured when Sabine told her about MC, her blatant flirting with them, it was... Unusual. She knew Sabine, she'd never have thought of the Dark Rider Malumi being openly flirting with someone, like this. It's after two hours of long wait and battle of thoughts that she finally saw Khaan and Sabine approaching her. "Took you long enough-" She started, a scowl on her face. But she quickly noticed that something was off. Sabine looked a bit... Off, exhausted maybe ? "What in the world were you doing ?!" The Ice Witch suddenly said, standing up from her spot in the grass to force Sabine to get down from that horse. "Hey, hey, calm lil weasel." Sabine snorted, dismounting Khaan gracefully. She quickly took care of the fireworks before making a disgusted face as she touched the sticky cardboard. "Fucking- Those Soul Riders..." She growled, throwing the box away, now totally useless. Katja tried to grab it but quickly understood what was the problem, seeing the soda spill everywhere in the grass near them. "Good job ! I waited 2 hours for you, only because you were flirting with that-" "I wasn't flirting." Sabine cut her immediately, giving her her most intimidating look. And even if it didn't work on Katja anymore, she knew she'd say the truth, at least. "Well, we don't even have the fireworks ! Good job Miss 'I think I can handle everything alone' !" There was a silence before Sabine reached for her saddlebag, rummaging for a few seconds before taking out multiple small bricks of juice, tossing one at Katja. "Shut up and drink, it could've been worse." She rolled her eyes, sitting near the grass spot where Katja was seated a few minutes ago. The other Dark Rider quickly followed and sat besides her, too busy opening her juice to be mad. "I wasn't flirting." Sabine repeated, in a much softer voice, laying in the grass. She had the straw at the corner of her mouth, mindlessly chewing on it. "Does it bother you ?" "... Nah" Katja replied without much hesitation, sipping her juice like a small bird. "Who am I to be concerned about your love life ?" She mumbled, laying besides her. "Who you are..." It actually made Sabine think, her red eyes shifting from the clouds to Katja's face. That damn face, she could pinch those cheeks for hours. She stared at her for a few seconds before looking back at the sky. "Maybe more than a friend." "A best friend ?" The other woman asked. Sabine shook her head, letting out a sigh she didn't know she was holding in. "Do you even believe in love ?" Katja asked curiously. "Dunno" The muscular woman started, but quickly noticed that it wouldn't be enough of an answer. "I did everything, everything that led us to this, that was for you." Malumi added, Katja fell silent, sipping her juice. "So you love me ?" "Mhm" Katja let out a little laugh before finishing her juice, satisfied. She won, again.

--- (plaise forgive ma bad enlissh :c)

[dailydemonspotlight]

Dormarth - Day 105

Race: Beast

Alignment: Dark-Neutral

September 6th, 2024

Many mythological dogs fall into a set of strangely similar tropes, even beyond just the idea of them having multiple heads, as observed in the Orthrus analysis. One that I find particularly interesting, though, has to be in their common connections to death. Likely stemming from how dogs were, and still are, seen as intrinsically connected to hunting, many dogs in mythology are connected to death, the spiritual realm, and many such things. We've already seen this with the Inugami analysis earlier this week, but another curious example, and a personal favorite of mine, has to be in the Celtic Wild Hunt's goodest boy, Dormarth.

While the Wild Hunt is a demon itself in SMT, its intrinsic connection to death and the afterlife makes it a very curious topic in connection to Dormarth, also known as Dormarch, a hunting hound that joins in during said hunt. Originating in Wales, Dormarth is a beast that accompanies the riders during the Welsh version of the Wild Hunt. The Wild Hunt itself is a common motif throughout many different European mythologies and cultures, with many cultures offering their own spins on the general concept. This, naturally, leads to differing figures throughout the recurring motif, and the Welsh version has its own fair share of unique ideas, with one of them being the collection of souls of warriors to join in on the hunt, and who else does that collection than Dormarth?

The games' recollections of Dormarth are somewhat inaccurate, from what I can tell- for the most part, they paint the dog as being a guardian of the Celtic version of hell, but most actual historical references of Dormarth seem to split that between many other concepts regarding death and the afterlife. In fact, we don't really know much about Dormarth, given that the dog only appears in one passage throughout old Welsh literature, being in The Black Book of Carmarthen. The name Dormarth is also rather controversial, as the original text is somewhat fragmented, missing a letter in the name that could be either Dormarch or Dormarth, both of which carrying wholly different meanings. To quote the only reference we actually have of Dormarth,

My hound is sleek and fair, The best of hounds; Dormach he is, who was with Maelgwn. Dormach rednose – why stare you so? Because I cannot comprehend Your wanderings in the firmament.

A lot of controversy has surrounded Dormarth for years, but that's beside the point. Dormarth, as a name, seems to roughly translate to mean an 'embodiment of death,' giving light to the idea of Dormarth being just that. Combine that with Dormarth's connection to the dead due to being in the Wild Hunt, a hunt made up entirely of spirits, and one can easily draw a connection between it and Cerberus or other such guard dogs of the underworld. On top of this, though, its connection to death may also be it guiding lost souls to the underworld, or even collecting dead warriors to join in on the Wild Hunt. Language is fun like that, no?

Given that its natural habitat is described as being 'among the clouds,' being associated with the Wild Hunt, it's commonly believed that Dormarth accompanies the Wild Hunt, and observations in the Black Book of Carmarthen by one John Gwenogvryn Evans in 1906 seem to also give a physical description of the hound as being a two-legged dog with swirling fish tails behind it. Its overall role is rather unclear, as I've gone over in extensive detail, but Dormarth does seem to play a rather interesting role in the Wild Hunt overall, whether it be a guardian of the gates of Annwn (the Welsh underworld) or a hunting dog that accompanies the Wild Hunt, to even one that collects new hunters for it. With all of that, though, how's it portrayed in SMT?

I love Dormarth's design, but given everything related to the dog, it's really hard to see where a lot of the elements came from. Like, come on, where's the fish tail? Where are the only two front legs? Why is she bipedal, and why is she a girl? As strange as it is for a Dormarth design, though, I do like how it looks. She is incredibly gender, and I like the spike collar- it plays well into the whole themes of death- and helmet, which ties her (though vaguely) to the Wild Hunt. Overall, a pretty good design, though not one I quite understand for the hound of the hunt.

[inseasofgreen]

CHARACTER PROFILE TAG

Thank you for tagging me @drchenquill and @tildeathiwillwrite!

Rules: Copy and paste the template, fill it out for one or more of your OC's, then post your OC's and the blank template for others to copy and paste.

I'm a bit torn on who to write so I'll do my default and go with Zemorri. Bastard doesn't deserve it as he's made me scrap 7000 words. But I love him still anyway

Name: Zemorri of Pyros

Nickname: Songbird

Kind of being: Zrato (human but with extra pizzazz in their blood)

Age: Early to mid twenties (still trying to decide everyones age)

Sex: Male

Appearance: a tall lean fighting machine He has long black hair falling to about the middle of his back, copper complexion, dark brown eyes. He's been described often a "pretty" as he favors his moms in her looks. His mom being jaw droppingly beautiful and is the pinnacle of beauty standards in the capital. What can I say, she's hot and as such her children are hot. Also has tattoos on both his forearms/hands which are basically script work in Haivra of prayers and rites. All riders of the crown have some form of them. Though more uniquely he has a huge one on his shoulders that kinda wrap around the back of his neck of script work in Haivra, but also included are a sun in between his shoulders with vertical lines going down his back to depict the suning rays, that meet and kinda mingle with small stars and the a moon on his lower back. the sun being for Zhareem, the god who granted Zrato their blood magic, though the moon is more a call to Indiss, who is stark white dragon that young Zemorri named after a myth involving the moon

Occupation: He's a sworn rider of the crown, as well as the king's champion. So basically a dragon rider who kills people.

Family Members: Zevetta (mom), Orahi (step-father), Khara, Xenari, and Nazari (half sisters)

Pets: His dragon Indiss would be the closest. Though that's way over simplifying it lmao

Best friend: He's got two, Ivemaar and Qhuriex.

Describe his/her room: He has actually had two, but I'll go with the one he usually stays in - if he's even home in the first place. It's a chamber on the upper levels of the Dragon Hall. It's decorated in tapestries depicting various parts of Zrato/Irayo history. There's several drawings done by Zemorri, of dragons, friends, family, some scenery form the city. The furniture is pretty much the basics, a double bed, nightstands, a few trunks and a wardrobe, a large mirror, and a small desk and a bookcase. There's a lot of red and orange in the rugs, drapery, and bedding.

Way of Speaking: He's voice is husky and guttural, the later being pretty typical for the citizens of Vultis. He uses a mix of noble and commoner dialect, not always catching that he's doing it. He also speaks his mother tongue, Vuli, the ancient tongue of Haivra, as well as the common tongue. When speaking the common tongue he's a thick vulti accent.

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): He stands tall, not one to slouch over. He speaks with his hands and can get really into it when he's upset/overly excited. He can be a huge grump, but when he's happy he's a jokester. Often has a shiteating grin too

Items in his/her pockets or backpack or purse: Money and the occasional dagger tucked out of sight. He'll carry his dual swords if he feels the need too.

Hobbies: Drawing, going on joy rides on Iniss, drinking, adventuring and causing havoc

Favorite sports: Hand to hand combat if that counts? or if "keep away" counts, though usually that's to annoy or piss off someone

Talents, abilities, or powers: Ambidextrous, can sing well but doesn't like singing, pretty damn good at drawing. He can sense magic and has blood magic in him granting him the ability to tame/command dragons

Relationships (how he/she is with other people): He's relatively outgoing and friendly, though if he's doesn't like your vibe for whatever reason he'll 100% fake being nice only to talk shit behind your back

Fears: The death of those he loves, Failure, Rejection

Faults: Cocky, Impulsive, and depending on how to you look at it; Disloyal

Good points: Brave, Compassionate (for the most part), wants to make the world a better place. He struggles in doing so due to situations where it's his life, or worse those he loves, vs doing what is commanded of him. Which is often cruel and violent, and targeted at innocent bystanders caught between squabbling nobility.

What he/she wants more than anything else: He wants there to be peace, his loved ones safe, and him being free to do whatever his heart desires, with who he desires.

I'm going to tag @storycraftcafe @goldfinchwrites @sunset-a-story @badscientist and open tag!

Template undercut

Name:

Nickname:

Kind of being:

Age:

Sex:

Appearance:

Occupation:

Family Members:

Pets:

Best friend:

Describe his/her room:

Way of Speaking:

Physical characteristics (posture, gestures, attitude): 

Items in his/her pockets or backpack or purse:

Hobbies:

Favorite sports:

Talents, abilities, or powers:

Relationships (how he/she is with other people):

Fears:

Faults:

Good points:

What he/she wants more than anything else:

[blapis-blazuli]

Now listen up

I am obsessed with this man. He's got so many weird details about him and I love (almost) all of them.

First, Slim's original concept fucks. Being an undead cattle rustler out for bull's blood due to being trampled to death is fascinating. I don't know how long it took before someone at Disney cried "too dark" at that backstory, but I'm surprised it was even in consideration given the mostly lighter tone of the final product. More than that, Disney could've had a literal ghost rider among their villains! Had that movie been any good, he might've joined Disney's popular villain lineup, or maybe we could've even gotten a boss battle with him in a Kingdom Hearts game. That's not what we ended up with due to Reasons, though, which is a bit disappointing, but not much you can do about that.

Anyway, onto what we did get.

Before Slim makes his formal appearance, he's only seen in silhouette, on a wanted poster, then in disguise, and is finally fully revealed when he rides in on a bison. He is huge, and I don't mean because he's fat, I mean he's a good deal taller than most of the other characters. He's set up to be someone threatening, to be taken seriously.

And then comes his yodeling villain song.

The moment it's revealed that Slim's yodeling can hypnotize cows, the music picks up and there's a literal rainbow of colors for the rest of his number. As I said, he's a big man, but he's also light enough on his feet to dance and jump on and off any of these cows while not missing a beat in his performance. When the men who got knocked out beforehand come running after him, he doesn't threaten them, he just throws his spurs at a precarious bit of rocky landscape with such force that it falls and blocks the pathway to him. That's more badass than if he did draw his gun on them.

Actually, I wanna talk about the music he performs. The movie's set in Wyoming during 1889, so obviously Slim's not gonna be yodeling A Cruel Angel's Thesis or whatever. They could’ve come up with something original for him to yodel to (which, I mean, they kinda do), but they chose music by composers such as Tchaikovsky and Beethoven, which aren't exactly things you'd associate with the wild west. The obvious out-of-universe answer for why those pieces were chosen is "they existed before the year this is set in, and they're recognized even today," but we've no in-universe answer for why he chose them or how he knows them. Regardless, it's kinda amazing that he knows them well enough to yodel them.

His lair in Echo Mine has an area with some nice furniture in it. How'd this shit get there? Who knows. Anyway, this is where he reveals that he disguises himself to buy up the properties owned by the people he's stolen cattle from, which includes his former employers. Why doesn't he work for any of them anymore? He never directly says. According to him, they didn't "appreciate [his] talents," which means they probably hated his yodeling. I don't blame him for being mad about that because why the hell would you tell someone that? If he's doing the job right and well without hurting anyone, then who cares? The idea that he's moved on to use a skill against the former bosses who didn't like it is kinda great though.

(Side note: a nice, small detail about this part of the lair is the faded branding on the map, which shows that Slim has been doing this for quite a while. Shame that it's not more consistent from shot to shot though. I can't take credit for noticing this myself: my partner pointed it out after I posted a screenshot as a joke on Discord. She's so cool.)

Slim doesn't like it when someone calls his yodeling "singing": he thinks singing is beneath him given the disdain in his voice when he says that's what birds, saloon gals, and children do. No, he considers what he does to be an art. He's not entirely wrong, though: it is an impressive skill, especially since he can yodel to certain classical pieces like The William Tell Overture, Ode to Joy, Ride of the Valkyries, and The 1812 Overture. (Also Yankee Doodle, because, well, American. Also maybe Largo al factotum from The Barber of Seville, but I'm unsure of that one: unlike Slim, I am no classical music expert.) There's no need for him to be quite as defensive about it as he is, but his nephews calling it "singing," saying that might be why his bosses didn't like him, and calling yodeling "silly" is enough to make him get violently angry at them. Man's got issues.

Oh yeah, Slim has nephews. They're triplets named Gil, Phil, and Bill, and they're collectively known as The Willies. Unlike their uncle, they're all blond and thin, so god knows what Slim's unnamed and unmentioned sibling must look like.

Slim also has a bison named Junior. I'm not fond of the whole "he's too fat to ride anything else" angle of that, but I do like that they chose an animal that people are constantly told to not mess with because of how dangerous they are. Slim's not afraid of him: he's got this creature trained to listen when he calls for him. I can only guess that Slim is the one who named Junior, so maybe he also raised him. It would explain why Junior appears annoyed with him but still puts up with having Slim jump on his back and the like.

You know what Slim doesn't have though? Kids. Putting together the disdain in his voice when he mentions children, his seemingly low opinion of saloon girls, his big villain number turning the landscape into a rainbow of colors, the queer history of cowboys, and the prevalence of queer-coding in Disney villains... well, I think you get where I'm going with that.

Moving onto his disguise. Don't ask me why nobody figured out this was Slim sooner, given that his wanted poster shows they have the same facial hair, bushy eyebrows, and bags under the eyes. My best guess is because it's in black-and-white and he's in a different outfit, and unless someone's encountered him before they probably don't know what he sounds like. Anyway, His alias is Yancy O'del (yeah, I know), but the one sign we see him with has both "Mister" and "Esquire" in there.

Having looked this up, I learned a few things. First, having "Mister" and "Esquire" together isn't something you're supposed to do, yet nobody in-universe caught this. Second, in the United States, "Esquire" is a title only used for lawyers, so maybe that's why nobody questioned him - fear of a sudden lawsuit for something or other. Third, "Yancy" was not really a name used back then, or at least not a common one. Why'd he choose that name (besides for the pun)? I dunno.

(Also, where the hell does Junior stay whenever he goes to one of these auctions? The world may never know.)

Slim's final defeat at the hooves/wings/what-have-you of several farm animals is pretty pathetic, even by silly Disney villain standards, but I got to give him credit for not wanting to give up even after his disguise is (literally) blown and while he's stuck in a train's smokestack. I have no idea how he planned on getting out of that one, and whatever it was most likely wouldn't have worked anyway, but I admire his refusal to back down in the face of obvious defeat.

Even in his very last scene we see him struggling with the ropes they tied around him while he's carted off to jail. He does not give up.

Anyway, here he is picking up Small Black Market Dealer Steve Buscemi one-handed like it's nothing. (His name is Wesley, but Slim keeps calling him Mister Weasley. That's right, this movie used that joke before Frozen did.)

And here he is lifting three full-grown cows off the ground before tying them up faster than they can react to it. (The cows have names too, but this post ain't about them.)

He uses his left hand to write and aim his gun and seems just as adept with using it as much as his right, which is cool. (There's no frame with both his face and the gun, so you'll have to trust me on that.)

Speaking of his hands

Look at this huge-ass man and his pinkies, I can't with this dude

Look at that smile, sir, who gave you the right

If there were a whole movie about just these two, I'd watch it, I won't even lie.

I've gone on about this guy for probably too long by this point, so to sum it all up:

Babygirl

[strawberryblueberrypies]

Hi! Welcome to my blog!

My name's what's on the tin, but you can call me SBP!

My blog is primarily Sonic related. Dedicated to my OC's but I really wanted to find other cool OC's hence I'm here!

Expect to see: Sonic, digital art, style mimicking (it's fun!), fondness of less beloved Sonic titles, strong girls and birbs!

I won't engage in negativity, be it towards me, others or the franchise. My focus is on being positive and having fun.

MINORS DNI! I do not want to interact with anyone underage! You will be blocked if you follow me!

I also have a Transformers OC blog! Check it out if you're interested!

Here's a short introduction on my 5 Sonic OCs! Please bear in mind it's a work in progress as I slowly replay the games and learn more! Also yes I was trying to copy Yuji Uekawa's/2000's Sonic artwork.

Name: Heat the Mynah

Species: Babylonian

Related games: Sonic Riders, Sonic Riders: Zero Gravity, Sonic and the Secret Rings (AU because I want excuses to draw Erazor Djinn, Shahra, Erazor again, oh and Erazor)

Extreme Gear: Type-H (Speed type)

Rivals: Amy

Personality: Heat is fun loving and impulsive. She might look like an airhead but she has a cunning manipulative side. She's aware she's cute and often uses her charms to get others to do her bidding. She doesn't use her "powers" for evil but she sure has had Storm bring her stuff at 3AM. Heat also has collectionist tendencies, often keeping stolen treasure for herself instead of selling like the others. Though she loves danger and doesn't seem to have fears, two things make her shake in her boots: certain death and existencial/cosmic threats!

Fun fact: Heat's favorite places to race are Metal City, 90's Boulevard and the Gigan Rocks! Mobius Strip gives her bad memories though.

Name: Mist the Tiger

Species: Indochinese tiger

Home: Sol Dimension

Relevant games: Sonic Rush, Sonic Rush Adventure, Sonic 06 (Maybe?)

Friends: Blaze (Ex-rival), Silver, Cream, Knuckles (Rivals?), Heat (Sorry, Riders is too fun of a concept)

Powers: Water control (Unstable; turns into mist/fog without the Sol Emeralds), Super strength

Personality: Mist is hot-headed and very excited to fight others. She values strength very much and wants to fight anything that moves! Before being defeated, she was very aggressive and selfish but after befriending Blaze she became friendship oriented and affectionate, even if she remains imposing. Mist isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and is very impulsive and restless. In fact she's too much of a meathead to really feel fear.

Fun fact: Her blue gem is a heirloom and is what helps her channel water. It changes color in her super form due to it becoming saturated. It acts like training wheels until she fully gains control over time.

Name: Elegy the Cosmos

Occupation/Species: Goddess of Space

Powers: Teleportation, Psychic communication (she doesn't speak, you can only hear her in your thoughts if she's within speaking range), Dark matter control.

Backstory: Elegy is the Goddess of Space and went to visit Sonic's dimension to stop population overgrowth in his universe eons ago. She spent a lot longer in the dimension than intended, staying away from her Home and gradually becoming weaker as a result. After creating The End she expended all her remaining energy, leaving her trapped. She ventured the universe for millenias trying to regain enough power to go back Home but with so much time passing, she grew to resent the dimension she's trapped in and convinced herself that she has to destroy it.

Personality: Elegy is cold and factual, not caring for lies or manipulation. She focuses on the greater picture, seeing mortals as mere puppets in a greater cosmic theater she's in charge of. She often doesn't understand people and her resentment causes her to seem uninterested in learning about them, but deep down she's still just as curious about their little insignificant antics as she was way back when.

Fun fact: Despite seeming emotionless, Elegy can and does feel emotions. In fact, the white tips of her ears and tail change color depending on what she's feeling at the time.

Name: Poise the Viper

Occupation: L.A.N.C.E. Freelancer

Relevant Games: Sonic Adventure 2, Sonic 06 (Kinda)

Rivals: Rouge the Bat

Powers: High flexibility and speed, Hypnotic smoke

Backstory: Poise is the heir to a rich family with high political power, but due to her irresponsible spending she found herself in massive amounts of debt. With her family unwilling to pay her bills, she had to find a high paying gig. Through her fascination with the Space Colony Ark and Project Shadow, she stumbled upon Lovers Against Nefarious Corporations and Entities, or L.A.N.C.E., a once small and peaceful protest group turned independant organization that's heavily against G.U.N. due to the events 50 years ago. She now works as an agent, being frequently tasked with getting in the way of G.U.N's missions and goals.

Personality: Poise is highly vain, caring a lot about her looks and economic status. She's also very petty. She's sneaky and decieving, hiding the fact she's deeply insecure and in need of external validation with an arrogant and smug mask. She likes to feel wanted and on top of things. She also loves romance and beautiful scenery.

Fun fact: Poise can wear accessories ala SA2's upgrades. She's often tasked with some thanks to L.A.N.C.E's aid during missions.

Name: Umbra the Android

Species: Shadow Android

Relevant games: Sonic Heroes, Shadow the Hedgehog

Allies: Poise the Viper, Invade the Artificial Wisp

Powers: High speed, agility and intelligence. Easy time operating computers. Can't use chaos control but has heightened strength.

Backstory: Umbra is one of the Shadow androids built by Doctor Eggman. The place was found by Poise during a mission and he was retrieved back to L.A.N.C.E. HQ. Upon activation, he was made aware that he was an Android, not the original, and was asked a barrage of questions by L.A.N.C.E. leader, Commander Layla. Her intent was to have him expose through personal account the horrors that happened near the end of Project Shadow, exposing G.U.N. to the public. Despite really having Shadow's memories up until him falling back to Earth, he feigned amnesia, aware that should he give them what they want he'll be discarded just like the original was by G.U.N. 50 years ago. As a result, Layla decided to give him a place to stay in the L.A.N.C.E HQ until he "regained his memory", while also trying to please him due to his high importance. To prevent boredom at being stuck in HQ and possibly help him remember, he was given permission to partake in missions. He was also allowed to customize his body (as long as he uses his original Shadow look during the exposé) and given another top secret L.A.N.C.E project, Invade, to keep company at HQ and help in missions

Personality: Umbra is acutely aware he's a copy of Shadow. Feeling like a "shadow of a shadow", he picked the namd Umbra, his goal being to eventually be his own person. Having Shadow's memories, he's very similar to the original: brooding, serious, stoic, quick to get things done. Where he differs is his attempts to branch out and create meaningful connections, even if he isn't the best at showing affection. He doesn't wish to be alone in the world, aware of his unusual and unnatural circumstance, aware that otherwise he has nowhere to go. Due to his memories, he has tried to create distance from them. But still finds himself feeling rage and grief when remembering Maria and the A.R.K. He hopes to meet Sonic one day, part of him still having that rivalry, part of him hoping he'll be seen as his own person.

Fun fact: Umbra considers Eggman's other robots as siblings. He's melancholic over the fact him and Omega have to fight, hoping to one day be on good terms with him and fight alongside him instead of against.

[manda-kat]

Precious baby Jenna! I think this is the most intentional character design I've ever made. So let me ramble a bit about her.

Jenna is Micah's twin and the two of them are both new dragon riders hailing from a proud family of dragon slayers. While Micah despises the idea of teaming up with a dragon, Jenna actually loves dragons and wants to disown the idea of dragon slaying entirely.

So for Jenna's design, I focused on the following:

Each character has their own signature element, related to the element of their dragon partner. Jenna's element is sky, so she has a lot of blue, she has long flowing hair, round edges, archery as a fighting style, ribbons, and- something I noticed while drawing and decided to emphasize a bit later- a flight-attendant-esque outfit. Like wind, sky, storms and rain, Jenna is a free spirit, but her preppy style implies that she's putting on appearances and not fully embracing that personality.

She is woefully underprepared for this new lifestyle. Jenna has no armor, is wearing a skirt, has little buckle-on shoes with no socks, her hair is down, her bows are in the way. Every utility-based item she has is in the same dark gray featured in Micah's belts.

This basically spells it out that Jenna didn't actually pack that stuff herself and Micah is the one adjusting her gear so she doesn't die. Since she'll be riding a dragon, she is now wearing thick, protective leggings that don't really match the rest of her outfit. She didn't want to bring her weapon at all, but Micah insisted. The bow is dark and has little to link it to her character. It represents the violence that Jenna despises, but like it or not, she must carry and learn to use for the protection of others. The quiver is just thrown around her waist with the only added detail being a bow she added after the fact just to keep it from being depressing.

There is a lot of room to grow. Jenna's final design at the end of her story would be more put-together, confident and prepared for action. Right now she's a teenaged girl trying to live her dream without really knowing the details of that lifestyle and I really think it shows! I hope I design more characters like her.

Bonus for her twin brother's design:

Micah's element is fire, but at this point he won't be flaunting that the way Jenna already is. His hair and cape give a bit of fire imagery, but that's mostly it. Fire is the most dragon-like element and he doesn't want anything to do with it. Red is still his color, connecting him more to that violence that Jenna is running from. For Micah, being able to fight and protect is the most important trait for a person to have and if he fails in that regard, he's nothing. The red is smothering him. It's something he carries for someone else rather than something he owns and wears proudly.

Just like Jenna, he is unprepared. While she forgot essential supplies and dressed for fashion rather than function, Micah remembered his armor and gear. However, the gear isn't suited to him specifically. Everything he is wearing is a hand-me-down from his father and grandfather. Key parts of the golden armor are missing, which implies he couldn't find a way to fit into the whole set and had to just settle for the pieces he could adjust. The sword is nearly as tall as he is and is way too big for him. Instead of finding a more reasonable weapon, he stubbornly sticks to the family relic, insisting that if it worked for the previous generations, it'll work for him.

Micah's round chin and freckles just make him look so young. He's way too much of a kid to realize the severity of being a dragon slayer.

I think Jenna's design has more thought behind it, but I love the twins together. Their eyes match, but their hair and skin helps keep them separate. Jenna is slightly darker, implying a tan. Like she actually goes outside and does things on her own, while Micah hides indoors and avoids actually living. Micah's blond hair matches his mother, but Jenna's hair has red in it, which neither of their parents have, which marks her as an outcast in the family. She's also taller and comes across as more mature than her brother, despite them being twins.

[toruq]

im sending u these ones specifically bc i know ur less connected to ur mc than to anne muhahaha >:333

12. What does your character look like? Which hairstyle and make up do you prefer on them?

13. What is your character's name? Do you wish to change it, if the function ever makes its way into the game?

14. How do you dress your character? Do you coordinate the outfits between Rider and Horse?

and if u feel like it im curious about these:

23. Which Druid Circle do you prefer? Is there a reason for your preference? Is it tied to the Soul Rider of the Circle?

20. What part of the Main Story is your favorite?

11. How many horses do you own in total? Did it use to be more, or are you still missing a few?

04. Which Horse was your first purchase? Do you still own that horse, and what did you name it?

05. Which Horse is your favorite? Do you own said horse, or are you simply dreaming of buying it?

juni you must hate me or something

under the cut because there's so much to answer (mostly about my mc that i neglect so hard)

12. What does your character look like? Which hairstyle and make up do you prefer on them?

ok, here is ida. i draw her based on the old player model but in the new player model she looks a bit different. I use this chunky highlight hair because it somewhat hides the fact that her ears stick out now when wearing a hat/helmet (this pisses me off the most about the new characters). but she used to have this black hair, and of course dark eye makeup. it's a lot like what i do irl

13. What is your character's name? Do you wish to change it, if the function ever makes its way into the game?

Ida Riverwood! I don't ever want to change it. I actually really like it and I'm surprised my kid self was smart enough to choose that

14. How do you dress your character? Do you coordinate the outfits between Rider and Horse?

you can kinda see how i dress her in those pics of her, usually a dark color scheme and yes I coordinate it with the horse. I actually dress her in a lot of sweaters and typically with proper breeches and tall boots and helmet as if it were a regular english outfit irl. I occasionally dress her and her horse in western gear, or use streetwear if she's off the horse

23. Which Druid Circle do you prefer? Is there a reason for your preference? Is it tied to the Soul Rider of the Circle?

you may be surprised, but I like the moon circle just a smidgen more than the sun circle, though they are in close competition. I just love the aspects of both of them, visions & teleportation. I find it so interesting and quite applicable to real life, at least personally, because of how I experience life with PTSD. it is easy to convey my mind through comics about the powers of these circles.

20. What part of the Main Story is your favorite?

oh my, if you can count the storyline in SSL as a predecessor to SSO, i would say Anne's first trip to Pandoria to save Concorde. in SSO, it's surprising but seeing Anne without saving her must have been my favorite. I was disappointed with the actual saving Anne quest, but seeing Pandoria for the first time in SSO was an experience I won't forget, even though I prefer the atmosphere of Pandoria in SSL

11. How many horses do you own in total? Did it use to be more, or are you still missing a few?

oh my. 64. I once sold the green whinfell because i found it so ugly. But I felt so bad and rebought it a year or two ago.

04. Which Horse was your first purchase? Do you still own that horse, and what did you name it?

this little POS, Carrotwinner. I still have him. pic taken just now

05. Which Horse is your favorite? Do you own said horse, or are you simply dreaming of buying it?

can you logically ask me this question Juni?

just kidding, my favorite (purchasable) horse is this little guy, and I'm so lucky to have him. I think he was either the second or third old fjord I bought, and I have three. the white one, and orange thing I also have.

[1000dactyls]

i want to consume your art into my very soul by the way. it’s amazing and you draw them so well!!!

also yeah i love seeing your headcannons and ideas about trans astrid because i feel like we don’t get that a lot in the fandom. it’s very interesting to see how you perceive astrid’s growth as a character from building herself into the most fearsome warrior of her generation and that all being torn down, and how she finally has her girlhood but doesn’t know what to do with it

anyway ty for reading this rambly ask!!

hello i am so sorry for having this sit in my inbox for so long!!!! I really wanted to think of a good response to this ;___; it means a lot that you enjoy my art and how i draw them. I’m still working on aligning the dragon riders’ younger teen selves to how they appear in httyd2, i think, but hopefully drawing more of them will mean that their shape language also begins to come naturally to me…. I HOPE……….

i think trans astrid having 3 fics on ao3 is hugely a shame and the lack of it in the fandom makes me so sad. not that i think a lot of astrid characterizations are the best, anyways… astrid is one of those characters that i think is hard to nail down, in part because canon itself doesn’t really know what to do with her — is she the girl that the hero gets? is she the heart of the team? is she a girlboss? is she a damsel? the series kind of loses itself here trying to answer these questions. but i think the most compelling and consistent narrative about astrid is her coming of age: how she navigates being a member of a community shaped overwhelmingly by loss now faced with sudden abundance

and i think trans astrid in specific is one of the most fun lens you could explore that arc through, in part because you get to explore the httyd-verse with questions like “how are queer people who are not the child of the chief of berk treated” (not that berk, in my head, cares all that much for what bits you’re born with). but if astrid’s most consistent piece of core characterization is her finding her way to adulthood when she hasn’t quite fleshed out what childhood means to her, then giving another layer to her finding out what exactly “girlhood” means in all senses of the word can only be a fruitful experience.

at least, that’s the way i view it! especially since astrid is so much the it girl on berk — except berk’s it girl can’t cook and puts on smudgy dark eye makeup and wears skirts that seem impossible to sit in and reaches up to touch the clouds that always seemed impossible to reach. so in some ways, astrid’s figured out bits and pieces of what girlhood means to her. now she just has to figure out the rest of it

[daphnebowen]

@rinacentral event one: favorites!!

this will basically be a mess of things I've found on Pinterest including comparisons, tweets, drawings, etc so bear with me! (bear? bare? idk anymore English is hard)

image 1: I just think it's funny that rina and rini are compared so much when in my humble opinion rina was MADE for each other. everything in the first three seasons was set up. rini walked so rina could fly.

image 2: imo, the rini and rina comparisons are 🙅🏼‍♀️ not valid because two completely different people, completely different times, completely different relationships yet there are similarities but who lasted longer? who's more intentional and more pure and more everything? rina. thank you.

image 3: tangled is one of my absolute favorite Disney movies ever and flynn rider is my dream guy and comparing them to rina just makes my heart happy. both of their love is so pure and so wholesome it just 😍😍

image 4: this image is 😘 because the way Ricky looks at Gina doesn't change. no matter what she's wearing, what circumstances they're in, his love is so big for her nothing can hide it. fake dating, not dating at all, madly in love, doesn't matter; he's so puppy eyed and over the moon for his girl. and I just love that for him.

image 5: okay I love this one because a) rina chemistry is ON POINT like the soulful stares I'm sorry but b) ASHLYN. she is Gina's sister. her best friend, dare I say it? ash has probably heard so much pining and complaining from Gina about Ricky being dumb, being ignorant, not realizing his feelings or how he was ignoring and hurting her at the time. Ashlyn is Gina's number one confidant, in my mind. and so to have her recognize their look and know, immediately, what is going on is so special to me. so shout out to Ashlyn too!! 💕

image 6: forever. FOREVER. FOR FREAKING EVER. I'm sorry, thirty seconds into meeting each other and one walks away with a lasting impression of unremarkable dam that girl was cool and the other walks away with a gut instinct of maybe this is where I find where I belong. and the way they pulled each other closer UNINTENTIONALLY pulls my heartstrings 💗 and also, the way Gina entered the theater program looking for a home. for a family. and got so much more than she bargained for, and while she did find her friends in Ashlyn and Kourtney and Carlos she also found her home (a sacred kind of home 😌) in Ricky. and while Ricky walked into theater for ulterior motives he ended up finding that home and that family too. and to get all that and more from a minute and a half conversation with someone you've never met before is pure romance to me. watch out Romeo and Juliet 😜

image 7: I loved how Ricky and Gina got closer over season three. because while they started out awkward and near strangers because of ej and everything Ricky had/hadn't done over the course of the last semester you could tell. both of them wanted it back, badly. and they fought for it because you can't deny the incredible chemistry and the incredibly feelings and friendship they have for each other. season 3 was so special in the way you can see them grow closer all the while dealing with their own drama. because even in the darkness of each others problems Ricky and Gina have always managed to find their way back to each other - their light. 💡

image 8: for the longest time I didn't understand the point of "say yes to something that scares you." and really, it was Gina all along! Ricky was absolutely terrified of what his feelings for Gina truly meant (doesn't he say this at some point) and also terrified of losing her if she didn't feel the same. he knew it was going to be hard and he knew he was going to have to fight for it and he knew it was going to be the biggest change, the biggest curveball, life was possibly going to throw at him. but he said YES. he said yes to all that, to taking risks, to exploring something unknown and unexplored before, and that is so so special because while Gina didn't scare Ricky, the idea of her - of rina - did. of what they could be. of what they could become. and after their journey of the ups and downs and lefts and rights and all that life had to throw their way, he said yes. Gina said yes. and I love the way they conquered everything in season four together.

anyways, this was really long and the images really don't mean anything, they just give me an excuse to ramble, so thanks for reading! made event one just in time 🤪 RINA FOREVER! ♾️ ❤️🤍