#I’m on the time to be warriors episode | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

tiredmamaissy · 6 months ago

Text

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode VI

Labor of Love - Part I

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20) featuring Metkayina!Zu’té (29)

Warnings: this shit has zero smut, angst angst angst, did i say angst?, this is so dramatic i'm sorry, expletives, a bit of fluff, pregnancy, cliff hanger, let me know if i forgot anything

Word Count: 8k

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: You are now entering angst town, please buckle your seatbelts and try to enjoy the ride. Jokes aside, GUYS. This chapter…is the most angsty thing I’ve ever written. I’m excited and nervous, and everything in between. There’s a lot going on in this chapter and I just hope to Eywa that I’ve written it in a way that flows and is easy to follow. I’ve had this idea brewing for months, it feels. Now…this shit was over 20,000 words long. That is a personal record and I will not be subjecting you guys to such a monstrosity. Therefore, this is part one of (at the moment) three. I apologise in advance for the cliffhanger, hehe. Also, welcome to my brain, because idk how I came up with this shit.

Synopsis: You didn’t foresee this, Ralak kept you in the dark for the sake of you and your baby’s safety. But now the time has come, it’s all too overwhelming for you to process.

<- Previous-> Next

Ralak never shared more than he needed to when it came to his duties with Tonowari. No matter how much you vowed to keep it confidential. He’s a man of few words, but when it came to his business he kept them fewer.

As much as you knew, his trips inland consisted of hunting and gathering bigger game that most warriors struggled to handle.

There's a few times you can count on one hand that he's come home a little more worn down. Each time you cursed Tonowari under your breath as you helped your mate unwind. You’d insist on knowing what the olo’eyktan had him doing to be so spent and why he had not entirely fulfilled his promise to lighten Ralak of his duties since the mating.

Ralak would be quick to shut you down in the most gentle way despite feeling irritable and sombre. It was always something along the lines of, ‘it keeps you safe, and that is my duty’, and that he’ll ‘discuss it when the time comes’.

It seems the time has come.

Another gloomy night, rain and thunder tear through the sky. These storms are more frequent in this season, as it’s Ewyas way of keeping the balance with the freshwater and seawater ratio for the mangroves.

But tonight it’s torrential. You’re in full bloom, ready to step into your new chapter of motherhood at any moment. The babe sits low in your womb and you’re swollen from what feels like head to toe. The rain isn’t helping with the soreness in your joints.

Ralak is seated next to the crackling firepit, stirring the bubbling stew with one hand and mindlessly rubbing your swollen ankles with the other. Meanwhile you lay snuggled in bed, wrapped comfortably in the thick shawl as you listen to the pitter-patter. It’s peaceful, despite the dull ache in your lower back. Maybe the rain isn’t so bad, after all.

Ta-toom!

The low-pitched sound of the war horn has Ralak's full attention, shredding him of whatever serenity he had in his being. Moving hastily, he stands and darts over to the marui door, slipping into his gear and fixing his largest spear on his back.

The scene unfolding before your eyes is a rare one. You’d only seen him in full gear on the day you first laid eyes on him. The day you arrived here in Awa’atlu. And it brings a sinking feeling to your stomach.

“Ralak… what was that?” You ask nervously.

You watch him aggressively tighten the strap of his tstalsena [knife sheathe; carrier] and chuck a bucket of water in the fire—killing the flame. A precautionary measure. He knows the time has come. He hears your voice but he also hears Tonowari's...

'When the horn sounds… you come. And that…is an order.'

In his head, he’s going through an array of possible responses but there’s simply no time for any of them. Using the frame of the bed to pull yourself up, you slowly come to your feet and waddle towards him.

“Ralak. What is going on?” You ask a little louder, a hand gripping his wrist.

Turning to face you, his hands fly to support your stomach as he looks you deeply in the eyes. Then he kisses you with purpose. Pressing his lips into yours like it would be the last time, forcing himself to pull away to briefly glance down at his unborn.

It catches you by surprise, leaving you looking up at him open mouthed. Now you’re really scared. It feels like he’s being plucked away from your fingers and there’s nothing you can do about it. “Ralak—”

“I will explain when I am back. All of it.” He already sounds out of breath, fixing the shawl over your shoulders. “You stay here. Stay warm. Do not leave. Do not answer to anyone. Understand?”

Your forehead wrinkles as you try to process this all.

Don’t answer to anyone? To whom? Why did he put out the fire? Why is he in full gear? What the fuck is going on right now? He said he’d be back…right?

“Y/n.” He booms your name, yet his tone remains steady and calm. “Understand?”

You nod hurriedly, “Yes. Yes.”

“I will be back soon.” He fixes your shawl a last time before stepping back and bolting through the door.

You follow behind him, keeping the marui flap open to watch him click for his skimwing. He makes the bond and mounts the beast hastily, and is airborne soaring towards the mainland at full tilt.

Befuddled, you waddle back inside, your back slamming into the marui stilt as you huff and puff to catch your breath. You nervously check the stew, and see that it’s almost done. The glowing charcoal should be enough to finish it off, so you opt to leave it covered and fidget with the prrsmung [baby carrier] you've weaving for the past couple days.

Anything to keep you busy.

——

Ralak effortlessly dismounts his tsurak, letting it glide past him in the water as he climbs up to the communal pod. This is a gathering place for important meetings and announcements to the clan. He watches as others assemble under the larger, woven marui, drenched with the water of the sea and sky. It’s clear that this was a signal for the warriors of the clan, from the elite, to the former. The young and the old.

Even Zu’té is present, standing lone far off in the corner.

War horn in hand, the olo’eyktan makes his presence known as he stands on the highest part of the pod. His mate, the tsahìk, stands next to him with her chest high and their children next to her.

Jake and Neytiri, along with Lo’ak and Neteyam, group together behind them at the back of the pod, observing the unfolding scene. The warriors begin to chant, defensively positioned with their tongues on display. They’re all armed and ready to protect their own from whatever the impending threat is. Ralak takes his place next to Tonowari, standing tall and still. He observes the uproar before him, his mask of indifference fixed tightly to his face.

“Mawey. Mawey. [Calm. Calm.]” Ronal speaks loudly over the heavy rain, hands splayed out in front of her.

But it makes no difference.

The uproar is growing even louder than the downpour. It was rare to hear this particular horn. It’s been years, ten, to be exact. And those who know exactly what it means are up in arms. Ralak knew this day would soon come, but he was hoping to Eywa that it would be after the birth of his son. Tonowari lets loose a throaty ‘gwah’, driving the butt of his spear into the ground. The crowd hushes down into a dead silence, acknowledging their leader.

“Warriors of Awa’atlu. I summon you for good reason. Ten years have passed and it is time to meet with the ash people once more.” Tonowari begins, only for the younger warriors to mumble among themselves, some of who are unaware of who the ash people are.

“Tìfnu! [silence!]” Ralak snaps through his teeth, “…the olo’eyktan speaks.” Tonowari nods to Ralak.

“The treaty has ended. We meet with them far inland to discuss the terms of a new treaty.” Tonowari’s eyes bounce among the sea of na’vi. “It will be no easy or short journey. We must make the trek by foot. Tonight.”

A few male na’vi are unable to keep their excitement to a minimum and siren a few calls, smacking their strakes together. Neytiri snakes her arm around Jake's upper bicep, tucked under his wing. Neteyam and Lo’ak listen intently, their heads tilted down as they grip their bows firmly.

“Not all will come. I have chosen a few to be at my side.” Tonowari glances at Ralak, and then the Sullys before continuing, “The rest must stay and protect the clan if needed.”

Ronal interjects, speaking of the ash na’vi and their horrid way of living—from their occasionally cannibalistic diet to their view of Eywa and the balance. She further reminds the people of the treaty, and that its tenets include immunity from their ‘hunting practices’ in exchange for a resource only attainable on the reef. The treaty is valid for a decade and then the terms are subject to negotiation based on the two tribe’s needs. She commences it by announcing the names of those who have been chosen by Tonowari.

“I need you by my side, Ralak.”

It was a direct order, and Ralak knows that. He knows that no matter what he says, the olo’eyktan’s order must be obeyed. But it doesn’t mean he won’t try.

“She is due any day now. You know that.” Ralak speaks crystal clear, stating exactly what his concerns are.

He doesn’t want to leave you alone, especially so heavy and full with his firstborn, who will come at any moment. Every bone in his body is telling him it’s the wrong move. But Tonowari glances at his own wife who is swollen with his fourth child.

“I know. I know, Tak. But we must do what we need. For the people.”

Ralak holds a stare with his superior—his father figure. He’s gritting his teeth to keep himself together, to keep his composure. To keep his thoughts just as his thoughts. The two communicate through facial expressions, and a quick tilt to Tonowari’s head has Ralak looking away in frustration.

It’s final.

“No.” Jake butts in, sharp and quick with his disapproval. “He gave me his word.”

Alas, a moment where father and son in law are in favour of the same thing.

“You have the sky people and we have the ash people. They demand his (Ralak’s) presence. If we fail in this, we will be at war. He comes with us.” Tonowari is stern with his tone, leaving no room for an argument.

“Ma’ Jake.” Neytiri chimes in, fright evident in her voice. She is tired of the war.

As a last resort, Ralak’s gaze shifts over to Zu’té. He knew Zu’té would also be chosen despite his...'retirement'. He was undoubtedly one of the best warriors the clan has ever had, wielding great strength and skill. Zu’té returns the stare, crossing his arms over his chest as he cocks a brow. Their brothership had strengthened after Ralak sought help.

Jake notices this, and shakes his head with his hands on his hips. “Nope. No. Who is that guy anyways?”

“My brother.”

“His brother.”

The two taller na’vi speak at once.

“Since when do you have a—You know what? I don’t care. Okay? You? I trust. Him? Not so much. I’d rather my boys stay with her.” Jake says sternly, glancing at Zu’té. “No offence, bud.”

“Good thing I care not for your opinion, koaktan [old man].”

“Zu’té.” Ralak whispers harshly, throwing a glare at his sibling.

“Look, if you got a problem—”

“What about tuk?” Neytiri cuts her mate short, tugging at his arm to remind him of who is watching their youngest daughter.

“Then they take turns or somethin’, I’m not havin’ one baby girl watched and not the other.”

“Toruk makto.” Tonowari lays a heavy hand on the former olo’eyktan's shoulder, drawing him away to break the tension. “They cannot step foot on our land with the treaty. She will be safe. Trust me…” Their voices drown out from the pounding downpour.

As they go back and forth, Ralak begins to process what Tonowari said.

‘They demand his presence’.

Tonowari had made this meeting the topic of conversation over the past few weeks, preparing him for this. But he never mentioned anything about them demanding his attendance in particular. The last meeting with the ash people happened when Ralak was a very young warrior, long before his iknimaya.

Back then, Tonowari had a different warrior at his side—a different right hand. She was strong and well known for being patient with her students. It was a frequent story at family dinner when Tonowari and Ronal took Ralak under their wing. And as Ralak became Tonowari's right hand man, he was thrusted into enforcing the tenets of the treaty, going inland with Tonowari to uphold the clan's part.

Ralak has only caught a glimpse of them once after delivering the resource to the agreed spot. He had just started these excursions with Tonowari, and his curiosity got the best of him. He looked behind him for just a moment, and caught the sight of a curvy, grey woman hastily gathering and stuffing everything into a satchel of some sort.

Her stripes were a deep, ashy blue, and her skin seemed almost scale-like. She was rid of any bioluminescence, as if the light within her was gone, and her hair was matted with what looked like burgundy clay. Tonowari then seized the back of Ralak’s neck and shoved him along, advising that he never looks.

“It is decided. Neteyam, Lo’ak and Zu’té stay.” Tonowari announces as he and Jake rejoin the group, looking at those who are left—Tonowari, Neytiri and Ralak. “We leave soon, make your arrangements.”

Ralak knew his last few words were directed to him. With that, Ralak strides towards Zu’té. “I know what I am asking of you, Zu’té—”

“I will do this for you.” Zu’té turns to face Ralak, who’s undeniably uneasy and concerned.

“Protect her.”

“You protect her. Get in and get out of there, baby brother.” Zu’té speaks, extending his hand out to Ralak. Ralak nods firmly. He’s right, your safety, along with the rest of the clan’s, depends on how this all plays out.

“Oe irayo si ngaru [I give thanks to you].” Ralak's hand meets Zu’té’s forearm with a smack. They tug back and forth a bit, silently wishing each other luck on their own endeavours before setting off on their skimwings.

They arrive, walking with haste along the beach towards the stairs to Ralak’s marui pod in the pouring rain.

“That’s...interesting.” Zu’té makes a comment about the railings for the stairs.

“She has a hard time without it.” Ralak responds, stopping at the bottom step, coming to the quick realisation that this man will essentially be replacing him for the next few eclipses. “She may need help using them.”

Zu’té nods, understanding what he really means. “Do not fret, brother. I will take care of your mate.”

Ralak releases a shaky breath as they make their way to the patio, finding shelter from the rain.

“Wait here.” Ralak speaks with his back turned, “I must speak with her first.”

——

A torturous hour has passed, and you’ve burned circles into your marui floor from pacing so much. He’s taking longer than you’d expected, and worry is really starting to set in now.

What’s going on? What did that sound mean? Why did he leave in such a rush? With all his gear, too?

You gnaw at the calloused piece of skin on your thumb, keeping a warm comforting hand on your bump to keep your kicking babe calm. Regardless, he continues doing somersaults in your womb.

Fuck it.

You rush towards the marui door where your gear hangs, and fight with the strap of your chest piece to slip it on you. It won’t fasten and it’s simply too tight to fit your body right now, but you continue to grapple with the stupid strap with shaky hands.

“Tanhì.” Ralak’s voice is rough and he sounds winded. “What are you doing?” He rushes over to you and quickly removes the piece off your chest.

“Ralak—oh, thank Eywa.” Your voice is shaky, but thick with relief. “I’m sorry, I just got s-so worried.”

“We must speak. Time is going.” Ralak carefully ushers you over to the bed, and assists you in sitting down, holding your swollen belly along the way. He takes note of his active child, feeling his little kicks and pokes. He comforts his young with a few strokes to your stomach. “Shh-shh, little one. Alright.”

He knows this whole ordeal must be stressing you both, and he’s really regretting not telling you all of this sooner.

“What do you mean?” You ask, urgency thick in your voice.

Ralaks demeanour is nothing short of solemn, tensed jaw and tightened lips. It seems serious, and this man is no person to jest on such matters.

"Ralak...What is happening?"

He takes a moment to reply, his gaze fixed on his hand that still lays firmly on your stomach. He then looks up at you, concern etched into his features. “It is time to speak about… my duties with Tonowari.”

You feel your heart thud against your ribcage, your eyes widen at the words. You’ve been eager to know, but now that he’s telling you, it implies that everything isn’t alright. It implies… the safety of your unborn is compromised. You nod slowly, trying to remain calm for the sake of your son.

“We reef people hold a peace treaty with another clan…” the giant begins, slipping his hand from your stomach to clasp yours tightly. “…the ash people.”

“Ash people?” Your voice is less than a whisper, tiny and croaky.

“They are a horrible people, tanhì. Truly wicked. Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted]. Much like the sky people.” He shakes his head as he mutters the words, not even wanting to go into any more detail. He didn’t want to taint your innocence. To stress your mind. Especially now that you’re heavy with his child. “The treaty keeps them off this land. It keeps you safe.”

“Kawnglan [malicious; bad hearted].” You repeat through a gasp.

“To them, Eywa is nothing. Tsaheylu [the bond] is for control. Their diet…” Ralak catches himself, bringing his words to a halt.

“Their diet…?” Your bottom lip trembles.

Ralak just shakes his head, taking your other hand with his. “The treaty will soon end. I must go. Tonight.”

“What?!” You shout, wrenching your hands from his grasp to quickly stand up. A shooting pain sears up the side of your stomach, and your hand flies to clutch it. Ralak rushes to steady you.

“Careful, y/n.” He snaps, high strung and tense. “I will be back in a few eclipses.”

“What? No! No, no. It’s too dangerous.” You protest, gripping his wrists to stay standing.

“It is the olo’eyktan’s orders. I must.” He’s quick to respond to you.

This quietens you. Does Tonowari not know that you’re due any day? Or perhaps he doesn’t care. How could he rip your mate away from you at this time? Especially for something so…risky. You feel your fear bubble into something more hot.

Anger.

“Then I’m coming.” You announce, dropping your hands from his wrists to waddle over to your gear once more. Ralak stands in front of you, hands on your stomach to stop you.

“No. You're staying here.” Ralak orders sternly, backing you up to sit back on the bed.

“No. I’m coming. I’m safer with you.” You resist his pushes, trying to stand firm.

“You are heavy with child.” He grits his teeth, giving you another light push, “I cannot protect you there. You—agh—you are safer here.”

Ralak makes the confession, feeling like he’s failing at his duty as your mate. He shouldn’t even be leaving you, not when you're this far along. He should be by your side, tending to your every need.

“What? By myself? What if—what if something happens? What if the baby—” You’re cut short by the sound of Zu’té’s not-so-reserved entrance. He yanks the marui flap to the side, ducking under it and standing tall behind Ralak, by just a couple inches. He, too, is fully equipped with his gear and weapons.

“Brother. I can hear the war party.” Zu’té speaks with haste, keeping his eyes locked onto Ralak.

'Brother?' Your eyes snap back to Ralak, beady and full of tears. “You didn’t.”

It quickly dawns on you that Ralak had planned this out. Made these arrangements in anticipation things went south and he had no say in the matter. To ensure your safety, and the safety of your unborn by going to the greatest length of rekindling a flame that had been extinct for twelve years. Ralak has spoken casually of his brother before, but never in any great detail.

“Y/n. This is Zu’té, my brother. He will keep you safe.” Ralak speaks with shame in his voice, knowing this must be way too overwhelming for you. He hadn’t planned for it to go like this.

Zu’té finally allows his eyes to wander over to you. They widen when they get their first proper look of you, darting all over your body to take in your foreign features.

He caught a glimpse when your family first arrived in Awa’atlu, but never this close. His eyes land on your bulging stomach, lingering a second too long to make even himself a bit uncomfortable. He clears his throat and looks back at Ralak.

You look at Zu’té with anger in your eyes, and then back at Ralak as they begin to swell with hot tears. Zu’té tries to make himself smaller, feeling the thickness of the air now. He backs up into the marui flap, tempted to lift it and walk himself outside to relieve some of the pressure.

“How long did you say this would be f-for? What if I go into labour? Will you really allow another man to deliver our son?”

Zu’té quickly but silently excuses himself from the room, taking a spot on the patio with his arms crossed over his chest, pinching the bridge of his nose. ‘Oh, Toto. What have you gotten yourself into?’

Angry, you shot the words like an arrow and they pierced your mate’s chest with ease. He grimaces, as if he were actually in pain.

“I-I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I—” You sob the apology, burying your hot face into your hands.

Ralak embraces you, wrapping his large arms around your body, hugging you close and tight. He sways a little with you, humming deep in his chest. “‘ts alright. You’re okay. Take a breath. I know this is frightening.”

He understands—it is not uncommon for a navi pair to remain close during the final weeks of pregnancy. It’s an unconscious mechanism, keeping them together for the birth of their offspring. Ralak feels it just as much as you but in order to truly protect you he must go— another thing that he understands.

“You c-come back to me, o-okay?” Your breath won’t stop hitching. “Come as s-soon as y-you can.”

“I will, I will. ” He coos, pulling back enough to look down at you. “Mawey, tanhì. Strong heart. For our baby.”

You nod, lifting your head to look up at him. He sees the terror in your eyes and his heart breaks with guilt. He gently presses his forehead against yours, slowly stroking your back.

“Nga yawne lu oer, nga yawne lu oer. [I love you, I love you]” He whispers longingly as he closes the distance between your mouths.

“Nga yawne lu oer [I love you]. S-So much.” You sputter, lips trembling against his.

He kisses you with force, pressing his lips into yours until it almost hurts. You both linger there, not wanting to part ways. But you feel him pulling away, knowing there wasn’t much time left. Instinctively, cling onto him when his lips leave yours.

“Please don’t go.” You mumble into his chest, knowing that he has no choice.

“I have to, my tanhì.” He mutters as he begins to pull away before letting go completely.

You follow behind him, thumb in your mouth as you nibble at the skin, hand resting on top of your bump. You watch him call for his tsurak for a second time tonight, and look back at you for a moment. He takes in the sight of you standing next to his older brother, trying to find comfort in knowing that you’re in safe hands. Ralak gives him a nod and mounts the beast, taking off towards the war party.

Leaving you in the presence of Zu’té.

“Y/n, is it?” Zu’té asks, already knowing the answer.

It’s awkward and he doesn’t do well in these types of situations. He knows comfort is what you need right now, considering you’re now sobbing into your hands again. You’re worried sick. Literally. It’s all making you feel woozy and lightheaded.

“Listen...” He goes to rest a hand on your upper back, but he hesitates, leaving his hand to hover. He retracts it completely, allowing it to fall back to his side. He sighs, droopy ears and tensed brows. “He will return soon.”

Among all the emotions that cloud you at once, anger still remains roaring at the forefront. You find yourself turning your heel and ignoring his presence, waddling away as fast as your swollen feet will allow it.

“Leave m-me be.” You spit between hitched breaths, ensuring the flap of the marui door shuts harshly behind you.

Despite feeling sympathy for you, Zu’té stands outside, finding solace in being alone. He chooses the driest spot, and sets himself up on the patio, getting ready for the stormy night ahead.

You waddle in to bed, wrapping yourself in the thick shawl that smells like your mate, and lay next to the prrsmung [baby carrier] you still have yet to finish. Feeling defeated and empty, you lay on your side in bed as you process everything, letting silent tears crash onto your bed.

——

You’re not entirely sure at what point in the night that you drifted to sleep, but you wake up in a groggy state. Dried tears make it hard to open your eyes, and your hair sticks to your face. You look around in a daze and realise that it’s still dark outside.

The pang in your bladder keeps you awake and forces you out of bed, making you wobble to the curtain. You pull it back and are met with the sight of Zu’té sleeping propped up against the marui wall with his spear tucked to his chest.

Seeing him painfully reminds you of the heart wrenching events of last night. That even though you were hoping and praying to Eywa for it all to be a bad dream—it was all very real.

An icy cold breeze gusts by, making you shiver under your shawl and Zu’té shift in his sleep. The rain had eased off into a light, continuous drizzle some time during the night.

Your ears droop with guilt for leaving him out here in the cold, damp night. You let out a sigh and grip the railing to the marui stairs, turning your body sideways to take your first step down. The wood squeaks when it takes your weight, Ralaks usual tell tale sign that you’re sneaking out at night without his help.

It seems to work for Zu’té too because by the time you reach the second step you hear a raspy voice.

“I was told you need help with these.” Zu’té offers his hand. You let out a sigh and take his arm.

You’ll admit, his helping hand is actually helping, especially now that you’re so far along.

“Irayo [thank you].” You mutter, holding on tightly as you make your way to the bottom step. Zu’té leans against the railing, waiting for you to finish your business.

You don’t take long, most trips recently have been false alarms—just the baby pushing on your bladder because he’s so low down. As you make your way back to the stairs, your lower back begins to warm up. It radiates to your upper and inner thighs, making them ache as you walk.

It’s nothing new, aches and pains are becoming more frequent as the days pass, and the cold certainly isn’t helping. Zu’té meets you at the bottom step with an extended elbow, and you take his arm without a second thought.

It starts to rain again, hard. The temperature easily falls by a few degrees and all you want is to be inside the warmth of your bed right now. Your feet move at a quicker pace and as much as Zu’té tries to be gentle as he can, his grip tightens.

“Take your time.” He says, keeping you steady as you reach the top step.

Once you get to the door, he immediately lets go of you, stepping aside to take his spot on the patio for the remainder of the night. You pull back the marui flap but find yourself hesitating to step inside. You look over your shoulder, watching Zu’té tuck his spear close to his chest and prop himself against the wall.

“Zu’té.” You say. He looks at you, brows raised as he listens. “It’s cold out here. You should come—”

“Don’t worry about me.” He cuts you short, closing his eyes.

“I’m not.” Your words are quick and almost defensive.

Zu’té chuckles a bit, if you could even call it that. “Sounds like you are.”

You sigh, getting a little irritated. “Whatever.”

“I’ll be alright out here.” He says nonchalantly, opening his eyes to look directly at you. Your heart skips a beat and you feel the blood drain from your face. You thought Ralak was intimidating, but this guy is something else.

“Sure.” It’s awkward, but a good awkward…if that were a thing. “Night.”

“Wake me if you need me. No more sneaky shit.” He’s muttering now, ready to go back to sleep. “And get some rest.”

You hold back your laugh, a little amused by the stark difference in his personality and Ralaks. How are they brothers? Or related, even?

“Will do, sir.” You match his sarcastic tone, entering the marui and laying down in bed, hoping to Eywa that sleep will find you soon.

——

Village life continues despite Ralak and the others' absence. You wake up earlier than usual, despite the exhausting circumstances. Your baby moves, letting you know he’s awake too.

“Daddy will be home soon.” You reassure your babe, gently rubbing your stomach.

Perhaps you were also reassuring yourself.

You feel empty, and numb. And as much as you want to lay in bed all day and wait for your mates return, you still have a few things left to do before your son’s arrival.

First thing being, getting some food in your system.

You get ready, and walk outside, noticing that Zu’té is no longer in his spot.

He wakes early.

Looking out into the distance, you catch sight of Zu’té crouching next to a small flame, cooking what seems to be squid. It’s hard to be sure of what it is—the sun hasn’t fully bloomed, and though the rain has stopped it’s still a bit gloomy. You make your way over to him, taking extra care when going down the stairs.

“Morning.” You say nonchalantly.

Zu’té’s ears spring up and he looks behind him—behind you—directly at the stairs. His brows lower and he sighs quickly, knowing there’s no point in making the comment. He looks back at his task, turning the slightly charred squid impaled by a sharpened branch.

“You’re up early.” The giant states, back turned to you to reveal his insanely intricate tattoo.

“Same to you.” You respond, staring at his back hard enough to burn holes into it. You see some scarring and thickened skin, presumably from his days as a warrior. That much you knew because of Ralak.

“Squid. Help yourself.” Zu’té says, handing you a stick of burnt squid.

Taking it from him, you hold it in front of your face, a little baffled at how he seemingly saw nothing wrong with it.

“Hm…thanks. Looks…well done.” You try to force a smile, to no avail.

You try to take a seat next to him, struggling to keep your balance as you lower yourself to your knees. His ears lay flat and he instinctively springs to his feet, helping you sit down. He didn’t think you’d join him here.

It’s silent. Uncomfortably silent. And awkward. You keep your extremities close and your tail closer, curled up in on yourself to remain as small as you can. Although, in comparison to your mate's brother, you were tiny.

He’s not taller by much, but still taller nonetheless. It really makes you wonder how their parents looked for them to turn out this way.

Zu’té eats hastily, shovelling the squid in his mouth as if it had the ability to slither away. It makes you look back at your own serving and suddenly your nerves go haywire. You didn’t want to risk getting sick, your bedside bucket is too far away to fetch. But you didn’t want to be rude—he’d obviously woken up early to make this for you.

You take an experimental bite and fight for your life to keep a straight face. You exaggerate a nod and cover your mouth with your hand, hiding the way you're smacking away at this blubbery piece of meat.

“Mm. Mhm.” You grunt, forcing it down and clearing your throat. “It’s—uhm, it’s not—”

“I am no ‘emyu [cooker].” He says, chucking his cleared stick into the fire.

“Ahem—yeah. Yup.” You twirl the stick between your pointer finger and thumb, bringing his attention to your five fingered hand. His eyes widen a bit before quickly looking away, and you tuck them back in between your thighs.

“Thanks for breakfast.”

“Sleep well?”

You both speak at the same time, unintentionally clearing the tension in the air.

“I suppose, all things considered.” You try to speak lightheartedly. “And you? Did any part of you freeze?”

Zu’té laughs and shakes his head. “No, not quite.”

“Well, that’s good.” You say, looking out at sea to witness the sun's emergence. It casts an orange hue over the water, illuminating the ripples of the oncoming waves.

He’s watching it too.

“Your tattoo.” You speak softly, witnessing his ears flutter. “…on your back.”

“Ah. What of it?”

“What does it mean? I mean—” You stutter, still adapting to the idea of inking being a symbolic statement. “What’s the story behind that?”

The story replays in his head—the death of the spirit brothers and family. It flashes before him, as if he were in that moment again. The guilt and pain inside him is eternal, something that’s never left him since. He’s never spoken of it, not even to the person he hurt the most through it all—Ralak.

His ears pin back and his jaw tightens. He shrugs his shoulders and mutters, “Felt like it.”

“So…you’re telling me you did that, for fun?” The surprise is evident in your voice as you look at the tattoo again. His skin is raised and it spans the entirety of his upper back. “That must have been really painful. Ralak did mine and it took days.”

“Didn’t hurt.” Zu’té says, turning his body to you yet keeping his eyes on the sun. But it did. It hurt—a lot. Self inflicted pain, to symbolise the pain he inflicted on others, even if it weren’t his intention.

Maybe they are brothers. You think.

“You going to eat that?” He asks, interrupting your train of thought, pointing at your squid on a stick.

“Uhh—I’m going to pass.” You answer, offering it to him, “…sorry.”

“Again. Not a ‘emyu [cooker]” He takes it gladly, biting off a decent chunk and chewing at it unbothered with a deadpan expression.

Nevermind.

Now the silence isn’t as awkward. You choose to sit here a while longer, enjoying this moment as much as you can before coming back to reality. The reality that there may be a war brewing. That—

Ralak isn’t here.

Well, that didn’t last long.

Sadness washes over you, making your ears droop and your tail heavy. Your baby gives you a sudden, hard kick in the ribs, as if he were telling his mummy to cheer up. You uncross your legs and shift your weight to the one side, getting ready to get up and be productive.

Zu’té seems to take note of that.

“Need to get up?” He asks, chucking yet another stick into the fire.

“I got it.” You grunt, shuffling to your knees.

Zu’té lets out a displeased grumble, understanding what his brother meant when he said you have a stubborn streak. He goes to help you anyways, supporting you by the elbow.

You’re just about standing when you feel a sharp stabbing pain in your back. It makes you jolt and grab onto Zu’té, whose slight irritation instantly turns into concern.

“Y/n.”

“I’m good, I’m good.” You repeat out of breath, steadying yourself before letting go. He seemed unsure if you really were okay. “Really. Happens all the time now.”

Zu’té nods, letting go and giving you a little more space. “Alright.”

——

The meeting spot is no other than the ‘head quarters’ of the ash people. It is only on this occasion that another clan may step foot on their land and walk away with a beating heart. That is, if all goes well. Tonowari is confident, however, knowing that the resource they provide the ash people is sufficient enough to prolong the treaty for many decades to come.

It is an ore that forms deep underwater, and can only be extracted by the most skilled divers. Divers that can hold their breath for up to half an hour. The use of this ore remains unknown to the reef people, but the ash people are quick to seize it almost instantaneously at the drop off point. The ore is plentiful among the reef, renewing itself as it is harvested—the act of the great mother restoring balance as needed.

Truth be told, although the reef people are a peaceful people, it is no secret that they hold some of the strongest warriors on Pandora. They are proud of their home, and will fight to protect it at all costs. Even the ash people know this. Which is the reason for their agreement on something as laughable as a ‘peace’ treaty.

Otherwise, what’s really to stop them from annihilating the reef people and taking the ore themselves?

Ralak meets with the others—Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri, and Ronal. They all set off far inland to the place the two clans met ten years ago. The trek is long and tiresome, leaving Ronal winded and in need of a couple breaks along the way. She is, too, heavy with child, but as tsahìk, she perseveres. Tonowari had tried to convince her several times to stay home, but she wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“We are here.” Tonowari announces as the group nears the settlement of their natural enemy. It’s a rocky environment, much like the reef but with plenty of soil and clay. “Heads straight. Ignore them.”

——

Zu’té stays nearby the marui as he tends to some of Ralak’s duties, keeping an eye on you from afar. You sit comfortably on the bottom step of the marui stairs, concentrating on finishing your baby’s sling. Your fingers are a little swollen, making it more difficult to weave. Frustrated, you plop the sling to your side and bury your face into your hands.

Everything is just too overwhelming right now.

“Your technique is poor.” Zu’té’s voice booms over you.

You look up, seeing this tall man with his hands on his hips tower over you, shading you from the sun. “Excuse me? I’ll have you know that I have plenty of knowledge on—”

“This is a prrsmung [baby carrier], yes?” Zu’té picks up the sling and sits himself next to you, searching for the point in which you left off.

You watch intently, intrigued to know his next move. He carefully unravels all the wefts you’ve managed to do since sitting on this damned step.

“What are you doing? Stop!”

Zu’té sighs and demonstrates a weaving technique you’ve never seen before, entwining and knitting the fabric until it comes together in an even neater fashion. You look at him in awe, dumbstruck that he was able to do that. Ralak dislikes weaving, in fact, he loathes it.

“Try it.” He says, plucking the fabric away from itself to unravel it once more before handing it back to you. You hesitate to take it, caught off guard from his unexpected, skilled movements.

“My fingers are swollen.” You say, feeling defeated and a little embarrassed. He looks down, noticing your five-fingered hand again, not nearly surprised as last time.

“Not as big as mine.” He tries to hand you the sling again. “You got it.”

Reluctantly, you take the sling and slowly mirror his movements, replicating the technique perfectly.

“See?” Zu’té sounds pleased with himself. Looking down at the sling, it dawns on you.

“So, you’re a weaver?” You ask the question as if you had just struck gold. “Usually the women take on that role.”

“Not here, forest girl.” Zu’té defends his role proudly, “But yes, I am.”

“Nice. It is good to see that. My grandmother is a great weaver, she taught me all I know.” You begin.

For as long as your body would allow it, you and Zu’té sat on that step and wove together. You wove the sling and he went to fetch his satchel to work on a piece of his own. Though you did most of the talking, and found yourself dodging one too many snarky remarks, a bond formed on that step.

You told him about your past at hometree, your reason for seeking uturu to begin with.

The sky people.

The words wouldn’t stop flowing, especially when you got onto the topic of how you met his brother. You explained that Ralak was your karyu [teacher] and how that quickly morphed into something much more beautiful. How you broke past his walls—took off his mask of indifference.

But then that awkward silence came again. The silence that reminded you why this stranger was in your home to begin with. That he was playing watchdog because your mate had to leave your side whilst being heavily pregnant.

“I lied.” Zu’té fills the silence. It has your ears perked up and your full attention on him. Your heart picked up speed, almost expecting something bad. “About?”

“That tattoo hurt like a kalweyaveng [son of a bitch].”

His confession has you bellowing out in laughter, clutching your stomach to keep you from shaking up your baby.

“I knew it.” You finally say once you calm down from a much needed laugh. “No good comes from trying to pretend that things don’t hurt, you know.”

Little did you know these words weighed heavy on him. Heavier than you meant for them to. He falls silent, contemplating if he should say what he’s about to. The real confession. The real reason behind the tattoo.

“I killed our spirit brothers.” He blurts out, astonished by his own voice.

Did I really just say that? Shit.

“What?” You exhale, your heart now galloping in your chest.

“It was twelve years ago. I was…seventeen. Sent out to war. I had to keep Ralak out of it. I went alone…lead a group of warriors to protect the tulkun.” His voice seizes up, as if his throat were closing. He looks away, fixing his gaze to his feet. “I was still learning. I didn’t know. I didn’t know. The sky people…they slaughtered them all.”

“Hey, hey. That’s not your fault, Zu’té. You didn’t kill them. The sky people did.” You rest your hand on his back, feeling how raised and toughened the skin where his inking lay deep.

Zu’té just looks at you, eyes trembling with vulnerability. It’s the first someone outside of the family has ever told him that. It’s something that he needed to hear.

“Is that why you fled? Ralak told me you left him.”

Zu’té nods, looking away in shame once more. “I abandoned him.”

You shake your head, knowing now that Ralak has healed and no longer feels this way. “He has healed Zu’té. And now it is your turn.”

Zu’té only nods, allowing the silence to fill the space again. This time it’s needed.

Until it's broken by a familiar voice.

“Sister.” Neteyam greets you at the bottom step, throwing a smile your way, then to your stomach. “Little one.”

He’s checking on you per your fathers request. Of course he wanted to ensure you were okay, too.

“Tey.” You smile big, happy to see such a familiar, comforting face. “I thought you went.”

You reach out for the railing to pull yourself up, and both Neteyam and Zu’té go to help you get up. You side-hug Neteyam, finding comfort in your brother. It’s been a hectic night.

“No, someone’s got to watch Tuk…and you.” Neteyam chuckles. As you let go, your glances at Ralak’s brother. “Neteyam, this is Ralak’s brother. Zu’té.” You introduce the two properly.

Taught manners from a young age, Neteyam gestures ‘I see you’ to the former warrior, and he returns the sign.

“Uncle TeyTey’s got you guys for the day.” Neteyam coos at your tummy, and then offers you his arm.

“Right...Dads orders?” You ask, happy to go with him.

“Dads orders.” Neteyam nods firmly, looking at Zu’té to relay the message. Zu’té returns the nod, being present to hear your fathers concerns about the entire arrangement. Besides, it’ll give him time to hunt for something proper for dinner.

“C’mon guys!” Lo’ak shouts from the ocean, mounted on his skimwing with Tuk behind him.

“See you. Think about what I said.” You say to Zu’té, prompting him to wave goodbye. Neteyam walks you to his tsurak, helping you to get on. You had retired your tsurak for the time being, finding it hard to ride with your back pain.

“Hey Lo’. Tuk-Tuk.” You say with relief in your voice, finding comfort in the company of your family.

——

The ash people are impudent to say the least. They follow behind the five na’vi weaving their way through the growing crowd, right on their tails as they try to get a better look at them. They are particularly interested in Jake and Neytiri, seeing the forest people for the first time. But most haven’t even gotten a look at the reef people yet, despite having the agreement with them for so many decades already.

Some even dare to poke and prod, tugging at their tails and their hair to get a feel or whiff of their scents. Tonowari, Jake, Neytiri and Ralak walk in a formation that allows Ronal to be in the centre, safe guarded from any pointed fingernails or astray noses. Ralak is on edge, but one could never tell by a glance. His appearance is intimidating, a stature so tall he and Tonowari tower over the crowd.

“I do the talking.” Tonowari says discreetly as they near the entrance of the hut.

The room is made of some sort of red clay substance, seemingly burnt to a char until it has been hardened into what feels like rock. This one in particular is large, containing smaller sectioned off rooms, partitioned with thick leather curtains. It's all very bleak, rid of liveliness and colour.

As they enter the hut, two bigger ash na’vi guard the door on either side, blocking and guarding the entrance behind them. Two more ash na’vi lead the group with spears to their backs to a large curtain, and shove them towards it with a few harsh jabs to Jake’s and Ralak’s spines. Jake snaps around, throwing them a dirty look. Whilst Ralak keeps his gaze fixed to his feet. He feels deep in his gut that something isn’t right.

Whether it be here, or back home.

With each step he takes, the sense of impending doom only worsens. He has no desire to be here but he recognizes that this is what is necessary. Yet, he can’t help the way he feels. And when he finally raises his head all the pieces link together. It all makes sense.

Before them are five na’vi in total. Two women and three men. Four ash na’vi and one…reef na’vi. A female, reef na’vi. Her face is unmistakable—unforgettable. It’s been seared into his mind since he was a young boy.

And when Ralak sees it, he almost caves in on himself. His mask of indifference—of intimidation, cracks. Hell, it shatters. Into thousands of pieces, scattered at his feet. Tonowari’s previous right hand. The banished.

His karyu.

625 notes · View notes

nijigasakilove · 5 months ago

Text

Starting to think the hype for a show is inversely proportionate to its quality because wtf all the best premieres this season have had no hype! Like where the hell did this show come from, Cloverworks knocked this first episode out of the park and if this is any indication of how the rest of the series is gonna look, look out for a dark horse AOTS contender.

There’s no better studio to handle shows that have a blend of action and comedy than Cloverworks. They’ve shown us time and time again with Spy x Family, Balance Unlimited, Windbreaker and now this, but this actually looks better than anything they’ve done imo.

First 12 minutes of the episode totally lull you into thinking it’s gonna be a peaceful slice of life anime about a prince who likes to slag off his training, only to seamlessly transition, thru the use of the ball hitting the ground turning into a decapitated head, into the reality of the era. This period in Japanese history was filled with bloodshed, war, betrayals and stuff that would make George RR Martin’s novels look like Disney colouring books and they nailed that here.

The bloodshed, the fall of the Hojo clan and their territory, it all feels so sudden and you’re as broken as Tokiyuki is by the end of it. Everything’s going so well, you get the prophecy from the sage and boom, your world is flipped upside down. Brilliant use of direction to evoke empathy from the audience for the MC. Almost a Ghost of Tsushima style start to this.

The animation during the scene of Suwa pushing Tokiyuki off the cliff and him running thru the crowd of warriors was astounding.. this really is one of the best looking shows this year and one of the best premieres as well. After the success of Shogun I’m very much down for more stuff in this era of Japanese history and can’t wait to see how Tokiyuki gets his revenge.

#the elusive samurai #elusive samurai #nige jouzu no wakagimi #nigewaka #animanga hive #animanga #animangahive

329 notes · View notes

damn-stark · 5 months ago

Text

Chapter 11 A dot Targ. A dot Vel.

Chapter 11 of Moonlight

A/N- Are you my daddy?

Warning- swearing, talks of death! ANGST, FLUFF, flashback, Daemon, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x02

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

————

*A FEW YEARS BACK. KING’S LANDING*

“Tell me, what is it you fear the most?” Aemond quietly asks against the night breeze that passes over the roofs.

The question is easy to answer, it’s a fear you’ve known since you knew what fears were.

“Well,” you respond unsurely only because even speaking of it frightens you. “I’m afraid to lose my family,” you pause and hear Aemond shift, you feel his puzzled gaze upon your answer, so you clarify yourself before he can be a smart ass. “I know that people die, it’s natural. And well it seems death is good friends with our family…I just mean that I don’t want to watch them die, you know? I do not want to end up alone.”

You let out a deep and shaky breath and turn your head to meet his gaze. He doesn’t carry judgment anymore, he instead looks like he understands your fear, which is a relief.

“What about you?” You press softly. “And do not mess with me and say you’re fearless.” You scoff and roll your eyes to look back at the stars glimmering overhead. “Father says everyone fears something,” you add to assure him that he can confide in you. “Up to the mightiest warrior, and down to the tiniest man, it makes us who we are. Even gods fear.”

Aemond draws out a breath and remains quiet for a moment while he brings his legs up to his chest, making you drift your eyes back to him, and noticing him looking at the sky. You don’t rush him, you wait, and watch his thoughts form behind his blue eyes.

“Well,” he breaks his silence hesitantly and quietly as if afraid to be heard. “Mhm…perhaps losing you…You’re my best friend.”

Your eyes widen out of disbelief and your heart…skips a beat in the same way it happens to women in love in the books. Albeit you actually end up laughing. “That’s a stupid fear,” you retort.

Aemond snaps his head to the side and glares at you. “I was being serious.” He snaps.

“Look, it’s sweet, truly, but,” you sigh. “I am a woman. If the gods are good I will have children, my mother says that many women die that way. That’s how my grandmother died,” you pause and swallow thickly. “It’s easy for women to die. That’s probably how you’ll lose me.”

It’s a cruel reality you don’t truly understand, but it’s one that’s been ingrained in you since you were old enough to know about babes and birth. Aemond though, doesn’t seem to understand as you do, he holds your gaze with a pointed look before he scoffs and counters. “Perhaps I won’t. And that does not mean I still can’t fear losing you.”

You offer him a flustered smile while a heat unfurls on your face and your heart once again skips a beat. “There must be something you fear. Something real,” you press him for more.

Aemond exhales deeply and hums as he looks back at the sky. This time it’s easier for him to find his answer in the stars. “I fear not bonding with a dragon. What will be of me then? You all have one, except me. Aegon already laughs at me because of it, and so do your brothers. They will laugh at me forever.”

You sit up and look at him seriously. “I told you already, you will get a dragon. Not everyone’s dragon hatches in their cradle, I mean…Prince Daemon bonded with his dragon when he was older. Yours is probably out there waiting, or perhaps it’s with someone else for now, but you will get one, I know it.” You assure him once again without getting exhausted of telling him the same reminder because you believe what you’re telling him, and you defend that by offering him a sweet grin.

Aemond watches your smile for a second and then looks into your eyes as if expecting you to jest just as Aegon does, but you never once let him believe anything else but what you’re offering him, and that assures him. You assure him in many ways no one else can, and he can’t help but offer you a gentle smile that’s just as gentle as him over that fact.

“Now I have something to tell you,” you shift to a more lighthearted subject. “I just came up with it just now. Since you are my family, I fear losing you too, right? Well,” you exhale softly. “Since you are my best friend, and my most trusted confidant, if you were to die first…I will die with you.”

Aemond sits up and shoots you a glare before gently pushing you. “Do not jest about that!”

You laugh softly and shake your head. “I am being serious! Because I mean if you were to die first and I died after you, we could fly in the heavens for all eternity. We would be together.”

Aemond lets out a breathless laugh and then smiles softly at the ceiling you sit on before meeting your gaze with a serious look. “If that were to happen,” he begins to say. “If I die first…I want you to live on. I do not want you to die for me.”

You lose your smile and sigh deeply.

“You have to live a happy life,” he continues. “Swear to me. Swear that you will not be that stupid.”

You hesitate, but you don’t want to make him upset, and you know he’s taking his words out of the depths of his heart, so you offer him a soft smile and reassure him. “Fine, I swear, but I am selfish, so if you want to die for me, you can.” You shoot him a grin. “You do not have to make me such promises.”

Aemond rolls his eyes and mutters. “Yeah, yeah.”

You hold his gaze for a moment longer before you grow restless and push yourself to your feet. “Okay, one more thing.” You shoot him a mischievous smirk, and he has no trouble knowing you’re up to no good. “You might wonder why I’m wearing a cloak on such a warm night…”

“I wasn’t,” Aemond interjects as he stands to his feet now too.

You begin to walk back with your hands clasped together, and your smirk deepens. “You might also be wondering why we are sitting on these roofs when we usually sit on the ones on the other side. Well…” you trail off and pull your hands away from each other to unhook the pouches you have hidden under your cloak. “Wine bags!”

Aemond has been following your steps but stops when he sees the bags in your hands. “What are you doing?” He queries.

You rush over to him and give him one sack before you turn on your heels and run to the edge of the roof, causing a panic to set in him. “Hey, get back from there. You’ll fall!”

You ignore him and sit on your knees to lean over the edge with the bag dangling out. “Come quick,” you whisper excitedly.

You look down and catch your target just as you planned. Aemond hesitates at first but he can’t help his curiosity and ends up right by your side.

“At this time of night,” you explain quietly. “Some servants take their leave to rotate with the others. Aegon likes to creep on them from his window...” you trail off with a snicker, and without warning you untie the bag in your hands and then let it fall.

The moment the bag crashes on Aegon’s big fat head, the wine explodes out of the bag and soaks him completely, catching him off guard, and making you chuckle quietly.

“What the hell?!” Aegon exclaims.

“Haha,” you celebrate.

Just before he can look up you snatch the other wine bag from Aemond and let it fall on Aegon another time.

“Hey! Who was that?! Get the fuck down here and face me!” Aegon yells out as he wipes the wine off his eyes.

Your snicker turns to a malicious laugh, but just before he can see it was you, you quickly get up and grab Aemond’s arm to yank him back with you.

“Come on, come on!” You urge him between giggles and pull him inside with you. Never once do you think of letting him go to run at your own peril, you don’t stop to catch your breath, you run and laugh together until you finally reach a hall Aegon won’t enter, and burst out laughing even harder.

“What was that for?” Aemond asks between laughs. “We could get in serious trouble.”

You stop laughing, but grin. “If we get caught. Which we will not, and you said that he was being mean to you today so I got him back.” You reveal and nudge his arm. “Do not say you feel bad. It was just wine.”

Aemond scoffs and begins to smile. “I do not, it was funny.” He says with a crooked smile before he starts laughing quietly at first and then laughs harder. You join him again and you both continue to laugh together not caring if you could get caught.

——

*NOW. DRAGONSTONE*

The short moment you spent with the Hull boys was quite amusing, especially more so when Addam heard Astraea’s chitter from the skies before she descended and dove in the water to catch a large fish from the sea. He looked so flabbergasted and awestruck that it made it hard for you not to get mixed in his excitement.

He was a stranger, but he had this way about him. Maybe it was his charming grin because he flashed his pearly white teeth or his sense of humor? Maybe it was the fact that he so easily seemed to get comfortable, making the atmosphere flow with ease instead of getting uncomfortable. That is until your grandfather took you away with him.

Addam was like a fresh breath of air in the same way your brothers are, so maybe that's the ultimate factor, that's why he so easily found a way into your battered heart; because he kind of reminds you of your brothers.

Alas, a dark cloud soon cast in your mind and took your heart by storm. Those happy ba-dams sounded frail once again as you were struck with thoughts of Aemond and memories of your past, and then like a flash of lightning you also got hit with images of him killing Lucerys. You tried to stop it, you wanted to think of something else, but a person can’t stop a storm.

How could a man who loves you bring you so much pain? You always defended him against Aegon when you were young, you were his friend when he said your brothers and his brother hated him. You're the person he loves, and you're the person who loved him, so why did he have to kill your brother? Why did he push you to hate him too?

Does he even truly love you? Or was it all a lie?

Maybe you should take pride in having sex with Cregan, you ached for comfort and he gave it to you, he showed you he loved you even after you married another man, even after you left, so maybe you shouldn’t feel an ounce of shame for it now. He would never kill your beloved brothers the way Aemond did.

But…

Does Aerion deserve such a selfish mother? Does he deserve feuding parents? A life without one or the other?

A life of parents who hate each other?

Does he deserve a mother who has a gaping hole within her that bleeds at the mere thought of his father?

You can’t help it, you’ve been trying to close your wound, fill it with pure interchangeable hate, but there’s emptiness you feel now amongst the hate.

However, are you such a needy woman that you’re not capable of being alone, or the star in someone’s eye? Why do you crave it so? Why is your mind so tormented?

You want to scream it all out, shout it all into the wind until your voice is hoarse and your tears dry, but you have Aerion strapped to your chest and you’re home now. Furthermore, you can see Jacaerys waiting by the entrance.

Is he going to be your new shadow now?

“Jacaerys,” you greet your brother once you’re strutting down the runway.

Said man eases his hand off his pommel and stands up straight with his lips pursed and a certain darkness in his eyes that’s not related to grief.

“I have been waiting for you, you arrived just in time, a meeting has just been convened in the great hall,” he shares, making your curiosity slowly overpower your torment.

“What is it?” You ask as you slow down and start to unstrap Aerion from your chest.

Jacaerys glances at Aerion’s wet nurse approaching you and then glances down, telling you without a need for words that he's going to wait and just press a dull ache in your chest as you start to worry.

“Aerion slept the entire time we were at Driftmark,” you let the wet nurse know as she takes Aerion and the straps you used to keep him attached to you. “He’ll be hungry soon.”

The wet nurse nods in comprehension and quickly turns around to head to the child’s apartments, letting you fall by your brother's side to follow him to the great hall in silence for a few minutes until there isn't anyone nearby.

“It’s news from King’s Landing,” Jacaerys finally fills your curiosity, but only makes your heart hurt as it starts to pound against your chest.

Is it Aemond?

“Someone…sent an assassin to kill Aemond…” he trails off and glances over at you to see your reaction; and even if you want to hold it in, even if you want to only express nonchalance over the desire of Aemond’s death, your eyes batting furiously and your breath hitching gives away your shock.

You knew that your mother was going to want Aemond’s death, and if not her, Daemon now had a reason to personally hit the first blow. Yet hearing this desire still finds a way to wound you. Even if you hold hate for him, you still find yourself distressed and…scared.

“Did…” your voice shakes, so you clear your throat and draw in a deep breath to stop your tears before they can fill your eyes. “…It happen?”

Jacaerys keeps his gaze on you for a lingering moment, but you avoid looking at his face out of fear you’ll see disappointment.

“No,” Jacaerys shares, letting you feel a sense of relief that you can’t fight off. “He’s escaped his fate, but they got another…”

Aegon!

“Aegon's son, Jaehaerys.”

You immediately come to a halt, and Jacaerys takes a few more steps forward before he stops too, and turns to face you with a hardened face that can’t actually hide his disbelief.

“Helaena’s boy?” You can barely whisper out because of the shock, the disgust, and the pure horror that you’re hit with.

“But,” you mumble and feel tears cloud your eyes while horror and disgust churn in your stomach. “He’s just a boy,” your voice quivers. “He’s just four.”

Jacaerys nods and can’t muster anything to say in return. What is there to say about the murder of an innocent child?

You can’t even form thoughts, you’re so stricken with disbelief and horror that you can’t even feel any part of yourself, you’re numb. And it’s all so quiet too, so horrifyingly quiet.

You don’t remember where you are or that your heart is beating until Helaena comes to mind first; her heartbreak, and her own horror. She’s already such a fragile soul. You can’t imagine what she must be going through. And that poor boy?

Gods…who would be capable of doing something so sinister, who could give the order?

Your mother would never, and no one from her council would ever do it either, so who could order the death of someone so innocent? He has no fault in this war or in the death of Lucerys.

Why could someone…gods…

You can’t—you have to gag. Yet you don’t puke, you hold it down and all you do is worry your brother.

“Are you okay?” He asks with concern.

You take in a few deep breaths and nod stiffly. “Yes,” you mutter and nod again. “The news is just disturbing.”

You turn to face him and Jacaerys seems more concerned. “Are you sure?” He double-checks and studies you.

“Yes,” you reassure him as you grab your stomach. “Just processing the news…I just can’t believe someone would do that.”

“I know,” he whispers. “Maybe…you should ask Mother for a dragon egg in hopes one can hatch in Aerion’s cradle?” He suggests, causing you you start thinking about something that hadn’t even crossed your mind—“A hatchling is small but fierce, they can protect a child in ways a guard can’t.”

“You don’t think…” you can’t even finish your sentence out of fear that someone will try to get revenge on Lucerys by killing Aerion because they can’t reach Aemond.

“No, but just to make sure,” Jacadrys says and grabs your arm to caress it with his thumb. “They killed Helaena’s son, I just want to make sure. I’ll have more guards posted outside the children’s apartments just in case.”

A smile flickers on your lips because of how deeply he’s worried, yet your paranoia doesn’t let you feel anything but fear.

“Okay,” you express softly like a little girl shaken with fear. “Do you think they’ll let me send a letter to Helaena? We might be on opposite sides, but she’s innocent, her kids are too, and I do really care about her.”

Jacaerys lets your arm go and sighs deeply before he shakes his head. “It wouldn’t be a good idea. Just keep her in your thoughts,” he throws out with little care. “Now come on before we miss more.”

He goes on to lead the way and you follow him in silence as you just think about Helaena, and now this new fear Jacaerys set in you.

Maybe…it would be smart to send Aerion to Winterfell…just him. No one would harm there, Cregan would make sure of it.

“Could I ask…” Jacaerys slowly rolls out, breaking the silence. “About how it started between you and—”

“Shut up,” you hiss at your brother without needing to hear him finish.

It’s like he climbed in your thoughts!

“I’m curious,” he snaps back.

You glare at him and leave it unanswered considering you’re in a castle corridor that servants and knights use. Instead, you swiftly change the subject to what you have planned.

“I want to help our grandmother patrol the Gullet, and eventually when Aegon's fleet comes I want to help grandfather fight too.”

Jacaerys hums. “Really? That sounds good. Smart too, Rhaenys patrols a lot of open water alone…I actually thought of surveilling King’s Landing with Vermax as well,” he shares his own plan.

“That’s smart!” You praise him right back. “You and Baela could do it.”

Jacaerys shoots you a side eye and you just smirk faintly before you add on to your comment. “I am being serious. It sounds like a good plan. We just have to share it with our mother.”

Jacaerys lets out a deep sigh and then interjects with another plan. “Some days we could patrol the Gullet together too. Give Rhaenys time to rest and deal with matters here.”

You meet his gaze with a smile and don't even think it over, you accept right away because he’s so protective that you would think he’d want to do things like patrol alone to keep you out of danger—Then again after losing Lucerys, keeping each other close guarantees your safety, that way no one can rip either of you away from each other in the same way they took Lucerys.

Neither of you want to even think of losing each other now that it’s just you and him. It’ll be like living in the dark if you lose each other.

“That sounds fun—or like a good plan. I would like that,” you praise Jacaerys’ plan and then gently his back, making him scoff but not protest or move out of the way.

“Actually I got these chainmail face masks customized so when I’m dragonback I get to wear them as protection for my face,” you bring up with some excitement because you can finally talk about the armor you got made; like the chainmail coif, the chainmail masks, and the body armor for battle as well.

“We wouldn’t want more face scars,” Jacaerys points at the scar on your face and sucks air in between his teeth, making you scoff and swat his hand away.

“Funny,” you grumble, making him chuckle.

However, your moment then comes to a cold stop when you near the great hall and hear the murmurs of the meeting. You don’t even need to be close to feel the tension, but when you do get close it immediately takes you hostage, making you walk in slowly and stiffly, with horror making a reappearance on your face.

“…there will be swift retribution in one form or another—”

“I have seen to it, Your Grace,” you hear a lord cut your mother off quite disrespectfully whilst you silently make your way to a seat across from her.

“Let me fly out on Vermax,” Jacaerys quickly interjects his plan since a convenient silence permits him. “While my sister helps Rhaenys in the Gullet,” he shares your part of the plan too as he walks up behind your chair to help you push it in. “I can watch for movements from King’s Landing.”

You sit up straight to show your confidence in your plan, however, the moment your mother looks between you and your brother she immediately shoots the plan down with a hint of an emotion you can’t read. “No.”

You sink back into your seat and share a frustrated sigh with Jacaerys.

“It must be said that the damage to our position is immeasurable, at a time when we most need loyalty to our cause,” the previous lord continues to share a big concern.

“B-but it’s a lie,” your mother defends the accusations you don’t need to hear personally, you know they were thrown at her to weaken her claim. The Greens are smart to use the people, you do have to give them that.

“Having lost my own son,” your mother continues. “That I would inflict such a thing on Helaena of all people,” she presses in disbelief. “An innocent.”

You draw out a deep shaky breath and glance down at your hands on your lap as her grief comes across your mind louder than before.

“The death of Prince Lucerys was a shock and an insult,” Lord Broome interjects after a second of more tense silence. “A mother so aggrieved might, naturally, seek relief in retribution,” he dares to speak out loud, making you quickly sit up and lean forward to glare daggers at the man, whilst your own mother pushes herself out of her chair to confront him.

“Are you suggesting, Ser Alfred, that my grief drove me to order the decapitation of a child?!”

He has some nerve throwing accusations like that to his Queen, and Daemon is surprisingly unbothered by such vile accusations thrown at his wife after he decapitated Ser Vaemond not long ago for insulting your mother.

“I merely thought, perhaps, an action taken in haste,” Lord Broome continues to speak out loud making your lips curl to a sneer, while your glare only turns sharper.

“Mind yourself,” the hand warns the bold lord in such a calm yet threatening manner that he actually goes silent, letting your mother return to her seat.

However, as chilling as your grandmother's threat was, you’re still surprised Daemon hasn’t spoken in her defense…

He’s been too quiet since Jacaerys and you joined the meeting actually. Too uncharastically quiet…did he…

You blink and look over at him for the first time since you got here and right away you catch this smug-looking smirk playing on his face. One a bit small, but still visible and telling.

How could you have not come to that conclusion before? He’s a cruel man, vile in many ways, why didn’t it occur to you that he was capable of ordering the murder of a child if Aemond couldn’t be found?!

The act is clearly oozing Daemon’s name. Only he could kill a child and be smug about it. He’s so disgusting, and cruel, and does nothing to ease your hate for him.

You have wanted to stop carrying so much hate for him, he loves your mother after all. Your brothers never have anything bad things to say about him, and in the few times he’s been in the same room with Aerion, he’s been…kind to him; and you don’t think that lightly! It really costs you to think of him in such a kind light, but it’s true.

Now though, he only adds fuel to your hate and adds disgust where there wasn’t any. Furthermore, in the midst of your brewing disgust and heightening hate, the man you were thinking about and glaring at meets your gaze across the table, and that smugness doesn’t fade, you only seem to feed into his cockiness as he realizes that you know it was him.

He doesn’t linger in your speechless interaction, but you continue to glare at him as if you were trying to kill him with your looks alone before you slowly rise from your seat and pull everyone’s attention as you address the table of men, the Queen, and her Hand.

“Your Grace, I would like to request double the guards protecting Aerion, I would not want the same killer aiming to kill my son next since he is Aemond’s only son,” you sneer and snap your gaze at Daemon to continue piercing your glare at him so he knows you’re referring to him.

Your mother nods gently. “Of course,” she doesn’t hesitate to give you what you want this time. “But rest assured no one will touch him,” she offers you comfort while her own gaze points at Daemon.

You rip your eyes away from the despicable man and offer her a much gentler look accompanied by a thankful smile. “Thank you, My Queen.”

She offers you a nod and then draws out a deep breath before she clasps her hands on the table and interjects. “You are all dismissed, we will reconvene later.”

You find her dismissal a blessing even if you just arrived, and hastily stride away from the hall thinking of nothing but what Daemon did to poor Helaena. Much to your surprise though your brother trails after you and follows you into the kitchens since it is alone at the moment.

“Tea?” you offer him what you’re about to make for yourself.

Jacaerys shifts his feet before he snickers and rudely offends you. “You know how to make your own tea?”

You grab the kettle and turn around slowly. “Of course,” you deadpan. “I know how to cook some of my own food too.”

Jacaerys looks away to hide his teasing grin before he walks over to you and watches you prepare what you need. “What did Lord Stark teach you?” He asks.

You stay quiet, and with little regard for your fingers, you light the match and end up watching the fire eat away at the match as if the flames have your answer.

When the fire touches your fingers Jacaerys calls your name, making you snap from your stupor and throw the match under the kettle to give life to a small fire.

“He would make fun of me because I could not do the simplest things for myself,” you muse. “He said I was spoiled, which was big of him considering things were brought to him too, but…” you trail off with a smile and finally nod in agreement to his answer. “Yes, he taught me the basics. I would watch him too on the hunting trips he would invite me to, Lady Karstark was nice to me so she let me go.”

Jacaerys hums and crosses his arms over his chest, you glance over at him and see him paying attention to your fingers that were touched by the fire while also holding obvious frustration over the situation he chose to talk about.

“He…did not trick me,” you finally answer the question he had asked earlier whilst you fiddle with your fingers to hide the fact that you were unharmed since you still don’t know why the fire doesn’t hurt you the way it should. The Red priestess gave you a reason, but you still have a hard time comprehending it so it’s better not to give it any attention at the moment.

“We were friends. Best friends. We talked about the fathers we both lost, he taught me to plant my feet in the ground and not have my head in the clouds,” you speak fondly of Cregan. “I live in the moment because of him…we were friends…that’s how it started.”

Jacaerys clenches his jaw and watches the fire under the kettle before he mutters. “Is it over?”

You swallow thickly, and to avoid making him more upset you don’t talk about the fact that you continue to write to each other. “Of course,” you answer quietly.

“I would have preferred him to be my good-brother,” he surprises you by saying.

“Jacaerys,” you scold him and gently hit his arm, making that serious line on his face pull to a cheeky smile.

“I can say it now…you don’t love Aemond anymore do you?”

Your smile quickly falls at his daring question, and your once-softened eyes grow dark with conflict. Something that should be easy to answer isn’t actually so easy to say out loud, no matter how much you tell yourself that you hate Aemond.

“I…have a son with Aemond, Jacaerys,” you avoid giving him an answer. Albeit nothing will save you from his disappointment, so you also avoid looking at him out of fear that you’ll see hate in your brother's eyes.

“It’s…complicated…I hate him for taking Lucerys, but—”

“I really can’t blame you for your unresolved feelings,” Jacaerys cuts you off with hints of sorrow showing through his frustration. “It would be easier to hate me…I…encouraged mother to let us deliver the messages. I sent Lucerys to his death…I,” his voice breaks so he cuts himself off.

You forget what you’re waiting to boil, and drop all your inner conflict to turn and face him with determination and sincerity. “No,” you say sharply and grab his arm to turn him to face you. “No, don't say that, it is not true! What happened is not your fault, Jacaerys.”

Your brother's eyes water before he meets your gaze with the look of a sad and guilty little boy.

“It’s not your fault, Jace,” you insist softly but also sharply. “We were sent as messengers. We made that promise, all of us. Aemond…was dishonorable and basically stabbed Lucerys in the back. Aemond killed Lucerys,” your voice quivers. “Not you. And Luke would never want you to blame yourself for that. Do you understand? It’s not your fault.”

Jacaerys nods softly and lets a few tears escape his eyes now that no one is around to see him cry. You, however, gently cup his cheeks and wipe them away before you wrap him in an embrace. “It’s not your fault,” you add one more time for reassurance.

Jacaerys isn’t as good at expressing himself with words like you are, but you know he is grateful with the way he holds onto you and rests his head on your shoulder.

When you pull apart he offers you one of his one-of-a-kind smiles that have a way to ease your mind. You then mirror his gesture and speak thousands of I love you’s to each other without uttering a single word.

It’s not until you hear your tea boiling that the moment is broken.

“So? Tea?” You ask again as you grab your cup to pour yourself some.

Jacaerys scoffs and grabs his own cup before he finally responds. “All right, I will try it, but if I die let everyone know it was your poor tea skills.”

“Oh haha,” you feign a laugh and then pour him some tea.

“Oh did you hear about the prisoner that they found in one of the ships?” Jacaerys trails on as he waits for the tea to cool. “Supposedly it was that one person you told us about, the White Worm.”

You bring your cup to your lips but then slowly pull the cup down to show your confusion. “She’s…here?” You probe.

Jacaerys nods. “I’m sure she’s the one who told you know who, what to do, considering what you said she does,” he says and finally brings his cup to his lips to take a sip. All while you stare at your dark tea and get lost in the thought as to how this great influence ended up here. As a prisoner.

“I am surprised,” Jacaerys says lightheartedly and with a hint of snarkiness in his tone. “This is not bad. I’m sorry, but you won’t be heir today, sister.”

You blink and roll your eyes to him before you kick his shin with an unamused glare. He hisses at the sting but laughs regardless. From then on you try to forget about the White Worm being in the same castle as you. Jacaerys ends up leaving you, and you try to think of practicing with a sword or with your bow and arrow, but your question as to why she’s here overpowers you and drives you toward her instead.

It wouldn’t be a mistake, you worked together when you were in King's Landing. You weren’t friends you knew not to trust her, but this dynamic has you on top, you are a Princess and she is…well…the White Worm, a whisperer, schemer, and a survivor.

Maybe you could even propose to work together again now that she’s here. You are the Queen's daughter after all, and she’ll listen to you if the White Worm plays her cards right.

Nevertheless, before you can even get close to the corridor where the White Worm is being kept, you grow tense at the sight of Daemon storming by without that smugness from before. Now, in the short glance, you stole as you passed by like strangers, you notice a hardened face and a grimace where his smirk once played.

You could relish in his unhappiness, but before you can even find amusement or pride, just as you thought the vile stranger was paces away, a hand harshly grips your arm before you’re whipped around harshly and with ease.

“You,” he sneers. “I need to talk to you.”

You look at him with a fear you can’t hide fast enough and shock.

He hardly talks to just you alone, and when he tries he’s violent about it?

“Let me go,” you mutter shakily and push him away from you.

Daemon glances to the right and then to the left before he takes a step forward and narrows his gaze on you. “You will return to King’s Landing at once and infiltrate the Greens.” He instantly spats.

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and without thinking you shake your head softly, but Daemon doesn’t care because he keeps running his mouth.

“Play the dutiful wife, or whatever it is you need to do to get on your cunt of a husband’s good graces. I have had one of the men who fought with me at the Step Stones infiltrate the Castle Guards to protect you, his name is Ser Jason Waters, pick him to be your sworn protector, do not trust any other knights.”

He already had this planned? Does your mother know? Is she okay with this?

“No,” you mutter in disbelief and with a hint of heartbreak at the thought that he—they want you gone. “I am not going. My mother would not agree.”

Daemon shakes his head and quickly rebuttals you with his patience hanging by a thread. He’s trying to be patient for your sake, but he doesn’t want to be argued with at the moment.

“This is for the sake of the Queen. Your mother. Your family—our family!” He makes sure to say louder so it can reach your heart. “Do you not want this war to be over sooner?” He leans towards your inner desires. “You are married to one of them, making you the perfect mole. You will get on your knees, plead for mercy, and press the fact that you were wrong in choosing your mother…he wouldn’t let them kill you.”

Did he just try to be reassuring over something he doesn’t know?

He doesn’t know Aemond like you do. If Aemond believes you betrayed him he will not forgive you no matter if you love him, or have a son together. He’s petty and angry when someone crosses him. If he doesn’t believe your pleading cry he will not be kind. Daemon doesn’t know that, Daemon doesn’t know the Greens like you do.

You will not do it, he will not make you return to the side of a Kinslayer and a Usurper. You don’t want to leave again, you’re happy here with your family. This is all you’ve ever wanted and he will not rip you away from your family in the same way Alicent ripped you away from them the first time for an act you did not commit! Not again!

“No,” you argue with anger you wish you would’ve shown Alicent six years ago; and with new anger directed at Daemon for trying to put you in harm's way. “I will not go! You cannot make me go to them! They killed Lucerys and Visenya! They took my mother's throne! They will lock me away or kill me! They will take Aerion away! You cannot make me go!” You spat out. “I will not go! You cannot take me away from my family again! You are not my King! And you are not my father! I. Will not. Go!”

Daemon lets out a deep sigh, and turns his head away to stand in silence for a moment before in the blink of an eye turns back around and slaps his hands around your arms to yank you to him with a harsh strength that startles you deeply and makes all your anger fall as you fill with fear and disbelief.

No one has ever grabbed you in such a way or looked at you with so much anger.

“You are not my daughter. You are right. I am not your father. I will never be your father,” his words have a way of wounding you even deeper, but you don’t know why exactly, you know he’s not your father, and he could never replace your father…but maybe…just maybe you held a flicker of hope that you would feel an ounce of that sort of connection again after it was so suddenly ripped away from you. And he was the only one who could have given it to you, but now that flicker is gone and you’re in the cold with no hopeful light at the end of the tunnel.

“But I am the Prince Consort,” he sneers and tightens his hold to the point your flesh and deep buried muscle begins to hurt, letting you know you’ll bruise. “I am your Prince Consort, you will do as I say and leave with your son after telling the Queen, so the wrong people don’t know and give you away. Do you understand or do you want me to drop you over there myself?”

Tears crawl down your cheeks as your bottom lip trembles. And it’s impossible to notice especially because Daemon stands so close, but he still does nothing to console your fear, he just lets you go and drops his head for a second before he looks at you again and points.

“You will go. Spy on their plans and send reports back to the Queen or me, do you understand? You might just be our path towards the Throne, so do it and never let your guard down.”

“I hate you,” you don’t hold back from saying before you finally find the will to break away and shove past him to continue down your path.

“Do it!” He bellows over his shoulder while you keep storming away with tears in your eyes, and your breath labored as you fight your sob.

You almost have half the mind to go run and cry to your mother, but what’s the point if deep down Daemon does sound reasonable. As petty as Aemond could be, he doesn’t know what you did on your last day in the North, that is the probably only reason he would completely turn his back on you and view you as an enemy. Leaving and supporting your mother is probably something you can talk over, you’ll sing a song and he will probably be enchanted by your words. And once he falls prey he’ll take to your defense in front of his brother and the council.

But do you really want to return to the side of a man who killed your brother? You’ll look at him and that’s all you’ll see, a murder. A Kinslayer.

Then again…

But no! He killed Lucerys. Your little brother. How can you play a dutiful wife to such a man? Maybe you should accept Cregan’s proposal and find refuge in Winterfell with Aerion. You’ll avoid fighting this war and having your heart broken even more because you suspect more heartbreak still has to follow.

It would be a dream.

But nevertheless, as to what you will do, you’ll talk to your mother about Daemon's plan, and she’ll be your deciding factor…later, once you’ve calmed down, and maybe after you have taken a small nap; it feels like you’ve been on your feet for days on end. Most importantly though, after talking to the White Worm, you’re already close to Mysaria’s cell, so what would be the point of turning back now? You'd just add to your fatigue.

When you reach her cozy cell, however, you hesitate to make your presence known. Conversing with someone after the way Daemon treated you is beginning to sound exhausting.

Albeit you are also curious so you rap your knuckles on the door even if the guard said he’d just let you in since she is considered a prisoner, but where’s the decency in that?! Thus you wait and when you hear her welcome you in you make yourself known, much to her surprise.

“Princess,” she greets you in surprise.

You offer her a small and strained smile and redirect her greeting. “Mysaria. I can’t say I’m not surprised. I never would have thought we would cross paths here.”

Mysaria watches you from the other side of her small chambers, and you finally study her; noticing how different she looks from the elegant woman you would see in King’s Landing. Her falling braid, her dirty white dress, and dirt covered face really makes her less intimidating. She’s completely ordinary now.

“Well, the Hightowers chased me out of my home after they burnt it to ash. I can’t even say that the foundations stand in place,” she reveals, making your gaze flicker away as your mind fills with different thoughts of concern.

“And…all those people that lived with you?” You ask softly.

“Ran I would hope, I taught them better…does it matter in truth?”

You snap your eyes up and look at her as if she had physically wounded you. “Of course,” you defend yourself. “I am not heartless.”

Mysaria lets her gaze linger on you for a moment before she nods. “No. You are not. Could I ask though, now that I am down here and you remain up there”

You squint in confusion at her words, but then quickly quirk a brow to encourage her to keep going.

“Why did you care so much about the smallfolk?” she queries and sits on a wobbly wooden chair. “It’s disappointing to say that not many of your current kin have shown any care. If it’s not for their personal gain of course.”

You hold her gaze for a moment before you walk over and sit on the edge of her hard bed. You then glance down at the gems on your many rings and sigh deeply as you shrug. “A part of me envied the smallfolk when I was younger,” you share and right away feel her shocked stare upon your words.

“They could live their life as they wanted, if they had money they could go get lost at the ends of the world, where the sea meets the edge of the world and touches hundreds of tomorrows. They could never return and no one would care…I envied their freedom. Now…I have grown,” you speak sweetly and look over at her. “Now I want them to like me…it’s vain, I know, but in Winterfell, the Lord and Lady Stark would treat their people with kindness, as if they were their own kin, and they got kindness and respect in return…I want that.”

“You are no heir,” she speaks harsh words with her heavy accent, revealing that she’s not from Westeros. “You will not be Queen. It is not your duty.”

“I know,” you barely form in a whisper. “I was a sick babe. The maesters did not know if I would live so they encouraged my mother to seek an heir in another. She had Jacaerys and those around her saw the advantage of having a male heir and did not let her change it once I lived past my death date…but,” you breathe out and turn to face her completely. “I am still a princess. No matter what, eyes will always be on me, I want those watching me to like me, in the same way those in the North look at their Lord.”

Mysaria hums and nods gently, letting you get up and slowly make your way to her. “I could grant you your freedom,” you speak. “I only need to speak to my mother. She will listen to me only if…you help me in the same way you helped me back then.”

Mysaria’s gaze lingers on your eyes and doesn’t jump at the proposal like you thought she would. She watches you instead, as if she’s just trying to aid you with something, but not willing to spit out the answer to let you figure it out alone.

You can’t however, so she lets out a deep breath and shares what she had been hinting at. “With us both here there is no way in which you can help me. There's nothing I want here, not from you.”

You help her…

As guarded as she is, she’s open when she needs to be. Like now. Without a need for deeper explanation you realize that after all this time of believing she was under your thumb, you were actually another string for her to pull on.

You were so blinded by the thought of power that you did not read her like Cregan told you to read people.

How could you be so foolish?

“Okay,” you say with a sense of hurt. “Well…then I can still help you leave. I can talk to my mother.”

“What of Daemon?” She asks and surprises you.

“What of him?” You quickly follow up.

“He said he would give me my freedom.”

You mindlessly rub the throbbing offended area on one arm and shrug. “I do not talk to Daemon. I can talk to my mother, take it, or leave it and stay here.”

After all, she did let you know secrets from within the Red Keep you otherwise would’ve gone unaware of.

“I will take it,” she doesn’t hesitate giving in, making you feign a smile and find a reason to cut this reunion shorter than you had expected after being left with much to think about.

——

*LATER*

Dear, Cregan,

This letter is not going to start the way I would have wanted, but alas there is something urgent I must press. By the time you get this letter, I am sure you would have heard what happened at King’s Landing with Queen Helaena’s son, news like that travels fast, especially when they want the whole of the realm to know. But I digress, no matter how many people whisper in your ear, or what letters you get from the Green Council, it was not Queen Rhaenyra who sent that assassin.

My mother did not kill the boy. She would never do something so cruel. I believe that, and I hope you do not sway. Your support, whether small, is still important, and your loyalty even more so.

I know who it was but without real proof, I would just be crying wolf, so I will keep my mouth shut and hope you come to the conclusion yourself considering how many times I have ranted about him. Instead, I will express my regret for not having the time to ask how you are, or what you have been doing. I have so much to say and so little paper, so I will save my formalities for next time.

As of now, I do have to tell you that I left my ring at Castle Black, the one with the sapphire. If you somehow have it or get it in your possession, toss it, or sell it, I do not care.

Now I was hoping you could aid me with something. Do you still dream of your father, Cregan? I have found myself dreaming of mine as of late, and more or so in always the same setting; I find him as I am now, not as a child, but me, I find him washed up ashore. When I reach him he's concerningly thinner and looks ill. I try to save him, but I never can. We only speak a few words before the angry waves take him back to the sea. And no matter how much I try, I can never reach him and all I’m left with is an ache.

Anyway, Jacaerys—

A knock rapping on the door interrupts you from the thoughts you’re writing on paper, and before you can welcome the visitor in you hide the half-written letter first and then proclaim. “Come in.”

The door gets opened by a Ser Erryk, letting your mother walk in without that usual tense and serious decorum she wears when she’s with her council. She actually offers you a tender smile that mirrors the gleam in her eyes as she watches you.

“You wanted to speak with me?” She asks as she makes her way to you.

You walk her to the cushioned seats across the balcony doors where you like to read and watch the dragons fly in the distance.

“Yes, I went looking for you earlier but I was told you were busy,” you let her know, making her nod softly. “Is everything all right?”

She lets out a deep sigh and offers you a very stiff shrug before she shares what’s on her mind. “I went to speak with the prisoner, Mysaria. The one who snuck here on a ship.”

Oh well, what a coincidence you were meaning to talk to her about that exact person.

“She aided…in the tragedy committed against Helaena’s son after her freedom was promised, now the one who promised it to her is gone, and I am left not knowing what to do with her. Let her leave to aid in my destruction, or keep her here to aid us.”

You nod along in comprehension and find the right time to do as you said. “The White Worm is not to be trusted, but after what she said the Hightowers did, I know she will not return to their side willingly.”

Your mother's eyes narrow and she leans forward to probe. “You spoke with her?”

You avert your gaze and nod softly. “Yes, but I was merely curious as to how she got here. The last time I had heard of her she was the ever so great White Worm of King’s Landing.”

Your mother doesn’t detect that you’re hiding anything that should make her worry so she sits back and presses. “That is right I remember you spoke of her when we got to King’s Landing. She helps you.”

You express a dry laugh and shake your head softly. “No,” you mutter with defeat. “I helped her. Unknowingly, but that doesn’t make her less undeserving of what she was promised,” you finally speak for her case. “You will probably gain more from her if you grant her her freedom rather than keeping her here.” You say and look at your mother sweetly and with the faintest smile to nudge her towards what you’re hinting at.

Her gaze lingers and without giving an answer she nods softly and speaks thoughtfully. “I see.”

“But if you want to save yourself the trouble then you could just…kill her,” you suggest seriously but also a bit lighthearted. Albeit she doesn’t seem to get the latter with the concerned gaze she shoots you, so hiding the fact that you were serious you backtrack. “Let her go. I think that would be the right thing to do.”

She responds with silence this time that lingers for a moment before her gaze then wanders behind her where you had been when she walked in.

“I hope you were not busy, my Sweet.” She interjects after a while.

You shake your head and immediately use one of your usual covers for when you’re writing to Cregan. “No, I was just reading some of our Valyrian histories. There’s a lot more books from Old Valyria here than in the Red Keep.”

“Are you still searching for answers on this fire immunity?” She asks with slight amusement, making you scoff but nod.

“I’m just curious.”

“Why?” She immediately presses and rises from her seat to quickly maneuver over to sit next to you instead. “Is there something you know?” She asks.

This would be the perfect chance to trust someone with this gift you are bestowed with and relieve yourself of this secret you bear. You could—you should show her that you are unscathed by the usual dangerous flames that provide warmth, and threaten someone with death or wounds, but you know so little. You are confused by it, and by the words that Red Priestess told you in regards to it, which in turn makes you want to understand more of what you might be for yourself first before you tell someone else.

Besides, what if she looks at you differently if she saw what you were gifted with? You can’t have her look at you like you’re some demon from the deep depths of all seven hells. You don’t want to be unloved by the mother you deeply adore.

“Just curious is all,” you say and omit most of the truth. And as to not have her linger in what you have yet to understand you drift the subject to what happened earlier with Daemon. Not because he told you to speak to her, but because there was really no chance you wouldn’t come spilling out what he did.

“Mother,” your voice shifts to sound quieter and express that fear that still rattles you. “Daemon talked to me earlier.”

Your mother's gaze snaps away from the serene scene outside your windows, and her lips fall as her eyes flicker between curiosity and concern.

“He proposed—no, he more so demanded me to go to King’s Landing to infiltrate the Greens,” you share and see her head shake faintly without the need to hear more, or without time to think of how useful that can actually be.

“I may have argued against Daemon’s demand when he initially proposed it but,” you continue and sigh shakily. “It may not be a terrible idea. Aemond still demands mine and Aerion’s return, I can most likely get in his good graces and have my freedom to move about the castle and hear what may help you. I want to help you.”

Your mother nods gently in comprehension and watches your hand resting next to hers for a moment before she meets your gaze with a soft endearing look that makes you feel right at ease and deeply loved.

“I know, I understand. I really do,” she speaks with fondness hanging off every word, and so kindly that her soft smile and her twinkling gaze let you believe what she says and helps you understand what you would have otherwise argued.

“…More than you and your brother know, but as much as I want you both to really show me the warriors aching to be free, I must think as a mother first. You are my legacy. You and your brothers, you are what will carry out our blood, I can not put that in danger, I cannot put you in danger if I can still help it. Do you understand?”

“I do,” you say, but still find it in yourself to argue for the woman before you, your Queen, and your mother. You want to do right by her more than anything and prove that you are strong, that you can be what she needs in a dragon warrior with salt-littered blood.

“But if there's a chance to gain an advantage in this war shouldn’t we take it?” You argue desperately as you shift your body to face her completely. “I can be your advantage Mother. I could help you get closer to your throne.”

Your mother holds your gaze and watches your desperation play out in your eyes for a moment before she lifts her warm hand to cradle your cheek ever so gently. “You will help me here in time,” she argues back without a shift in that tender affection in her voice. “You cannot go, I will not be there to protect you. I need you here. You are my strength, my Sweet. My firstborn, my first love.”

Your breath hitches and your smile trembles.

“I need you with me,” she presses and you can’t find it in yourself to counter. You ease into agreement perhaps just exactly how she wanted, but you do. That need to do what Daemon asked of you begins to fade away like ash scattering in the wind.

“Besides, Daemon is not your King,” she clarifies, making you grin. “He cannot tell you what to do without telling me about it first, okay?”

You nod and can’t help yourself, you lean over and wrap her in an embrace she doesn’t hesitate to return.

“I will make you proud,” you proclaim just loud enough so she can hear. “I swear. I will be everything you need and so much more,” you hint at your gift that the Red Priestess called fire-made flesh without directly revealing yourself just yet. You will in time when you understand what you’re really made of. As for now, you’ll be what she wants you to be. You’ll stalk your prey from a distance and prepare for the attack. You’ll be the dragon hiding in the eerie shadows until fire kills the girl.

——

*LATER THAT NIGHT*

You can’t really say you’re disappointed whatsoever by your mother's reluctance because the truth is, this is all you have ever wanted, to be amongst your family whether it be here in Dragonstone, in King's Landing, or wherever you may find yourselves to be.

It may sound childish like you need to grow up because you are a grown woman with a child and a husband of your own, but your family is your joy. And for a while, you were content with your little family, your heart did not yearn to be amongst your mother and brothers, you missed them dearly but you were content. However, Aemond made sure to break that peace apart when he killed Lucerys.

But now you’re here, in Dragonstone, where the majestic songs from the dragons harmonize with the sound of strong crashing waves, and accompany the gentle whips of air that unfurl through your windows, bringing forth a soothing sound that ails Aerion to his nightly slumber, and brings the pleasing smell of sea salt that tangles with the smell of the calm fires that illuminate the dark castle halls and keep every room warm.

You're here in your ancestral home, where every piece of your grand history is etched on the stone walls, or stitched in tapestries proudly hung from room to room. You’re here surrounded by a sea that calls out your name and holds fond memories of you and your father. How could you want to leave it all behind and trade it for a city that smells like shit, and is polluted by usurpers, traitors, and killers?

This is where you belong, here, where you can smile, and admire your beloved brother Jacaerys and brave Baela sitting under the mystical moonlight together, admiring how the dragon scales glimmer like bright stars as the dragons dance about the clear and starry sky; each person itching to share an intimacy that goes beyond longing stares and feathered touches, but not daring to cross that line just yet.

This is where you belong where you can bid your sweet mother a goodnight without having to look at the sky and say it to the wind in hopes she would somehow catch your voice. You can request and seek her comfort here without having to rely on old letters or haunting embraces.

Here, where Driftmark and your grandparents are all a short flight away is where you belong. You belong here where you share intimate dinners and laugh together over stupid jokes, or dramatic and far-fetched stories that never fail to pique your attention. This is home, where you can watch your little brothers grow in the same way you watch your son grow. You are home, and deep past all your adventurous desires you could not ask for more.

“After we put Aerion to bed I will have you fed,” you tell your grey cat following you at your side ever so gracefully, and he actually meows back before trotting forward and leading the way to the children’s quarters.

Before you can catch up you fall behind first as you spot Ser Erryk, from the corner of your eyes, hiding in the shadows.

“Good Night, Erryk,” you tell the man with his helmet on, which is an odd thing to have inside, but maybe he came from outside or something. Whatever.

“Uh,” he breathes out before you hear him respond as he walks out of the shadows. “Goodnight, princess.”

You offer him a gentle smile and catch his gaze fall on your sleeping son in your arms and linger on him for a moment before his gaze flickers back to you and seems to have many running thoughts behind his eyes. You can’t help but grow a tad bit uneasy in this shared silence, so you just offer him one last smile before you turn away and push forward, catching your cat come out of the children’s room.

He meows impatiently and you roll your eyes and sigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

When you enter the room, however, you come to a sudden halt when you see Rhaena reading by the fire.

You could try and escape but she notices you right away therefore forbidding you from making a quick escape.

“Rhaena,” you greet faintly and hide how shaky your breath gets by walking to Aerion’s crib.

“Cousin,” she greets and rises from her seat.

You avoid the exchange of awkward smiles by keeping your back to her even after you put Aerion down.

However, that gesture makes her blurt. “You have been avoiding me.”

Your breath hitches and you mentally curse in defeat.

“Ever since you returned from Winterfell,” she continues to add to your guilt. “Why? I have always thought that you and I have been closer than that. We were far closer than you and Baela are, yet I see you speak with her all the time.”

You swallow thickly and let your gaze stay focused on a random spot in Aerion’s cradle before you slowly turn with your gaze downcasted, speaking your shame without the need of saying it with words.

“This is the only place I knew I could stop you before you ran so please did I do something wrong?” She throws out and just punctures your already wounded heart.

“No,” you whisper and finally step away from your son's cradle to approach Rhaena cautiously. “Of course not,” you make sure to get that point across.

“Then?” She queries with a hint of sadness in her confusion.

“It’s just,” you mutter and walk past her to get near the fireplace and watch the enchanting flames dance. “You were…betrothed to Lucerys, and I know I may not know the feelings you shared, but he was still your betrothed. You still loved him in a way, and…Aemond,” your breath hitches, and you hear her heels click against the stone louder and louder as she gets closer—“My husband took Lucerys. He took him from you, and I can’t face you knowing that because I see your heartbreak, and when I see your heartbreak my own heart hurts with guilt. I’m sorry, Rhaena. I’m sorry for what happened.”

Rhaena falls by your side and steals your gaze brimmed with tears.

“But it was not your fault,” she says what everyone else has said. “You are not Aemond. You were not even there when it happened. You could have not stopped it either.”

You drop your head and quickly wipe away the tears that roll down your face.

“I do not blame you,” she assures you sweetly as she reaches over to take your hand in hers. “No one blames you, so please do not torment yourself. You are not your husband, and you are not responsible for his doings.”

You slowly lift your gaze and lock eyes with her kind yet saddened ones.

“You mean that?” You make sure to ask first, but without hesitation, Rhaena nods and gives you a lovely smile.

“Truly,” she sounds more confident now.

You let out a sigh of relief and mumble, “Good. I'm glad.”

“Can we go back to the way we were now?” She asks and you can’t help but flash her a faint grin before you nod eagerly.

“Good,” she says breathily as if unsure whilst she steps back, letting your hand fall back to your side—“I wanted to ask you something.”

You give your back to the fire, and snake your hands behind you to seek the fire's warm embrace on your flesh.

“All right…ask, just know you’re making me quite nervous though.” You giggle nervously at the anticipation.

A small amused but nervous smile flashes on her features before she shares what she’s holding in. “I was hoping you could help me train with a sword or archery.”

You blink repeatedly in disbelief and look at her completely shocked considering you should be the last person she should ask. She has her father, and even if you don’t like him you have to admit he is a great swordsman.

“You all have your dragons, and I do not but I still want to help in some way. Be more useful,” she adds to her case. “And I saw you training with Jacaerys, so I was hoping you would show me.”

You bring your hands forward and fiddle with your ruby ring as you make your way to a seat across from her. “What about your father?” You hesitate bringing up.

Rhaena just meets your gaze and shakes her head with a slightly hardened look.

“I want it to be you,” she finds the right thing to say to sway you to the decision she wants to hear.

Yet before you can offer her your help, someone rushes in the room, interrupting your conversation, and stealing your attention toward the door where you see one of your mother's ladies-in-waiting, Elinda, heaving and with panic painted on her features.

“Princess,” she calls out with distress, forcing you to your feet. “Theres been an incident in your mother's apartments”

Your heart falls and without needing to hear the rest, and without any caution to your safety you rush to your mother's quarters. And actually, you don’t even know how exactly you got there with your pounding heart drumming in your ears, and a deep heart-aching fear clouding your gaze.

It’s not until you make it past the door of your mother's room, and see her standing across the room that you’re pulled out of your trance.

“Mother,” you announce your presence and see her attention stuck on a man on the floor by her feet. You follow her line of gaze and finally find out what happened, or you start to imagine the gist of it when you see the Kingsguard twins, Ser Erryk, and Ser Arryk both lifeless and bleeding out on the floor. Which begs the question, who was it you saw earlier? Ser Erryk? Or Ser Arryk?

Did you see Ser Arryk on his way to assassinate your mother?

It had to be him, he had his helmet on and seemed puzzled when you bid him a goodnight.

How could you—he almost killed your mother. The Greens almost killed your mother…

“Mother,” you say shakily but not because you want to cry, you’re caught in disbelief as to what happened. And finally your mother's eyes part from the body, and she finds you, letting you see the red cuts on her cheeks and the horror and shock in her teary eyes as you stride over to her in a hurry.

Nonetheless, when you get close to the dead men, without knowing who’s who you look between them both and still can’t believe they sent someone to come kill your mother. Not because you find it unbelievable, you actually don’t put it past the Greens to do something like this, after all, Daemon did kill their heir. You just feel the tragic but simple disbelief that someone almost killed your mother.

Someone almost took your mother away after killing your brother too. All while you were doing…nothing…

“Are you all right?” You ask your mother while you make sure all you see are small cuts and not serious wounds.

“Yes,” her voice quivers.

You grab a hold of her arms, and she holds your elbows while you study her one last time before you wrap her in a tight embrace to comfort her shaking body, feeling yourself slowly grow sad and terrified over a certain thought that latches in your mind with no intent to budge or die.

Jacaerys comes rushing in shortly after and after his shock he grows angry that Ser Arryk somehow got in, making your mother go and calm him down even if she’s distressed. All while you quietly look at the bodies on the ground and know what you need to do.

You don’t want to, you hate what you decided, and you hate obeying Daemon even more, but you can’t stay here when there’s a chance of doing so much more out there with the enemy.

Everything may not go the way you want it to go. You may get locked up and separated from your son, but if you can save someone you love from death then shouldn’t you try to be their faithful servant?

You have to try. You will try.

You’re going back to King’s Landing and infiltrating the enemy. You’ll return to Aemond’s side and be his wife.

A/N- RIP MC you would have loved yacht parties and movies/series with love triangles

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @callsignwidow @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader

219 notes · View notes

ecoterrorist-katara · 20 days ago

Note

I just saw your post about Toph being the one that brings out Katara’s inner (gremlin) child and my god you’re so right. Katara actually gets to just be a kid when it comes to Toph, she gets to be petty and actually really mean sometimes (saying the stars are beautiful and then telling Toph it’s too bad she can’t see them was CRAZY) but she also gets to pull a scam and go to a spa with her (and then wash three girls down a river after Toph dumped them in there for being mean to her). And I love that we get to see those sides of her that Toph drags out.

Contrast that with the like one time she was kind of mean to Aang in the waterbending scroll episode and had to immediately apologize to him and promise she wouldn’t try to learn from the scroll anymore. Toph brings out what Katara is really like when she gets to just be someone’s friend (and even sister figure) and when she isn’t being forced in one way or another to take on a motherly role for them. (Side note but this is also why I wish we’d gotten to see Katara and Suki interact one on one because I feel that would’ve been another relationship that just allows Katara to be a teenage girl and relate to another girl who would probably understand her pretty well)

Anyway I love your blog and I hope you have a lovely day!

YES absolutely agree w you! Katara is unhinged when it comes to Toph but in like, a not very serious way. One of my fave things about Katara and Toph is how Toph is the first person to reject Katara’s caretaking unequivocally in a way that asserts that they’re on equal ground. it’s not a babysitter situation because like you said, Katara decided to be bratty right back!

And conversely, I think it’s funny that Katara, who is super kind and compassionate and unequivocally the heart of the group, is the person who’s rudest to Toph LOL. Toph really does not want people to treat her like she’s made out of glass, and one of the ways she does that is by being brash to other people, but Katara is the only one who really meets her on that level of sheer belligerence, you know? But Katara can also be pretty thoughtful about what Toph does need, like saying exactly the right thing in Tales of Ba Sing Se. They're just so in sync, yet set each other off. It’s beautiful.

I absolutely agree with you re: Suki too. I want them to swap fighting tips and talk about makeup and other #justgirlythings. But I also want Suki to demonstrate to Katara that leadership and caretaking can happen in combination, because Suki held that joint role with the Kiyoshi Warriors. Katara has so much leadership potential and I think Suki could have been a great mentor to her in that regard. (Uh oh, now I ship Sukitara oops)

I’m honoured you like my blog and I hope you have a lovely day too!!!

#Katara #toph beifong #atla suki #tagging for the block list:#anti kataang #though if you’re on my blog at this point you probably expect that #can i ask you a question?

127 notes · View notes

kandy-sticks-zaza-blogs · 3 months ago

Text

Shows I watch instead of Hazbin Hotel/Helluva Boss

Pls don't attack me I am autistic pls respect my boundaries

Mixels my fav childhood minisodes about lego characters that learned to work together and their fusion are awesome. Also I understand what Kramer is saying.

3 2 1 Penguins have good bible quotes in the christain kid show I only know Veggietales when I was watching it on YouTube also 4 talking penguins are cool also Kevin is my fav autistic British penguin.

When it came out I got excited when it came out I was waiting for season 2 but it never came I love the cool rubber hose cartoon style in the adult animated show.

I love how it is about cooking and DND anime like Campfire Cooking in another world it’s wholesome,dark,delicious food and amazing animations also I love how the food look tasty and the intro song is a vibe but I wished that they added the missing moments in the manga right to the cutscenes when I’m watching it.The anime turns me into a gay simp fr.

When I first saw Red dwarf on BBC my mom tells me that Red dwarf is her fav childhood show I love how funny the sci-fi series is also the cat slaying in every episodes.

I love watching Bravest Warrior as a pre teen I love how they look like Adventure time but sci-fi Catbug gotta be my fav character.

Scooby doo is my fav when I grew up watching it on my old iPad and watching it on tv what I hate the most is scooby doo mystery incorporated they ruined Scooby doo and Velma relationship Velma loves Scooby doo when she met him as a puppy it’s so adorable I love how Velma treats him as a good friend instead of being jealous of eachother also I hated the Velma show.

I love watching Gravity falls on TV whenever I am on vacation with my family I love watcit everyday since my favourite is Mable cuz she’s like my fr as a kid now I become Robbie but without nobody cuz I never interested in dating. Alex Hirsh the legend who made a successful discontinued amazing 2 seasons show and made a coolest lore about Bill Cipher.

I love watching it since the show came out the year after I was out of the womb and still a baby I love how cool the robots are transformers are a greatest franchise since the 80s I love that the transformers characters are different from the original one like an alternate universe Prowl was my fav when I was a kid.

I love Monkey wrench since it came out I love the funny duo between Beebs and Shrike relationship they are the funny duo in the indie series the stories isn’t rushed and I love Sci-fi genre so much!

#hazbin hotel critique #hazbin hotel critical #anti hazbin hotel #anti helluva boss #anti vivziepop #helluva boss critical #mixels #3 2 1 penguins #unicorn warriors eternal #delicious in dungeon #dungeon meshi #red dwarf #lackadaisy #the simpsons #bravest warriors #scooby doo #gravity falls #actually autistic #favourite shows

105 notes · View notes

deadtired-highkeyenergetic · 6 months ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you take request for Astarion and co.? The reader gets an aura migraine (worst kind of migraine in my opinion). But because of her/their past being a mercenary/hunter/warrior (whichever one), the reader doesn’t tell or even realize it until it’s too late. Just some angst and then love and care from Astarion.

I love your writing! So please take all the time you need to write this if you want to.

HIHI I'M SORRY FOR NOT POSTING FOR SO LONG!!!!!!! I've been very tired as of late from all the schoolwork and I swear it's almost like I don't have any down time. Writing through this slog has been difficult as well and I don't like forcing/rushing things. Still, I managed to finish this, hope you like it!

Summary: You collapse right in front of Astarion due to a particularly bad aura migraine episode. Panic and emotional constipation ensues

Your head is splitting. Again.

Inhaling sharply, you let out a slow breath, willing the pain away so that you can focus on the task at hand. Black spots creep in on the edges of your vision but you blink them away, you can’t falter now. You swing your blade, slicing through another of Orin’s assassins before ducking as a dagger stabs the spot your head was at just moments ago.

Even with spotty vision, your battle instincts are enough to help you survive the fight, but you don’t emerge from the fight unscathed. One of the assassins manages to sneak up on you and gets a hit in, tearing open your shoulder.

“Y/N!”

You hiss in pain, whirling around to cleave the assassin in half with your blade. Your injured arm shakes from the exertion, fresh blood streaming from the wound with each motion. The throbbing pain doesn’t help your migraine in the slightest and you nearly keel over.

“My dear, you look terrible.” Astarion catches you just before you hit the floor, a hint of concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine.” You grab onto him to steady yourself, blinking as your vision begins to swim and push yourself upright, flashing him a grin. “See? Perfectly fine!”

And then the world spins before fading to black.

Bright light fills your vision as you open your eyes, causing you to throw your arm up to block out the light, only for white hot pain to shoot through said arm.

Right. You had injured your arm.

Groaning, you rub your eyes with the other arm and tenderly push yourself upright, letting out a croaky yelp when your injured arm buckles beneath you. Closing your eyes, you breathe out slowly, releasing your annoyance at the current situation.

“How are you feeling?” A familiar deep voice sounds.

“Fine.” Your reply comes out harsher than you intended and you internally cringe when Halsin noticeably pauses, taken aback by your tone.

“Sorry,” you mutter quickly. “How long was I out for?”

“Sufficiently long to make everyone worry.” He hands you a flask of water. “Drink up.”

You down the flask almost immediately, feeling the cool liquid slide down your throat and let out a contented sigh. The throbbing in your head has dulled to a quiet hum, but it will remain for a few more days, if past experience is anything to go by.

"Thank you." You hand the now empty flask back to Halsin.

"If you're feeling well enough, you should go and talk to the others. Some of them were particularly worried when you fainted on them." Halsin gives you a sly smirk. "Especially a certain vampire."

You raise an eyebrow and Halsin laughs, "he was the most worried. I had to chase him out of the tent just so I could tend to you."

"He was that worried," you murmur to yourself, frowning slightly. You hadn't meant to do that, well not like you had meant to faint in the first place but knowing just how much of an impact your little 'accident' had on Astarion made you feel bad.

"Watch yourself out there, you were lucky you only collapsed after all the enemies were defeated," Halsin chides as he rebandages your wound and hands you a healing potion. "Try to tell someone when you're not feeling well, alright?"

You laugh, waving him off, "I'll try, no promises though."

The moment you exit the room, the others rush over to check up on you, save for a pale elf who sends a scowl your way before disappearing into his own room, his door left ajar. You reassure the others, quickly making your way past the conversations and slip away with Halsin's help, ducking into a familiar room.

"Hey." You attempt to make conversation but a scowl remains firmly on his face, his gaze buried in the book he's holding. Sighing, you make your way to the bed and nestle into the remaining space, feeling his cooling skin press against your burning one.

"I'm sorry for making you worry."

"You're sorry? That's it? You're not going to explain why I suddenly had your unconscious body in my arms, why you had the audacity to tell me you were 'perfectly fine' before collapsing, why you —" He stops to take a breath he doesn't need, feeling every emotion rush to the surface and tears prick the corners of his eyes. He's mad, mad at you for not telling him anything, mad at himself for not noticing earlier, mad at himself for not being able to express his concern in a normal manner.

"Star…"

"You can't just say sorry and expect everything to be ok! Sorry fixes nothing!" He yells, wanting nothing more than for you to yell back at him so that he can release the emotions he doesn't know how to deal with in the only way he knows how but you remain quiet, head hung low, and that frustrates him even more.

"You're right. Sorry fixes nothing. I…" You let out a deep sigh, lifting your gaze to meet his. You can see the tear streaks that have formed, the fear in his eyes, the anxiety and it steals your breath away.

"Halsin wasn't kidding. You really are extremely worried for me." You can't help but give a small chuckle despite it all, a quiet smile making its way onto your face.

"Of course I'm worried!" Astarion snaps.

"Thank you for being worried." You slip your hand into his. "No one's ever been this worried about me before."

"Have you fainted in someone's arms before?" He huffs, annoyed, but he has simmered down.

"Well…not quite. I always went on quests alone, fought alone, but the times I wasn't alone…let's just say things didn't go so well for me." You laugh, giving his hand a squeeze. "You all…you…are the first people I don't mind calling friends."

He clicks his tongue and looks away, but you can see the red on the tips of his ears. Your own cheeks are burning from the confession, your heart thundering like never before and you want nothing more than to bury your face into your knees.

"Why aren't you angry at me?" He mumbles after a while, still refusing to meet your gaze.

"Is there a reason I should be?" You murmur, running your thumb along his skin. His grip on you tightens and he bites his lip, shifting anxiously.

"There are many." The words leave his lips in a whisper and he wishes he could take them back when he sees the way your face falls.

"I can't think of any. I can, however, think of reasons for you to be angry at me." You shake your head. "I should have told you about my migraines earlier instead of having you find out like that, I should have done more than a simple 'sorry', I should have thought about you instead of just keeping to myself."

"You were just doing what you knew was safe. I'm no better."

"But you chose to open up to me. You spilled your deepest darkest secrets and yet I kept mine from you because I didn't want to look weak. I should have returned the favour, but I didn't." All your regrets come spilling forth, its flow stemmed only by the feeling of soft lips against your own.

He kisses you gently at first, and then it deepens, becoming more urgent as he conveys his feelings to you the only way he knows how.

"You're strong. You're the strongest person I know. You've been through so much, and yet you refuse to let any of it stop you. You've been dealing with your migraine by yourself for so long, putting up with the pain by yourself, nothing about that is weak in the slightest." He presses his forehead against yours, pulling you into his embrace. "Let me share in your burden as you share in mine."

"It's only fair, I suppose." Your lips curve into a grin. Letting out a quiet breath, you entangle your fingers in his curls, feeling him lean into the touch. "Promise?"

"Promise," he murmurs back, soaking in the moment. There's only you and him, bodies pressed against each other, embracing like it's the last time you'll ever see each other, washing away the throbbing in your head and the ache in his heart.

He closes his eyes, relishing in the warmth of your body tightly pressed against him, breathing in your scent that speaks of love, comfort, safety, feeling the rhythmic strokes of your fingers through his hair, and wants for nothing else. Pressing a kiss to your temple, he smiles, genuinely, and saves this moment in his memory.

"Get well soon, my love."

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #astarion romance #astarion x durge #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion ancunin #tavstarion #durgestarion

230 notes · View notes

decembermidnight · 10 months ago

Text

Bad Attitude

Summary: While on patrol duty, you chase a suspect starship but end up crashing on a freezing planet. Its pilot, a Mandalorian, rescues you, but he doesn't like your attitude towards him and makes sure you understand who is in charge.

Pairing: Din Djarin x f!reader

Word count: 6.1k

Warnings: smut, 18+ mdni, teasing, dom!din, brat!reader, brat tamer!din, Din is really an asshole here lol, improper use of the darksaber, lots of dirty talk, oral (m receiving), breath play, choking, fingering, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, degradation kink, praise kink, creampie

A/N: Loosely based on The Passenger episode and super canon divergent. I just had fun having nasty thoughts! Reblogs and comments are always welcome!! Hope you enjoy it!

Divider: @saradika-graphics

Masterlist - Read on Ao3

You… You really did have to follow that ship on this forsaken planet, didn't you?

You couldn't just listen to your partner Carson for once when he warned you to let it go.

Chasing that Razor Crest despite the bad weather on Maldo Kreis was not the smartest idea. Not smart at all, in fact.

You were only supposed to ask the pilot why his ship was in the proximity of that prison, Bothan-5, when that officer was killed, but he ran away as soon as he heard that name. You immediately started recklessly chasing that old piece of junk in the hostile atmosphere of this awful, unwelcoming planet, and next thing you know your Starfighter crashed, compromising the integrity of the hatch, you’re cut off from your partner and you’ll likely freeze to death before he can come rescue you. Could it get any worse?

It turns out it can.

Just when you switch the radio off, resigned to accept the unavoidable fate, your eyes seem to catch something dark in the snowstorm. At first you assume it’s just your mind playing tricks on you, but when you take a better look, you see it - there’s a dark figure approaching your ship. It must be him - the Razor Crest pilot. As he gets closer, you notice he’s wearing armour, a Mandalorian armour, and you’ve heard the stories about those deadly warriors. You probably made him angry with your insistent pursuit and now he might be killing you so as not to leave witnesses.

You are so fucked. This is the worst day of your life, and also the last.

He lifts the damaged hatch of your ship and looks at you, exposing you to the freezing air of the blizzard. You stare back at him - his broad figure completely towers over yours, but you try not to look intimidated by him.

"Razor Crest, is that you?" you say in a secure tone, wanting to appear tough.

"Yeah." the modulated voice answers as you feel his dark visor lingering on your figure.

"Came here to finish the job?" you try to sneakily grab your blaster in a desperate attempt to defend your life, determined not to die without fighting, or at least, not without trying.

"Not if you don't try anything stupid like that. Put it down." says in an authoritative tone, his right hand instinctively goes on the holster of his blaster. You quickly realise this is not the moment for heroism if you want to survive.

"Don't give me orders. I'm a New Republic officer." you reply firmly.

He scoffs and shakes his head in disdain.

"Dear officer, take a good look around. This frozen tomb doesn't look like New Republic territory to me." he goads you "Now quit it and let's go to my ship."

"Who says I want to come with you?"

"Come on, I’m freezing my ass off, for fuck’s sake." he loses no time in ripping your seatbelt and life support system off your body before grabbing you and carrying you over on his shoulder.

"Put me down! You're so rude!" you protest and try to kick him, but he blocks your legs in the tight grasp of his free arm, immobilising you.

"So far I've been more kind than you deserve. If you keep acting like that, I'll show you how rude I can be." his grip is firm and strong as he gives a warning squeeze to your thigh.

You do not want to admit it, but you feel a thrill of excitement at that - he doesn’t care about the fact that you're a law enforcer, he’s treating you like the scum he’s used to. He probably wants to trade your life for his freedom with Carson later - you’re his hostage now.

When you reach his ship, he finally puts you down. You take off your helmet and look at the Mandalorian that so unceremoniously saved you from certain death earlier.

You realise how much taller than you he is, his armour making him even broader than what he already is. Your eyes can't help lingering on his body in wonder at how strong he must be, how the shiny beskar perfectly completes his thick masculine figure, only adding to his already imposing stance, perfectly concealing his body, making him massive and statuesque. His suit is tight around the arms, you can see the outline of his thick, strong biceps. If only he wasn’t a criminal, if only you weren’t a New Republic officer, if only he wasn’t a complete cunt…

"You done?" a low, baritonal voice interrupts your dirty thoughts.

"Excuse me?" you raise a brow.

"I asked if you're done checking me out."

“What?! I wasn’t-” you lie and you both know it. You do not feel so cold anymore, your cheeks feel hot all of a sudden.

“Yeah. Sure.” the asshole teases as he rests against the wall of his ship, looking at you with crossed arms.

“You hurt?” he then asks.

“No, I’m fine.”

"Good. Let's go up to the cockpit, then. It's warmer up there."

He climbs up the ladder and when the door closes behind him, you take a deep breath, trying to collect yourself, and follow him.

When you get in the small room, you find him sitting in the pilot chair facing the windshield with crossed arms and legs spread wide. You settle on his side, standing with crossed arms and gaze fixed on his body. He’s as still and silent as a statue, unreadable under that helmet - is he really relaxed as he wants you to think, or is he carefully studying you?

"Don't look at me that way." says without moving a muscle.

"How?"

"Same way you've been looking at me since we got on the ship."

"What are you implying?"

"Don't act like you don't know." he turns towards you and stands up, making you imperceptibly startle. He looks imposing and menacing, his helmet slightly tilted observing you.

"You don't trust me one bit, do you?" he scoffs and shakes his head.

"You assaulted that prison and killed that poor man. He was a New Republic officer, just like me. Why should I trust you?”

“Because I didn’t do it.”

“Why should I believe you?”

“What will you do when you find out I was right all along?” the way he doesn’t lose his cool is fascinating, to a degree.

"You’re not. If you were innocent, you wouldn’t have run away and we wouldn't be here now."

He tilts his helmet to the side once again as he looks at you. His gaze and his confidence make you feel hot and uncomfortable at the same time - you wouldn’t want to give out the undeniable way his stoic charm is affecting you, but you hate the way he's been treating you.

"Yeah, we wouldn't be here." he lets out in an allusive tone as he walks one single step forward while you take one back, ending up against the wall. He's so damn tall and broad and… and you're getting so wet.

You look into his dark visor, feeling his gaze lingering on your body. You can feel the tension, the atmosphere in the cockpit becoming unbearable. It's getting hard to breathe, heat radiating from both of your bodies as you never stop looking at each other. While his sight is unreadable, yours is unmistakably libidinous, your heart pounding in your chest and your pussy throbbing with need, but you're both too proud to surrender first.

"I guess not. You coward." you let out in a far too flirtatious way as you look at him with shameless lust.

"What did you just call me?!" he rasps, sounding so provocative.

"Coward. That's what you are. Running away from me when I was chasing you and taking me hostage when I was so vulnerable.”

“Shut up.”

“So big and tough in your shiny armour, but you run away as soon as you see a New Republic patrol. I should have just shot you when I had the chance. At least I wouldn’t be sharing this ship with a coward.”

“I said shut up.”

“What now, Mandalorian? What do you plan to do now that you've kidnapped me? Are you gonna prove me wrong?" you’re wondering if you got too far when he gets dangerously close to you, his menacing figure towering over yours as he grips a handful of your hair, forcing your gaze into his dark visor.

"Do I have to stick my cock in your mouth to make you shut up?"

A flame of lust instantly traverses your body. You feel your blood boiling, making you feel hot and flustered, reason and common sense leaving you at the mercy of a primal, carnal instinct.

"I bet you don't have the balls to do it." you goad him with a smirk on your face.

Oh, you shouldn't have said that, yet you did, and what's worse is that you don't regret it.

You look at him with shameless desire clouding your eyes, internally cursing at the helmet that can't and won't let you see his reaction to your provocation, waiting for his next move.

You keep your lustful gaze locked on his visor as his hand swiftly unfastens his belt and the zip of his pants. His grip on your hair tightens even more as he pushes you on your knees, immediately sticking his hard, thick cock in your mouth and fuck, the sound he makes. It's worth crashing on a desolated planet and being scolded afterwards. It's guttural and desperate, astonished at how good your poisonous mouth feels when you take him in and your tongue gently swirls around his tip, instead of spitting mean words at him. You keep eye contact as you let the shaft slide in your mouth and coat it generously in your saliva, his head tilted back as he lets out breathy sighs of pleasure.

"You. You need to learn how to fucking behave. Shut up when I tell you to. You have to stop taunting me. Fuck. Is this what you wanted?"

He takes your head away from his cock to let you answer.

“You’re not as much of a coward as I thought you were.” you tease.

“You are still talking?!” exclaims as he pushes your head towards his cock once again, staying still as he uses your mouth for his pleasure, violently forcing all of his length down your throat. When he rips you away from it, you gasp for breath.

"You look so good like this. On your knees, choking on my cock, finally shutting the fuck up like a good girl." he growls, pleased.

Just as you want more of it, your mouth going towards it once again, his grip on your hair turns to steel and stops you there. You look up to him from your kneeled position and see him shaking his head.

“Why? Are you close already?” you taunt him as he tucks his cock back in his pants.

"Oh, it will take you way more than that to make me come, officer." says as he makes you stand up.

“Bet you want me to prove you wrong so badly. Bet you want to come in my m-” you stop mid sentence as he starts to unzip your flight suit while he pushes you towards the control panel of his ship, making you sit on it and trapping you there with his beskar body, your legs instinctively spread open for him to fit between them.

“Yeah? Go on. What were you saying?” he goads you as his hand slips inside of the thin pants you're wearing under the suit, teasing your clit from outside your underwear.

“I-I was s-saying that - that-” you gasp when his hand finds its way into your panties and reaches your slit.

"Ooh, what do we have here?" exclaims in taunting wonder. His beskar helmet is only a few centimetres distant from your face "Acting all cocky and arrogant before, but damn, feel how wet you are. Bet no one ever made you this wet, officer. Stars, you're dripping for me. All of this just from sucking my cock?" says in a husky voice as two of his thick, gloved fingers slide inside of you.

You grit your teeth in a desperate attempt to hide the way this is making you feel, not wanting to give him satisfaction, but your body is slowly surrendering to him and betraying you, your cunt involuntarily clamping around his fingers, revealing how his words are, in fact, effective on you.

"Oh, I bet you feel so good and you sound so sweet when you moan for me. Feel how hot and tight you are." he keeps teasing you.

Resisting him is getting near impossible. By now he knows how badly you want it.

"Listen to what we’re gonna do now. You're gonna come on my fingers like a good girl and then I'll fuck you until your partner comes to rescue you."

You can't help it anymore and let out a moan at how sensual his voice sounds as he says those things to you, at the thought of getting fucked by him, all while his fingers keep sliding inside and outside of you, making your cunt spasm around them.

"Oh, I knew it. Damn, such a sweet girl." he rasps as he takes his fingers out.

"What the fuck?!" you snap at him when he does, making him chuckle at your reaction.

"Hey, calm down officer." he teases your lips with his gloved fingers soaked in your arousal.

You instinctively suck the leather and taste yourself on his fingers, licking them sensually as you look at him in the visor. He hums in pleasure seeing that and goes on playing with your mouth, entranced by the way your tongue swirls around them, until he takes them out and presses his middle finger on your bottom lip.

"Bite." he simply orders and you obey, taking the hem of his glove between your teeth to let his hand slip out of the glove. It's huge compared to yours, callous and veiny and masculine. You hum as it starts trailing down your body and feel the warm trail it leaves on the delicate skin of your neck as he caresses it, your own hands holding tight to the commands of the ship, propping you up to offer yourself to his touch. You can feel his eyes looking at your body from behind the dark visor as his hand slips in your flight suit once again, groping your breast from outside your shirt, his thumb playing with one of your hardened nipples, your back arched and chest puffed out to make it look fuller. You moan loudly when he slides his fingers in your panties and back inside of you.

"Stars - so fucking wet. I bet your cunt is so beautiful. Spread your legs for me. You're making me so fucking hard." he keeps up the pace and also starts to rub your clit with his thumb, making the pleasure you’re feeling unable to hide and you surrender to him, panting heavily as your eyes cross and roll in delight.

"Really? Eyes rolling, officer?" he taunts you.

"F-fuck y-you-" you rasp with half closed eyes, your sentence gets interrupted as he hooks his fingers, touching something devastating inside of you, making him scoff when he sees the way you squeeze your eyes shut and arch your back, your mouth wide open to let out obscene moans.

"What? Do you want me to stop?" he provokes you.

"Don't you fucking dare." you manage to let out in a barely audible sigh.

He immediately grabs your neck, not liking the way you undermine his authority.

"Careful now, officer." he growls.

You moan back in response at how much you like this - being put back into place, the Mandlaorian reminding you who is in control. You hold tight to his sides, digging your nails in his flight suit as he just pushes you further against the control panel with his body.

You’re a panting mess and you feel so close, so damn close to your orgasm. You beg he won’t stop as you wrap your legs around him. He feels by the irregular, ragged way you're breathing and the way your muscles go rigid around him that you're close.

"What? Coming already?” he chuckles “I will let you just because I want to fuck you so badly. Now come, my dear officer. Come for me."

You pant straight into his helmet when you hear him calling you like that, fogging it where his mouth would be. His hand pushes you over the edge and you moan loudly as he makes you come around his fingers, your hands holding tight to his neck, bringing him down towards you. Your back arches, chest rubbing against his armour and you roll your head back until it hits the transparisteel of the windshield behind you. Your nails scratch him hard and your legs’ grip becomes even tighter, his upper body now trapped in your grasp.

He grabs your chin with his other hand and forces you to look at him in the visor.

"Yes - yes, yes. Like this. Good girl." he growls between his teeth, looking at you as you struggle to keep your gaze on him, your eyes wanting to roll up in pleasure.

He lets you ride your high, never stopping those astounding moves of his hand, making you feel so satisfied, but so guilty and humiliated at the same time.

As the orgasm gradually fades out, your grip on his body loosens.

He takes out his hand right in front of your eyes and, Maker, it's soaking wet, glistening in your arousal. You’re both embarrassed and aroused when you see how wet and yielding you got for him as soon as he started touching you.

"Damn, officer. How am I going to-"

You don't even let him finish, you've taken his hand in yours and start sucking his fingers. He lets out a satisfied hum when you do that. You clean them thoroughly, sensually massaging his digits with your tongue, humming as you hear him cursing between his teeth in a foreign language.

Once he’s satisfied, he takes them out of your avid mouth.

"Now strip for me, officer. I bet you look so hot under that uniform."

"Forget it." you tease him.

"Too bad you didn't obey me when I asked so nicely."

In an instant his hands start ripping the flight suit off your body as you're kicking out of your boots at the same time. It's rushed, brutal and wild, the both of you completely taken over by lust. His hands linger on your sides, giving you goosebumps and making you sigh when he lifts the thermal shirt off your body and you hold on tight to the panel when he hooks his fingers in the hem of your pants and pulls everything down and away from your body, leaving you completely naked in front of him.

“You look… Good without your uniform on, officer.” he is pleased looking at your naked body. “Wonder if I could say the same about you, Mandalorian.” “You’ll have to use your imagination."

“Are you even a real Mandalorian? Maybe you stole this armour, or maybe you bought it off some Jawas.” you mock him.

"Come here and I’ll show you." he simply says as he sits back on his chair, legs spread wide and a visible bulge in his pants.

Just as you get close to him, he takes out one of his weapons, a strange sword without a blade, and begins to trace your nipple with the hilt. You start to breathe heavily and you can feel your nipple getting harder by the second, your eyes carefully following his movements as he descends ever so slowly, teasing you, trailing your stomach and then your lower belly, stopping right in front of your cunt, driving you crazy, your legs spreading for him, begging for some friction. He softly brushes your lips, carefully avoiding your clit to tease you further, until he finally touches it. The sudden contact of the hilt with your sensitive clit makes you shudder and let out a whimper.

"Don't. Move." he orders as he continues to touch you with that weapon, rubbing it against your clit, producing obscene, wet sounds at the contact. You try to stay as still as you can as he plays with that dangerous weapon so close to your most delicate spot. You beg he'd go faster, you wish you could ride it and come all over it, as pathetic as it sounds, but no, he doesn't want that. He wants to take his time to tease you, getting you nice and wet as he plays with you like you're his toy.

He stands up, towering over you.

"Stick your tongue out."

You immediately do and he starts to trace your mouth with the hilt.

"This is the Darksaber. Whoever wields it can rule all of Mandalore, and you're licking it after I've used it to give you pleasure. Feel how wet you’ve made it. How does that make you feel?"

“Like you should sit down on that chair and take out that cock. Touch yourself while I lick your Darksaber clean, Mandalorian.”

He grunts as you push him back on his chair. He immediately unzips his pants to take his throbbing cock out as you keep licking his weapon clean, pleased at the sight of his erection in his hand.

"Touch yourself for me, Mando" you order him as you trace your tongue on the hilt.

"Enough of that." he grabs you by the hair and pushes you on your knees, forcing you to suck his cock. In a swift movement he grabs the Darksaber with his two hands, using it as leverage to keep your head down, forcing his entire cock into your throat, making you startle at the sudden lack of air.

"You don't get to give me orders." he growls before freeing you from his grasp to let you breathe. You gasp for air and look at him, panting.

Maker, he's so dangerous. He could kill you in one second if he wanted to, and you've never, never been wetter than this, playing this dangerous, twisted game with a deadly warrior.

He gives you a few seconds to breathe and then he's back at it, using his weapon to make you choke on his cock.

"Do you understand? I can do whatever I want to you." he releases you once again. There are tears in the corner of your eyes but that doesn't stop him from doing that one more time.

"You're so fucking pretty, but you also need someone to tame you. You've found the right man. Is that what you were looking for, officer? Someone to tame that bad temper?" he says and releases you one more time. You gasp for air as one tear sheds down your cheek.

"Come here. I'll fuck that bad attitude out of you." he orders as he puts the Darksaber away.

This. This is what you've always been craving, what you always wanted.

You slowly rise from the cold floor, your hands on his thighs as you can't stop looking at each other with longing desire. You straddle him, shaking in anticipation as you sink on his body guided by his hands on your hips, letting his cock slowly slide inside of you. The both of you moan as his cock splits you open for him, making him feel how hot and welcoming you are. You both let out a long, satisfied sigh, his voice is dark and sensual and you spasm around his throbbing cock, heavily aroused to finally have him inside of you.

“Mando, let me see if you're only good with words now."

“Din. I want to hear you screaming my name when I’ll make you come on my cock, officer.”

“You’re pretty confident in your abilities, Mandalorian.”

“Your mouth might say otherwise, but your body agrees with me.” he's so arrogant and full of himself, his confidence is making you wet.

“It does” you concede “you feel good, Din.” you purr in his neck, and he grunts when he hears how sweet your voice can be as you whisper his name while you have his cock buried inside of you. You start riding him slowly, looking at him in the visor as you feel every ridge and vein of his cock, enjoying every single moment of it, letting him almost slip out, only to let him back inside of you. He lets out sighs of satisfaction that drive you insane and only want to make you increase your rhythm but no, not yet, you want to make him pay for the way he's been treating you.

“If I had known my cock would have been enough to tame your bad temper, I’d have fucked you earlier.”

“What about yours, Din? What should I do about you being an asshole to me?” you say as you pull him out of you, making him grunt.

“Fuck. Put it back in.”

“Not so fast. I want you to behave. Beg for it.”

“You know I could just take you anytime I want, right?” “I do. But where would the fun be?”

He hums in pleasure as you take his drenched cock in your hand and start to slowly stroke it right in front of your cunt, moaning in his neck just to get him even more aroused.

“Fuck. You’re good at this.” he whimpers.

You start to slide it between your folds, the both of you moaning in arousal.

“Dank Farrik, d-do you want me to die?” he growls, subjugated by your teasing. “I want you to behave.” you whisper in a heady groan as you keep rolling your hips and rubbing your pussy on his cock. “F-fuck. I want to be inside of you so badly.”

“Say it.”

He sighs and pauses, taking a good look at the tip of his cock teasing your entrance.

“Please.”

“Please what?” you ask, biting your lip in pleasure.

“Please put my cock back inside of you, officer.” there's a hint of annoyance in his voice when he surrenders and sees your satisfied smirk.

“Good.” you whisper gasping against his helmet as you slowly slide his cock deep back inside of you.

That’s the moment when he digs his fingers in your hips and starts jackhammering you, making you scream as he said he would, your hands clawing on his shoulders.

“Who do you think you are? Do you think you can taunt me? I’m a Mandalorian. A bounty hunter. Bet you’ve never been fucked so good, officer. I’m gonna give you this cock so hard, you’ll never forget about me. You’ll be touching yourself thinking about me for the rest of your life. Thinking about the Mandalorian Din Djarin who fucked your brains out on Maldo Kreis.”

The way he's fucking hard and rough into you as he says those things in an angry, husky voice is pleasurably devastating and addicting, having you moan frantically as your body is held still by his strong hands.

"Oh, fuck, Din, don't stop. Don't stop!" you let out in a desperate cry.

"Do you want to come on my cock, officer? Let me hear it. I want to hear you beg for it."

"Please, please Din, make me come on your cock." you drawl, subjugated by lust.

"Mmm - you sound so hot when you beg for me. Keep going and I won't stop."

"Please! I've never been fucked like this, Din." your heart is racing, your breathing is getting laboured and feel the orgasm approaching “I'm so close, Din, so fucking close. Please, don’t stop."

"Come, officer. Keep riding my cock and come on it. I want to hear you scream my name."

"Oh, Din!" you scream his name as the overwhelming force of the orgasm washes over you, a white blaze of bliss making you lose control, uncontrollably spasming and sensually moaning as he doesn't stop giving it to you, groaning in pleasure when he feels how tight and wet you get around him when you come on his dick.

"That's it. That's my good girl." he grunts as he lets you ride your orgasm.

His rhythm slows down as you come back from your high, his hands still firmly on your hips, guiding you, making you slowly grind your pussy against his cock, the cockpit full of your pants.

"Ready for round two, officer?"

He doesn’t even wait for your response, your mind still fogged by the astonishing orgasm he just gave you.

He gets up from the chair and in a second he turns you around, your body slammed against the control panel and the windshield, your wrists held up high by his hand. Your legs are shaking and you can't really seem to stand on your feet properly.

You couldn't possibly be ready for him slamming his dick inside of you all at once, so hard that air leaves your lungs in an exhale. You'd curse at him, but you can't articulate words as he is fucking you so violently, his strong hand on your hip keeping you still. If you thought he was fucking you hard earlier, it's nothing compared to now - feeling all the power of his body giving it to you wild and raw is pleasurably devastating. You couldn't possibly have imagined that what he gave you earlier was merely foreplay for him, just a little tease before making sure you knew who is really in charge and how hard he can fuck you. He was just letting you have a small taste of what would happen after, wanting you to get ready for him, nice and wet and stretched open for his thick cock to split you in half. He grabs a fistful of your hair and you feel his helmet close to your ear.

"What? You're out of breath already? I'm just getting started, officer." he slides it out almost completely and slams it back in so hard you roll your eyes in pleasure.

"Look at you. Loving this dick so much you're rolling your eyes. Gonna fuck you so hard, you'll learn how to fucking behave."

You can't do anything besides taking his cock and letting out choked moans.

"Still regret being stuck here with me? Tell me. Do you still think I'm a coward?" he growls in between thrusts.

You can barely drawl a moan in response and he chuckles.

"Yeah, I don't think so. You can't even speak." he mocks you as he pounds into you harder and harder, devastating you, reducing you to a pathetic, moaning mess.

"Who knows if the snow storm has stopped and your partner is looking for you. What if he sees you getting fucked like this?"

You know it's wrong, but the thought turns you on so much that you clench around him, and he feels it.

"Oh, you'd like it? Officer, what do we have here? A little whore?" you hear his dark chuckle as he grips your throat with his hand, bringing you closer to him - the hot, naked skin of your back against his cold beskar armour as he never stops railing you.

Getting called like that in other circumstances, by any other person in the galaxy, would have caused you to shoot them immediately, but now, oh, did that turn you on.

"You like being called that way, don't you? Whore." he whispers softly in your ear, and it drives you insane despite how much you're trying to hide it. He feels your body getting rigid, the vibrations of your throat choking a moan, the way you bite your lip trying not to let one sound out, and you can bet he's loving every second of it.

His other hand starts to rub your clit and that's when you fucking lose it - your mouth opens wide and lets out a loud groan of pleasure.

"Tell me you're my whore and I'll give you the best orgasm of your life."

You hesitate - his request is so degrading, but you want it at the same time. He can sense your indecisiveness and stops drawing circles on your clit and starts going around it, carefully avoiding it.

"N-no. Don't stop. It's unfair!" you whimper.

"Say it."

You try to relieve the ache between your legs by bringing a hand there, but he is quick to stop you and block your wrist behind your back, immobilising you as if you were one of his bounties, getting you even more aroused, so much, in fact, that you let out another groan.

"Don't make me handcuff you." he growls sensually and you immediately picture him fighting criminals every day, used to manhandling thugs and being a badass and you get even more aroused at the thought, and decide to give him whatever he wants.

You mumble those words, barely audible, ashamed but at the same time yielding, desperately and pathetically wanting him to give you what you so achingly crave, in a way that only he can provide. A need that you never even realised existed before he brought you into the highest dimension of pleasure.

"What? I didn't hear you."

"I am your whore." you whisper, annihilated.

"Good girl. Say it again. Louder this time."

"I am your whore, Din! Please, please make me come like this!" you surrender to him completely, defeated by your very body refusing to let this slip away.

"That's my girl. You asked so nicely, I'm gonna give it to you." you hear the satisfaction in his voice as he immediately starts to rub your clit again, driving you close to the edge in no time, your cunt getting tighter in anticipation.

“Shit, I want to come inside of you. I'm so fucking close, officer. You’re gonna patrol the outer rim, flying your Starfighter while my cum drips down your beautiful cunt. You’re gonna feel that and you will think of me the entire time.” he rasps in your ear as you feel his body pushing you further into the transparisteel and then over the edge, making you come screaming his name once again rolling your eyes over your lids, desperately begging him to come inside of you.

His groans get louder and louder as he comes. You feel his is cock pulsing and twitching, thrusting into you, wanting to go as deep as it can go, filling you with his hot release as you clamp erratically around him.

Both of your bodies are spent as you come back from your high, the sound of your laboured breathing fills the cockpit.

"Hey" he pants "keep it inside now. I don't want to see a single drop going to waste. Are we clear?"

You nod and he slips out of you slowly as you obey his order, keeping his release inside of you as you get dressed, feeling it drip between your legs as he walks you back to your ship.

Carson is already there - he has fixed the minor damages your X-wing had sustained when you crashed in the snow, confident in the fact that you found shelter somewhere and that you’re safe and will be back soon.

What he did not expect is for you to show up with the Mandalorian by your side, though.

"Can I have a few words with you?" he asks with a raised brow.

You nod and walk a few steps away from Din, going behind your ship to have some privacy.

"He saved my life." you regretfully admit before he even has a chance to speak, expecting a scolding.

"Listen. I run the tabs on the Razor Crest. It seems like your new friend has an arrest warrant on him for the abduction of a prisoner." he pauses briefly and lets out a sigh "But he has also captured three wanted culprits and tried to save the Lieutenant's life."

"I'd say we let him go this time. I really don't want to file a report about what happened. I hate doing that."

"Is that so?" he asks sarcastically.

"These are trying times, come on."

Carson raises his brow once again, looking at you and then at the armoured menace standing a few steps away from him.

“Fine.” he shrugs, not wanting to dig deeper with regards to your change of mind towards the Mandalorian, then gets back to his ship.

You jump in your X-wing, but before closing the hatch and taking off, you address Din one more time.

"We're even now, Din Djarin. See you next time, and don't get caught."

318 notes · View notes

deleteddewewted · 5 days ago

Text

Learning Control

MDNI

NSFW

S: Titus is learning new things about himself, especially that he does in fact have a sex drive now that he's been given some time to rest which is a rarity for him. A serf who has shown him nothing but kindness since she started working for the Ultramarines has caught his eye and now he can't help but wonder what it would be like to taste her. To have her. Low and behold Titus finds that the feeling is mutual and he is put to the greatest test. Controlling himself as this lovely serf makes use of his dick for the first time in his entire life.

W: Dom! Reader, Sub! Reader, Virgin! Titus, Cockwarming, Riding, Serf! Reader, Age Gap (Only in the sense that Titus is 300+ and Reader is in their 20's - 30's+)

Titus didnt know that Astartes could feel sexual pleasure in any capacity. He had spent the entirety of his life never having a desire to masturbate or even have sex with anyone before so when he started experiencing episodes of great physical restlessness, he thought he had come down with some kind of illness. He tried fixing the issue on his own. His hands would rub against his penis in an attempt to hide his growing issue but the more he did the harder he became and he grew frustrated. He eventually went to an apothecary when the issue persisted and he was walking uncomfortably.

The apothecary, rolling its eyes at him, explained that his affliction was a baseline want. This initially distressed him, he didn't know what to do nor did he want to find out if he would enjoy releasing his problem. Would it mean he was defective as an angel of death? Did the Rubicon surgery go awry with him? He had no idea.

He didn't try to release himself until he met you. You had been cleaning his room, and as you moved about as he waited patiently for you to finish, he noticed the way your clothes hung over your body. He couldn't help but inspect the way your nipples perked and poked at the fabric of your cloak or the way your body arched as you cleaned below his bed. He desired you more than anything else in this world and the more time he watched you the more his desire grew.

He started following you more often than you followed him or his brothers. He began starting conversations with you in hopes that maybe your voice would grant him some relief from his ever present issue. He had you sit on his lap after you where done cleaning his chambers. He would ask to hold you just to inhale your scent to then in the privacy of his chambers rut into his mattress in search of some relief. He allowed you to clean his face from sweat and dirt just to be able to feel your skin against his own. All of this culminated into the day he would ask you to fuck him once though he didn't know how to ask for this exactly. He approached you and asked you for some personal assistance with an issue of his and once in his chambers, with the door closed shut and locked, he took of his armor and peeled off his body suit. His cock sprung out, the tip red and dripping with cum already. His balls were full and hung heavy as he removed his clothes.

"Please... aid me, y/n." He begged. His voice almost came out as a whine as he bucked his hips at you in hopes you would know what to do. Thankfully for him you did. You began to slowly pump his cock and watched as the once fearsome warrior reduced into nothing but a groaning moaning mess.

You eventually found yourself cockwarming him. You had him sit at his desk and read the codex while you rolled your hips and seeked your own relief while forcing him to remain composed. He bucked and let out breathy moans as you moved.

“My heart, please…. Tell me what to do.” He would moan out. He would beg, face flushed and fucked out.

“Fuck! I’m cumming! Let me-“

“No, be patient Titus.” You argued. And so you sat there, unmoving until his orgasm dissipated. Titus whimpered as your walls tightened around him. You were torture. He loved it but he wished he wasn’t so inexperienced so he could make you feel just as good.

You began to bounce up and down his cock just as he started reading again. You ordered him to read out loud so that you may also learn but you could care less. You searched for your own high as his dick split you in half. He was thick and it made you feel over filled with every thrust. The sound of your ass meeting his thighs turned you on even more. Titus, not being able to stop himself, placed his hand on your stomach just to push you back against his chest. He was close and he begged in between breaths.

“Please….Please…..!” He gasped as he came. He buried himself deeper inside of you, filling you insides with his thick cum. He didn’t want to pull out, you were just so warm and your body was just so welcoming.

You were spent and tired, your legs shook as you tried composing yourself post orgasm. You turned your head and kissed him which he reciprocates back. You both stayed there until you felt like you could walks again and he could steel his expression so he could afec his brothers again. He licked you clean, his tongue rough on your pussy but ever so welcoming as it cleaned the cum that spilled out of you. He went to shower but before he did he promised to properly court you. That he wanted more from you and he hoped you’d want more from him as well.

#demetrian titus x reader #demetrian titus #demetrian titus x fem! reader #titus x reader #warhammer 40k #warhammer 40000 #w40k #warhammr 40k demetrian titus #warhammer demetrian titus #dd speaks

56 notes · View notes

thebennsofdallas · 1 month ago

Text

I'm in love with Nandermo --wwdits season 6

Three episodes in and I’m eating my negative, pessimistic words. Because I’m still walking on air. And my review is a simple one and is as follows —

Just keep it like this. Nandor and Guillermo don’t have to make out physically when the love is this tender and obvious. They’re making out mentally and spiritually every time they’re within ten feet of each other. Nandor looks at Guillermo with such open softness now. And instead of Guillermo following Nandor around, now it’s Nandor who follows.

That war Nandor has been having with himself for 15 years is lost, for good and all. His feelings for Guillermo are undeniable now. His housemates have seen it for years and now, Nandor has no choice but total surrender. Even a 760 year old warrior has his limits.

Nandor is feeling it so fucking hard. After that whole hour that he spent thinking he might have to kill Guillermo last season, he has surrendered all pride, all stubbornness, all self-denial to the truth of his feelings for his human. He’s still going to Guillermo for reassurance, for comfort, for company, as he always has but now, there is an underlying tenderness there that is breathtaking.

This is canon Nandermo. The real deal.

#wwdits #what we do in the shadows #nandor the relentless #guillermo de la cruz #nandermo forever

62 notes · View notes

banqanas · 8 months ago

Text

Yamada Yuki acting as Todoroki and Maeda Goki acts as Murayama + them talking about the infamous forehead flick scene

From: Yamada Yuki 2020.05.21 instagram live translations

Above version is only for parts I managed to sub. Full version (around 12 minutes) is here (without subs). Text translations for full part under cut:

Note: Yamada Yuki did a lot of instalive during the pandemic. In this episode, he had 4 guests over: Ozawa Yuta (Daruma Ikka's Kato), Saotome Taichi (Mighty Warrior's Ryu), Nakajima Ken (Oyako's Nakaoka), and Maeda Gouki (Todoroki Yosuke)

Y: *reading comments*

“Yamada Yuki-kun, just once in my life, I want to be beaten up by you.” Please don’t say that.

“I saw Kimi wa Petto movie” That’s the drama Shison starred in! The actor’s Shison Jun not me!

Y: Ah there he is! Gouki! I was thinking of doing (instalive) together with Gouki. Did he get the invite?

Y: He’s here!

M: Hello~

Y: You know just yesterday, I was with Uchida Rio-chan and Inaba Yuu-kun (Kizzy). We were playing MonHun. And I said, I wanna do a High&Low collab since I’ve been doing instalive a lot lately. And I thought I wanna do it with Gouki.

(バイゆう baiyuu is probably some shortform for something but i couldnt figure out what it is, sorry)

M: But just now (Saotome) Taichi and (Nakajima) Ken-kun were going live with you too and I was like “Woah, they’re really doing it!”

Y: For some reason a lot of High&Low cast were doing it like one after another. And I was thinking of contacting you asking if you wanna do Murayama and Todoroki together... But I didn’t think it’ll come true this soon.

M: Sorry for suddenly dropping in!

Y: It’s fine!

M: But I’m happy to know that my name popped up eventhough I wasn’t there. Thank you.

Y: Not at all. You’re already an important part (of the cast).

Y: Considering the times we’re in I was seriously thinking that I want to do an instalive with Todoroki-chan.

M: Right now I’m entirely in a Murayama-style though. With my headband and all

Y: I was thinking about that too! I’m gonna try putting on glasses then.

M: My hair totally grown out like Todoroki’s now

M: That glasses look like Shiono Akihisa’s character though (lol) with the tinted sunglasses

Y: Ah, the one with chains, right

Y: I wonder if I have any other glasses

M: I’m gonna take the headband off for a bit

Y: Was it black framed glasses?

M: Whose?

Y: Todoroki’s. It’s not black right, he has silver framed glasses, right?

M: Yeah it’s not black, it’s silver.

Y: This is Todoroki.

M: Wait a minute—

Y: Todoroki is here.

M: *dying laughter*

M: Sorry for going out of screen

Y: Nice, Murayama’s here. It feels weird calling you “Murayama”.

M: “Y’know Todoroki-chan~”

M: Do you want to say some lines together, since we’re already doing this.

Y: The one where you pushed back your hair like this and said, “You talk too much.” That scene was so cool!

It was so freaking cool I went all Woooo~~

M: Thank you very much!

Y: Yeah where you went wham! to shut the other guy up. That was so awesome!

M: Ah, I know! How about the scene from the drama series for old times sake?

M: The line that goes “I don’t need your greetings.”

Y: You went bang!

M: It was... “Our leader is going around greeting other gangs...” and immediately after that line I went bam! And pushed my hair back a bit and said “I don’t need your greetings.”

Y: That scene was great too.

M: What was Murayama’s line during that scene again...

Y: What was it...

M: Nothing’s coming to me other than, “Let’s go, you assholes!”

M: Oh yeah, during the (The Worst Episode. 0) drama, there was that scene where (Murayama) lightly punched me in the chest, right.

Y: Right, right.

M: What was your line during that scene?

Y: The one I said to Todoroki-chan?

M: Yeah, yeah!

Y: AH! What was it again?!

Y: I think it was (same time with mdgk)

M: Wasn’t it

Y: I think it was “You have to uphold it...” or something.

M: Yeah, something like that!

Y: I can’t remember...

M: You were replying to something (Todoroki) said.

Y: “That’s how a Oya student should be.” I think it was something along those lines.

M: Then, how about that line at the start of the movie?

Y & M: (reading comments)

Y: “You should be using this (your fists) too.”

M: “You should look at the people around you better.” Exactly, that’s the line. It was something like that.

Y: I remember, I remember. “I’m here to lecture you.”

M: Oh yeah that’s right! You were lecturing (Todoroki).

Y: “Look at the people around you better.” Yeah, that’s how the script goes.

Y: The fans remember our lines better (than us).

Y & M: Everyone’s amazing.

Y: Thanks to your help I’m starting to remember.

M: I think it’s interesting that when Murayama was talking, Todoroki didn’t say anything at all.

Y: Todoroki was properly listening to Murayama and taking it in, wasn’t he! Surprisingly.

M: Yup, yup. That might be it.

M: He probably didn’t like it when (Murayama) revealed his bad points.

Y: (reading comment) That’s it! “If you’re an Oya High student...”

M: YEAH THATS IT

Y: But I still can’t remember much of the remaining lines after that (lol) Sorry!

Y: Everyone, if you have any of Murayama’s lines that you want Todoroki-chan to say, please write them here (in the comments).

M: Same with (Todoroki’s lines) too, okay!

Y: Sorry, I’m going to drink for a bit.

M: Okay.

M: But really... For Yuki-kun to think about Todoroki to that extent. I’m really happy to hear that.

Y: Of course I’d consider about him too.

M: “If you’re an Oya High student, you should try thinking using your fists more...” THAT’S PROBABLY THE WHOLE LINE, RIGHT.

Y: Ahh, that’s right!

M: (tl note: i cant figure out which line this is, sorry) kenka yori haika

M: “Just having a strong fist isn’t enough.”

Y: “Go back and learn, idiot!”

M: Ahh, I remember that line.

Y: Brings back memories, doesn’t it?

M: I was really scared when you flicked my forehead the first time.

Y: LOL

M: It was terrifying, really! Your fist was really close (to my face) and then suddenly you changed your hand like this. I thought you were holding a weapon or something!

(TL note: the forehead flick was an adlib from Yamada Yuki)

M: I was really freaked out!

Y: Was that, did we did it all of a sudden?

M: The forehead flick wasn’t written in the script in the first place... And during filming you just put it in, if I remember correctly...

Y: Yeah, I was going for a punch..!

Y: But then I thought, this (using a fist) isn’t what Murayama wants to teach to Todoroki, thats why I changed it to a flick instead.

Y: And then in the THE MOVIE, Todoroki-chan did it back (to Murayama), tying it all back to that original scene.

M: Ah, yes, I thought it was fitting.

Y: Thank you for that, really.

M: The director mentioned that too.

Y: I’m really grateful that you did it.

M: Someone commented that “Murayama has a lot of wise quotes”, exactly!

Y: Then, please choose any line you like.

M: Is it okay for me to choose?

Y: Of course. Whichever you like

M: *reading comments* Are you okay with the time? Sorry for taking so long

Y: Not at all. I was planning on being live or around an hour or so

M: There’s quite a lot of lines that I want to say

M: Ah, but I definitely wanna say “Todoroki-chan~!”

M: Okay I’ll go with the “If you’re an Oya High student, you should try thinking using your fist...” and punch! Yeah, that’s the line I wanna say.

M: But that’s kinda. So like, please say your Todoroki line as soon as I’m done saying mine. Because it’ll be embarrassing otherwise.

Y: Wait, what line was it again.

M: I know! Let’s make it like we’re talking with each other.

M: I’d say “Todoroki-chan~ “If you’re an Oya High student, you should....”

M: But it doesn’t really match with “I don’t need introductions.”

M: Eh...what other line can fit...

Y: Todoroki-chan, Todoroki-chan

Y: You say “Yahoo~!” And I’ll say “I don’t need introductions.” Then you do the punch thing. Sounds good, right?

M: Ah, okay, I get it! I’m the one who say “yahoo~” right

M: Okay, okay, let’s do it!

M: I haven’t acted in a while so I’m pretty excited

Y: I’m gonna channel my inner Todoroki now

M: Me too. Should we start?

*nods*

“Yahoo~!”

“I don’t need introductions.”

“Todoroki-chan~ if you’re an Oya High student, you should think using your fist more.”

M: I can’t help wanting to smile the whole time!

Y: Embarrassing!

M: Sorry after the yahoo I didn’t say “Todoroki-chan”

Y: Yeah, it’s probably the nerves getting to you.

Y: I’m so embarrassed... Oh, Ozawa-san from Daruma Ikka had a good laugh out of it.

M: That was fun~

Y: Nice yahoo~

M: Thank you. I don’t think I’ve talked with Ozawa-san before.

Y: Yeah we don’t really interact with Daruma much, especially Todoroki-chan...

M: Nice to meet you, I’m Maeda.

Y: Thanks again for doing this together with me. It’s a top of the top instalive.

M: I’m happy to hear that

Y: If possible. If there’s a chance to do this again, would you come and be a guest again?

M: Of course, anytime!

Y: I’ll contact you if that time comes.

M: That was really fun, thank you!

Y: Thanks again for that amazing performance. Truly, thank you!

M: Bye bye, see you again!

Y: That was really cool. It became a High&Low skit thing.

#high&low #maeda goki #yamada yuki #todoroki yosuke #murayama yoshiki #happy birthday maego!!!!#and congrats yamayu on his marriage!!!#banantls #video

167 notes · View notes

arkangelo-7 · 1 month ago

Text

Okay, but, what are the Batfamily’s favorite tv shows? It’s hard to find time between saving the world and curating their civilian identities, but when the Bats do have the chance to sit down and watch tv, they typically default to a certain genre.

Bruce by far has the weirdest taste in tv shows. Its why no one ever watches with him, because he’s the type to pick some random, obscure show that literally no one has ever heard of and is dubbed over in French or something. However, he does get kudos because he was the one that got everyone hooked on Squid Game.

Dick and Cass 100% watch American Ninja Warrior together. Dick started watching it when it first came out, and tunes in weekly for the new episodes. One day Cass walked in and was hypnotized. So now they watch it together and occasionally set up their own courses in the Batcave to have competitions on. Dick usually gets his ass beat but it’s still fun.

Jason watches period dramas. (This might actually be canon? I’m not sure?) He’s made his way through the Gilded Age, Downton Abbey, The Crown, and annually rewatches the ultimate cut of Pride and Prejudice. No one would expect the terrifying Red Hood to tear up watching Little Women, but man does that shit get to him…

Tim watches reality tv. The Kardashians, The Real Housewives, The Bachelor—he eats that shit up. Listening to other people’s problems and watching them deal with them in a removed way takes him back to his stalker days, and, hey, he appreciates some mind-numbing drama. Tim’s brain is like a whirlpool; sometimes it’s nice to just conk out thinking about what Kim said to Courtney, instead of that new project at WE or that new gadget he needs to work on for Young Justice.

Steph does not watch TV. She watches clips of TV shows on TikTok. (Particularly, those Young Sheldon clips that come up on everyone’s for you page.) On the rare occasions she actually does turn the TV on, it’s usually turned to Gossip Girl or a cartoon, and she doesn’t actually pay attention—it’s just background noise.

Damian is enthralled with National Geographic. He’ll deny it till the day he dies, but he loves those five-hour documentaries on rhinos and whale sharks or whatever. The problem is that he records everything, so the Manor’s DVR is always full, and it drives everyone crazy. Especially Dick, because by God, if there isn’t enough storage for next weekends episode of Ninja Warrior—

Duke likes comedy shows. Abbott Elementary, Parks and Rex, and The Good Place are just a couple of his favorites. He’s currently rewatching The Office with Barbra and they’ll quote it at each other during patrol.

#batfamily headcannons #tv shows #bruce wayne #dc #dc comics #batman #batfamily #dick grayson #tim drake #jason todd #stephanie brown #cassandra cain #damian wayne #duke thomas #bruce also ironically has watched anime I feel like I need to add that #and dick loves Next Top Model he watches it with Tim #and they have all at one point had to watch the Great British Baking Show with Alfred #also duke’s office quotes are getting out of control

59 notes · View notes

averagewriter-inthedark · 4 months ago

Text

A Dragon Does Now Bow Down 🐉 | HOTD Imagine P.1

GOT/HOTD masterlist | | Part 2

Characters & Pairings: Targaryen/Lannister!OC—Daerra Targaryen x the Greens (platonic) & the Blacks (platonic)

Content Warnings: follows episodes 1-7 of S.1, fluff (between oc and kids) angst, implied character death, blood, violence, dysfunctional family dynamics, eventual B&C, slight canon divergence | female!OC (she/her) | wc: 8k

Premise: The House of the Dragon is an impenetrable force when standing together. Bound by love, duty, and sacrifice. But when sides are drawn between kin, not even the glue that holds them together can withstand.

Note: this is a direct result of an AU idea I had where the children of the Greens had an actual motherly figure who cared for them and was also a neutral party between the Greens & Blacks. So yeah, I’m sorry this will be more angsty and dark in part 2.

-----------------

Hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black; dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread.

It was believed by the Wise King Jaehaerys I that the only thing that could tear down the house of the dragon was itself. Oh how right he was.

The threat of war loomed over with each passing moon. Bringing unease to his youngest grandchild, Daerra.

Born to his daughter Gael in 95 AC when she was only ten and five. The only legitimate child to her marriage to a lord of House Lannister who shared Targaryen heritage. He died shortly after her birth resulting in Gael returning to the Red Keep where she raised the babe with her siblings and cousins. They took a liking to Daerra--especially the Good Queen Alysanne. Her older cousins; Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daemon were around at times. Mainly at family gatherings since they were all 15+ years older than Daerra.

A Targaryen beauty with signature attributes to Lannisters, Daerra was a sight to behold. Silver hair she often kept short and curly, and piercing green eyes that resemble emeralds. While her father may have been a Lannister, she only ever referred to herself as a Targaryen. Only ever wearing the colors of red and black.

Unfortunately Daerra would know loss again at the age of four, when her mother drowned herself in the Blackwater Bay following the stillbirth of her younger brother. From then on, Daerra was under the care of her cousins Aemma and Viserys, who had their young daughter, Rhaenyra, two years prior to Gael’s death. Raising them like sisters since the couple were not blessed with another child by the Gods.

As children up until adolescence the two were like peas in a pod, though they had their differences. Both enjoyed riding their dragons, though never together. Rhaenyra with her golden queen Syrax, and Daerra with the ferocious Cannibal. Whose eyes were a stunning green as though they were filled with Wildfire. Matching Daerra so closely, it made people wonder if it were the reason the wild beast surrendered to her. Earning her the title, ‘Daerra the Daring,’ when she claimed the mighty dragon on the eve of her tenth nameday at Dragonstone, after stumbling upon his nest when she ventured too far from the castle. Removing red from her wardrobe to only wear black with green trimming in honor of him.

The bond between dragon and rider was something Daerra was taught by her grandmother the Good Queen. A longing feeling she desired to connect with their ancient heritage. Cannibal was a magnificent creature. When not on Dragonstone, Cannibal was free to roam the outskirts of the city away from the Dragonpit.

So as to not cause an issue with his….particular taste for food.

While Rhaenyra had to maintain the statue of a Princess, Daerra had much more freedom during childhood. Which in turn resulted in slight envy from the young heir. Daerra got to go to Dragonstone whenever she pleased so long as the King approved. She got to train under the Rogue Prince himself, Daemon--which fueled Rhaenyra’s jealousy, and learn to fight like a warrior. While Rhaenyra always had a book or quill in her hand, Daerra had a sword or her trusty leather whip. She was his protege. On her fifteenth name day, Lady Daerra was gifted a Valryian steel blade she named Destiny.

Daemon taught her strategy and ways to disarm a man. Not to mention he warned her of snakes in his brother's council.

Speaking of the council, there were mixed reactions when it came to Daerra and the privileges her cousin gave her. Viserys didn’t rush to marry her off when she came of age, much to the displeasure of his Hand, Otto Hightower. The cunning man desperately wanted to rid the Red Keep of her when she grew to be a mini version of his political headache. Even tempted to offer his own son's hand, until whispers spread of young Lords attempting to court the Lady going missing. Fruitless accusations that were enough to ward off prospects.

“Is it true,” Rhaenyra raced after Daerra, dressed in her riding gear as she brushed through the mane of her horse before departing to see her dragon.

“What do you speak of, cousin?”

Rhaenyra gave a pointed look, glancing over her shoulder before leaning closer to whisper, “People are saying you fed those men who tried to win your hand to Cannibal.” The princess received a snicker.

“So that is the rumor I’ve been hearing amongst the court,” her laugh was dry, turning slightly to face her cousin. “Don’t be foolish, Rhaenyra, he only eats his own,” Daerra denied, but her eyes told a different story. One the princess wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Whatever the truth was, it had the outcome Daerra wanted. And that was to avoid marriage for as long as possible. The main reason being when Viserys named his daughter the heir to the Iron Throne. Daerra was ten and seven, beaming with pride while masking the bubble of anxiety in her chest. Greedy Lords would race to win her hand, and offer up their daughters/sisters to the King now that his wife, Queen Aemma, was with the Gods.

Daerra scoured the court intently. Observing everyone who crossed paths with the King. Particularly Otto Hightower and Corlys Velaryon, who both had young daughters and were ambitious for power.

“Any ladies the object of your attention, dear cousin?” Daerra clasped her hands behind her back, matching Viserys pace along the gardens. He’d appeared solemn, stress making his features age.

“Don’t tell me you dragged me out here to hear of my quarrels with marriage prospects. I thought you better than that, Daerra.” His tone was fond, almost fatherly like. Considering he practically raised her since she was four. The two were semi-close with each other.

The young woman snorted, “Oh, you know I prefer the training yard or the skies. But I worry for you.” She stops, making him do the same. The sun beating down brought heat to their skin as their thick clothing absorbed the rays. Illuminating their emerald and lilac eyes that would have any artist wanting to paint a portrait. “Daemon is off in the stepstones doing Gods knows what. Your council keeps bothering you about a wife--and for Rhaenyra to take a husband. Not to mention they still question your decision to name her your heir. Must be exhausting.”

“It is,” the King agrees with a sigh, looking down at his boots. Wishing nothing more than to return to his model of Old Valyria. “With everything happening, I find myself missing Aemma more than ever.” Daerra’s heart tightened, mirroring his saddened expression. Aemma was like a mother to her, raising her as a surrogate daughter following multiple failed pregnancies.

“I as well. Queen Aemma was the heart of this family,” Daerra glanced up to the heavens, feeling a light breeze drift over them. “Her loss is felt within the Keep. And you should not rush to pledge yourself to another until you feel the time is right. Otherwise you are dooming the both of you.”

Though she did not have experience with love, Daerra witnessed it throughout her life. The love her grandparents had with each other. The way Corlys and Rhaenys were. The devotion Viserys had to Aemma, and the stories of his parents, Baelon and Alyssa. Love matches were rare, but they existed. And if blessed, one may experience more than one in their lifetime.

She had hoped that for Viserys. Unfortunately, her advice was met on deaf ears when he announced not long after his intent to marry Alicent Hightower. The daughter of his Hand, and dear friend to his own daughter.

Daerra was enraged. Disgusted even. How could her cousin marry a girl the same age as Rhaenyra. Younger than her by three name days. Never did she see the two together during the day, and it took some convincing for the King’s guard to tell her the two had secret meetings during the night.

‘Of course,’ she thought, clutching her fists as the need to break something became too much to bear. If there was one thing Daerra was also known for in the Seven Kingdoms….it was her temper. Rivaling that of Daemon when she finally burst after penting up frustration for days. Earning her another nickname of the Dragon with a Lion’s roar. However, she had to remain composed. This was the King, not just her cousin. And while he allowed her freedom and often glanced the other way when she gave cheek to Lords and Ladies of the Court, the same would not be directed at him.

In the end, Daerra told Viserys, “I hope you know what you’re doing, cousin.” And when he questioned her statement, her reply was simply, “You lack to see the weight this union has put on our House. And I hope you are ready for the pressure that will come the moment you sire more heirs. For yours and Rhaenyra--and even Alicent’s sake,” she paused, narrowing her brows at the man who raised her. “I hope the Gods bless you with only daughters.”

Of course, Viserys believed her to over exaggerate. Even when he caught her stiff expression at his wedding. Standing beside his daughter with her hands clasped behind her back, dressed in black with gold accents. The way she assessed him was almost like a warning. But again, Viserys took it like a grain of salt. In his eyes, Rhaenyra was his heir and the Lords of Westeros pledged to her before him and the Gods. Swearing fealty, which was more valuable than any gold in the country.

He failed to realize they would not be forthcoming once he had a son. When that day came, Daerra felt the shift. As she glanced down at the babe in her arms, having taken him while Alicent rested before Viserys was to present him to the court, Daerra’s usual rough exterior crumbled.

There was such an innocence to babes. Unaware of the harsh realities the world possessed. Small little things who only desired love and attention. “Hello, little one,” she whispered to Aegon. His bright lilac eyes staring up at her in wonder. Silver strands of hair on his head, skin soft and smooth as her finger stroked his cheek. “I’m your cousin, Daerra. Oh how the realm has awaited your arrival,” her gaze softens, a tinge of sadness in her tone. “But I’m sorry for what your life is set to be like. You’re the first born son--named after the Conqueror himself.”

Of course little Aegon had no clue what she was saying. To him the only concern was when he would eat, sleep, and have his nappy changed. Still, he gazed up at her as though he was taking in every word.

Helaena came a year later, with Aemond not long after. As she did with Aegon’s birth, Daerra was present in the Queen’s chamber. Offering support and watching the babes while she rested following the endless hours of labors. Though her and Alicent’s relationship was rather hot and cold, there was a mutual respect. Especially when it came to the children which the Queen greatly appreciated. There were times where Daerra was the only person who could calm them when they fussed.

“You’d be a great mother, Daerra,” Alicent exhaled, waiting for the sleep to take her while watching Aemond in the woman’s arms. “You’re a natural with him. With all of them.” Still in her youth, the young Queen wondered why Daerra never seeked to marry or have children. After Daemon left for the StepStones a lot had changed for Daerra.

Though she still had her reputation.

Daerra only smiled, not taking her eyes on the baby boy, “Everyone’s destiny is different, my Queen. I don’t think mine was to birth the next generation of Targaryen’s. But I do think I was meant to help raise them.”

Lastly a few years later, came the arrival of the last child of the King and Queen. A boy named Daeron. Who the King, with the surprise approval of his wife, named in honor of his cousin.

“Gentle, Aemond,” Daerra brushed away a hair from his face and tucked behind his ear. Kneeling down on the ground so she was eye level with the toddlers, Daerra held a sleeping Daeron in her arms. Six-year-old Aegon had a toy dragon in his hand, while five-year-old Helaena sucked on her thumb. Aemond, the curious three-year-old, kept leaning over her arm to get a look at his baby brother.

“Tiny,” his finger came down on the babe’s head, lilac eyes peering up at the woman in awe. Daerra beamed, a bright smile on her lips.

“Yes, my darling, he’s a tiny thing. Like you were many moons ago,” a giggle left the boy’s mouth upon her poke to his stomach. Helaena leaned onto her shoulder, lightly tracing the leather and texture of Daerra’s outfit. Aegon himself found entertainment twirling the chains attached to her cloak.

“How come all our eyes are purple and yours are green, aunt?”

Daerra felt warmth at the title, like it always did when the children referred to her as such. That they viewed her more as an aunt than a distant cousin.

“Well, my father was a Lannister and said to have bright green eyes,” she explained to the boy.

“Like Cannibal!” Aemond exclaimed, causing Daerra to gently hush him and carefully adjust Daeron who made a sound at the movement. Daerra cooed at him before looking back at Aemond. He’d always been so fascinated by the Dragons in his young age. Especially Cannibal after learning of his reputation. Begging Daerra to one day take him with her flying. She also had a tradition of taking the royal babes to the Dragon, much to the horror of Alicent and Otto, presenting the beast with the new generation of their house.

Daerra chuckled, petting the top of Aemond’s head, “Inside voice, little dragon.” He mumbled an apology. Daerra bopped his nose, “but yes, Cannibal and I have matching eyes. That’s why some say he chose me as his rider.” She turned back to Aegon, “Sometimes certain traits are stronger than others. My father’s mother was a Targaryen, but he inherited his father’s green eyes. You all took on after your father, his grace the King. The spitting image of the blood of Old Valyria.”

“But what about Jace?”

Daerra felt her heart stop, eyes widening a bit at the sudden question by her surrogate nephew. As the years passed with many unions blooming and children born to the royal family, Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor Velaryon produced their first son. Jacaerys. Born only a few moons prior to which Viserys ordered the babes share a wet nurse, following rising tensions between the houses in hopes to restore the strained relationship between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. The former donning to wear only the color green, representing her house calling their bannerman to war.

An act that had Daerra nearly tapping back into her destructive nature by driving her dagger straight through her heart. She resisted…..with a lot of hard work.

Like most in the Keep, Daerra knew the boy had been sired from the honorable Ser Harwin Strong. Sharing his dark brown hair, eyes, and similar nose. Opposite of the traditional Valyrian features such as silver hair and lilac eyes. A kind man and dutiful knight, Daerra saw the behavior her cousin and her sworn protector shared when they thought no one was looking.

Rhaenyra was currently carrying her second child, and rumors of the potential paternity of Jace and his unborn sibling were spread. Making Daerra’s brows narrow in question.

Gently tugging the boy closer after confirming they were the only ones in the nursery, Daerra whispered, “What is this you speak of, sweetling?” Young and naive to the concern in her tone, Aegon continued to fiddle with her chains.

“He doesn’t have hair like us. I heard mother shouting at the maid that Jace is a ba-ba-bast,” he couldn’t get the word out, and Daerra immediately stopped him with a soft hand on his cheek.

“Jace is your nephew. Your older sister's son,” she told him sternly but also soothing as one would to a child. “You boys will grow up with each other--and there is nothing stronger in the Seven Kingdoms than the bond between kin. You mustn’t utter these words again, sweetling. Regardless of whom you hear them from.”

Aegon only nodded, saying something along the lines of, “I won’t,” but Daerra already feared what was to come for the future of her family. Alicent already showed disdain for her Rhaenyra after her father Otto was released as Hand. Now with her voicing the questionable parentage of the Princess’ son, there was little to no hope of reconciliation.

The rumors only got worse with the arrival of a second son, Lucerys. A spitting image of his older brother. Like Alicent’s children, Daerra was close to Rhaenyra’s sons. Making her often feel in the middle of the feud between the two. Thankfully when it came to the children, both were respectful and grateful for Daerra’s assistance.

“Come here, my dreamer,” Helaena grasped Daerra’s outstretched hand, not clutching Luke to her chest, to help the princess step out of the carriage. The Lady turned to the knights, “You are to remain here. We’ll only be a moment.” The man’s face consorted to worry, eyes peering into the woods where he swore he heard the rumble of the beast lying ahead.

“My Lady, the Queen and Princess ordered that you must be in sight with the young prince and princess. You’re not to be alone with them and your dragon--for precaution as you can understand.”

Having dealt with this a number of times already, Daerra’s face stayed neutral, “I appreciate your concern, and honor of maintaining order, good Ser. But you must know my Cannibal does not take kindly to strangers.” Her tone went cold, as did her eyes sending a shudder up the man’s spine. He visibly paled. “He will see you as food. So,” her head tilted in defiance, “do you still wish to join us? Or will you be smart and do as you’re told.”

“I-I-I shall await your return, my Lady,” he nodded, wishing nothing more than to wipe the sweat from his head. Or throw up from the anxiety he felt.

Daerra smirked, nodding back and holding Helaena’s hand while cradling Luke in her other arm. Guiding the girl through the woods until they reached Cannibal’s nest. Once in front of the clearing, Daerra bows, “Rytsas, uēpa raquiros.” Hello old friend.

A low rumble filled their ears, followed by the rustling of leaves. The clearing between the trees filling as Cannibal shook the twigs from his back, wildfire eyes focusing on the group. Daerra heard him sniff, letting go of Helaena’s hand to approach. The girl stayed put, gaze glued on the dragon with awe. She’d never seen him up close before, the only time Helaena had made his acquaintance was when Daerra presented her to him as a babe. Then when Daeron and Jace were born, she took Aegon with her.

Daerra approached with caution. Glancing down at Lucerys while she untucked the blanket to show his face.

“Nyke’ve maghatan ao nykeā irudy. Nykeā Targārien naejot kustikagon īlva ānogar. Rhaenagon prince Lucerys, tresy hen Rhaenrya se ser Laenor Velaryon.” I’ve brought you a gift. A Targaryen to strengthen our blood. Meet Prince Lucerys, son of Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon.

Cannibal leaned down, bringing his snout level with Daerra, who gently extended her arms. Holding Lucerys out as though she was offering him up to the dragon, making Helaena gasp lightly. Slight fear at what might happen despite finding the sight mesmerizing.

Emerald eyes met wildfire. Dragon and his rider. Daerra kept her stare as Cannibal’s snout came only a mere inches from the babe. Feeling the heat radiate off him, the fire seeping through his veins. Cannibal sniffed again, Lucerys moving in Daerra’s hands though she kept a grip on him while never taking her eyes off her dragon. Watching him smell his Targaryen blood, the blood of Old Valyria.

A sound of approval left Cannibal, his body raising to his true height. A stunning sight for anyone who dared graced the wild dragon with their presence. It made Daerra smirk, bringing Lucerys back to her chest when he began whimpering. She cooed softly, stepping back to where Helaena stood. Crouching down, Daerra said, “The dreams you have are not mere illusions or fantasies, Helaena. It is a rare thing for a Targaryen to dream the way you do--but it is in our blood. They are a window into the future--or what the future may bring. I know it’s hard for you to explain when they happen, but you must not be frightened. For you are a dragon,” the girl met her gaze, a mini Rhaenyra staring back at her. “And a dragon does not bow down to fear.”

Alicent’s distant nature for her children was observed early on. As well as the neglectfulness of his Grace the King. So it came as no surprise to servants and guards in the Keep when the children of the King and Queen often sought council and companionship from Lady Daerra and Ser Criston Cole. The two hardly acknowledged each other, only when the time called for it. She disliked his insults of Rhaenyra, and he despised her closeness to the Princess and her sons.

But when it came to Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond, the two were a force to be reckoned with. Daeron had been sent to Oldtown once he learned to walk. A decision that put a small hole in Daerra’s heart, for she felt she lost a son, although the decision was a wise one. Alicent continued to drive hate into her children while Daerra fought to prevent it. And having Daeron away meant he had a chance to not sour like the rest of the Hightowers in the Keep. Helaena remained a sweet girl. The only solace as Aegon began drowning himself in wine and Aemond grew restless at not having a dragon.

Like today as a matter of fact.

Daerra made her way to Rhaenyra’s apartments, passing Laenor and the boys as he escorted them to the Dragonpit. “Aunt Daerra!” Jace bounded to her, excitement coating his entire being. “We’ve got a brother! His name is Joffrey.”

“So I’ve heard,” she ruffles his hair, then leans down to scoop up Luke who had latched to her leg. “Are you excited to be a big brother, my prince? You’re not the youngest anymore and have to step up to the role Jace has had.” He nods frantically. Ready to prove himself to his family.

“I can’t wait to go dragon riding with him,” he smiles but then pouts, “but that won’t be till Arrax gets bigger and his egg hatches.” Daerra lightly pinches his cheek, making him squeal.

“Fair not, little dragon, the time will come. Until then--,” she sets him down, bidding a nod to Laenor who returned a nod in respect. Silently thanking her for all the times she was there for the boys and not audibly questioning their lineage. “You gotta grow your bond with Arrax. And we shall pray to the Gods they bless Joffrey with his dragon. Now, I shall leave you to it. I have a new nephew to meet.”

With a kiss to each of their heads, the woman departs as they wave goodbye, continuing on until she reaches Rhaenyra’s chamber. The Whitecloak nods, moving to open the door and announces her arrival, “The Lady Daerra Targaryen, Princess.”

“Thank you, Ser.” Rhaenyra sits up, grinning up at her cousin, who exchanges courtesies with Harwin. “Good morrow, cousin.”

“Good morrow it is, my Princess,” Daerra clasps her hands behind her back. Slowly walking forward until she’s directly in front of the woman. Noting the evident exhaustion in her face. “My congratulations to you and Ser Leanor on the healthy birth of another son.” Her head gestures to the babe, cradled in the knight’s arms. “I hear his name is Joffrey.” At her silent reaction, Rhaenyra softly chuckles, giving a knowing look.

“Laenor chose it. I believe it is a name dear to him--I recall him wanting to name Jace, and then Luke, it when they were born,” her smile was small, lingering with sadness at the memory of Laenor’s lover that’d been killed the night of their wedding. Knowing it was the reason behind the name. “But his father had a hand in naming the boys. Making sure their names were fit for Velaryons.” Daerra didn’t miss the way her cousin’s eyes flickered to Harwin. Or how he looked up from the babe to meet the Princess’ gaze.

Clearing her throat, the woman once again turned her attention to the babe. “Well they are certainly happy to be older brothers. Already planning to take him and their dragons out for their first flight.” Together they all shared a laugh. Daerra made the motion to Joffrey, “Might I?”

“Of course,” Harwin passed the babe, carefully placing her into her arms and lingering when he believed she had him settled. Daerra stayed silent, not wishing to make him uncomfortable by commenting how she'd held all the royal children as babes.

Harwin took his leave, bowing to Rhaenyra and Daerra as he did so. Leaving the two women and Joffrey alone. That’s when Rhaenyra finally let out the breath she’d been holding, closing her eyes to soothe the tiredness consuming her. Daerra sat on the opposite chair, shaking head with a frown.

“I’d hoped the maids were speaking nonsense when I heard what took place after the birth.” Daerra took in her cousin, taking her eyes off Joffrey, who fell into a soundless sleep. Rhaenyra opened her eyes, the small smile turning into a frown.

“I fear it will continue, so long as I produce heirs.”

Daerra sighed, face consorted with concern. “I admit I have some sympathies toward the Queen for her situation. Only a girl herself when she married your father and had the children. Still,” her face turned strained, indicating she was not defending Alicent. “That does not excuse her behavior toward you. And your boys.”

Rhaenyra looked down, muttering a ‘thank you’ to which the woman simply nodded. They stayed that way for a few minutes, Daerra requesting permission to take the babe to meet Cannibal after the two had rested. Once received, Daerra handed the Joffrey to the maid, gave a comforting squeeze to Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and left the Princess.

As she migrated through the halls, she heard sniffles in a nearby room, the one belonging to Aemond. Once again the guard acknowledged her with a nod, moving to allow her to pass.

Her heart broke at the sight of Aemond sitting on his bed, head tucked between his knees. Dust and soot covering his usually clean silver hair and green attire. An indicator he’d been in the Dragonpit. Alone, in an attempt to claim his mount he desperately wanted. After the many years of teasing from his brother and nephews.

Who only did it when Daerra wasn’t present. Fearing her wrath as she did not tolerate bullying in her presence. The one time they did it left them all crying. Mostly out of embarrassment and shame at disappointing her.

His soft cries echoing in the silent room, until her footsteps entered as she strolled up to him. Daerra takes the spot on the bed beside him. “Aemond.”

“I do not wish for a lecture, Aunt Daerra,” he rubbed his nose, turning the other way to shy away his reddened eyes. He knew she already figured out his adventure in the pit. “Mother already gave me one.”

“I’m not here to lecture. I’m here to ask if you’re alright.”

Aemond turned back to face her, eyes glossy with tears and bottom lip beginning to quiver, “They gave me a pig.” Daerra tilted her head, confused at the statement.

“A pig?”

A tear escaped as he nodded, Daerra wiping it away with her thumb. “Aegon. Him, Jace, and Luke told me they had a dragon for me to claim. That it was finally my time to join them as riders.” His head frantically shook, leaning onto her side to which she opened her arm to embrace him. “But-but really it was a pig they dressed up and called it the pink dread.”

Daerra listened silently, comforting the boy as he began to cry once more. Her fingers raked through his silver locks, as a mother would her child. A gesture he loved, considering his mother hardly showed affection. Unlike his older half-sister did with her children.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” she suggested, pulling away from Aemond to stand. She held out her hand, “There’s something I want to show you.” Putting himself together, Aemond hopped off the bed and took her hand, letting Daerra lead him out of his room. They reached Rhaenyra’s chamber, where the lady told him to wait while she went inside. A moment later, she returned with Joffrey in her arms.

“What are you doing?” Aemond’s eyes widened, standing on his tippy toes to see his nephew. Noting the babe was still asleep.

Daerra smirked, “It’s been some time since a Targaryen babe has been born. Lucerys being the last,” she began to walk, Aemond trailing behind her with an eager pace. “And I’m not one to stray from tradition. Cannibal will be pleased to meet the newest member of the family.” Immediately Aemond lit up. Realizing what Daerra was referring to.

It was his turn to join her as she introduced a Targaryen baby to her dragon. He’d been four when Luke was born, and Helaena was who she brought with her. Which had Aemond pouting as he wanted to go but Daerra refused. Now he was getting his chance.

The first stop was to see his mother. Alicent’s already dampened mood increased when the two arrived at the Kings’ chambers. Alicent saw Joffrey and instantly knew what was about to be asked.

“Is this really necessary, Lady Daerra?” she argued, trying to ignore the pleading eyes Aemond was giving her. Focusing only on Daerra, who did not break under her stare. “The babe was born mere hours ago. And I’m sure the Princess--.”

“Already gave her consent,” Daerra interrupted, keeping her expression neutral.

From the side, Viserys let out a pained groan, catching their attention. “Let the boy go with her Alicent. All the children have met Cannibal when they were born, and Daerra has proven he will not do harm. Both Aegon and Helaena have joined her with the births of their brother and nephews. Aemond shall go with her to introduce Joffrey.”

Alicent attempted to put up another argument, but with a 3v1 against her, she ultimately relented. Ordering that a guard must be present at all times and they are to return before the hour is up.

“Of course, your Grace,” Daerra bowed. “We shall make haste so that Aemond is not late to the training yard.”

“You will be joining them, yes?” Alicent had a tight smile. She had mixed feelings of Daerra assisting Criston Cole and Harwin Strong in training the boys. For one, she admired the woman for being able to do things most women were frowned upon doing. She too, found herself mesmerized as a young girl watching Daerra train with Daemon Targaryen. She was a beauty to behold with her whip and sword.

But Alicent also resented Daerra for it. Mostly due to envy she spent more time with her sons than she did.

And that they preferred her company.

Daerra’s chuckle brought her out of her thoughts, “Someone has to put these princes in line. They forget themselves when a Lady is not present.” Both women drew their gaze to Aemond, the residue of the dragonpit still on him. Pink tinged his cheeks as he looked away.

“As I agree,” Alicent’s jaw tightened, but she quickly masked her disdain with a tight smile. Shaking her head while looking back at Daerra, “Very well. I shall leave you then.”

Daerra curtsied again, “Your Grace,” then she turned to Viserys. “My King.”

“Thank you, mother,” Aemond bowed, before doing the same to his father. Both wearing small smiles, though only Viserys’ reached his eyes.

When they finally reached Cannibal’s nest, Aemond was buzzing with nerves and excitement. Heart pounding against his chest. For it would be the first time being so close to his beloved Aunt’s dragon. A moment he’d been waiting years for.

He remembered Daerra telling him many moons prior that she brought him as a baby to the beast, where the dragon spit his wild green fire into the sky in celebration of the birth of a Targaryen prince. Then Aemond often watched from the Godswood as Daerra flew him around Kings Landing. His shiny black scales bouncing off the sun’s rays. Shouts of the small folk reacting to his massive form. Aemond was always in awe.

Sitting down on the grass after Daerra presented Cannibal with Joffrey, they watched him find a comfortable spot in his nest to return to his nap. Daerra beamed at the sight, switching Joffrey in her arms when they started to ache.

“I know you wish nothing more than to claim your dragon, Aemond. I too was upset with each nameday passing and not having one,” Peering down, Daerra saw the way his face shifted to sadness. “I was the age Jace is now when Cannibal chose me.”

“He chose you?” He repeated, now displaying confusion.

Daerra raised a brow, “To believe we have the power to control a dragon is a myth. They are who really chose us. It is why when you attempt to claim one, you must accept death as an answer.” Aemond processed her words, fiddling with his fingers that were clasped in his lap.

“So I have to wait for a dragon to deem me worthy.” The dejection in voice pulled at her heartstrings. His shoulders dropped in defeat.

Taking his hand in hers not holding Joffrey, Daerra signed and stroked his knuckles. “What your brother and nephews did was cruel. And I’m sorry you had to endure that, Aemond. But remember this, my darling,” Tucking her finger under his chin, she pulled his gaze to hers. Green eyes meeting lilac, “You are a Targaryen. Made of fire and blood, whose ancestors conquered Westeros with the dragons we hold dear to our house. Your time will come. And when the opportunity presents itself, you will know.” Her eyes turn serious, filling Aemond with hope. “And the dragon will choose you.”

Disaster struck an hour later. One that no one, even Daerra, could have anticipated. When Criston Cole decided to instigate a spar between Jace and Aegon. Leading him to antagonize Harwin Strong.

It all started when all four boys took turns switching off against the four dummies. But not before they were lectured by the woman on their mistreatment of Aemond that morning. All their heads bowed, not able to face her which brought a bit of joy to the prince. Once finished, they took their spots in the yard. Daerra stood on one side while Cole took the other. Observing the four closely as they met their targets. The knight was not pleased or offered technique advice whenever Jace and Luke were by him. Whereas Daerra was equal. Pointing out mistakes for each boy.

When they switched off again, Jace bumped shoulders with Aemond. An action he did on purpose which received a scolding look from Daerra. She didn’t say anything, her face alone brought a blush to Jace’s cheeks. The boy mumbled a ‘sorry’, embarrassed to have been caught and looking away to not meet her eyes. Daerra moved closer to him, right next to the dummy.

“This is practice, not the battlefield. I expect better from you.” The red on his cheeks got brighter, nodding his head in silent promise to not do it again. Once satisfied, Daerra commanded. “Feet light, Jace.” Bringing his wooden sword up, he struck the dummy one, two, three times before pivoting on to attack from behind. A sound of approval left her, “Good.”

Briefly lifting her focus, she caught her cousin and his Hand, Ser Lyonel Strong watching the scene below from the top of the Keep. Surrounded by his Kingsguard. The king raised a hand to wave, a smile on his face and pleased to see his sons and grandsons training together. He received a firm nod from his cousin before turning to speak with Lyonel.

When she returned her attention to Jace, he had stuck his sword in the dummy, only for it to be smacked down by Aemond.

“Don’t stand too upright, My Prince,” Cole lectured, tone laced with mocking. “You’ll get knocked down.” The glare from Daerra was ignored, moving his attention to Aegon, who got distracted by passing servants.

Daerra’s disproving eyes went to Aemond, now facing the dummy Jace had left. “I understand what transpired this morning has made you upset. But to add fire will only make it worse. You are better than that, Aemond.”

His brows narrowed, “It’s not fair. Everyone tells me to deal with it--why should I? Why does no one--apart from you--say anything!” he whisperer-shouted the last sentence, not wanting to draw attention to them. Daerra didn’t blame Aemond for his outburst. After years of teasing it was bound to take a toll. And part of her blamed his parents lack of involvement for letting it slide for so long.

“Your anger is justified,” she affirmed, leaning down to lower her voice so only he could hear. “And judgment will come when the Gods deem it so. For now, display your frustration on the dummies. Not your kin. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aunt Daerra,” came his mumble. Daerra straightened up when she heard Cole suggest a challenge between him against Aemond and Aegon. Her brows furrowed in suspicion, but made no move to stop the knight. Instead she backed up to stand between Jace and Luke.

Their spar lasted roughly thirty seconds. Both Targaryen’s put their best efforts to disarm Cole. But the knight was faster.

“Ah,” the sound of Harwin Strong came from her right. Daerra stiffening when the boys turned to him. Which did not go unnoticed by Cole. “Weapons up, boys. Give your enemies no quarter.”

“Thank you for your input, Ser Harwin,” Daerra gave a curt nod. Motioning for the two to approach the dummies, and much to her displeasure, Harwin turned to address Cole.

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston.”

Daerra cursed under her breath, panning to Cole who did not take lightly to the Lord Commander's words.

“Do you question my method of instructions, Ser? Or that of the Lady Daerra?”

“Ser Criston,” Daerra warned, then sent a look to Harwin. Pleading to not say anything. Of course, it went to no avail.

“I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.” It didn’t help that Aegon shoved little Luke to the side, the boy bumping into Daerra who had to stop him from hitting the ground.

“Aegon.”

Cole’s animosity breached his expression, “Very well.” Harwin’s face changed as the knight stunted forward. Daerra tensing where she stood. “Jacaerys,” his hand reached out and yanked the boy. “You spar with Aegon.” The silver-hair boys laughed as Cole dragged Jace to the other side. “Eldest son against eldest son.”

Daerra voiced disapproval, “Mayhaps we should continue as we were, Ser Criston.”

Harwin appeared to agree, “It’s hardly a fair match.” Aegon patted Jace’s back as he passed him. An eager smile painted his lips while the younger became nervous.

“I know you’ve never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect.”

Daerra hated that Cole had a point. When battle came there was no such thing as fairness. But still, this was training for the young princes. Not a duel between steel.

She could intervene. Harwin and Jace’s faces were filled with worry. Silently pleading for her to reprimand Cole. Daerra knew better though. This was his element and had all the power. She was only to supervise and offer assistance when needed. But she did say one thing, voice stern as she looked all three--Cole, Jace, and Aegon--in the eyes, “Keep it clean. No blood or this ends as quick as it starts.”

Cole tightened his lips, “Well said, my Lady.” Their glares on each other lingered, Cole breaking it first when he motioned at the boys. “Blades up.” They awaited the command. “Engage.”

Aegon charged with a cry, Jace using all his might to counter his attacks. He was brought to the ground with a shove, sword still in his hands. The older boy laughed menacingly, retaking his spot in front of Cole. The smirk, however, left his lips when he caught Daerra’s cold stare. Then Jace came running at him with a shout.

“Ahhhhh!”

They danced across the yard, the spar pausing when Aegon tried to push a dummy onto Jace. Resulting in Harwin to step in, “Foul play!”

“I’ll deal with him,” Cole announced, both men stepping toward their respected princes. Daerra stiffened, peering up to see her cousin looking awfully confused. The rigid posture of his Lord Hand was a telling sign they too felt unease.

“You!” Aegon yelled, startling Jace who quickly met his oncoming attack.

“Close with him,” Cole ordered, all three adults following behind the boys. Daerra pointing at Aemond and Luke to stay put. “Push him backward!”

“Light feet, Jacaerys!” Daerra matched Cole’s tone. The brunette boy’s face painted red and stumbling with each step. Aegon was relentless, coming at him like a wild animal.

“Use your feet!” A harsh kick met Jace’s armored chest, plowing him down. “Don’t let him get up!” Aegon brought the sword down, Jace barely able to counter. He was losing his breath, running out of energy.

Harwin was losing his patience. As was Daerra, “Ser Criston, that is enough--.”

“Stay on the attack!”

Aegon raised his sword, ready to charge it onto the already weakened Jace, but was stopped when Harwin grabbed it and pulled him away. “Enough!” With a single movement, Aegon was spun around and thrown to the side.

“You dare put your hands on me!?”

Daerra cut in front of the heated prince as he hastily pushed up from the ground to challenge Harwin. “Calm down, now.” Her pointed finger while free hand hovering over her whip was enough to draw him back. His offensive stance shrinking down, mumbling curses more out of annoyance.

“Aegon!” the King shouted, mirroring his cousin’s tone. Finding his son to be overdramatic by his choice of words.

“You forget yourself, Strong, that is the prince,” Cole snarled.

“This is what you teach, Cole?” came the response. Harwin picked up the disposed swords, spitting “Cruelty. To the weaker opponent.”

“Your interest in the Princes’ training is quite unusual, Commander. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin.”

Oh no.

Harwin stilled, picking up the last sword as Cole turned to face him with a cunning smirk. Daerra narrowed her eyes. Not blind to his indirect accusation, but vexed he would openly announce it in the yard. In front of onlookers. In front of the boys.

“Or a brother.”

Harwin stood, Daerra unable to see his face to tell what he was thinking. Instinctively she motioned for Jace and Luke to get behind her. While throwing pointed gazes at Aemond and Aegon who were watching with amused expression.

“Ser Criston, mind your tongue.”

Her warning was left to the wind. Cole let out the final blow, “Or a son.” Faster than they could blink, the Commander of the Night’s watch spun, fist raised to impact Cole’s cheek. Sending him sprawling to the ground as he landed another one. Straddling his chest to continue unleashing deadly hits causing Cole’s face to bleed in various areas.

It came to an end when the man they called Breakbones was yanked off of Cole by the power of Daerra’s whip. The leather wrapping itself around his neck, the woman jerking it with all her might, letting out a cry until Harwin fell to the ground. A sight that shocked her nephews, all standing wide eyed with their mouths agape.

They didn’t call her the Daring for nothing.

That was when the Whitecloaks seized him, taking four of them to drag the knight away from Cole. “Say it again!” He seethed, spit flying from his mouth. “Say it again!” Daerra marched up to Cole, surprising him with her strength as she hauled him to his feet. Dizziness filling his vision.

“How dare you speak freely and make that suggestion in front of them,” By her tone, Cole feared he was about to get a second beating. “Go to the maester, you fucking imbecile,” she didn’t care if he was concussed, thrusting him in the opposite direction, making him stumble. And seeing he was in no mood to argue, Cole obeyed, heading to the maester and left Daerra to clean up his mess.

Turning to where Harwin struggled in the arms of the guards, she bit the inside of her cheek. “Release him.” Once unhanded, Daerra stepped up to the knight, voice low. “Commander, I do not fault you for the rage you just displayed, but It is disappointing you let yourself go so easily--allowing the Princes to be exposed.” Sharply inhaling, she drew her gaze around the yard, displeased to find most in hushed conversation. Not hiding the way they watched the two and eyed the boys.

Daerra motioned to where his father stood, pale face with fear at what this meant for his house. “You are dismissed.” Turning on her heel, she picked up the discarded swords and threw them onto the rack. “That is it for today,” she called to the boys, who stood like lost sheep waiting to be herded. Jace more so than the others, holding back tears as he was old enough to understand the implication Cole had revealed. “To your chambers--or wherever your Lady mothers need you. Go.”

To say everything changed that day would be an understatement. Harwin was relieved of his position, and ordered to return to Harrenhal, leaving the boys heartbroken. Daerra, exhausted from the events of the day, found herself using the hours before dusk to ride Cannibal. Sensing her distress, the dragon flew for miles, passing Driftmark and circling Dragonstone.

Caressing the scales of her beloved friend, Daerra succumbed to her thoughts. Letting her anxiety and fears come to the surface instead of masking them. The only witness being the dragon who’d never judge her. Only share her feelings.

“Nyke gīmigon, issa raquiros, nyke gīmigon.” She stroked Cannibal’s rough scales. I know, my friend, I know. A grumble filled her ears, Daerra’s slightly curled up then dropped to a frown. “Nyke feel ziry tolī.”

I feel it too.

116 notes · View notes