#If she did they would be from her time as a sister of battle I think

[romanteacism]

A Butterfly and A Dragon’s Flight Chapter Seven

Chapter Summary: If one refuses to speak the truth, then one must be willing to face the consequences of it. Word Count: 4,656 Warnings: Revalations, Lady Elinora and Prince Aemond Growing Closer, Daeron and Aemond Arguing, Aemond Screwing Up

Edward was reeling in suspicion. Ever since coming to the capitol, he knew the precautions that would have to be taken to protect his sister from the opposing gender. The lords were like bees, flying around in the gardens that Elinora frequented, waiting for the proper time to attack and take advantage of the unsuspecting flowers. The flower being his sister. Too innocent and naive that an insect shall come and take advantage of her good nature. 

Edward did not expect that she, too, would attract a prince. The lords were hard enough to swat off, but at least they were in the same political position. No one higher than the other, but if it were a prince… Edward was perplexed about how to handle such situations. He cannot threaten them as he usually does; it would be treason to do so. He could not as well just blatantly pull away his sister because it would be bad manners to do so, and the crown may frown upon it. And he especially cannot make Elinora see reason. 

It frightened him that his sister, who usually listened to all their orders, who believed all that they said and obeyed them, would not listen to his warnings when regarding Prince Aemond. He could not understand the hold he had on Elinora. His forever cautious and passive sister grew bolder as she spent moments with the One-Eyed Prince. 

It began with the prince stealing glances, observing Elinora from above the gardens or the halls. Edward was already wary about such habits, but the knowledge he had that the prince was one to annoy and be callous around his sister was comforting. He often heard the disparaging words and passive insults the prince uttered towards his sisters, and as cruel as it sounded, he let it happen because he’d prefer the prince to be mean towards Elinora because it meant he had no interest in her and Elinora would never willingly place herself in such company. However, when the prince began to grow a tad kinder, with him dancing with Elinora to relieve her from the presence of Prince Aegon and the scene he saw of the two of them feeding the ducks and swans in the pond, fear burrowed itself in Edward. 

And now, with him giving his sister gifts, he knew all of this must cease. Elinora need not utter who gave her the small kitten because Edward had already seen the prince retrieving the feline in the bushes. Having to battle with it because even the cat was warry enough to be frightened by the prince, something Edward could only hope Elinora would be as well. 

“Brother, could you pass me the milk?” Elinora’s voice brought him out of his thoughts, his gaze afar as he sat with his sister in her chambers to break their fast. He had convinced Elinora to take their meal in the privacy of her chambers just to keep her away from the prince. But it would seem they could not escape him since he was in the presence of the kitten he gifted his sister as well as the flowers that were placed in an oriental vase that was placed between the two siblings.

Edward gave a silent nod and watched as his sister poured the pitcher of milk into a bottle that was usually used to feed babes, but she utilized it to feed her cat. “It’s not a babe, sister,” Edward sighed as Elinora cradled the cat in her arms. “Of course she is! A kitten is a baby cat, which my little Peony is,” She cooed and nuzzled her nose upon the cat’s head. 

Edward sighed at how taken his sister was with the feline. He remembered that since Elinora was six, she had been begging them for a pet cat, which they neglected to give her for fear that the animal would cause her harm. “Do you think mother and father will approve?” He questioned as his sister lovingly gazed upon Peony, who drank the milk she fed her.  

“I do not know… which is why I need your help to convince them, brother. Please— you know how much I’ve wanted a cat… and I know I’ve only had her for less than a day, but— but I already love her! I do not know what I would do if she were taken from me,” Elinora said and held her pet closer. “I do not know, sister… there’s a reason why they never gave you a cat— they fear that it might hurt you.” He reasoned as he settled further into his seat, watching as a disagreeing pout wanted to come to his sister’s lips. “But look at her! She’s so calm and precious— she’ll never hurt anyone!” She disagreed and showed off Peony further to her brother to let him be convinced by the adorableness of her pet. 

“Please, brother, you can convince them! I know you could!” Elinora begged, moving to stand and move to her brother’s side to convince him further. “Please, Edward. You know how long I’ve wanted a cat… please don’t let them take her from me,” She pleaded, and as much he wanted to resist his sister’s request and her pleading, widened eyes, he could only sigh heavily and give a small nod. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Elinora exclaimed in joy. 

“Where did you even get the cat?” Edward questioned, wanting to know what Elinora would say. He watched her turn her back for a moment as she returned to her seat, and when she sat before him once more, she kept her gaze upon Peony. 

“I found her by my door,” She said softly as she ran her fingers through the white fur of her kitten. “What?” Edward questioned, wanting to catch his sister in a lie. “Yesterday, I thought I heard a sound by the hall, so I opened my door, and she was there, waiting for me,” Elinora explained as she raised her gaze. She was not lying, not really. Because when she lied, her hands would turn cold, and she could not keep her gaze from flying about the room. Elinora was simply withdrawing certain information from her brother to keep him from worrying. 

Edward knew the telltale signs when his sister lied, and as she held his gaze, he was confused as to how Elinora seemingly told him the truth. He was certain that the kitten Prince Aemond was trying to capture and the one Elinora was holding was the same. It was obviously given to her by the prince because even though Elinora wished for a kitten, she would not go against their orders and acquire one for herself. It was confounding as to how Elinora was seemingly telling him the truth. 

Had she learned how to lie? How had they corrupted her so quickly and easily that she found no remorse nor guilt as she told her brother falsehood? Or could it be that she told the truth? That it was just a simple coincidence?“See, it was fate, brother. She was meant for me,” Elinora smiled and placed a small kiss on her kitten’s head, and Edward could only nod. He wanted to believe his sister, but by what he had seen, he doubted her words as it would seem Prince Aemond had already had a hold of her. 

Prince Aemond found Elinora by the pond again. It was nearing sundown, and he had been wondering where the girl had been the entire day. He had thought he would finally see her during the morning, seeing that Helaena had returned to her custom of breaking fast in the gardens, but Elinora did not arrive. He then thought she would need a few more moments to recover from what had transpired the other day, so he waited until noon to see if she would return for tea time. However, it was only him and his siblings. Even Daeron did not know where Elinora was, which surprisingly brought concern in the prince, a sensation he did not want to accept. 

Even though it would seem he would not see Elinora that day, he still came to the pond in hopes that she’d be there, and thankfully, he did. Because now, Elinora was there, crouching before the edge of the pond with the kitten that Aemond acquired for her. 

Aemond made fervent steps toward the girl, announcing himself by his reflection in the water again. He was ready for Elinora to once again grow surprised. Where he’d be able to hold her back, but to his surprise, Elinora only smiled, seeming to expect him already. “Good day, my prince,” She greeted as Aemond crouched next to her, a pouch filled with food for the birds between them. 

“Helaena has been searching for you,” He stated, dipping his hand into the pouch of crumbs to join Elinora in feeding the birds. “Oh, they thought it best for me to stay in chambers and rest for the day… I’ve only just sneaked out to feed the ducks,” She explained and turned to her side to see if her feline had not wandered off. She took Peony into her hands and turned to Prince Aemond, just to see his gaze already upon her and her kitten. 

“I am still yet to thank you, my prince,” She smiled as she stroked her pet's head. Aemond raised his brow, already imagining how this would turn out and what he would say to the girl. “I… I do not know what you speak of,” Aemond said, turning to the kitten who he had to chase around the gardens and bribe with a fillet of fish just for it to stop running away from him. The small, seemingly innocent-looking thing even managed to scratch him, the evidence of it hidden by the leather sleeves of his tunic. 

Elinora frowned in confusion at the prince’s words, but she could spot a faint smirk wanting to break on his thin lips. “The kitten… in the basket— I named her Peony,” She explained and brought the cat closer to the prince, but she only fussed as she was brought closer to the prince. “I truly do not know what you speak of, Elinora. Are you feeling well?” Aemond continued on with his act, watching as Elinora’s face further morphed into confusion. 

Elinora blinked rapidly, now doubting from whom the kitten came from. She was certain that it was from Prince Aemond, seeing he was the only one aside from her family who knew how much she adored cats, along with the note that came with the basket, it made her believe with certainty that it came from Prince Aemond. But his response made her rethink otherwise. “Then…” Elinora trailed, and Aemond bit his tongue. “Good day, Elinora. I have no idea where your kitten came from. Still, I am glad you finally have something you adore,” He stated as he stood, reluctantly leaving because he was about to break into a grin. He’d rather let Elinora continue to be confused and not confirm that Peony, the kitten, came from him. 

“You look oddly happy… did you see Elinora?” Daeron teased as he passed his brother in the halls. Aemond had an air of lightness upon him that was not usually present. Daeron watched as Aemond paused and rolled his eye. “Be quiet, Daeron.” Aemond gritted, the amusement he felt now fading away. “Do not be so callous, brother— best remain in my good graces, I am the one who invited Elinora to our supper. Though seeing your foul mood, I think it’d be better if I rescind my invitation,” The youngest prince smirked, seeing at how quickly the scowl on his brother’s face faded. 

“You invited her to our dinner?” Aemond questioned as he stepped closer to his brother. “Yes,” Daeron said proudly. “You… invited… Elinora,” He enunciated. “Yes. Are you slow today?” Daeron frowned. “You invited her to our dinner, and she willingly accepted?” 

“Yes! How many times must I repeat myself?” Daeron asked. “You imbecile! You would subject her to the presence of Aegon? The rotting corpse of the king, as well as the presence of grandfather and mother? Why had you invited her?! She’ll only be privy as to how… how our family truly is!” Aemond exclaimed, staring widely at his brother, annoyed by his decision and the smirk that rose to his lips. “Are you scared of running her off?” Daeron laughed. “What does it matter? It’s not as if she’s marrying into our family— so what if she sees our true nature? Believe me, brother, Elinora is not one to pass on judgment and especially not one to gossip. It’ll be fine.” Daeron said and clapped his brother’s shoulder. “Now, go on and freshen up— you reek of sweat,” Daeron advised and quickly walked off as he feared his brother’s reaction. 

“Are you certain that it is appropriate for me to be joining you in your familial supper?” Elinora asked as she walked with Daeron to the royal apartments. “Of course! Do not fret, Eli, mother insisted.” Daeron smiled and patted Elinora’s hand that rested on his arm. When they entered the hall, all were enveloped in their own quiet conversation, everyone not noticing their arrival except Prince Aemond, who had his eye tranced upon the door and suddenly stood when he caught sight of Elinora. Daeorn chewed on his cheek to prevent a laugh from escaping his lips at his brother’s action. He only leads Elinora to a seat between him and Aemond. 

Aemond sat silently as the table greeted Elinora, all presenting small smiles to the girl, who had an unwavering grin on her lips. “Thank you for the invitation, my queen,” Elinora said softly as she turned in the queen’s direction. “Well, of course, I am glad your family could spare you this evening so that we might know you better… it would seem you have quite taken my children,” The queen smiled, and her words colored Elinora’s cheeks red. 

“Is Ser Gwayne not to join us?” She whispered to Daeron, her head turned to her and Aemond waited patiently until her attention was pointed at him. “Uncle has some matters to tend to tonight,” He reasoned, and Elinora nodded in disappointment. “Prayer?” The queen asked, but she gave no room for protest. Elinora watched as the queen took hold of the hands of her daughter and father, and she felt as Prince Aemond took hers. Elinora glanced at the prince, his eye already shut and his lowered for prayer, and she followed suit. 

Her hand is so soft. Aemond thought to himself as he held Elinora’s left hand, opening his right eye to peek at her. He had the urge to move his fingers to further feel the softness of her skin, but he resisted. 

His hand is cold… is he well? Elinora thought to herself with each moment her hand was clasped around the prince. She had never felt hands as cold as his before, yet she somehow found it comforting. It was cold and rough, an accurate depiction of him. However, by some paradox, it was refreshing. 

When the prayer ended, both hesitated to let go of each other’s hold, even if they knew they must. Elinora pursed her lips and reluctantly did so and turned to Daeron as she felt a blush creeping up to her cheeks once more. Aemond stared at his hand that once held Elinora, the usual coldness he harbored fading as Elinora passed on her warmness, even if he only held her for a short while. 

As dinner commenced, there was a tense silence that was always present at the Targaryen-Hightower dinner. And for the first time, Aemond wished to be absolved of it. “What excellent boiled potatoes… we must commend the cook,” Daeron said, trying to cut the silence, and Elinora pushed around the food upon her plate, not used to the quietness around the dinner table. “Is it not the most excellent boiled potatoes you have had?” Daeron then asked Elinora, and she could only blink. “Yes… they’re quite good,” She answered, a bit confused at Daeron’s enthusiasm about potatoes. 

When silence enveloped them once more, Daeron sighed and leaned back on his chair to catch a glimpse of his brother. Luckily, Elinora was so preoccupied with her meal that Daeron had the opportunity to take hold of a pea and throw it at his brother to garner his attention. When Daeron met Aemond’s lone, lilac eye, he silently motioned and signaled for him to speak with Elinora, not wanting his efforts to be wasted. 

Aemond frowned at his brother, his eye glancing towards Elinora, who unknowingly ate her meal. Aemond returned to face forward, breathed in deeply, and thought of how to speak with the girl. He took a platter in his hands and thought it would be the easiest way to converse with the girl. He was about to offer her the dish, but his mouth turned dry, and his words were left unuttered. Luckily, Elinora noticed him and the purpose of his actions. 

“No, thank you, my prince,” She smiled politely. She turned away because she knew if she looked too long in the prince’s eye, she would be held captive by his gaze. “Why?” Aemond asked. “Are you a fastidious eater? Do the dishes we serve not to your liking?” He asked a bit too harshly. Why could he not speak to her in a normal fashion? Why must he be callous even during the times he did not intend to be?

“Oh, no… it is just… I am allergic to shellfish, Your Highness. My throat closes, and I break into a rash when I consume it,” Elinora explained, eyes widening in slight fear that she might offend her hosts. “Oh,” was all Aemond could say, quickly placing the platter at the far side of the table as a precaution. 

“Lady Elinora, I hear you are betrothed.” Queen Alicent suddenly spoke, the attention of the table turning to her. “You are?” The drunken Prince Aegon asked, surprised by the statement as he had been too distracted by his whores that his past curiosity about the girl faded. Along with the flews of threats his younger brother offered him, he was forced to let Elinora out of his sight. 

“I am your majesty, your highness. Thought I must admit I am unaware of who my betrothed is,” She said and glanced at Daeron for a sense of comfort as she never grew accustomed to speaking about the matter of her betrothal. “Really? Why not?” The queen questioned, confused by such arrangements. “I do not know… my family believes it is best for me to be unaware of who my betrothed is for the time being.” She answered. 

“Are you not at all curious? What if you are betrothed to an oaf? Or worse… a virgin,” Prince Aegon said, and Daeron and Aemond tensed at their brother’s words. Elinora, on the other hand, was rendered red at the prince’s words. “I…” she began to speak though she had no actual word of reply. “You need not answer it, Elinora.” Aemond quickly gritted and looked at his brother harshly. Aegon could only shrug, clueless as to why his words would garner such reactions. 

“Apologies, Elinora… Aegon had quite a lot to drink,” The queen said, mortified by her firstborn. She knew how sheltered they had raised Elinora, how virtuous and chaste she was. Queen Alicent must admit she admired greatly the lengths her family had made to keep her as such, and she could not phantom the thought that one of her children would be the reason why Elinora’s purity would be sullied.

Thankfully, for the rest of the dinner, no word of the scandal was uttered, but instead, the table was enveloped in amusement as Elinora and Daeron shared their days in the Reach. It was rare for their dinners to have anything but tense silence, with the occasional scratching of silverware against the china. 

Aemond had a ghost of a smile as Elinora and the others by the table watched as Daeron mimicked Lord Ormund Hightower, their grandsire’s brother. His years in Old Town had made him quite skilled in mimicking the lord. From the way he drank his wine to how he spoke and his little mannerism of slicking back the sparse hairs on his head, amusing the Lord's Hand greatly. 

However, it was unfortunate as Elinora was then called by her father, the time proving to be too late for her to stay out of their sights. “Good night, Your Majesty, Your Highnesses, my lord… thank you once again for inviting me to dinner,” Elinora smiled and curtsied before them as she stood from her seat. “Of course, Elinora.” The queen smiled, and all watched as the girl exited from the hall, taking away her lightness and enveloping the group in their usual break, quietness. 

“She’s quite lovely… now I further understand why Daeron and brother are so fond of her,” the queen stated as she removed the napkin from her lap. “Yes… though it is a shame she is betrothed to a bastard,” The lord's hand suddenly spoke. “What,” Daeron asked, surprised by his grandfather’s statement. Daeron glanced at Aemond, his brother unmoving as he doubted what he had heard. “Lady Elinora, she’s engaged to a bastard,” He repeated. “Father,” Queen Alicent called, “What do you mean?” Aemond finally spoke, his hand tightening upon the chalice in his hold. 

“She is betrothed to Prince Jacaerys.” The hand clarified, and all were rendered with silence. Questions and confusion consume their thoughts. How was that even possible? “Is he not set to marry Prince Daemon’s eldest daughter?” Daeron questioned, “Baela,” Helaena suddenly spoke. “Yes, Baela.” The princess’ youngest brother nodded. 

“There are rumors of it, yes. But on paper, he is bound to Lady Elinora.” Aemond felt the scar on his cheek throbbed at his grandsire’s words. He was confounded and outraged by the newest discovery, but he could not make any reactions, for it would reveal his true interest in the girl. 

“Oh gods, she is betrothed to a virgin.” Aegon breathed out, the eldest prince clearly not aware of the concern of those around the table. “But why?” Daeron asked, he pried further because he knew Aemond would not. “Why? Look at him! No one would willingly bed that bas—“ Aegon spoke even if the question was not pointed towards him. “Aegon!” The queen chastised. 

“Well, I know it to be a political marriage… since then, Princess Rhaenyra has been weary of who shall keep their oaths. And so, she betrothed her eldest son to Lady Elinora Tyrell, seeing her father is Lord Paramount of the Reach. She wanted to secure their loyalties.” The hand explained. It was a notable action taken by the princess, especially because Old Town is positioned in the Reach; she thought it would garner her more allies and, in consequence, lessen and surround the Hightowers. 

Otto turned to his youngest grandson, the prince turning pale as he was overly close to the lady. “Do not fret; I have made measures to ensure that no marriage and alliegences shall happen.” The hand said in satisfaction, a small smirk on his aging lips. “What does that mean?” Aemond finally spoke, unable to resist his curiosity. “Well, when the proposal was made, the king was too sickly to sign the declaration, and as hand, I was made to oversee such farce… but I have shaded the name of Prince Jacaerys, and legally, it makes the betrothal null and void.” The hand explained. 

“And I had as well spoken to Lord and Lady Tyrell… rest assured, their loyalties lay with us— especially when they had considered the closeness of their children with Prince Daeron,” He added, and Aemond glanced towards his younger brother whose concern began to fade. Daeron did not know much of Jacaerys, but he feared for Elinora if she was betrothed to him. He was a bastard, his station already in peril due to his circumstances, and if he was married to Elinora, he should compromise her as well. And if his half-sister ever ascended the throne by some miracle, it would mean Elinora would be queen. A station she is too kind and fragile to have. 

“Do you wish to talk about it?” Daeron asked delicately as he walked with his brother to their chambers. “About what, Daeron?” Aemond asked, tone overly cold. “About what we learned at dinner?” Daeron said, now uncertain if he should have spoken as he heard his brother’s tone. “There is nothing to speak of, Daeron,” Aemond said bitterly. “Really? But… we just learned who is the betrothed of the girl you hold attraction for,” 

Aemond clenched his jaw at the reminder of his emotions. “It does not matter,” He said, tone final so his brother would stop pestering him. “Does not matter? Grandfather had just said that their betrothal is a hoax! You, my brother, have a chance!” Daeron smiled, thinking Aemond would be thrilled by such new outcomes. 

“I do not care!” Aemond almost yelled, frustrated by his brother pestering him when he had not even organized what he was feeling. “The attraction I hold for her, if there is truly any, is minuscule! She is just a novelty! A… a passing fancy— whatever you believe I feel shall be quick to fade.” He said in great frustration. 

Daeron was greatly taken aback by his brother’s sudden outburst. “Then what do you feel? Why have you been following her around? Why are you suddenly… tolerable when she is in your presence? If you hold no affection, what is it then?” Daeron questioned, voice growing louder as his protectiveness over Elinora was shining through. Aemond was rendered silent at his brother’s questions as he, too, was not certain what he felt. “If not affection, then what? Lust?” Daeron spat. 

Aemond dug his nails into his palms, fist clenched tightly, and if he had less control of himself, he would have punched his brother. “Yes. Perhaps.” Aemond gritted, even if he had known before that what he felt for Elinora was not lust. Bodily whims or urges did not lead to his attraction; in some paradoxical way, his wanting was pure. He had only agreed to his brother’s statement, which was just to shut him up and leave him alone. 

Daeron felt his fists turn cold, his nostrils flare, and his body grow tense. He searched for answers in his brother’s eye, but he could not decipher anything in Aemond’s lilac orb. “I really wish you had not said that,” Daeron said lowly. He was not a violent person; he did not enjoy inflicting pain, but at this moment, he wished to hurt his brother. 

“Stay away from Elinora, Aemond. You might be the best warrior here, but do not underestimate me for I, Edward, and uncle will face you if you step a foot out of bounds. I have pried away lords from her for years… and I would not hesitate to do it once more.” Daeron said bitterly. 

“I foolishly thought you different, brother. This is why I encouraged you both… I thought you wanted her for her— I finally thought that you should be the one with the noblest and purest of intentions— but you are simply just like the others who wish to sully and take advantage of her… Stay away from Elinora, Aemond. I mean it. I will not hesitate to tell her family of all I have seen and all that you have said. And believe me, you would not wish for it.” Daeron warned seethingly, gaze overly serious as he walked off, leaving his brother, who unfortunately said words he did not mean. 

Tag List: @sapphirevhagar @dahlias-and-marigolds @shygardengalaxy-blog @m-riaa @summerposie @emerald-jade1

[konstantynowitz]

I could’ve just messaged you but I want to get this question out there! So I was wondering: would Renissa ever leave St. Mungo’s or would she remain there for the rest of her life?

Fyi: this all happens shortly after the Battle of Hogwarts, so Voldemort is gone and there’s no one left to threaten Renissa’s safety or punish the Lestrange brothers for going against his wishes to have her killed.

Let’s say it’s post-1998 and Renissa is around thirty-six or thirty-seven? Right? Since she was born in 1962 so that would make her around one of those ages. Anyways, Andromeda somehow finds her at the sanitarium and is so relieved that Renissa is alive that she gets her discharged and brings her to live with her and Teddy?

If I remember correctly, you mentioned to me once that Renissa would’ve been close with the Black sisters, since Tasoula and Druella were best friends at Hogwarts. I understand they would’ve grown up together, and maybe could’ve seen each other as sisters? I feel like Renissa and Andromeda would’ve been the closest since they both didn’t share in their family’s pure-blood ideologies.

I don’t know how Andy could’ve found Renissa, or how she would’ve known to go looking for her if Ren had been registered under an alias. But perhaps maybe Rabastan could’ve told Andromeda? I feel like the two were also pretty close, and I headcanon that at some point Rabastan was a potential husband for Andy.

If Rabastan had lived past the Battle of Hogwarts, Andromeda could’ve visited him in Azkaban and he might’ve told her about Renissa still being alive? That kinda makes more sense to me rather than Andromeda stumbling about Renissa herself.

…Thoughts?

This ask has actually caused me to reconsider a few things I had planned for Renissa. Originally, I think I've mentioned that she would stay at St. Mungo's for the remainder of her life in an ask I got a while back, but that's probably not going to happen. Renissa will leave at some point, possibly within only a couple years of being admitted there. I feel like she is a character with so much wasted potential, and I don't want to keep her on the sidelines. What you said about Andromeda taking in Renissa after the war is something that I haven't thought about before. If Andy did end up finding Renissa and discharging her from St. Mugo's sometime after the war, then she still wouldn't remember Andromeda or who she was before Rodolphus and Rabastan obliviated her. As I've said before, Renissa isn't ever going to get her memory back, unfortunately, but the idea of Andy being reunited with her childhood friend is so bittersweet and it could work as a possible ending for the lost Lestrange girl. A while back, I actually thought of having a Lestrange OC marry into the Scamander family as a way to create a parallel between Newt and Leta. I was thinking that maybe Renissa could've married Lycidas Scamander? One of Tina and Newt's twins. I know I haven't gone that far into depth with this character, since I believe I only posted a few aesthetics and a small strip of headcanons for him. A problem with this would be that Lycidas is about sixteen years Renissa's senior... I mean that isn't exactly a problem but it's not very ideal. I guess it isn't that big of a deal seeing as Nymphadora and Remus were maybe thirteen years apart? I can't remember. Age gap couples aren't really my thing, especially when we started getting into modern times where it becomes less common. Lycidas would've met Renissa at St. Mugo's since he actually works there as a Psychopathologist. Obviously, Renissa wasn't actually mentally ill or anything so I'm not sure how she'd fit into his department, but they did know each other. Lycidas was kindhearted and sympathetic to his patients, and I guess that contributed to him later earning Renissa's trust. Keep in mind that by this point it's 1980 and Renissa is eighteen, and according to the birth date I gave Lycidas (1946) he's like what... thirty-four? Now that kinda concerns me lmao but I could always change it if I wanted to. Of course, that would make Newt and Tina significantly older when they had their twins (around their fifties?) so idk how I feel about that.

If Renissa marries Lycidas then she would have Rolf by the time she's nineteen, since I believe he's about the same age as Luna. That would mean that Lycidas and Renissa would've had to get married or start an official relationship within the first year she was admitted, which to me seems a bit rushed. I'm still thinking of loop holes around all of this, but I might just end up trashing this idea altogether if I'm being completely honest with you. Side note: the name Rolf would go perfect with my headcanon for the lestrange family naming their children with letter 'r' names and also the common theme of their meanings having to do with wolves.

extra side note: Renissa had the gift of foresight and I bet you they drove her a little mad, so I guess there is a possibility that she would've been put in a ward for the mentally ill? I like to think she drew out her visions on the walls of her room.

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. XVI

Chapter 16

Last chapter here

Masterlist

sailor Daenys era

Daenys and Cregan began their hunt with the supplies available in Rook's Rest. Kalla was kind enough to guide them to guest rooms, weapon storage, and even the vaults. Though Daenys had no current need for coin, she was grateful for the trust Kalla had given her in such little time.

"The Princess of Dragons" was an affectionate name given to her by Kalla and Kallus, who regailed her 'taming' of Sunfyre with wide eyes. Though they only heard of it initially from the soliders, they watched on in awe as the dragon that had been keeping them indoors for days was now bowing his lean head to the Princess.

She kindly accepted the moniker, knowing that non-Valyrion blooded folk did not understand the kinship that Valyrions had with dragons. Bonded or not. Though, the wary look that Cregan stared at the golden dragon with did amuse her.

She expected the ship and small crew to arrive by the next daylight. With the raven reaching Rhaenyra and the Queen sending word to a trusted captain, preparations had to be made from there to transport a dragon. None had done such a feat, with dragons notoriously being independent. Daenys had not recalled a single dragon in her family's history that had become handicapped in its time. Most dragons sustaining battle injuries perished. She was glad Sunfyre was an outlier—Aegon's dragon or not.

Wielding only a spear, Daenys shrugged off the suggestion of traps from Cregan. "Sunfyre wouldn't taste a rabbit or squirrel if we fed it to him. It's the equivalent to crumbs for us."

Cregan huffed good-naturedly. "Spoiled things, dragons are."

"We are royalty, Lord Stark." She mused with a sidewards glance to him as they shared a smile.

"So what does a Prince's dragon eat?" He mumbled half to himself, eyes scanning with all the vigilance of a weathered wolf.

"Goat, cattle, deer." She shrugged. They all had different preferences when being fed by the dragonkeepers. Syrax preferred sheep and cattle, Vermax liked harder to kill prey like stags, and not to even mention Caraxes who exclusively hunted wild for himself. Daenys considered herself lucky that Morningstar was not so picky, especially when the North and South held different types of meals. Having to leave her behind after her marriage seemed like a fate worse than death. "Last I saw in King's Landing, Sunfyre liked smaller animals. He has quite the narrow snout."

"Looks more a snake than a dragon." Cregan commented. Daenys shot an amused glance to him, thinking to herself that he was a little right.

"You've gotten comfortable around them."

"Dragons?" He asked, huffing.

She hummed acknowledgment.

"One could never grow comfortable with enemy forces. Who knows if the usurper's dragon will be submissive for so long? I've simply gotten used to the sight, 'tis all."

"You won't be saying that when you see Vhagar. She's another league of her own." Daenys frowned. How unfair it was, that a dragon as ancient and war-torn as Vhagar got to live nearly two hundred years and none of her kin got the same. It would have been a mercy for the beast to rest with Balerion and Meraxes. Balerion passed of what the dragonkeepers suspected was old age, not too long after Viserys got to claim him as his dragon. Vhagar lived to this day nearly fifty years later, still fighting and flying while she was so close to the Black Dread's age.

Now, the old queen would be resigned to fight until she died, like her sister Meraxes. An ironic fate, to be sure. The Targaryen men always seemed to have it easier, in the end.

"I'd like to hope I never see Vhagar in my lifetime."

Daenys looked to the skies for a moment. The clear blue spotted by fluffy white clouds was almost disrespectful to the ongoing war. In all the history texts she read, the weather was never mentioned. Why should such insignificant things be given space on the precious pages? Yet she always imagined stormy grey skies and unruly waves scouring the entire ocean during times of war and death. Living it was an entirely different thing than imagining it. The world went on as normal, like nothing had changed within the realm.

Daenys' life would never be the same. The world would go on despite it.

"I feel the same way." She said absentmindedly.

She was only stopped from her walk by a firm hand on her elbow. Turning, she met Cregan's stern face. "You're distracted." He stated.

"I'm thinking." She deflected.

He didn't let go, turning his head down in a way that reminded her of Dusk. "Is it about the man?" He guessed.

Guiltily, the man she killed had truly not been on her mind since her and Jacaerys had taken their leave outside. Daenys didn't feel like talking about the pressure of war to him, nor did she feel like lying to his face, so she shrugged and brushed his hand off her arm. Instead, she laced her fingers with his to urge him onwards.

"Sunfyre needs to eat." Was her distant reply.

The next morning, both of the dragons had been appropriately fed and provided water. It took the efforts of Cregan and Daenys both to push a bin large enough for a dragon to drink out of, but it was worth it to see the dragon lighten considerably.

Kalla had given them spacious guest rooms that were in much better repair than those at Harrenhall. The bed and dry room felt like a dream compared to those nights in damp halls.

After dressing herself (only tying the corset with the aid of a blushing Cregan), Daenys went to the dining hall, expecting it to be occupied only by the servants. She was instead met with a hyperactive Kallus, who seemed to recover from his hardships in his home with bright smiles and teeming energy. Kalla, who looked much more tired than her brother, said her 'goodmornings' to Cregan and Daenys with a yawn.

"Princess!" Kallus shouted from his seat, bowl of breakfast oats picked clean. "Kalla said you would let me ride your dragon!"

"I said she might allow you to get near it." The sister corrected, nudging him back into his seat.

Daenys laughed softly, the sight familiar and heart-squeezing all at the same time. "Of course you can. Morningstar carries quite a good temperment compared to most." She said, watching the boy's eyes light up.

"Can I pet her? Please, can I?" He babbled, jumping from his seat and tugging Kalla to get up as well.

"We'll see how you feel when you get up close." She decided, lifting a hand out for the boy to latch on to. Which he did in a barrel of motion, nearly knocking the princess over if not for Cregan's steady hand on her waist. Playfully glaring at him at the sound of a chuckle rumbling in the Stark's chest, Daenys led the way outdoors. In the warmth of the sun the two dragons basked in its light out in the open field, giant pail of water nearly empty from Sunfyre's rapid gulps.

Golden and white scales gleamed in the light like gemstones and as the four of them drew closer, with Kalla hiding behind Cregan and Kallus nearly tripping Daenys with how close he dragged his feet near her. "You haven't lost your courage now have you, Kallus?" Cregan asked with a warm lit of humor.

Kallus vehemently denied. "No! It's cold out here."

She had to muffle a laugh at his denial, nodding along. "Freezing. I should have brought a fur-lined coat out here." The sun was high in the sky and the air fresh and cool. Despite this, a heavy feeling engulfed her body in a mere few moments. Turning to Cregan, she saw his own pelt off his broad shoulders, obviously now placed on her own over the borrowed dress. Quickly moving her gaze back to Kallus, her flustered expression couldn't be hidden from the Stark Lord, who held an extreme likeness to the cat who ate the canary.

Morningstar lifted her head to meet the group. A low trill left her jaws, and the Stauntons froze in fear. "It's okay. She is only curious." Daenys comforted, placing a hand on Kallus' back and rubbing in gentle circles. "Do you still want to meet her?"

Kalla gulped loudly. "Are you certain she will not...?"

Cregan smiled and nodded reassuringly. "The Princess of Dragons can surely trust her own dragon with your brother. If Morningstar allowed me to ride upon her saddle, she'll have no issue with Kallus merely petting her, my Lady." He offered confidently.

This seemed to work, as the elder sister brightened up and nodded firmly. "Go on, Kallus. The Princess won't let anything happen to you."

Invigorated by his sister's confidence, Kallus summoned all the courage in his little heart and allowed Daenys to guide him up to Morningstar.

"Lykiri," she cooed to the dragon, who's deep exhale when sniffing the boy nearly knocked him over. Satisfied, she lowered her head to the floor. "Go on." She urged, placing a hand first between her dragon's nostrils.

Even though Kallus was shivering, he still followed her lead and placed a hand on her snout. "It's warm!" He shouted in awe, earning an endeared chuckle from the Princess.

"Dragons run quite hot."

"Because of the fire?" He asked innocently, stroking the white scales up and down as Morningstar purred.

"Mmhm." She affirmed. Turning to look over her shoulder, Daenys saw the teary eyes of Kalla and the fond look of Cregan. He studied her carefully with a small but permanent smile plastered on his face. The intense stare was nearly too much for her to bear and Daenys was grateful for Kallus' intrusion.

"One day, I want a dragon of mine own."

"You might find one yet, sweet boy."

Daenys skipped lunch, choosing to overlook the seas by rooftop of Rook's Rest. Cregan joined only after scribing a letter to the greybeard's commander.

"Lord Trant sent word that the men joined forced near the Twins. It's only a few weeks left before they'll make it to the heart of the Riverlands."

Daenys smiled, relieved at the positive news. "If Jace convinces the Freys to allow them passage we'll be able to see the Riverland armies meet with the Northern. If we can surround the Crownlands and the Reach..." She gripped the ledge with white knuckles.

Cregan placed a firm hand on her shoulder, squeezing lightly. "The Westerlands have been mostly neutral thus far. If the Greyjoys join your mother's force, they'll all surrender to their navy."

She nodded, the sight of the ocean below calming her turbulent mind. "With time. All we need is time."

"Daenys," Cregan started, moving to stand at the ledge with her and leaning on it with both hands. Together, they overlooked the waters. "I need to tell you something."

"What is it?" She asked, throat feeling dry at his solemn tone.

He smiled knowingly, easing her anxiety with a breath of air through his nose. "It's not bad. I only wished to tell you before you see for yourself and think I've kept it from you. Which, I have long enough."

A lover? She thought, squinting. No, he's said before that he had none. A third leg, perhaps. A mutated one that is hidden from sight. She amused herself with her thoughts before he could continue.

"Go on."

"Do you remember what I told you about Wargs and their ancestry in the North?"

Daenys did, only in his briefest mention and the faint stories of her childhood. Rumors here and there of Northmen and wildlings shifting their perspectives into bonded animals, seeing through their eyes and moving in their feet.

"I do." She shrugged.

"You told me that if you could bond with your dragon, you would believe any magic in this world."

Daenys nodded again, slightly exasperated.

"I am a warg." Cregan told her, looking into his eyes with a strangely guilty face.

Daenys sucked a breath in. "Dusk?" She asked, curiousity rising in her.

Cregan grinned at her automatic response. "Of course."

"And you're not jesting?"

"When do I?" He mused. "I'm serious. I held off on telling you because there was never a good time. I correspond with Lord Trant and the forces through him."

Daenys shared his proud expression. Nudging his shoulder, she said, "I couldn't be upset about that, silly Stark. I think its nice that we can share a bond like we do."

She had many questions on her mind; how did it feel to be a wolf? How did he find out about the ability? How many wargs were there in the Stark line? All had to wait, unfortunately, as a ship made way over the horizon. Nearly noon now, the sun was high and cast no shadows, showing the vessel in all its glory.

"Eveningstar..." She murmured out in awe. As beautiful as she remembered it, her father's ship was a smooth oak with dyed blue Valyrion banners. On its mainsail was a matching seahorse, and on the smaller jibs on the front was two silver dragons intertwined—an image of Morningstar and Seasmoke. Laenor had it added on mere days after Corlys gifted it to him—insisting that the future owner of the ship should have her dragon memorialized along with his.

Daenys still remembered how sore her cheeks were from grinning all day long as they sailed around the Stormlands.

"Eveningstar?" Cregan asked, eyes sharp. "Your mother's ship?"

"My father's. It stays at Driftmark since his death." She breathed. "My grandsire is here."

Tensely, he asked, "that's a good thing, is it not?"

She was unsure of that herself. It felt like her father sending in Rhaenyra when Daenys did something wrong—he never had the heart to punish her. She had let Jacaerys go off on his own after all. "I hope so," she offered meekly, shrugging to Cregan who's eyes glitted with amusement.

Corlys coming was an unmeasured variable, though Daenys wasn't unhappy to know it was someone familiar rather than a crew of random sailors from Dragonstone's port. She was happy to see Eveningstar in good shape.

When the ship docked, Cregan and Daenys met them at the small pier. She made a mental reminder to send word for the dock to be made bigger, to house more ships from Driftmark's fleet in case of emergencies. Corlys came off first, using his relatively new cane as an aid.

"Grandsire," Daenys rushed to meet him in a hug. The first time seeing him since Rhaenys' death, and she knew it hung heavily between them. Corlys looked exhausted, more so than usual, with puffy eyes and lines thick on his face.

"Daenys." He greeted warmly, cradling her head to his chest and resting his chin on her head. "You won Rook's Rest back."

Flustered at his statement, she looked over her shoulder at the burnt fields and blood-stained patches. She knew his curt words were his own way of congratulations and pride; quite similar to Daemon. "We did." She spoke. The very place Rhaenys died was taken back into their hands, and she felt unaccomplished saying it aloud. "If only I got Aemond, too."

Corlys stared out at the fields distantly. "One step at a time, granddaughter." He ambled a few steps away, back to the gangway. At the top of it, standing rigidly near the railing was a well-muscled man with deep-toned skin. "This is Addam of Hull. The man who rescued me in the Stepstones. He started upkeep on Eveningstar upon our return to Driftmark."

"I hadn't thought we'd need to use her again after Laenor's death, but I find myself surprised every day now." Corlys said dryly. For a split second, his eyes wandered down to the direwolf sigil that kept the coat firm over her shoulders. If he noticed it as Cregan's he did not say a word.

Daenys fought the urge to look at Cregan behind her questioningly. Many crewmates came and went under Corlys' nose without him batting an eye, nor bothering to introduce her to someone who she would ride a boat with for a few measly hours. Truthfully, she hadn't cared who the crew she spent so much time with on Eveningstar with since she'd been too busy enjoying the quality time with her father.

"Princess." Addam greeted nervously, bowing his head to her slightly from his position above.

"A pleasure." She uttered back, looking to her grandsire again. "Is Eveningstar equipped to hold Sunfyre like I request?"

Corlys hummed, glancing to The Golden in the treeline. The dragons had since huddled there during the night, cuddling like a liter of pups. "When Rhaenyra sent that raven I thought she had gone mad." Daenys tensed involuntarily. "But, I know now that I owe her an apology. You really did tame the brat's dragon."

"I wouldn't say tamed," she started. "He was practically abandoned. Can't fly ever again, so they left him to be reduced to a guard dog."

"All the better for us." He assured, proudly clapping her on the shoulder. "We can haul the dragon on through the cargo strip."

Leaning in to mutter, Corlys asked: "Are you certain Sunfyre won't eat the crew the moment we set sail? There's no getting back to Dragonstone without them all."

Smiling, she met his coy jest. "Mayhaps we ought to pick which men can be sacrificed first."

Within the hour, Sunfyre was led onto Eveningstar through the back of the ship's much larger gangway. Watching the scene, surely the first of its kind, Morningstar tilted her giant head this way and that as Sunfyre willingly was led by Daenys onto the man-made contraption. When he was settled awkwardly between the poles of the ship, ducked and weaved carefully so nothing could break, Daenys met Cregan at the pier.

"How do you think Kalla and Kallus will fare alone?" She asked him, plucking at her nails from the overwhelming responsibilities. Getting Sunfyre safely to Dragonstone without being hunted by Vhagar, sailing the ship without complications, leaving Rook's Rest undefended yet again. Although it was such a short trip between the two castles, it would be so easy for a Green dragon to simply fly out to Rook's Rest and destroy it entirely.

Cregan looked on to the two siblings, who were standing in front of the keep's entrance and holding hands. "They'll be just fine. The Greens won't bother to fight hard and lose men over this place again, knowing that the Queen is adamant on protecting it."

Daenys sighed, tension still harsh on her shoulders as she rolled them and leaned into Cregan's warmth. "That's it, then." She said aloud. They had already said their 'goodbyes' that morning to the two lonesome Stauntons. "Familiarize yourself with my grandsire while I give Morningstar heed?" She requested with a saccharine smile.

With a sweet kiss on her hand, Cregan boarded the ship and met Corlys near the wheel, greeting the man with all the respect that the Sea Snake deserved. Turning her attention to the curious white dragon, Daenys patting her maw gently. "Return to Dragonstone and rest." She commanded, earning a chuff from the jealous dragon. In only a few moments, the she-dragon lifted off toward the island on her own. It would take no time for her to reach the dragonpit and the Dragonkeepers to continue treating her still-healing wounds.

Kissing her teeth, Daenys boarded the boat last. Meeting Corlys at its head, she answered his raised brow. "Let's set off."

Daenys stood at the bow in front while Corlys made his way to the stern as he shouted orders to begin steering the ship out of the pier. She couldn't shake the sudden pit she had in her stomach—the same feeling she got the previous day when she had a daydream. Still uncertain of her newfound development, Daenys was wary of her consciousness flowing in and out. At her side, Cregan's hand hovered around her waist. "You look pale." He muttered lowly. "Are you greensick?"

"I don't get greensick." She said weakly. Clutching the railing, she could see dots of black cloud her vision for seconds at a time before fading back to normal.

Narrowing his eyes, Cregan eyed the area behind them where Sunfyre sat in the middle of the ship. "Let's get you sat down." He said, guiding her near the antsy dragon to allow her some privacy and rest. Most of the crew seemed to either pretend that a dragon wasn't trapped on a barge with them or stared at it the entire time. Both types of men had clear trembles in their hands as sails were dropped and knots were tied.

Slumping down against Sunfyre, who barely even noticed with his hackles raised and head turning wildly to figure out why his world was rocking to and fro, Daenys allowed herself to fall into the oncoming vision.

The crashing waves that heavy downpours of rain brought moved the sea and thunder flashes lit up the skies and black sea alike. With a shattering sound she was out of the vision again.

Cregan was hovering, peering down at her with great concern. "Where did you go?" He asked in a hushed tone, plenty aware of the stares Corlys was giving them.

At the end of the ship a shout came: "there's something caught on the anchor!" From a crewmate. Corlys limped over to see, muttering under his breath about the annoyance.

"Leave the anchor at the side, as long as it doesn't drag against the seafloor we can depart. Dragonstone is only a short sail away."

Obediently, the man tied rolled what he could of the chain around the windlass and locked it in place. "Ready to go, m'Lord."

Corlys returned to the wheel and steered it out.

Daenys blinked rapidly, the same feeling overwhelming her again.

"Daenys," came his voice again. "Focus on me."

As much as she wanted to, the call of her mind was much stronger than the physical force around her. Once more, she was thrust into the storm.

"Go home, pup and tell the bitch your mother that the Lord of Storm's end is not a dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

Who was that? The hateful voice seemed to surround her as the man shouted.

Soaking wet but still somehow impermanent like she had been during the murder of Jaehaerys, Daenys was in a keep's hall surrounded by guards and the pouring rain outside. The hall echoed with every word the black-haired man spoke, and it dawned on her who exactly he was.

Borros Baratheon. The Lord of House Baratheon and the indirect murderer of Lucerys. The first of the great houses to break their oath to Rhaenyra and side with the Greens. Daenys vaguely thought he was pathetic at first sight, yelling at a boy from his seat at the head of the room. On one side stood Aemond with his hands folding behind his back, a smug and calculated look on his sharp face.

"House Baratheon sides with King Aegon Targaryen."

Lucerys tensed harshly, hand grabbing onto his sword pommel at his belt—though he must have known it would never protect him against the elder. He looked back and forth between Aemond and Borros, thinking of his next course of action. In the pouring rain, it would be hard to travel home: most Lords would offer a Prince lodging for the night in such cases.

The Baratheon would not. His pride was too great.

"Leave, boy."

Lucerys knew he was out of luck. Aemond had already given his hand to Lord Borros' daughter in exchange for his men and navy. Luke, being bethrothed, had nothing to give. Kissing his teeth, he turned tail to walk back to the waiting Arrax. Though as he walked he shivered from the cold, and his wet clothes did not help. Daenys wished to do something for her brother—anything to keep him safe and warm. A simple cloak over his small frame, a seat by the dining hall's fire that they conversed in front of so often, a dragonride together in the safety of Dragonstone's territory.

"Wait." Aemond pursed, stopping Luke from his tracks.

Luke looked over his shoulder, keeping a brave face. Daenys was shocked that her feet moved on their own, something she was usually unable to do during visions, to stand in front of him and between Aemond.

The whisp of air from her movement seemed to make Luke pause and search the space in front of him. Though his distraction was short-lived when Aemond spoke again. Aemond moved slowly as he removed the black patch that covered his missing eye. It was a gruesome sight to see that a sapphire had replaced the spot where an eye once was. It was deep and sparkling though wholely empty and intimidating. Holding it tight by his hip, Aemond growled, "I want you to put out your eye."

Daenys gasped and Lucerys backed up slightly. "I won't fight you." He countered bravely. Daenys saw how Borros tensed but made no move to stop the feud, no matter how unfair it was.

"Give me your eye, or I will take it myself!" He shouted. In a flurry of movement unsheathing his dagger and rushing towards Lucerys. Panicking and reaching for his sword, the brown-haired boy fumbled with his shaky hands and couldn't grip the pommel in time. Aemond had tackled him to the floor, leaving the guards to stand all around them in stunned silence.

Borros stood from his seat in horror, shouting for Aemond to take the fight out of his halls. Of course, the furious prince didn't listen to a word the man said as he raised the dagger. Daenys shot forward like an arrow, the instinctal urge to stop Aemond much greater than the logic that she was only witnessesing what had already been done.

The dagger shot right through her hand, leaving a sting of phantom pain as she fell forward to the floor. She was forced to watch as Lucerys' eye was stabbed straight-on and her little brother screamed in agony.

Daenys didn't know which was worse: Luke's scream or Aemond's gleeful laugh.

It was deranged and mad—all the abominable things she'd been called her entire life were instead manifested in her uncle. Tearing the dagger out of Lucerys' eye socket after the climax of the moment was over, Aemond sat back on his haunches and his face shifted yet again. The cat-like grin of satisfaction disappeared, and it became straight once again. While Luke writhed on the floor in pain and clutched his bleeding wound, Aemond finally stood up and sheathed the weapon.

Then, and only then, did Borros Baratheon speak up. With a cowardly look of desperation, his voice treambled as he spoke. "Escort the Prince out of my hall." He was pale-faced and tight-lipped. He knew that the second Lucerys reported Borros' competency in his assault Rhaenyra Targaryen herself would come flying for retribution.

Luke was dragged up roughly by his elbows by the guards. Daenys winced with every yowl that left him as he jolted around like a pup, manhandled like he was a beggar on the streets. Even though her greatest desire at that moment in time was to chase after her brother's image and aid him—Daenys was yet again trapped in place.

As Aemond watched on in eerie silence, Borros grabbed onto his arm. Muttered in a fast and flighty manner, "let this nary make itself a problem for my House. If the Princess hears word of what happened in this hall...House Baratheon and the Stormlands will be forced to neutrality in the upcoming war." Although vague his words were easily understood.

Aemond shoved the man off, scoffing at his casual touch. "The King expects your forces to be rallied within the moon." With a swish of his long hair, the Targaryen left the hall, leaving the Lord silent and his youngest daughter in tears.

Daenys raced him outside, met with the worst storm than she'd ever witnessed. It was wild and untamable, no end point in sight. Beyond the Baratheon walls lay the sea between the Stormlands and Dragonstone, which was equally as wild in nature. Still struggling, the Velayron boy was shoved to the floor in front of an ornery Arrax. Although the white dragon was known for his pleasent temper and protective nature, he looked more like his heart sister Morningstar at that moment: all bared teeth and ear-spliting roars. He could not breathe arrays of fire on the guards lest Luke also be burned, but the intimidation was more than enough to send them running back into the safety of the hall.

Daenys nearly stopped in her own steps, frightened at the sight of Arrax's new demeanor. The little dragon nudged a sobbing Luke on the floor, comforting him in the only way he could. He felt his pain just as the boy did, as joined souls often did. She knelt in front of him slowly, touch ghosting through him as she cupped his flushed cheek. Daenys did not yet realize that Aemond had slipped past the three of them to mount Vhagar, ready to take to the skies yet again. Her attempts at soothing were for naught as Luke sniffled and clutched onto Arrax's neck. He was helped up by the dragon's strength and nudged onto the saddle. With only one hand able to clutch the prongs, Daenys instinctively corrected him.

"It may seem fun to make dragonriding more thrilling, but a loose grip is all it takes to go flying off your saddle. Arrax can't catch you, issa valonqar." Daenys scolded, though the glint in her eye gave away her mirth.

Lucerys rolled his eyes and dramatically placed his hand back on the grip. "You're no fun, Dae." He groaned.

"That's my job. To suck the life out of my little brothers." She laughed.

Her hand shot to the one covering his own. Lucerys froze in his hasty seating, good eye shooting around like he'd seen an apparition in the corner of it. After a long moment, his hand left the wound, slowly moving to the saddle, though it pained him to do so. "Take me North, Arrax." The boy managed, squeezing his eyes shut and hugging himself to the saddle. Daenys could only watch on as the little dragon took its last flight.

The storm would take her brother that night, only minutes later, after he thought he was finally safe. She watched as Vhagar took flight soon after, a silent predator in the dark.

When she was finally released, Daenys found that no time had passed. Corlys was still steering his way out of the port and mass of cliffs surrounding. Cregan was still standing vigil over her, a permanent wrinkle between his set brows. "What did you see?" He asked in a hushed tone.

"Lucerys." She answered immediately. "Aemond took his eye before he took his life. He got even—in every way he demanded. But he still wasn't happy." She slumped backward onto Sunfyre, who seemed to be more content with the familiar company though he was nowhere near off his high alert.

Cregan was quiet for a few beats. "I thought these only came to you in your sleep."

"Me too." She whispered, feeling a wave of defeat wash over her. "It's been happening since we got to Rook's Rest."

"Daenys," he started, moving a stray strand of hair out of her face. "Don't think of this as a setback. I think it's quite the opposite."

"Opposite?" She asked, bleary.

"The daydreams." He said. "Seem quite different than the ones at night. You knew you were having one."

She nodded, taking the warmth of his presence in gratefully. It was like an anchor on the rocky ship, pulling her down to the earth. In the back of her mind, Vhagar's rumbling roar encompassed her thoughts. "It wasn't much different otherwise. Although..."

He raised a brow for her to continue.

Clamorous flapping of ripped wings.

"It's all the same. I'm seeing the past happen through my own body, though my interference does nothing. Every dream except that of my cousin's death—when Helaena saw me. Perhaps there is something I have not uncovered." Her voice was mellowed and low, speaking quickly and more towards herself than to Cregan who was patiently intaking information.

"You think you can choose what glimpses of the past to experience? Or, say, the future?" He trailed, thoughtfully looking on over the railing to the soft waves.

"Only the Gods know." She said, watching the man known as Addam approach. The corners of Cregan's mouth lifted at her jest, but his eyes landed on Addam, too, both wondering what the man wanted from them.

Addam dipped his head slightly toward Daenys, eyes flitting unsurely between the Lord and Princess. "Lord Corlys has scheduled a detour."

Daenys' jaw clenched, annoyed at her grandsire's lack of urgency. "Does he know there is a dragon boarded upon his ship?" She asked. Of course, he sent his crewmate to tell her such news rather than himself.

"Eveningstar is your vessel, to my knowledge, your highness." Addam said, a gleam of amusement in his deep brown eyes. "Lord Corlys said so himself when he ordered it to be maintained. Ser Laenor's ship passes to his eldest child."

Daenys' heart panged. Traditionally, it should have gone to Luke, heir to driftmark after Corlys. Even if Lucerys were alive to become heir, she suspected the ship would have ended up in her possession still. By gift of Laenor or Luke. It had her dragon on it, after all, and none could refute the fact that the knight held his daughter's bond closer than his sons'.

"If that is true, then should we not prioritize my task of bringing Sunfyre to Dragonstone for safe keeping?"

Addam looked bashful, unsure of how to answer on behalf of her grandsire. "We are en route to Stone Dance. Lord Gormon Massey gifted the Queen his finest smithy's and fishermen. For what purpose exactly, I am unaware."

Stone Dance, house of the Masseys. Elinda, Rhaenyra's head Lady in Waiting and trusted friend, was the daughter of Gormon, who sat upon the Black council. It made sense that Rhaenyra tasked two things to Corlys instead of just fetching Sunfyre alone.

That didn't make the situation any less vexing. Sunfyre should be the top priority, not a group of working men who could easily travel by the Massey's own ship.

"I see. Thank you, Addam." Daenys muttered dismissively. As much as she wished to plea to Corlys to turn course, even she knew that her mother's word was above her own in the eyes of this crew. To everyone else, perhaps even her grandsire, Daenys was a spoilt and odd girl who had no place being outside of Dragonstone in a time of war. Cregan took her hand in his own, looking down past his straight nose at her.

"I know it's bothersome, but at least it gives Jacaerys some more time with the Freys to plead our case." He offered.

Daenys shook her head lightly, smiling at his comfort. "Indeed. Perhaps my brother can induldge himself in two cups of wine instead of one during his visit."

Stone Dance was in sight quicker than Daenys expected. The time passed easily when Cregan kept company at her side as they watched waves and cliffs pass them by together. As the island grew in size, so did the visibility of that surrounding it. She squinted as she watched two large boats heading past the island's port and towards them.

"I thought we were sent to board the men." She murmured. "Why has Lord Massey changed his mind?" Was it supplies and cargo on those ships instead, perhaps?

Cregan stood eerily still and quiet. After a long pause, he tensed as his sharp eye finally caught sight of what he was searching for. "That isn't from House Massey." He said, clutching the pommel of his sword. "Get to the hold."

A shout came from the front of the ship, a scouter and navigator, "it's House Baratheon's ships!"

Daenys looked to Corlys, who's grey brows furrowed deep and his jaw set. Looking to Daenys immediately, he repeated what Cregan said. "Get down to the navigation room." At the reaffirmed order, Cregan moved to guide her when she stood still at the sight of the bright yellow banners.

"Cregan." She grit out, resisting his tug although it easily overpowered her own.

He stops in place, turning to her, and for a moment she swears that fear was deep in his eyes. In a flash it is gone and replaced by determination and zeal. "Daenys." He says, just as seriously. "There is no telling how many men are aboard those ships compared to our own—or what the Baratheons want with a Velayron force. If they see you—"

"I'll handle myself," she spoke, frowning at his rushed words. The yellow banners drew closer as they stood idle and the crew moved to defensive positions around them.

"There are less than ten men on this boat. The moment Lord Borros finds out the Princess is with us, he will engage without a doubt. If he only sees the dragon, he might be wise enough to leave the matter."

Cregan was totally out of his element. On the open water with no allies but those of Velayron-loyal shipmates, he was alone in his experience, and they were alone in theirs. This crew had likely seen many battles against raiders or pirates or other such naval fleets and dealt with them accordingly—the Starks did not fight in the sea but instead on the mountainous land of the North. His fear was not for himself but instead for her, who he swore to protect with his life only moons ago.

She nodded with a hesitant finality. Placing a swift kiss on Cregan's cheek, she squeezed his hand before rushing under the deck and into the navigation room thar Corlys instructed her to be in. From the small port window, Daenys could see the two ships approach with an aggressive speed. Yelling and stomping feet were all she heard above the planks, specks of dust falling onto her as the bustle increased. Sunfyre grew more anxious without the familiar comfort near him, and his shifting nearly drowned out the men's footsteps. Suddenly, that stopped, too, and the dragon settled to a perfectly still position—yet none could stop the ornery roars he let out. She felt immense guilt for practically abandoning the beast all on his own when he was already frightened.

Finally, the two ships were flank-to-flank.

The space was quiet for a time, murmurs that were indecipherable to her ears coming from men of both sides.

Vaguely, Daenys was able to recognize the cadence of Borros Baratheon, apparently conversing peacefully with her grandsire at the edge of his own ship.

"King's dragon...return...Targaryen history..." Borros Baratheon's words were more recognizable than Corly's with his louder tone. Having to practically shout to feel above the veteran Lord, Borros sounded quite pathetic next to him.

It wasn't possible that House Baratheon was sent to fetch Sunfyre. If the Greens already found out about the kidnapping, Aemond would have been directly sent before the ship could make it to Dragonstone.

But he was not.

Borros wasn't sent for Sunfyre. So then, what made him take two of his valuable ships all the way up to Stone Dance instead of readying them for war? Was Aegon's council really foolish enough to attempt to gather their naval fleet into the gulf of Blackwater Bay? It would be all too easy for them to cage themselves between two pieces of land, and for the Velayron fleet to corner them in that bay, even a man foreign to war strategy would know that.

Two ships.

Daenys' heart raced as time continued to pass. She was missing something here, but what?

A sudden 'thud!' made her retreat from the window, startling at the fright. Yells started soon after, and the unmistakable sound of iron scratching against its shealth filled the air by the tens. Swords clashed against one another, the heavy scent of iron stung her nose and seemed to flow around her as much as the salty water did.

Daenys rushed to the room's door, sealing herself against it as she debated her actions. How many men were there? If the Baratheons ended up overpowering the ship's force, they would take whoever was left alive as hostages and bring them straight to King's Landing. It felt like she had walked into her own prison by sending for Rhaenyra's aid. What kind of dimwitted soldiers jumped right into the jaws of a dragon? More angry roars and stomping limbs thumping on the ceiling nearly convinced Daenys that Sunfyre would come falling through a hole in the deck.

Pained screams came after each roar periodically, most likely the dragon biting whatever fool approached him or got cornered between a crewmate and the beast.

Under ten men plus a dragon, Daenys mused triumphantly. She regretted not ordering Morningstar to hover over the ship, but could not dwell on such frivolities. Daenys held her breath as hurried footsteps rushed down the hatches steep staircase and knocked into the navigation room's door. She winced at the heavy force, but pushed her entire weight stubbornly against it.

The body stilled and huffing breaths paused. A slow slice of metal met the wood of the door as a voice called lowly, "come out of 'here and I'll make this easy."

Borros.

He got past Sunfyre and Cregan in the frenzy upstairs. It was impossible that he knew exactly who was in the room, only that there was someone. Daenys squeezed her eyes shut, still as a statue and unwilling to even exhale to make a single sound. Cregan, where are you? Was everyone dead? Her bethrothed, her grandsire?

A bang on the door. "Get out, you coward!"

Daenys released a heavy breath, knowing that it wouldn't be hard to knock down the door. Even if she revealed herself before he could, would mercy be granted?

Nay, she'd face the same watery grave her brother did.

A spell of nausea overcame her, the same feeling that she'd begun to familiarize herself with. Not now. She couldn't afford to leave her body without her consciousness.

Daenys decided to take her chances with the door. She kept herself firmly against it, using her weight as countermeasure to his own shoulder barging into the other side. Her eyes frantically searched the small room for any weapon better than the dagger at her waist. Nothing but maps and compasses that she could possibly reach.

She ripped herself from the door, allowing it to be shoved open with a loud crash against the wall. There stood a heaving Borros, face red and hair russled. He looked like a rabid animal, all instinct and no humanity.

Shock gleamed in his eyes as he paused, "princess?" Came through his lips in a confused murmur. As if she was the last person that he expected to find on this ship.

Without wasting a moment, she shouldered past him and ran upstairs. Sunfyre was her best bet with his intimidating appearance and massive set of jaws. He was smart enough not to use fire for now—but that could only last so long before he grows desperate enough to take risks.

Above the deck was a worse sight than below. Men in yellow and black were fighting with men in plain clothes. The crew held much better than Daenys expected—perhaps more trained than she had given them credit for. Near the top of the ship where the dragon carvings were, Addam was parrying two Baratheon soldiers with a fluidity that nearly had her stopping to admire.

Cregan was nowhere to he seen. Daenys forced herself to remain optimistic about his safety, ever trusting in his capabilities. Corlys was at the opposite of Addam, staggering back as a man cornered him. Daenys' heart dropped at the sight, flashes of her grandmother reminding her of the tragedy that happened so recently. She couldn't lose both of them in the same place.

Sunfyre unfortunately had to wait.

Daenys surged forward to her grandsire, taking her dagger and thrusting it into the back of the soilder. As easy as it was to insert, it was ten times harder to take out, her grip failing her as the man shouted in pain and turned to face her in a flash. The knife still in his back, she was now weaponless. There was no time to think as the man raised his bloodied sword to strike her.

His head was promptly removed from his shoulders. As the body limply fell to the floor, staining it ever more, Daenys saw a panting Corlys behind gripping his sword tight mid-air. He was sweating profusely, pain evident in his eyes as he relaxed his arms and dropped the sword. He clutched his side, old wound bothering him as he leaned back against the railing.

They shared a mutual nod of thanks, Daenys working to grab her dagger back from the soldier's body and sheathe it again as she helped Corlys stand strong. From her perspective above most of the ship, she could make out blurry forms of men fighting and much clearer forms of the two Baratheon ships. The one that carried the soldiers was anchored next to Eveningstar still, while the second had long past them.

"Where is that one headed? Why have they come to Stone Dance?" She asked hastily. Her eyes searched for Cregan still, to no avail.

"Not for us. For Rook's Rest. That boat carries supplies for the men stationed there—or previously stationed there—in order to secure a perimeter to protect it against us. This one was backup."

Wrong place at the wrong time.

She was relieved to know that it wasn't another assassination attempt. Though war moves were not so different from that.

"How do you know all of that?"

Corlys coughed out a bitter laugh. "The Stag has a mouth bigger than his brain. He thinks he won already."

"Where is Lord Stark?" She finally asked tentatively, scared for the answer he might provide.

"Last I saw, he was protecting your dragon."

Daenys' heart raced at the knowledge. Cregan protecting Sunfyre even though he held no obligation to; it made her heart squeeze with affection. On the other hand, the middle of the ship was the most exposed and unprotected area. Enemies could come from any side. She could only pray that the dragon protected him, too.

"I can't bring you downstairs, grandsire. Borros found me there." She said, frantically searching for a hidden place to leave him.

Corlys slowly stood by himself, stubbornly leaning down to grab his sword from the ground. "Leave me, child. All I need is my sword—" Daenys did not hear the rest of his words.

She was harshly shoved against the railing, back angrily protesting as her tailbone was bent over it awkwardly. She gasped, grasping at the attacker's collar to steady herself. Borros found her quickly, leaning over her with a deadly grip on her biceps. His ragged breaths hit her face and assaulted her senses as he brutishly berated her, "mad girl, intruding where you do not belong! Your bitch mother sent two of her bastard spawn and thought she could convince me to back her cause?!"

Daenys stumbled over her words, feeling her consciousness waning in and out as he shook her like a ragdoll. The worst possible time. She fought against herself, pleading internally to stay in the moment. With the tight hold on her arms, she felt the blood begin to stop its flow to her forearms and fingers, feeling them grow cold by the second against the salty chill surrounding them. Behind her was the Baratheon's own ship with a strip of space between them, leading down into the sea.

"I didn't know—!" She plead her truth to the man, shaking her head wildly as he seemed to only grow angrier. At the mere sight of her—a stranger whom he had never laid eyes upon— Borros was resentful of her. Mayhaps, due to the trouble the Targaryen war had brought the Great Houses or the anxiety that dragons may come to burn his Keep down for allowing Lucerys to be murdered, she did not quite know.

His dark eyes were blown wide and nearly black. "She thinks she can negotiate her way out of everything. Your dragon won't save you now, it cannot even walk!" He chortled roughly as if he'd just told the most amusing jest of his life. Leaning in, he bit: "Your brother's certainly couldn't save him."

His hands clamped around her throat.

The brutal truth and realization that Daenys was not nearly as capable as she thought herself to be without Morningstar brought terror deep in her stomach and reduced her to pure adrenaline. All her actions were pure animalistic instincts, slashing at the man's throat and eyes with wretched gasps for air. When her vision spotted and Borros' snarl of fury turned into a triumphant grin, he released her.

With a shove, Daenys was pushed off the side of the ship. She barely registered her fall before she was submerged in ice-cold water. It was dark and suffocating between the shadows of the two boats, and Daenys felt a flaring pain in her back rip through the surface of her skin. She screamed out in pain, quickly growing to regret it as she sucked in a deep gulp of salty water. Daenys forced herself to swim up and up to breach the surface, stopping when she realized her dress' skirts had been caught on something.

Dizzy and running out of air, Daenys tugged with all her might. The sunlight seeped in between the boats only enough to give her some visibility. The silver of the anchor glinted back at her when it resisted her tugs. That's right. The anchor was never able to be pulled up all the way earlier. It was left at the bottom of the boat, hanging right below the surface of the water.

Another oddly shaped gleam caught her eye within the chains. It was long and silver, too, stuck between two chain links and tangled into it. A sword?

In a flash decision, she grabbed the steel, feeling it cut into her hand as she tugged it out of the link. It only took a moment to cut the edges of her skirts off and ascend to the surface. Daenys gasped for air, choking on the leftover water in her lungs and clinging to the slippery side of the ship. She held onto the chains hanging from the side, catching her breath as the waves continued to lap at her chin.

When she steadied herself, she finally looked down to see what saved her. A short sword, perhaps made for a shorter man or young squire. The blood on its blade had already been washed off by the water, leaving the only trace of her stinging wound on her hand. The salty water burned her back and palm in a searing heat, but Daenys forced herself to cling on even so. She caught footing on the anchor, managing to stay on after a few slips.

Taking a deep breath of relief, Daenys cursed aloud. What happened to Corlys and Cregan? The entire Velayron crew?

Glancing at the weapon that had saved her life from drowning, Daenys turned it this way, and that as it gleamed back up at her. On the base of the blade was engraved, "āeksio hen tide."

'Lord of the tides.'

Luke's sword. It had caught on Eveningstar's anchor when it docked at Rook's Rest. Rhaenyra's gift to the boy when Laenor first 'died' and Luke became desolate in his anxieties of becoming the Lonely Lord of the Tides. Luke was never a good swordsman, even as he grew older, always being easily best by Jace in every spar they partook in. But he never seemed to mind his lack of skill with the sword. Nor his tendency for greensickness.

He was a linguistic and a scholar.

Better in High Valyrion than even Daenys and more knowledgable in the histories than Jace, Luke was attuned to literature and language like he was born to be a Maester rather than a high Lord. Before he died, he had just started his studies in the Lhazareen language. She remembered well the long nights spent staying by his side in the Great Hall quietly drawing an imagine of her past dreams while Luke studied until the hour of the wolf.

Those days were long past, and now all that hadn't been burnt in his furnural pyre was locked away in his room, gathering dust and spiders.

Except his sword.

Daenys smiled faintly at the bittersweet irony of the situation. He still found ways to nose himself into the situation—even in death.

CHANGING the person who saved Corlys. Yes it was Alyn but I feel like it's more fitting to be Addam since he's the dragonrider and involved in the story a lot more, though in the book we know who the heir becomes and what not but this is not the book 😇 Technically this is me merging Alyn and Addam into one character like the show did to Rhaena and Nettles.

Hastily made key of Luke's journeys to and from Storm's End to kind of make sense of it. He obviously could not see or make direction in the storm so he just went as far up as he could and eventually died right between Dragonstone/Driftmark and Rook's Rest.

I talk about Luke A LOT. But honestly he really haunts the narrative of the show and this story (and my mind obv) Rhaenyra would never have fought so fiercely if none of her children were lost; especially two in the span of a day.

tags: @purple-1995 @itsaslaminak @beebeechaos @pedro-pascal-love @thelastemzy @moonymoo1 @emery-aka-emmy @r-3dlips @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97 @mandeepandee1997 @reyndaisy @saintkittykat @theadharablack @thatkindofgurl @alexandra-001 @iv7867 @yentroucnagol @geeksareunique

[taryn40k]

Thinking about the different worlds and professions having different prayers for the God-Emperor. A man working in a manufactorium will need more endurance and resilience, while on Catachan, one is going to NEED to spot a threat fast and know how to react correctly to it. Plus, he doesn't look like it, but Taryn has many thoughts about how the Imperium seems to be relying on Big E to miracle their way out of the sludge pit it let itself sink into. He is a firm believer in standing on his own two legs so the Emperor can focus on truly helpless people that DO need his miracles.

[yamujiburo]

A few months ago, some of you might know if you keep up with this blog, I went to Collect-A-Con LA. It was truly on a whim. Literally the day before my girlfriend and I had just come back from our Europe trip. Normally I'd be so tired and jetlagged but for some reason I was feeling really antsy and energized and just needed to go somewhere and get out of the house.

I found out that Collect-A-Con LA was happening the following day and that a lot of the original Pokemon voice cast would be there. So I bought a ticket, drew/printed up a picture that I wanted to get signed and got up early to drive to the convention center (you have to understand that I hate driving in town and also very much never wake up early). I don't know what possessed me to do this but I'm so glad I did.

I ended up having the privilege of meeting Eric Stuart, Veronica Taylor and of course, Rachael Lillis.

She was masked up, looked tired, and a bit sick. And at the time, I assumed she might've caught a cold over the weekend of the con. I went to her table and she still smiled and gave me all of her attention and time. I paid her assistant for an autograph, gave Rachael the drawing I'd done and she got to signing it. Her assistant said the print I had was cute and asked where I got it. I told her that I drew it myself and that I spent a LOT of my time drawing Team Rocket and other various Pokemon fanart. When I said that, Rachel stopped mid-sign and looked up and squinted at me and asked "are you Kiana Mai"? My heart skipped. I had no idea she knew who I was and was surprised that, given how many Pokemon fanartists there are in the world, she was able to pick me out. I left that interaction so happy and felt so seen. Soon after, I went to get my print signed by Veronica Taylor and while in her line, noticed Rachael had left her table; presumably not feeling well and had to leave the con early. I remember thinking how lucky I was to catch her before she left.

A couple months later, I saw the gofundme that her sister posted, detailing what Rachel was going through for the past few years and her battle with cancer. It put that convention day in such a different perspective for me.

All I could think about was how much she cared about her fans and how in touch with her community she was to go to a convention while being in so much pain and suffering in silence. I obviously don't know her personally, but based on how other fans who've met her, as well as her colleagues have spoken about her, I got the impression that she was an amazing, thoughtful person who cared about the people around her. That was only solidified for me based on this singular interaction a few months ago.

Rest in Peace Rachael Lillis. You've touched so many lives with your voice and so much of us grew up listening you. Thank you for everything!

[isaacathom]

me, holding my primary ttrpg oc in my hands: im giving you so mcuh family trauma :)

[dcxdpdabbles]

DCxDP idea: To Be Human Again

Danny had not been human for a long time. His home dimension had long since fallen. He lost his friends and family to old age, watched their descendants rise and fall in the same way, and witnessed his Earth come to an end.

When the cosmos erupted and took the solar system he knew and loved, Danny was oddly at peace with the end. He was no longer a Halfa but a full Spirit of the Stars. Solar flares ran through his veins rather than blood, stardust decorated his skin in gently kissed freckles, and his eyes held the swirling clouds of the cosmos.

Danny had not become a ghost. He had transformed into an Ancient, commanding the prophecies, fates, and endless opportunities that all living beings could experience in their lifetimes.

He flouted through his domain, witnessing battles between Lords of Choas and Order. Planets gain life and break apart. Endless time stretching from the graveities he weaves to flouting stones.

As time passes, his name begins to fade into legends and myths, and even the ghosts that once battled with him forget their time together. They, too, can age at a much slower rate, but change comes for them. He is present for Box Lunch's birth, but when he leaves to create light in the darkness, he misses her growing up. When he returns, Box Lunch does not know him, trembling in place as she bows low like her parents.

He stares at her, wondering what he found wrong with her, until he realizes she is a young adult. Were it not for his once evil timeline, he wouldn't have known her child form. He had missed it.

His gaze falls onto the much older pair of ghosts who call him by his new title. Neither Box Ghost nor Lunch Lady show any signs of remembering his name. They greet him with his title, and act as if though that is his identifier.

How many eons had it been since he last heard someone call him Phantom? Or even Danny?

"Lord Star Weaver?" Box Lunch stammers when the giant being only continues to stare. "Is something the matter?"

"Hmm," he considers her question, wondering if his realizations upset him. It's not that he was lonely or that he missed the sound of his name. But he has spent eons in a haze focusing on his work, and now it's almost as if he was waking from a dream.

Dreams....what did those feel like again?

"Tell me, Box Lunch, are there any portals to any living Earths?" His voice booms over the Realms, echoing as if they were a part of him. Maybe they were.

Danny had not sat on his throne since his elder sister breathed her last, but he still remembered the way the Infinite Realms changed on his whims. It's where he learned to weave stars. The young woman's ghost looked startled before she gestured vaguely to a path behind her.

"Yes, sir. I regularly use the anchored portal to visit the local Earth. It's where my father was born before his death."

Danny looks down at Box Ghost before leaning toward Box Lunch's height. She is no bigger than his pupils, and she seems frozen in terror as his eyes glow with hunger. "Show me," he says.

Her parents make strangling noises, but they wouldn't dare speak against the King and Ancient of creation. They send their daughter worried tight smiles but encourage her to lead the Star Waver to the portal.

She flights for a solid hour, his large form sending every ghost into hiding as he passes. Despite not having a living heart, he knows that it beats a mile a minute within her chest as her glow flickers in uncertainty.

They arrive at the portal, a swirling green pool resting in the open mouth of a mechanical jester. Danny thinks it looks like the building of an amusement park. He remember going to one once with Sam. This had been the Funhouse, filled to the brim with trick mirrors.

The memory causes him to smile.

Lunch Box nervously moves her hands one after another, bowing at the waist and stepping to the side so Danny can consider the portal. He is much larger than the building and doubts his foot would fit inside the portal.

He should change his form.

"Here it is, Lord Star Weaver, the portal to the human-AGHHHH!" Box Lunch's words fade into a scream as two bright rings of light form around the Ancient. Fearing she had offended the being and he was planning on retaliating, she flings herself to the ground before the portal, begging for her existence.

"I will do anything!" She cries, head pressing against the glowing green stone underneath her. "Mercy, please, Lord Star Weaver."

"Anything? Then you shall be my guide in the new Earth, " a human voice says. Shocked, she raises her head only to see that the Ancient has vanished and that a human teenager with soft fluffy hair, big baby blue eyes, and the most innocent demeanor is staring back at her.

Were it not for the soul she could feel carefully folded up inside him, she would have thought him a human who stumbled through the portal.

"My....Lord?" she dares to ask, and she's rewarded with a soft smile. Honestly, the human body the Star Weaver has chosen is an odd one. It looks like a strong gust of wind could knock him over.

"Yes. Where does this portal lead?"

"Gotham," She shutters out, "The city within the United States of Earth. This portal is in te middle of a human outlaw named Joker, but humans there aren't able to see us very well so he never bothers me."

"Gotham" Danny rolls the name on his human tongue, tasting it as the sound vibrates through his bones and his heart. It's been so long since he last felt this alive, and if that was what the name could do, who knows what the city could bring him. "What a wonderful place to get lost in, don't you agree, big sister?"

"Um...I beg your pardon?" Lunch Box blinks, but he shifts her fate with a snap of his fingers. Since she had never been alive, having been a Realms born, Danny has control of her guiding star. He moved it for one that belonged to a version of herself born in the human world.

Lunch Box's body shifts into flesh and blood. Her draw drops as she stares at her human hands. Danny grins. "I'm Danny Fenotn, moving to Gotham with my older sister. Adopted, of course. Who might you be?"

She looks at him with horror and heartbreak, but what leaves her mouth is only three words: "I'm Della Fenton."

"Della." He repeats the name, nodding his head and smiling. "It's lovely."

"It was my mother's Earth name before her death, " she says in a daze, and Danny smiles, striding into the portal without a second glance.

"Come on, Della, I want to see our new home."

He steps into the portal, while she can only look out over the Realms that no longer whisper and speak to her. How could it? She was no longer a ghost. She silently apologizes to her parents, who would likely be waiting at their haunt for her, and turns away from the only home she's ever known.

She can not afford to anger the Star Weaver. If he can breathe life into her with a mere snap of her fingers, she fears what he can do to take it away.

On the other side of the portal Della finds that her King has been caught by humans, who have tied him up to a chair and a snickering clown waved a knife in his face.

His gentle smile did not leave his face even as the Joker sliced two thin lines on his cheek.

"Della" Danny calls never taking his eyes off the clown. "Is this the outlaw you spoke of?"

Human goons swarm her. She is shocked to find that they can touch her as she is thrown on the ground, only to remember she is now human. The dull ache in her chin is her new reality.

"Yes. That's the Joker," She says after getting her wits about her. One of the goons presses the heel of his foot on top of her head, slamming her back to the ground and breaking her nose. A scatter of snickers echoes through the room as Joker loudly cackles.

"That's right, little boy. I'm the Joker, and this is my Fun House. What were you two doing sneaking about here uninvited?"

There are teeth in the Star Weaver's answer, and she shivers in place, wondering how she will survive him. "Oh, I just felt like star gazing. Say, did you know your guiding star is becoming dim?"

[thinkinonsense]

Bewitched

˖⋆࿐໋ james logan howlett ✦ bridgerton au series

bewitched masterlist

cw: 1800s mentality on marriage and women, pinning, bickering, enemies to lovers

pairing: viscount!logan howlett x fem!reader

a/n: as of right now, i'm not sure how long this series will be but i'm so excited for it! i tried to make the reader as universal as possible but i did have to give her some sort of last name, so if that isn't your thing, you can always change it to fit. after the set up, i'll probably drop the last name.

bridgerton lore: ton (high society), debuting (when you begin dating/looking for a partner), spinster (an unmarried woman)

main masterlist

in early june, everyone returned back to england for this season and whispers of a french woman joining the ton spread around. one morning at breakfast, marie howlett was reading one of the gossip columns aloud to her family when her eldest brother, james walked into join them at the table.

"it says she's staying with her aunt, lady worthington. she is four and twenty and the only child. her passions are literature and painting. apparently, the queen has one of her paintings in her home..."

"she sounds lovely. doesn't she, james?" their mother said, hoping her boy was listening.

"she's a spinster." he says, eating some of the fruit on the table. "that's not viscountess material."

"the queen seems to find her to be diamond material." marie jabs.

james has never fallen for one of the diamonds. sure, their beauty is prominent and sometimes they can hold an intellectual conversation but for the most part they are simply shoved forward so the queen can take credit for their marriage.

"i have more important priorities this season."

"well, this season you should prioritize finding a viscountess." their mother bit at him.

during this time every year his mother gives james the same speech over and over again. the marriage speech. ever since his father died during battle, james has been plagued with not only his grief but also the weight of replacing his father and eventually having to find a replacement for his mother as well. instead of focusing on marriage, james kept himself busy either working or traveling and keeping his family afloat.

"mama, i promise i will find a wife at some point." james sighs. "i just haven't met anyone that can handle being my viscountess."

"what about the red headed girl from last season? you seemed to fancy her quite a bit."

"she married lord summers this past spring."

"and the munroe girl?"

"she's interested in mister brooks."

all his mother does is sigh in response to the news. he takes this as the perfect chance to escape the interrogation.

luckily for james, there was always an excuse to avoid marriage. in the past he's gotten close to making that walk down the aisle but something always held him back. he's never believed much in love or marriage past it's convenience. sure, he believed it was the blueprint of life, to take a wife and start a family but his marriage is seen as a much bigger deal.

all the mamas in the ton were practically throwing their daughters in his direction. at balls, he's always forcing marie to dance with him because if not, he will be forced to socialize with these young unintellectual girls who only value him for his money and title. james didn't want to have to nurture these girls. he would take care of his wife but he wanted someone who was independent from him.

ever since his father died in the war, james has always been guarded of his feelings. especially, when it came to love. when he went with his mother to identify his father's body, james swore on that day that he would never let love destroy him like it did his mother.

"remember, marie is debuting tonight at the first ball of the season." his mother called after him. "don't be late."

"i wouldn't miss it." he smiles at his little sister before dashing out the door and back to his study.

˖⋆࿐໋

a rainbow of silks are spread across your bed as you try to figure out what to wear tonight. if your mother was here, she would know exactly what would look best on you. it's only been three months since her passing yet the ache in your chest grows stronger day by day.

"what are you thinking of wearing tonight?" your aunt asks, lingering in the doorway.

"i'm not sure yet." you sigh, picking at the pretty gowns. "i like the light blue one."

arguably, it was the prettiest in the pile. so simple, you hoped to blend in among the wash of colors in the room tonight. the boning of the corset poked the left side of your ribs a little but beauty is pain.

as you got ready, the nerves started to kick in. by now you should be on your second or third child and pregnant with the next. why was love taking so long to find you?

ever since you were a little girl, you were a hopeless romantic. dreaming of your first kiss and getting married to your knight in shining armor. back home, there was a cruel joke that you were the girl before the wife. you get just close enough before they end it. afraid that the curse would travel with you.

"don't worry." you aunt hums, brushing your hair. "the queen picked you as her diamond for a reason."

"i know, i know." you nod, avoiding your reflection in the mirror. "i just wish mother was here with me."

"i do too, dear."

"she should've seen me married."

a small tear rolls down your pink painted cheeks. it feels like you let her down by not taking a husband before her illness got worse.

men have it so easy. there's no pressure from society put on them. you can marry at fifty to a nineteen year old if you so please because you know that they will marry you out of fear and desperation.

"who says she can't?" your aunts smile reflected in the mirror. "she's still looking down on you, probably working on sending you a lord or a duke for a husband as we speak."

"amusing." you giggle.

"imagine a viscount or a prince!"

both of you laugh at the possibility. viscounts and princes were usually swept up quickly in high society. all of them probably have pregnant wives by now.

"don't get too ahead of yourself."

˖⋆࿐໋

the queens ball was unlike anything you had ever seen. beautiful gardens, bright lights, and people gathered everywhere. inside the ballroom, the chandelier lights almost blind you.

like a hawk, lady chamberlain spots you two. she is an older lady and a close family friend. you haven't seen her since you were a little girl, surprised that she was able to recognize you.

"lady worthington and miss bowery, lovely to see you here!" the woman smiled, wrapping her arms around both of you.

"hello, lady chamberlain." you smile, feeling slightly at ease seeing a familiar face here.

"you look marvelous, sweetie." she smiles, taking in your appearance. at least someone appreciated all the bells and whistles that went into your dress for this evening. "truly like a diamond."

"thank you." you curtsy. a warm rose color rises to the surface of your cheeks at her compliment.

"let's go find that viscount i've told your aunt about." she says.

suddenly, she's pulling you and your aunt over to meet everyone.

quite some time has passed and yet you've only met barton's and a few lords. from one eligible bachelor to the next, it was the same process. you introduce yourself, dance, ask a bit about each other, jump into talks of marriage and children. it was all a bit overwhelming to say the least.

there's no news on a prince yet but lady chamberlain was holding out for a viscount while your aunt held out for a duke. meanwhile, you just needed someone with charm and charisma to save you from these godawful men of the ton.

"i'm going to get a drink." you announce, one the music ends.

in one of the dim corners of the room there was a refreshment table where you poured a hefty amount of wine into your glass and down as much of it –in a very unlady like manner– as you could before another person could find you.

it wasn't long until someone behind you clears their voice loudly.

"i was unaware that they taught women to drink like soldiers in france..."

you spin around quickly to face the man in front of you. he is gorgeous and... huge. dawned in white puffy shirt and a tight black vest with detailed buttons. he towered over you intimidatingly with a small smirk creeping on his lips from shocked expression.

"i-i deeply apologize, my lord. it was just grape juice." you laugh nervously, avoiding his piercing stare.

"hm..." he hums, lifting his hand up and letting his thumb swiftly glide under your lip to catch the bit of liquid there. you watch in awe as he licks the bit of wine off his thumb with a soft groan. "they must make 'grape juice' different in france."

never in your whole life have you been left so speechless. a gentleman has never done more so than touch your hand, let alone act so scandalous. with a satisfied smirk, the man walks away to join a small group of young women. thank goodness that no one seemed to have noticed.

"miss bowery!" lady chamberlain called after you. "i want you to come meet the howletts."

swiftly, you get back to her as she approach a mother and daughter. both of them were stunningly and wore expensive looking gowns with luxurious jewels. lady chamberlains wide smile only made you grow more anxious.

"meet lady howlett and her daughter, the honorable, marie howlett." lady chamberlain introduced.

"lovely to meet you." you say, bowing gracefully before them.

"where is viscount james?" lady chamberlain asks.

"oh! he should be around here somewhere..." the woman looked behind the two of you until she flagged someone down. “there he is!”

the moment that you looked up at the viscount, you feared your heart might explode right then and there. silently pray to the gods above that he won't mention your previous encounter.

"miss bowery, this is my son, viscount james logan howlett." lady howlett announces proudly.

"what a pleasure to meet you, miss bowery." james smirked, trying to get a rise out of you.

"as is it for me, my lord." you curtsy politely, feeling hot under his gaze.

a cloud of lust fogs james mind at the words, my lord fell from your pretty, slightly berry colored lips. the lower his eyes drift from your face, the tighter his trousers get. every exquisite curve is highlighted by the way that the silk fell on your frame, reminding him of the goddesses he had only seen in the finest of paintings.

"might you wish to accompany me to a dance?" he asks, extending his hand to you.

you nod, offering him your gloved hand in return.

the two of you make your way to the dance floor with everyone else. the orchestra begins and you quickly fall in sync with each other.

"how are you enjoying england?" james asks.

"it's quite lovely." you lie.

"better than france?" he questioned with a small tilt of his head.

"no." you giggle softly. "nowhere on earth is better than home."

"i suppose i cannot argue with that."

"have you journed to france?"

"once. when i was younger, i went with my father. he loved france."

"that's why my mother left england. she fell in love with my father when she visited france."

"they must be true romantics."

"oh, most definitely." you smile.

carefully, logan spins you twice. never letting you stumble over your own two feet like most men would.

"i truly am sorry for earlier, my lord. that was completely unacceptable for a–"

"it's alright, sweetheart." the viscount cut you off with a chuckle. "your secret is safe with me."

james looks down to see your big round eyes sparkle up at him with great appreciation. there's a unique feeling blooming deep in his chest that he can't quite put his finger on.

"i heard from some mamas that you are seeking to wed this season." you say, looking elsewhere as the two of you pull apart.

"seeking is such a complex word." he sighs amusingly.

"i imagine it would be difficult to find a future viscountess."

"you have no idea."

all around you, you can see the women openly fawning over the viscount. some fan themselves while other clutch their jewels with either anger at you or lust for him. any of those women would duel to be in your shoes right now.

"do you have a desire to be viscountess?" his question made your heartbeat increase, pounding in your chest.

as a young girl, you watched your family struggle in order to survive so it would be a lie to say that you don't dream of having a title. you have a father back in france to take care of in his elderly age. but love was your main desire. you would marry a sweet common man as long as he loved you.

"i desire to be loved." you tell him.

the answer caught james off guard. the women of the ton had no issue telling him to his face that they want his tittle or money. none of those women actually cared about love.

"well, my darling, you are quite the fool to be seeking out something as pure as love in a place such as this." james says, pulling you so close that you can feel his heartbeat in his chest and his eyes darken.

"don't be so cock-sure, viscount howlett. i am no fool at all." you glare angrily up at him. "i wish you well on your journey to find such a bird-witted viscountess."

the song ends and you are quick to make an exit. hot on your heels, james follows you outside. perhaps you shouldn't have insulted the viscount to his face but you didn't quite care anymore. this night has been a bust and you aren't any closer to marriage then you were before walking in here.

"miss, bowery..." a man calls, capturing your attention. "would you accompany me to a dance?"

based on the man's appearance, he seems even more important that the viscount. he was definitely the opposite of james. this man wore light grey in places where james wore black. this man had a sweet smile where james had a scowl.

"her dance card is full." the voice behind you threatened.

the gentleman's face fell a little.

"actually, i have one last spot open on my dance card." you smile, showing him the tag tied to your right wrist which had exactly one spot open. "i would love to accompany you..."

"prince harrison." he grins.

you hum, offering your hand. the prince leans down and kissed your gloved fingers before sweeping you off to the dance floor again.

james fumed as he watched you walk away with the prince. lady howlett spots her son alone and walks over to him.

“please tell me that you did not scare off this seasons diamond, james.” lady howlett asked in a low whisper.

“i’m gonna call a carriage” he growls, annoyed.

“dear!”

his mother called after him but he couldn’t care to turn around and stay here any longer.

˖⋆࿐໋

on the carriage ride alone, james is stuck with the image of you. your beauty and the pain in your eyes when james called you a fool. oddly enough, james enjoyed the way you bit back at him. he just wishes that he hadn’t offended you.

apparently you must not be that hurt if you accepted a dance from harrison of all people. not because he wanted to court you but because harrison was barely considered a prince and was a poor excuse of a man. never having to lift a finger a day in his life. never knowing a single struggle. the prince was insufferable.

perhaps it was in james best interest to forget about the beautiful woman he met this evening. she is this seasons diamond after all, desired by too many. james wasn't known to chase the things he desired.

──★

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[lilislegacy]

look. either you agree with me or you don’t - either way it doesn’t matter - but i truly think that at some point - after time, a lot of heavy conversations, some yelling, and crying, and a whole lot of honesty and apologies from her parents - annabeth and her family would work things out and become semi-close. which means eventually percy would be on good terms with them too.

that said, you cannot convince me otherwise that at some point, probably soon after moving to new rome, percy gets into a screaming match with mr. and mrs. chase about how they treated annabeth. and he absolutely blows out the pipes of every house within a mile radius.

not because annabeth needs him to fight her battles. not because percy thinks he has to fight annabeth’s battles. but because he can’t even begin to grasp how someone could treat a child - their own child - like they treated annabeth. the man who was raised by sally jackson cannot even begin to fathom how they blamed their child for the danger that followed her, and then gaslit her when she went to them for help. he can’t even begin to understand how they put her brothers before her, because now that he has his own little sister, his mom has never been more clear about how much she loves him.

he’s gonna lose his shit.

(“what kind of father doesn’t do everything in his power to protect this child?” “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t sign up for it. it’s your fucking job.” “what kind of monster encourages her husband to turn his back on his 5 year old daughter?” “yeah you didn’t choose to have a child, but she didn’t choose to be born!” “what? did you hear that demigods don’t have long lifespans and were just waiting for her funeral so you could get on with your lives?” “what kind of parents make it clear to their daughter that their new babies are the priority? that she’s a danger to them? that they are more important?” “would you fall into hell to save her?… if your immediate answer isn’t yes, then making you a father was the dumbest thing athena ever did.” “she was a scared little kid. you were supposed to protect her.”)

the minute they try to defend themselves, the chases are getting soaked. and part of that is from peeing their pants with fear becasue we all know how terrifying percy is when he’s angry. and nothing makes him angrier than someone who’s hurt the girl, the woman, who is his entire world.

you cannot convince me otherwise. don’t even try.

[demonic0angel]

DC x DP Prompt: Family dinner with the Fenton Family and the Waynes. Chaos ensues.

If looks could kill, Danny would’ve been killed a thousand times over, with his body cremated and his ashes thrown into the farthest volcano with salt then being tossed along the dirt afterwards.

Dan had never looked so vicious as he glared daggers at Danny, who was his eyes closed and his hands in front of him, like a prayer. However, he was definitely praying for patience because he had a dinner knife in one hand that Cass was trying to take back from him to no avail.

Dani had her arms wrapped around Tim’s, a wide grin on her face as she noisily snacked on the roast potatoes and watched the battle between Dan and Danny. Tim was trying to hold back a smile, but he pulled the bowl of potatoes closer to her. Kon, who was sitting on the other side of her and was invited by Tim, was also wide eyed and grinning, an arm wrapped around the both of their chairs when he leaned back.

Jazz just looked at Alfred and Bruce with a shameful look on her face and beading tears of embarrassment in her eyes as she muttered, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over again.

Jason was trying to soothe her and not-so-subtly motion Dick to step in and stop the fight while said man was staring at his boyfriend in horror, looking between both of the psychically fighting men with strange looks.

Damian had his head down, whispering to Stephanie and Duke who also had their heads ducked as they gossiped about the situation. Jon, who was sitting on Damian’s other side, was also leaning in and listening with a grin.

Bruce was just looking back and forth between Dan and Danny with wariness and confusion.

“… do you two know each other?”

“Know each other?” Danny said, looking up and finally opening his eyes. “Oh, we definitely know each other.”

Dan bristled at some invisible offense. Dick snapped back fo awareness and grabbed him, chuckling nervously as Dan growled.

Danny raised an eyebrow and sneered, continuing, “Yeah, I know him, alright.”

Dan suddenly grabbed a fork and threw it at Danny. It sank into the wall and pandemonium erupted as the Bats lunged backwards as Dan flew over the table to jump at Danny. However, Danny wasn’t going out without a fight because they immediately began punching and kicking with even some biting. Cass and Dick lunged forward to pull them apart while everyone else moved away.

Dani burst out laughing, but when Jazz burst into tears, that was when everything got even worse.

(I actually wanted to write something like this lmao.

If I continued this, it would be too long, but basically, Jazz has been on her last nerves for the entire day bc this is the first time she’s ever met her boyfriend’s family, and then SUDDENLY she finds out all of her siblings are dating people from the same family and then now her brothers are fighting bc none of them knew that they were dating a pair of siblings, and they thought they could finally get away from each other, and she’s both so embarrassed and so anxious that she started crying.

Immediately, it’s like a *record scratch*, the fighting stops and both Dan and Danny make up really, really fast to comfort their sister and then all of the Phantoms, including Dani bc she did nothing to stop the fight, help clean up the mess and the day actually gets better bc it becomes a bonding activity between the Fentons and the Bats. Jazz is still very embarrassed but it works out.)

[thewritetofreespeech]

Flourish

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader

summary: Aemond had not been joking when he said they would work on another child after their first was born. Aemond never joked. [ part ii of this work ]

tags: heterosexual sex (m/f), fingering, breeding kink, mentions of past pregnancy, use of High Valyrian, Aemond so in love with his wife that he might fall over.

words: 2K Ao3

-------------------------------⚔️-------------------------------

The fire was warm as it crackled in the hearth. Staying off the coming chill of the cooler months settling in upon them.

Aemond stared into the hypnotic flames. His wine from dinner at his left while his wife sat in her twin seat at his right, wrestling with the babe in her arms. “Stop fighting little one.” She whispered under her breath at their child. To which Aemond had to scoff quietly as his cheeks raised in a smirk. You might as well tell a bird not to fly, if it was one of his children.

His beloved wife had given him the child he had asked for. A beautiful, strong, silver-haired paragon. With her mother’s eyes instead of his own, but no less the perfect Targaryen jewel. They named her Amena, after much debate of naming her Alyssa or Alysanne after his grandmothers. Truly they had considered it but, in the end, Aemond wanted his children to be their own person for as much as they could. So much of their lives would not be their own; their duties, their battles, their matches. Let them at least have their names.

The princess eventually settled and suckled at her mother’s breast for a time before a nurse came in to take her to the nursery. Though the Keep kept some of the finest wet nurses in all Seven Kingdoms, his wife insisted on giving their child her first & last feedings every day. No exceptions. He knew she would make an excellent mother, even before their child had been born.

The nurse gathered the babe from his wife’s arms, kneeling down to let her kiss Amena’s soft crown, before she came over to Aemond and did the same. “Sleep well, riñītsos.” He whispered to her, before she was carried away and the two of them were left alone.

His wife sighed heavily once the door closed. Slouching and sliding down into her chair in a very relaxed, but undignified, manner. “So, what shall we do for the rest of our night husband?”

“I want another child.”

Understandably, his wife was surprised. It was not the response one would often expect to hear when asking how they should spend the evening before bed. Cards. Reading. Surely not perpetuating a dynasty. “Did I not just give you that one?”

Aemond chuckled as she pointed towards the door where the nurse had disappeared through. “Yes. You did. But I would like us to have another.”

“Really? And what brought on this sudden change in perspective?”

He doesn’t know if he should tell her that it was not a ‘sudden’ change in perspective. Since that night they conceived Amena, Aemond’s goal had been to fill his wife and their wing of the castle with children. He just didn’t realize how persistent the urge would be once they had one.

“I thought you wanted Amena to have siblings.”

“I do,” she agreed, which was a good start, “but I did not think you meant now. Perhaps when they are older. I just got my body back.”

His eye roamed over his wife’s figure. Back nearly to where it had been before and still beautiful, but he would be lying if he said he had not been thoroughly attracted to her those nine months she had been pregnant. Seeing her swell heavy with his child. Watching her body change. Her breasts grow heavy. It almost set Aemond to drool.

“I thought you said you liked being pregnant.” He reminded her, as he stood up and knelt in front of her chair. The heat from the fire on his back almost as hot as his gaze fixed on her.

He knew that pregnancy wasn’t easy. Seeing his mother, his sister, and now his own wife go through it, he was aware it was not the tranquil beauty & reverence people made it out to be. But he did not think his wife despised it. She commented often on how she loved carrying their child, even amidst the complaints.

“Well, it…was an experience…I did not hate it.” He could see her waver as he took her hand in his. Good. Aemond did not think of himself as the clever charmer, full of charisma, like his brother was, but he was not without his own Targaryen silver tongue.

“Do you not want to give Amena a brother?”

“Is that what this is about?” Aemond stopped kissing her fingers at the sharp shift in her tone and looked up at her. “You don’t want another child. You want a son?” His silver tongue might not be as polished as he thought.

When she had been pregnant, she had asked him what he was hoping for and Aemond said he did not care. Which had been true. Sons carry a man’s name, but when you have the name ‘Targaryen’ the point was moot. And, as an avid learner of history, he knew that there were some Targaryen women that carried the name higher & finer than some of the men. If Amena had been male, he would have rejoiced all the same. But clearly now his wife was thinking that maybe he had hoped for a son and been disappointed. That they could try again and ‘get it right’. That was not what he meant.

“No. I have no more of a wish for a son than daughter. We could have 15 princesses, it would not bother me.”

“15??” His wife repeated with a laugh. Her concern and ire waning quickly. “I am not giving you 15 children, of any variety.”

“But you’ll give me another one, eh?”

Aemond lifted up on his knees. Back to seducing his wife as he leaned in close to her. His lips brushed against hers softly, before they traveled down her jaw to her neck. His wife sighed in his ear. Sinking further into her chair as she tilted her head back. Relaxed and pliable under his touch.

He continued to kiss her while his hands moved to undo the lacings in the front of her evening gown. A sharp gasp came to his ear, followed by a moan, as his cool hands slithered in to touch her breast. They were sensitive and tender. She had told him as much. The newfound weight of them in his hands from what they had been before made him moan as well and a shiver raced down her spine when he pulled the gown down to expose them fully.

“Aemond….” She sighed out as he kissed along the edge of her breast. Imagining another babe of silver at her left since Amena seemed to favor her right.

“Let us to bed, issa jorrāelagon.”

His wife nodded eagerly and Aemond rolled up to his feet with all the grace his training allowed him, before he offered her his hand. She of course took it, and he pulled her to her feet and against him. Holding her there for a moment to look down at her before he gave her another kiss on the lips and led them to bed.

As they were already in their evening clothes, the matter of getting undressed was easy. Aemond laid his wife on the bed and was quick to catch her arm before it moved to cover herself. She had become shy about her body and being naked in front of him since giving birth. A trend he hoped would pass. He certainly had not given her any indication that he did not still find her desirable. His hard cock stroked against the interior of her thigh, just in case she needed further encouragement.

She moaned quietly as his member brushed against her soft skin, then leaned up to kiss him. Aemond is happy to meet her. Her lips are soft as well. He always thought that. Everything about her was soft in comparison to his hard lines and, well, everything. It was why they were perfect together. Why the world needed more of their two halves in one whole, to make it better & perfect as well.

“Open for me.” He told his wife as his fingers brushed against her thigh as well to spread them that little bit further to give him entry.

She does, and his fingers slid in to toy with her already damp sex. “See. You may lie, issa jorrāelagon, but this part of you cannot. You want me to put another babe in you, don’t you?”

“Aemond…” Her voice sighed out his name as her head tipped back whilst his fingers pressed in.

“You want another Targaryen fire in your belly, yes?”

“I just want you inside me, Aemond.” She insisted and he smirked.

“I will be. And I will be every night until we make a new scion, if you’ll have me.” His thumb brushed over her clit. Swollen and beaded out as his fingers continue to thrust inside her. His pretty wife bowed her back. Called his name and begged him to enter her. “Tell me true, wife.” He whispered in her ear as she was nearly close to crying with want. “Do you want me to fill you up with my seed and plant a new babe in your womb?”

“Yes!” She finally admitted. “Yes Aemond, I do! I want another babe. To give that to you. I want you to fuck another child into me like you did before! Please, please, give it to me Aemond!”

The prince gripped his wife’s hair and pulled her in for a hard kiss. A reward for her honesty. As he was doing that, he pulled his fingers from her cunt and lined his cock up to refill it. Sheathing all of him in her warmth in just a single thrust. “Hells Aemond!”

He gave her but a moment to adjust before he started thrusting into her. Those beautiful, full breasts of hers bouncing obscenely in front of him. His eye roaming down to her again flat stomach and imagining it full again, before traveling lower to where there sexes meet and watched his cock thrust hard to put a child into her.

“A-A-Aemond!” His wife cried out. Voice stammered by his thrusts. Hands clinging to the bedding as her legs wrapped around him.

“Not going to let me go, are you issa jorrāelagon.”

“Never.” She told him. With this look in her eyes that shot Aemond right to his soul.

He grabbed hold of her arm and flipped them up while they kissed. Her legs still wrapped around him as she was now seated neatly in his lap as he thrust up. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The sweet words somehow tainted a little with all the wanton, animal panting between them, but no less meaningful. “Now give me our son.”

Aemond groaned. His back teeth grinding while his wife’s hips were grinding into his lap. He held her still and flush against him as his cock burst forth deep inside. She moaned sweetly against his ear as he filled her. Not letting go until he was sure every drop was inside his wife, then laid her down on the mattress. “Just the once, husband?”

“Do not tempt me, wife.” Aemond warned her. Both remembering the mad frenzy that had been their first bout to conceive. “Did you really mean it?” He asked when they were settled in bed for just sleep now. “Would you really want a son?”

The conversation earlier had led him to believe that she was not interested in one, but then her remark a moment ago made him question. Although Aemond was not fool enough to believe what a person said in the throws of passion anymore than what a person said when they had imbibed.

“Hmm…I have no opinion really.” She confessed. Settling into her spot on the bed between her pillow and his chest. “I know that is what everyone hopes for us. More Targaryen sons.” Aemond hummed once. He wouldn’t patronize his wife by telling her that that wasn’t true. “But, having one of each wouldn’t be so bad.” Aemond looked down at his wife just as she looked up at him. A shared moment between them. “I am not giving you 15 children though.”

Aemond smirked at her quip. “We shall see, now won’t we.”

*****

riñītsos: little one, little child

issa jorrāelagon: my love

Amena (origin, Arabic): meaning trustworthy, loyal, protected. [Not a Targaryen name but sounded pretty close, in my opinion]

[sena-seastar]

Burning Desire

Aemond x Older!sister Reader

Summary: You rush off to confront your brother Aemond after discovering he hurt your sister, only to find him crying. You are angry at him for what he has done, but you cannot stand to see your little brother suffer.

Warnings:  Angst, Smut, Sibling incest

A/N: This was supposed to be an angsty comfort fic, but it very quickly got out of hand. All dialogue in italics means that the characters are speaking in High Valyrian. I was just too lazy to attempt to translate it. No beta, so I apologize for any grammar and spelling mistakes. (Gif is not mine!)

You stormed through the castle halls, ignoring the maids and knights who quickly stepped out of your way. Usually, you would give them some sign of acknowledgment, but tonight, you couldn’t— not when your anger was boiling over. Your hands trembled with repressed rage, and your fingers curled into fists as you tried desperately to refrain from lashing out. There was only one person who was deserving of your wrath, and you were headed to find him now. 

When you arrived at his door, you entered the room, not bothering to knock. The loud sound of the wooden door slamming close behind you echoed in the air. The room was dark; only a few candles were lit, though they were burning dangerously low. You squint your eyes, searching until you find the silver-haired man hunched over in his chair. Your robe made a slight whooshing sound as you stormed over to his side. 

“How dare you!” Your voice cut through the air like a sharpened blade, every word dripping with venom and contempt.

Aemond says nothing. His head is lowered, and his long silver tresses conceal his face.

“You dare to lay a hand on our sister?! Has she not suffered enough?! And now you wish to send her into battle?!” Your chest is heaving wildly as you lose what little composure remains to you.

Once again, you are met with a deafening silence that angers you even more.

“Have you nothing to say?!” you yell, each word cracking like a whip. Your brows furrow and your lips curl into a snarl.

Yet once again, your words go unanswered. You open your lips, prepared to berate him even more until quiet sobs reach your ears. Your blood runs cold, and you freeze. Aemond’s body jerked with every gasp that escaped his throat. 

“I am alone,” he whispers . “As I always have been.”

His words move you to tears. 

“Aemond,” you whisper, stepping closer.

You reach out a hand to touch his shoulder but pull it away just before reaching him. Your mind is suddenly conflicted. Your rage is quickly converting into sadness with every second that passes. The two of you rarely saw eye to eye these past few weeks. His actions above Shipbreaker Bay had left you horrified. The abhorrent murder of your nephew, Jaehaerys, happened not long after. You blamed Aemond for that and did not bother trying to hide it from him.

Then, Aegon returned from Rook’s Rest, burned and broken beyond repair. Your mother came to you shortly after, sharing her thoughts about what had happened. She believed Aemond to be responsible, but you could not bring yourself to believe it at the time. But as the days passed, you found yourself becoming increasingly unsure. Especially after today, when the horrific details of his actions at Sharp Point reached you. Most days, you could hardly even recognize him—this strange man who shares the face of your sweet little brother.

You take a deep breath before reaching out. Your hand trembles as you place it on his shoulder, but he does not flinch from your touch. He leans into it. Aemond raises his head just enough to look you in the eyes. His face is stained with tears, and his eye is red and gleaming with tears, ready to fall. His silver hair is unusually messy and unkempt. The leather eyepatch is gone, exposing the beautiful sapphire embedded into his eyesocket. It is a sight he has entrusted very few to see.

“I am sorry,” he cried. “I didn’t mean to hurt her.”

“I know,” you whisper, pulling him close.

He buries his face into your stomach. His large hands gripped tightly at your sides, and you did your best not to wince. You lift a hand, brushing down his unkempt hair. You were angry at him. You had come here to yell at him, maybe even hit him, but you couldn’t. Not when it filled your heart with great sorrow to see your brother in so much pain. Your little brother. The boy you had always tried so hard to shield from the cruelty of this world. The boy who had always run to you for comfort after being humiliated by Aegon time and time again.

Aemond continued to sob. His tears made the thin fabric of your nightdress stick to your skin, and the cold wetness sent a chill down your spine. You gasp as you feel him pull you down, sitting you on his lap. He held you close, burying his face into the curve of your neck. Your hands rested against the warm, bare skin of his back as you held him. He must have been preparing for bed not long before you arrived as he was only dressed in a pair of black lambswool breeches.

“You are not alone,” you reassure him, gently kissing the scar that marred his brow. “I am here, as I always have been.”

There is a slight chill in the air, but the heat radiating from his skin keeps you warm. Aemond sniffles but says nothing. You can feel his tears sliding down your neck. You move a hand up to his head, toying with his hair. He nuzzles his nose into your neck, seemingly inhaling your scent. Aemond shifts in his seat, spreading his legs a little wider, making the position more comfortable for you. A quiet gasp escapes your throat as you feel the taut muscle of his thigh pressing into the most intimate part of your body.

The feeling sends a rush of heat through your veins. Your breath quickens as you try to push the sensation aside. Your face burns as shame begins to overwhelm you. He just wanted to be close to you, searching for comfort in your arms as he had done many times before. But your body is turning it into something perverse.

Aemond bounced his knee ever so slightly, almost like a tremble. You squirmed, trying to press your thighs closer together in hopes of stopping the heat growing in your stomach. One of Aemond’s large hands rests firmly against the small of your back. The other moves to grip the outside of your thigh.

“Aemond,” you gasp as you feel his lips grazing against our collarbones.

“What?” He asks, his voice so nonchalant.

“I think I should go,” you replied, trying to stand up.

But his hands hold onto you tight, refusing to let you go. 

“Please stay,” he begged, burying his face into the curve of your neck once more.

“Alright,” you whisper, trying to calm him.

His hair tickles your nose. You lift your head a bit, resting your chin on the top of his head. You trail the tips of your fingers against the muscles of his back. Aemond nuzzles his face against your neck. He bounces his knee a bit harder. You wonder if he is doing this on purpose.

“Aemond, stop it,” you mumble, trying to ignore the fire sparking in the pit of your stomach.

“Stop what?” He asked, ghosting his lips over your jaw. 

“You know what,” you whine.

He ignores you; his lips press soft kisses against your jaw. Aemond bunches the skirt of your dress into the hand that grips your thigh. He steadily inches it up higher. The cold air touching your now bare legs makes the hair on your body stand up. Suddenly coming to your senses, you gasp, slapping a hand over his as the skirt of your dress reaches just above your knees. He tries to continue, but you use all the strength you can muster to keep his hand still. 

“We must stop,” you command, trying to stop yourself from giving in to him completely.

This was wrong. You were both betrothed to other people—him to some Baratheon girl and you to the Lord of the Arbor. They were political matches, as most marriages are. You held no love for Lord Redwyne, but you would do your duty as was expected of you.

Aemond easily pushed past your hand, slipping his hand between your thighs. You gasped, trying to squeeze them together to keep him at bay. Your stomach flutters as his thumb rubs across the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your fingernails dig into his forearm. You pull back, and he lifts his head to look you in the eyes. 

He removes his hand from between your thighs, moving it up to your face. You find yourself melting into the warmth of his palm. The pad of his thumb ghosts over your lips, but his eye never leaves yours.

“You were supposed to be mine,”   he says in the gentlest tone.

“Aemond,” you whine, trying to push him away.

But he refuses to let you go. The hand on your back kept you from standing. His fingertips trail down the side of your neck down to the neckline of your nightdress. His touch on your skin leaves you feeling almost delirious. The fire in your stomach is fully ablaze now. You squirm in his lap as his fingers graze over the tops of your breasts. You cursed yourself for this, as the feeling of his tense muscles sends waves of heat straight to your cunt. The hairs on the back of your neck raise. Your eyes close, and you bite your lip to stop crying out. 

“Look at me.”  

It is a command that you are unable to ignore. Aemond is the prince regent. In this moment, he speaks with the king’s voice. His absolute authority leaves you fearful and painfully aroused. Once again, your eyes meet his. He says nothing, simply watching you like a predator stalking its prey as his hand moves over your nightdress, cupping your breast. You gasp, slapping a hand over his. You know you should push him away, but you don’t. 

A chill runs down your spine. Under his gaze, you feel completely exposed, almost powerless—a feeling you usually dislike greatly. You were a princess of the realm and a dragon rider. You were anything but helpless. Yet you find yourself wanting nothing more than to surrender yourself to him, to escape from your worries and sorrows, to be free from all the tiring expectations that have been placed upon you since your birth.

“Am I so hard to love?” 

His voice trembled, as he struggled to hold back tears. The authority is gone, replaced with something much more vulnerable. The sight broke your heart in two. You had always worried about Aemond, your sweet, sensitive little brother. Since he had come of age, he had changed. He was colder and more distant, not just from you but from everyone, even your mother, whom you know he cared for greatly. It was like he believed he had to be this... pillar of strength, or all would crumble.

You remove your hand from his, moving it up to cup the scarred side of his face. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss on his brow. You have done this so many times over the years, yet it has never felt as intimate as it did now. Aemond closed his eye, leaning into your touch. A sharp pain stabs at your heart as you watch how desperate he is for your comfort.

The hand on your breast slid back down to your thigh. Aemond’s fingers toyed with the hem of your skirt. Your thumb traced down the deep scar that marked his cheek. You lean down, peppering kisses from his cheek to his jaw, where the scar stops. He turns his head slightly, so that your lips hover above his, almost touching. You rest your head against his. His violet eye stared into your own.

“What of Floris? She is to be your wife.” You say, hoping he may come to his senses, as yours have fled from you completely.

“You will be my wife... for tonight.” A single tear drops from his eye as the words leave his lips.

It is such a beautiful, harrowing sight. One that leads you to shedding tears of your own. Aemond’s hands grip you by the waist, hoisting you up just enough for you to straddle him. Your knees rest on both sides of his legs, trapping him between your thighs. A wave of heat runs through your veins as your bare cunt presses against his clothed bulge. He leans forward, capturing your gasp with his mouth. One of your hands cups his face while the other pushes his hair away from his face. 

The two of you shared passionate, frantic kisses. You had not been prepared from when Aemond’s tongue slid into your mouth. You whine, caught off guard, but do your best to follow along with him. You had no experience with such things. The only kisses you had ever experienced came from tall, handsome knights in your dreams. But even then, those kisses were nothing like this. They were short and sweet. A quick peck on the cheek or lips, but this was much different. Aemond kissed you with such urgency, such deep burning desire.

Aemond lifts his hips, pressing himself against you. The feeling of his hard cock pressing against your aching cunt makes you cry out, though your noises are muffled against his lips. The feeling is so foreign, yet exciting, that you can’t stop yourself from reaching down to palm him through his trousers. His hardened cock is thick and throbbing beneath your touch. A newfound confidence blooms in your chest.

A sound rumbled in his chest; his large hands gripped your ample hips. Your hands moved to grip his shoulders as you rocked yourself back and forth, your bare cunt grinding against his clothed bulge. He hissed, knitting his brows together. You watch as his face contorts into one of pleasure. Your own burning desire is growing too much. Your desperate, heavy breaths fill the air as you grind yourself against him even faster, desperate to reach your peak. He looked up at you; his mouth hung open slightly as he watched you use him for your own selfish gratification.

It’s exhilarating- him watching you- seeing you in a way no other ever has, touching you in a way no other ever has.

“You’re doing so good,” he praises.

His praise sends another wave of pleasure coursing through your veins. The room suddenly feels unbearably hot. You’re so close; you can feel it. The pressure building up in your stomach is eager to be released. You roll your hips even faster, harder. But it is not enough. The throbbing in your cunt is almost painful. You are nearly sobbing at this point.

“I want more,” you whine. “I need more. Please, brother.”

“I am at your mercy, sister,” he smirks. “Take what you want.”

You reach down, huffing as you struggle to untie the laces of his trousers. You can feel his chest vibrate against you as he chuckles.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you grumble.

“My apologizes-” he shudders as your hand wraps around his thick cock. Finally freeing him from the confines of his trousers.

A triumphant smile crosses your face. You give his cock a few strokes, admiring the way it stands so prettily for you, so thick and full. Suddenly, you begin to fear the thought of having to fit it inside of you. Aemond seems to sense your worry. His hand cups the back of your neck, making you look at him.

“Take it slow,” he warns.

You nod, lifting yourself on your knees a bit. Your wetness coats your fingers and his cock as you press the tip into your aching cunt. You whine as the head breaches your walls, and you clamp tightly around him. The stretch is a bit uncomfortable but not painful. You may be a maiden, but you still had desires. Many nights, you have had to satiate your hunger with your fingers.

You lower yourself on him slowly. Thankfully, your wetness makes it easier to take him. You take a deep breath as you take him to the hilt. It takes you a moment to adjust to his size. 

“Are you okay?” Aemond asked, his voice filled with genuine concern.

“Yes, I just ... need a moment,” you breathlessly laugh as he lifts a hand to trail his fingers against your jaw.

He nods, raising his chin to kiss gently against the corner of your mouth. You turn your head, pressing your lips to his. A soft tongue gently licks at the swell of your bottom lip, and you grant him entry. The gentleness comes to an end. He licks into you with a fervor that steals your breath away. Your thoughts fade, and you melt into his arms. 

Aemond kisses you like he wants to devour you, and you want nothing more. You lift your hips before lowering yourself. Aemond finally breaks the kiss, and his hands move to your waist.

“Ah-h,” he whines against the corner of your lips.

You begin to move slowly, easing yourself into up and down on his cock. Your eyes never leave him, watching as he presses his head to the back of the chair. His chest moves with his deep breaths, his eye is closed, and his mouth is partially open. He shudders, and a desperate, eager moan emits from his throat. It is a sight to behold.

He lifts his hips, pressing deeper into you, making you cry out.

“Aemond!” You whimper, fingernails digging into his shoulder blades.

His eye fluttered open as he watched you struggle to find the right pace. He gripped your waist tighter, his fingers digging into your fleshy sides. He guided you, raising you up and down on him. The newfound pace made you mewl pathetically, but you were too desperate to reach your peak to care. He called out your name. It sounded almost sinful coming from his lips. 

You drop your head, resting it against his. Your mouth hangs open as you gasp and moan. The faint scent of pine and smoke fills your nose. It’s him, his scent. The smell is almost intoxicating. Your mind is swimming, dizzy from the pleasure of him bucking up into you.

You feel one of his palms cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. He lifts his chin, closing the small distance between you pressing his lips to yours. You try your best to follow the frantic rhythm he sets. He swallows every sound you make as he holds the back of your neck, refusing to let you pull away—not that you want to. 

Aemond plants his feet on the ground for leverage as he pumps into you. His thrusts are more erratic now as he approaches his end. The air in your lungs is incinerated, and a shameful, high-pitched moan escapes from your lips. You move your hips, rocking against him, dangerously close to finally reaching your peak. 

He doesn’t stop, bucking into you with a force that would be strong enough to toss you off of him if not for the hand holding onto your waist. Your hot cunt clenched around him, the muscles in your legs burned from remaining in this position for so long. 

It’s not fair- how good he is at this- how good he is making you feel. It’s all too much. Your poor wet cunt is overwhelmed with pleasure. The hand on your neck moves down, and the pad of his thumb rubs circles around that sensitive button between your legs. 

“That's it,” he coaxed, his hot breath fans on your mouth. “Let go, give it to me.”

You don’t stand a chance. Not when his cock makes you feel so full, reaching that one spot that makes you throw your head back. One of your hands tangles in his hair, tugging. Your chests’ are flushed against each other as you both rock against each other. You clench around his cock as you finally reach your release, hard and blinding. The world around you seems to disappear. It’s only you and him who matter.

“Ha-ah ... ah,” he sputtered, becoming more desperate.

You cry out as you fill his hot mouth, which latches into one of your breasts. He suckles at your breast like a starving babe. His tongue lashes back and forth around your hardened nipple. The sensation is strange but has you clenching around him even tighter. 

His teeth graze against your nipple. Every grunt and moan that leaves him vibrates against your breast. You can feel his thrusts becoming sloppy and uncoordinated. His cock pulses inside of you, it feels too good. Aemond releases your nipple, resting his forehead on your breast. Choked gasps and grunts slip past his lips as he reaches his peak, releasing inside of you, filling you with his seed.

The two of you stay pressed against each other as you come down for your highs. Aemond’s hips relax, his body melting into the chair. Your body sinks into him, boneless and spent. You lay your head on his shoulder, resting your chin on his collarbone. His fingertips trail over the curve of your back. Your eyes feel heavy as you struggle to keep them open.

“I am sorry for what I’ve done,” he apologized.

“I know,” you reply weakly.

You can feel his warm breath against your ear. His scent, mixed with his sweat, fills your nose, bringing you comfort.

“Our sister has too much of our mother in her. I see that now.”

You frown but say nothing, letting him continue. His lips press against your ear. He nudges your face with his shoulder, making you pull away. He grasps your chin between his thumb and index fingers. Your eyes flicker between the sapphire and his violet iris. You lift a hand to trail your fingers along his sharp jaw.

“But you and I,” he says, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “We are two flames kindled from the same fire. We were always meant to burn as one.”

“Aemond,” you sigh.

“I am afraid,” he admits, rendering you speechless. “I cannot fight this war alone, sister.”

“You are not alone,” you argued. “You have Daeron.”

“Tsk,” he turns his head. “He is still young, as is his dragon.”

“Young or not, Tessarion is still a dragon.”

Aemond says nothing. His eye stared at the plain stone wall of his bedchamber. You watch him silently, trying to read him.

“Come with me,” he asked, turning his head back to you. 

“What?” You gasp.

“Mount your dragon and go with me to Harrenhal.”

“Mother would never allow it,” you shake your head.

“Our mother has made it clear that she does not hold our best interest at heart.”

“She means well,” you protested, trying to defend your mother, no matter how true his words seemed.

“If we do not fight, we will die. Rhaenyra may spare you and Helaena, but she will not be so merciful to the rest of us. She will have to take Aegon’s head, mine, and Daerons's as well. So long as our father has a living son, she will never be able to rule in peace.”

“You don’t know that-”

“I do,” he insisted. “Is that not what our mother has told us our entire lives?”

You blink, and memories of your childhood flood your mind. He was right. Over the years, your mother had repeatedly stressed the dangers that would follow should your sister ascend to the throne.

“Come with me,” he whispered.

Your eyes flickered from his trembling lips to his tear-filled eye. It was not an order but a plea. He was afraid and desperate for aid. You were afraid as well—you had been since Ser Criston placed that crown upon Aegon’s head. It has only been a few weeks, and already, your life has been turned completely upside down. 

You had no desire to fight this war. Many times, you have had to stop yourself from climbing on your dragon and leaving. But you could not abandon your family, just as you could not abandon Aemond now.

You nod your head. He smiled, a look of relief crossing his face. One of his hands finds yours, lacing your fingers together before bringing his lips to yours, giving you one last sweet and adoring kiss. Once he pulls away, you lay your head back down on his shoulder.

“Can I go to sleep now?” You mumble against his skin.

“Yes,” he lets out a breathy laugh. “You can sleep now.”

[cherryheairt]

Hidden Truths

Cregan x Wife!reader

pt. 1

named reader (aye-leese) no description, from house Glover.

summary - Cregan comes home from war with a scandalous surprise, much to the horror of his wife. Though, it is not all that she expected when she heard of her husband's infidelity.

Inspired by Ned and Catelyn Stark (obviously lol)

It had been four moons since Cregan Stark returned from King's Landing, ending the war and placing Aegon iii on the Iron Throne. Four moons since he presented his bastard for all to see, declaring to his wife that they would raise the boy as a legitimized Stark.

Aelys Glover, now Stark, had never thought her husband would betray her in such a brutal way. To bed another woman down in the South, in a time of war, to father a bastard. To give the bastard his Stark name.

She hadn't even had her first babe yet, due to the young couple deciding to spend their first few years of marriage having each other all to themselves. Had it all been a lie from Cregan? A masterful deceit to make his mistress' son his heir? Perhaps he had regretted their marriage and chosen to disregard any of her future children, thinking her genetics undesirable. Whatever dull excuse he had, it would never be enough to balm her heart.

People whispered about which mother's son might be Cregan's heir apparent.

It was not yet decided, and would not be until years ahead when Aelys showed if she could bear him more sons or not. Until she did, Brandon Stark would be Cregan's unofficially heir as his eldest son.

Aelys had refused to share a bed with Cregan since the night he returned. She would not perform her marital duties anymore, not until she was either dead or he forced her, which she knew he at least had the honor to not. Aelys would give him no children of her own, spitefully intending to leave the Stark line to a bastard who would forever be known to the world as such.

She would make it clear that her husband's stupidity would end the Stark's honorable history streak. The babe would be legit, yes, but never trueborn. It was said that bastards were born nasty and cruel, and Aelys had not believed such rumors until she met the babe herself. Her spite grew in spite of her previous kind and understanding nature, driven to hate the babe without knowing him.

Even with the same House name as his father, the boy was nothing like him. He seemed to carry his mother's traits, instead, whoever she was. Dark black hair and even darker eyes to match, though the Northern pale skin Cregan carried had stayed through the genetic battle.

At least Cregan did not bring her home, too. If he had, Aelys would have thrown herself from The Wall in shame and disgrace. She would not be the other woman in her own marriage.

His words when he returned burned at her heart, even now the dust had not settled nor had the fire quelled.

"It was a one-time tryst, I swear this to you. A night of vulnerability, when it got rough in King's Landing." He said, voice strained and undereyes dark with the heavy weight of guilt and responsibility. She'd never felt such an intense urge to hit a man before.

His bastard sister, Sara Snow, a woman whom Aelys had grown to see as her own sister and close confidante, returned from King's Landing a month after her brother.

She looked even worse than her elder brother, who still could barely hold Aelys' eyes when she wordlessly passed him in the halls. She looked gaunt and exhausted, though she claimed that the journey back was tiring. Sighing, Aelys could only welcome her back into the Great Keep to catch up over all that she had missed. Apparently, Sara had stayed in the Riverlands for most of the moons Cregan had hosted in the Crownlands. She was housed by the Blackwoods, becoming fast friends with Alysanne Blackwood and Davos Blackwood, the fierce aunt and nephew who fought together against the Greens.

No useful information about the whore that Cregan had bedded that night, Aelys bitterly thought for a moment. Then, a wave of guilt and regret hit her. It was not Sara's fault for her brother's mistakes. She was truly glad to have the conpany back, seeing as Winterfell had felt cold and emptier now that Cregan was back than it ever had before. She had been avoiding his for these four moons, leaving only a few rooms accessible for her privacy and peace of mind.

She never entered the nursery room's entire hallway. Even when needing something past it, she chose to go the longest possible route to avoid it. She didn't wish to think about the boy more than she already did. She saw him during dinners, being presented to Cregan by his wet nurse before being put down to sleep for the night. Those mere glimpses were plenty to feed her anxious mind.

Today, the adjacent hall towards the Keep's hotsprings was closed. "A few cobblestone in the wall have cracked, m'Lady. You mustn't enter for one might accidentally fall on you." A young servant boy had informed her, thoroughly apologetic as she sighed and headed him. The nursery's hall was the only one that also held the door outside, lest she chose to go all the way around the outside of the keep in this blizzard.

The thought was tempting but childish. Steeling her courage up, Aelys had fixed herself to stride past the door. She could not help the subconscious glance inside, seeing the glimpse of curly black hair laying alone in his crib, but wide awake and almost flailing around in a fuss.

Looking around, Aelys was surprised to see not one attendant or wet nurse. From her experience with babes, they were rarely left alone unless they were sleeping. Even then, some mothers and nurses liked to hover to ensure its safety while unconscious. Aelys stepped into the dim room, finding that Brandon's attention immediately focused on her. He whined out, reaching out grabbing hands toward her. Grimacing, she reached into the crib to lift him up, holding him at a safe distance from her face.

Up close, she could reluctantly admit that the babe was cute. He was well-doted on in the Keep by all the maids and even visiting Lords. Though his parentage was questionable and whispered about, none actually had the courage to ask why the boy had been legitimized so quickly. Aelys guessed it had been the circumstances. Aegon, the new King, was young and suseptible to influence, so legitimizing a bastard like Brandon was done without question.

"What are you fussing on about, you spoiled thing?" She asked, though her tone was soft and gentle. Brandon smiled a gummy smile, face lifting as he reached out again for her. This time, she allowed him to rest on her shoulder as she supported him, gently rocking back and forth as she stood. The faster he was asleep, the faster she could leave without feeling like a monster.

She already had that feeling nagging at her mind too much. Hating a babe took a lot of energy. She knew it was wrongfully placed, but Brandon's very nature and sire had wronged her more. The physical reminder that his father had not loved her.

Soft snores filled the room as she hummed lowly, the vibrations and comforting sound putting the fussy tot to sleep quicker than she had anticipated. Gently placing him back in the cot, she hands gripped the wooden edges harshly, a sharp contrast to her previous touch. Was she betraying herself for not demanding that the babe be taken away? Warded with another great House until she finally had a son? No. Cregan would never allow it, even as Lady of the House she held no true power over the Warden.

Turning, Aelys was met with her husband in the doorway. Silent as a stalking wolf, he leaned against the doorway and looked upon his son and wife with pools of affection. There was a slight gloss to them as she looked closer that she opted to ignore. "Cregan." She greeted curtly, moving to slide past him and speak no more of her presence in the nursery.

"He has a way of melting one's heart, does he not?" He asked, tilting his chin to look down at her. A branch, left out and hanging by Cregan's strong arms. Too bad that she did not need it.

"He disgusts me." She said instead, shouldering past him and continuing back to her rooms. She changed her mind in the few minutes that she spent with the bastard Stark boy. She could stay here no longer, could not bear for her own husband to bring this embodied lie to live in the very home that she did. Wouldn't raise any children to be in their older brother's shadow.

Ignoring the hushed plea from Cregan, Aelys went straight to the Maester's tower. Maester Parek had been a helpful and understanding ear for Aelys to rant to when dealing with arisen problems, whether with her moon blood, achy bones from the cold, or questioning if any ravens had come from mysterious women. None had, as far as she had been told. That is, if Parek had been entirely truthful to his Lady.

Hurriedly knocking on the man's door, it was soon opened after a grunt of physical labor had been heard from the other side. The Maester had always complained about his bad knees and how they were made worse in the winters.

"Lady Stark?" He asked, shocked to see her at midday. It was a rarity, as she usually made her visits in the morning after she broke her fast.

"Maester." She greeted, shifting on her feet. "I need to send a letter, urgently."

"May I ask to whom?" He inquired, earning a solemn nod from the young Lady.

"I'm sorry, Parek. It is private."

"Of course, my Lady. The room is yours." He bowed and left the chambers to occupy himself while she busied herself as well. She immediately made for the small attached room in the tower, made into a raven nest hundreds of years ago. A few perched black birds squaked or raised her heads at the unfamiliar sight curiously, but they were well-trained and did not spook.

Bending over the crickity desk, she quickly drafted a messily-writen yet vague letter.

Father,

Some troubles have come up in Winterfell, and Cregan Stark has advised me to return to House Glover's protection while he deals with matters here. I will be returning swiftly, though the snow will hinder the horse a few days.

See you soon,

your dearest Aelys.

As soon as she finished, she hastily melted the powder blue wax and sealed the direwolf sigil onto the rolled paper. Tying the scroll to a raven's foot, Aelys sent it off. The bird would reach House Glover's Maester quickly, and in the meantime she would ready herself for departure.

As she was shoving clothes and pelts into various bags, the very ones that carried her belongings to Winterfell over two years ago, Aelys could not stop the hot, angry tears that fell to her cheeks. Wiping away at her face with scruffy sleeve fur, gifted to her by Cregan himself, Aelys felt the frustration and loneliness sting at her soul. The loneliness was a choice on her part, most would say. That she was dramatic and most Lords sired bastards. She should be grateful he did not bring the mother back, too, and house her in his home next to his Lady Wife. All whispers she heard from her ladies-in-waiting, whom she immediately dismissed from service upon hearing such impudent things.

She would not be subjected to the humiliation. She wanted love, and she once had it. Oh, she had it. Cregan treated her like a goddess walking amongst humans for the moons they spent together before his leave to King's Landing. If she could not have Cregan's loyalty or love, she would at least find a man who she did not have high expectations for. An older Lord, perhaps, one who just wanted a young and pretty woman to give him final heirs during his last years of life. Aelys would know her role, then, and would live contently knowing she did not love foolishly while expecting faithfulness in return.

First, this marriage had to be annuled. In Lord Glover's home, she could easily ask for such a thing. The marriage had been commsumated, but there were no witnesses and no babes to confirm this to outsiders. Aelys would simply have to claim that she and Lord Stark never once bedded before he left to find another woman, and then she'd be an unmarried Lady once more. A Glover, not a Stark.

She realized she'd been quite fastidious in her packing. Unlike her carriage ride to Winterfell, her luggage could not be carried easily on one horse. She picked only one of her bags, with the thickest dresses and warmest pelts she had, rushing out of the room while clipping a cloak over her shoulders. Dark blue in color, Aelys almost cursed at the thought that almost all of her wardrobe and fine things had been gifts from Cregan. Her pelts, gloves, and even the horse that she would take home.

Cobalt, she had named the steed, noticing how his pure black coat almost gleamed blue in certain lights. Cregan had a wide and cherishing smile on his face as he walked the young stallion out of the stables a few days after their wedding. They often took walks on trails in the Wolfswood together on horseback, just their muffled conversations filling the still air. She remembered every moment with her husband fondly before he tarnished everything. Now, she knew all of it to be a facade, just like any other Lord in Westeros might have done. At least other men had the decency to be nasty plain to your face, unlike the Stark.

Aelys sneaked into the armory to pick up a few extra things, knowing no one would occupy the room when the whether was so unfortunate.

Striding towards the stables with squinted eyes, Aelys shivered at the temperature change. Luckily, the journey would be quick, with only a few days to walk on horseback. Cobalt was a resilient horse built for such harsh weather, and she was a Northern woman through and through.

She attached the bag and waterskin to Cobalt's saddle after she tacked him up. His long and unruly made quivered in the breeze as the light blizzard raged on as it had been for two days now. It did not deter her. She attached her bow and quiver to the other side to keep weight even, knowing she'd have to hunt for herself during the journey.

Steadying herself on the saddle, Aelys glanced once more at Winterfell's Great Keep, where Cregan was surely in his study or councilroom. She squeezed Colbalt's side lightly to urge the percheron onwards, giving herself no room for second guessing her choices.

At the wall's gate, the two snow-covered men regarded her with weary looks. "My Lady, there is a blizzard—" Ron Frasel told her, ginger brow upturned in question.

"I have eyes, Ron. I will return soon, I have buisness in Winter Town." She said tiredly, not wanting to be interrupted by the men at such an important time. It would not be long before a maid reported her missing.

Ernest, the guard's most frequent partner, inquired gently. "Will you require any assistance, Lady Stark? I'm sure Lord Stark would feel more at ease knowing you are escorted."

"He is fine with me going on my own, it is a short ride." She said curtly, anxious for Cregan to find out about her plan.

Ernest nodded and gestured for the iron gate to be lifted. "Safe travels, my Lady." Before bowing his head politely.

As Aelys walked through the opened gate, she urged Cobalt to a faster trot to create quick distance between her and Winterfell before she set up camp.

Ron shared an uneasy look with Ernest as the woman passed. "Lord Stark has never allowed her out without a guard before." He whispered.

His friend nodded, eyes glancing between her fading figure in the snow and the Keep. "Perhaps we should go see Lord Stark himself, just to be safe."

Ron shivered. "If he finds out we let his wife go into the blizzard without him knowin', who knows what'd happen to us."

"Quickly, then." They were both skidding off towards the Keep with no time to waste.

[sugarlywhispers]

viking!b.katsuki x fem!reader

a.n; i wanted to give viking!bakugou a try, and honestly, this is all @imaginationmess fault for feeding me fanarts of bakugou and his dragon🙃 luv you tho🤍

Viking Bakugou Katsuki who rides the biggest and most terrifying dragon that has ever existed.

A legend said that his dragon in particular had been going on for generations in his family, no one willing to risk their life to tame it. Until Katsuki’s uncle, Bakugou Kudo, did it. He had been the first in generations to ride this dragon. Yet he understood that the bond between dragon and riders was not consolidated between them.

When Katsuki was eight, the little shit escaped the hut and went towards where the nests were. Kudo almost had a heart attack when he saw the brat far off and almost there. He sprinted as fast as he could, a tragedy already displaying in his head –the kid being incinerated, turned to ashes, and his sister cutting his dick off for being a sorry ass uncle. Fuck, and he would had deserved it. Because even though he had tamed the beast, it was still very unstable to let anyone close to it; one of his own men had suffered the consequences of trying to get close, more than half his body had been burned. He was no longer part of their battles.

However, Kudo saw in first person how a dragon’s bond was created. Between his terrifying dragon and his little nephew.

It hadn’t looked much from his perspective, yet he felt the magical aura surrounding them. Katsuki laughed as he touched the dragon’s snot like it was a mer pup, happy and excited while climbing its leg with such ease until he was up on its back, right behind the head. The dragon himself helped the kid to reach the place. Kudo noticed then the beast’s eyes shining a very resplendent gold. Yep, that was definitely a bond.The kid was anything but scared, as he caressed the dragon's head, hugging it even.

Kudo smiled, shaking his head, hands over his hips as he took a deep breath, relaxing. The dragon was only letting him ride it because it knew that Katsuki was his bonded rider and Kudo was related by blood to the kid.

As years went by, the bond only became stronger and deeper. Kudo would ride it in battles, but once at home, the brat and the beast were like one. When Katsuki turned eighteen, Kudo retired from battles and settled down with a wife and kids at the village located next to that of where their family originally came from. From that day on, the brat became the dragon’s one and only owner.

Katsuki was the only human being able to control, care for and command this massive dragon, also becoming the nightmare of most villages in the world. Both, dragon and rider were vicious, deadly and feared.

You still remember the day Bakugou Katsuki landed on your lands. The bright blue sky suddenly turned dark, the huge dragon he rode clouding the sun above. Everyone knew what it meant. Destruction and chaos, the end of their peaceful lives.

The Leader of the village, your dad, didn’t waste time in trying to negotiate a truce between them.

And that truce is you.

You are forced to marry him, to leave your family, friends and life there and go with this barbaric man. You are a bit afraid he is some sort of savage. Rumors told how violent he was, how scary he looked with his scars and aggressive attitude towards everyone. Now that you have said man in front of you, you agreed with all of them.

You were expecting him to manhandle you, to treat you like another woman he picked to use for his own pleasure. Yet all you received since you stepped foot in his village, in his home, had been nothing but coldness and distance. He has kept to himself, doing his stuff and trying not to get in your way. Least to say, it has been completely awkward since the ceremony.

When you are getting ready for it, his mom enters his-your hut. She smiles, a sincere feeling in her eyes, “Being the daughter of a Leader sucks, ain’t it?”

You look down, a slight smile on your face that agrees with her but eyes filled with tears you’re holding back. “It does.”

You feel her hand on your shoulder, and the little squish she gives it in reassurance makes the knot in your throat tighter.

“My son is not a charming prince; however, I know the kind of man I raised him to be. You’re gonna be okay.”

You don’t say anything in response. You don’t even look back at her, but you think she didn’t expect it either as she walks out, leaving you alone. As you walk towards the entrance, fully knowing that once you cross it, your soon to be husband will be waiting at the end of the aisle, all you can wish is that Ms. Bakugou is right.

When the ceremony reaches its end, the old lady of his village drawing the symbols of union, love and family in your foreheads, Bakugou extends his hands for you to lay yours over his. You still haven’t looked him in the eyes, but you do what's expected for the ceremony. When your hands touch the skin of his, you can't avoid thinking how warm they feel. Big calloused, rough and strong hands surround yours, and you don't hate the feeling. On the contrary, it’s quite comforting. The old lady ties a beautifully white and gold silk ribbon around your hands, symbolizing the union of the souls.

While everyone cheers, you finally decide to raise your eyes towards him. Deep red eyes collide with yours, making a shudder run your body at their intensity. Surprisingly, it isn’t a bad feeling, but it is something you have never felt before.

A tingly feeling swirls in your stomach as you realize Bakugou Katsuki's face is getting closer and closer to yours, his intent clear. He is going to kiss you. Your first kiss. You close your eyes instinctively and his lips touch yours in a quick and short peck. Yet it feels like all the tingles in your stomach exploded, sending warmth throughout your whole body.

That has been the only close and physical interaction you have had until today.

Bakugou Katsuki decides to give you space to accommodate and get to know his village and people around.

It doesn't mean he doesn't want you. However, he never makes any sort of move towards you.

Until one day…

Bakugou got back that morning to the village after being away for almost four days with the victory of conquering another village, so you decide to bring him some of the sweet bread you have cooked as a welcome back. You have to admit, this time with him since the marriage ceremony hasn’t been bad. Civil, even. Despite his distance and cold attitude, he has never disrespected or forced you to nothing. Not even that first night as husband and wife. He didn’t even try, he simply picked one of the pillows and clothes to make a bed on the floor, closer to the entrance door, and slept there. You have been very confused. Your mum had previously told you everything of what was expected from a woman on the night of the ceremony. You expected even a fight between you two, because of course you didn’t want that to happen with a complete stranger like he was still to you.

Nevertheless, he never hovers over you. But you do feel his eyes on you whenever he’s around. He always makes some sort of sound for you to acknowledge that his presence is close. Katsuki is attentive to your reactions whenever you are both alone and doesn't even raise his voice at you. Ever.

Then again, he is his ruthless self with everyone else.

You tried looking for him around the village, but couldn't find Bakugou anywhere. So you walk towards the woods where you know the dragon's nests are, where they rest. Even though Bakugou has explicitly forbidden you to go near there, due to the danger their dragons were most of the time, even for the riders.

You are confident Katsuki will be there, so probably he will see you from a distance and you wont need to get that close. But when you arrive, you come face to face with the massive beast: Bakugou's dragon, Cweorth.

You have seen it at a distance, but having the beast up close is a completely different experience. Its whole body is red, with golden piercing eyes that feel very much like Bakugou’s itself. Its wings are huge as they spread in a stretching movement up high, almost taller than the big trees that surround the woods. You can even see some flare of gold in its scale that actually looks mesmerizing. Majestic.

Your basket falls to the floor in shock when the beast finally looks down at your small, minuscule being. It watches you intently, with a scowl on its face –like beast, like owner. But far away from feeling scared by it, you feel intrigued. You feel enamored even as you stand there, looking at such majestic creature.

Bakugou is actually several meters away, taking a bath in the lake close to the nests, cleaning all the blood and dirt off his body before going to the hut he shares with you. He has some scratches and cuts from the fights, but nothing deep or worrisome. He is very proud in saying he is the fucking best out there.

When he's walking through the woods back to the nests of their dragons, he sees it.

His whole body freezes. You are standing there, your arm and hand stretched upwards. His own dragon, the one who eats men like candy at Katsuki's own command, the one who has burned villages in seconds with his strong fire, the one who hates anyone’s touch or closeness that isn't Bakugou himself... His dragon has his snot close to you, letting you pet him with its eyes closed, enjoying your affection like a small puppy dog.

And he can not fucking believe what his eyes are seeing.

Of all the women he has had before you, none were brave enough to even look at the beast. They had all been afraid to death.

And there you stand, looking even fascinated by it. Eyes shining and smiling as you feel for the first time what its skin is like under your touch. You look… beautiful. Gorgeous. Heavenly sent. Fuck. You have him in your hands already.

Bakugou Katsuki then decides:

He will fucking kiss the ground you walk. He will give you everything you ask of him.

You want certain clothes to wear? He will search for them for you. You want certain foods? He will fly his dragon to wherever they are made or grown on. You want a land? He will fucking burn every single thing or life it takes to give it to you.

You want him? He will gladly give himself completely to you.

Well, he already is.

[minnietrys]

I LOVE YOU SO MUCH YOU DONT KNOW HOW I LOVE YOUR WRITINGS

YOUR SO GOODDDD

I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF you could write something where player 120 met fem! Reader in a bar and then they make out XD

I just want to read smuts about this woman

Pookie I got you. I started brainstorming when I saw this so I have multiple ideas for this so I just started writing and let it lead, I did end up giving them a past so hopefully you like it!

So with my further do I present:

Is it casual now?

◯ Cho Hyun-ju x Fem! Reader

△ Alt! Universe- You and Hyunju are kinda like friend with benefits but you to be more

▢ oral(f!receiving), fingering, pet names, rough, kinda made her a bit toxic…2k words

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Okay so this is my first ever smut and I just gathered all the info and tips I learned from reading smut so hopefully it’s good and if it is expect more soon :p

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‘Casual’ that’s what you and Hyunju were according to any of your friends that asked. But oh boy how that hurts you in every way.

Was everything she has done to you that casual? Was spending hot hours of the night together that casual to her? Was all the marks she left behind that casual? Was that sore morning feeling she left that casual?

Oh how that word casual was used so wrong in this situation. 

But here you are doing nothing but staring at her from across the table. With a drink in your hand trying to wash away that stupid word from your head. Maybe even trying to enjoy the celebration as causal friends.

“Unnie? Are you okay?” youngmi words snap you out of your train of thought. “Oh yes, sorry youngmi. What happened?” You asked with a complete sorry tone.

“Ah nothing, but we were just about to cut the cake! Also you look out of it? Are you sure you’re still up to continue celebrating?” she asked with those adorable sincere doe eyes. To be honest you always seen youngmi as younger sister but didn’t really like that her and Hyunju were also close. It made you feel green inside.

“Of course, I wouldn’t miss the celebration of your 21st! It’s a once in a life time and the only day I can watch you get wasted for the first time” you laughed out while she gasped “are you sure it isn’t you who going to be getting wasted” youngmi said in a teasing tone.

“Ha ha ha your so funny, that only happened once” you said in a defensive tone with a pout but you notice someone staring at you from your peripheral vision. You felt your mouth go dry and your body tense up.

So you decide to look back at her but there she is staring at you a smirk looking you up and down like your some kinda of piece of candy. Did she just lick her lip, oh how you felt your legs start to shake.

“Uh excuse me youngmi, I have to the restroom.” You excuse yourself but not without feeling someone eyes follow you.

Once you finally reach the restroom all you could do was sigh. Maybe you were just a girl she banged but how she treats you makes you feel different.

Gripping the sink you take a deep breath and hear the door open. Looking up into the mirror you see her. She walking up to you, slowly pushing your hair that covered your neck to aside. You feel her breath on your neck making you release an airy moan.

“You know it’s not fair. You all over everyone else here but not daring to look at me.” She grips your hips pulling them back to met hers. “It’s quite rude actually. One day you’re in my bed and the next you ignore me, come on baby that no way to act.” She says in that pouting tone while she bites your ear in a teasing way.

Turning you to face her, your arms automatically move to around her neck waiting for her next action. But she just keeps moving her eyes from between your eyes and lips with that damn smirk that makes you weak to your knees.

Grabbing your chin she pulls you forward so your lips would met. A never ending battle with your mouths start. Tongue against tongue, tongue moving from in and out of your mouth, you felt like you were going wild.

Till she grips your neck to pull you away. You notice the string of saliva that connected your lips together. The hand around your neck gets your attention but is easily lost when she squeezed your neck making you whine while your eyes round back.

“Wow, you really know how to win a girl back with that face and noise don’t you” she laughs out with a smirk but not daring to move her hand not when she has you where she wants you.

“Mhm—please…” you manage to get out of your mouth. “Please? Huh you asking for something but I don’t know what you want. Your going have to use more words baby” oh how you hate when she does this, she knows what you want.

Gasping out “you..please…unnie” you start gripping her hair. “Aw the baby wants her unnie” Hyunju says in a teasing pout while she put her knee between your legs making you moan out and grip her harder.

“Okay here what I want you to do, your going to walk your pretty self to my car and wait patiently as I go tell the others we are heading out, if you don’t you won’t get anything from me got it.” She said sternly while looping a piece of your hair around her finger and staring at you like she ready to eat you.

Whining as she lets you go “ah come on, walk or I just go back and sit down but judging by the look on your face you won’t want that.” Ugh she just keeps pushing all the buttons that make you feel so weak. 

Slowly walking away with a stumble from your shaking legs you make it to the door but not without turning once more to look at her with that begging expression. All she does is smirk in return and wave in a teasing way.

You’re not really sure how you did it but you managed to make it to her car, well with a few strange glances on the way. Getting into the passenger seat you fully take in what happened.

Shit I’ve fallen for it again… you thought as you threw your head back on the head rest. Why couldn’t you catch a break with this women were you really that stupid, yo— your thoughts get cut off when you heard the driver side open.

You felt a hand grip your chin forcing you to look at her, “come on, what can unnie do for you?” again with that hungry look in her eyes while she lets her thumb rub and play with your bottom lip. You couldn’t help it you started sucking on her thumb while trying your best to give her those ‘fuck me’ eyes.

Groaning she pulls her thumb out of your mouth and starts attacking your lips with hers. You pulled her in not getting enough of her taste it’s so addictive. Suddenly you feel one of her hands squeezing your breast over your top, you couldn’t help but like out a moan causing her tongue to dart straight into your mouth.

Pulling her away “Unnine..please f-fuck me..please” you let out with a crying while a few tears row down due to the need for pleasure. “You see baby that all you had to do, use your words” Hyunju says while wiping away the tears and gives you a small peck on your cheek.

“Now do me one huge favor and recline your seat back” she said with a sweet smile like what you guys weren’t about to do something freaky in her car.

Once doing so her hand suddenly gripped your thigh pulling your shut legs apart causing a moan to exit you due to the sudden action. “You look so pretty when you’re turning into a mess but you’re eternal when you’re a full mess” she whispered as she pushed your skirt up exposing the wet mess hiding under causing her to bite her lip.

You felt yourself tremble as she slowly started to trace the lines of your folds over your undies and pressing sweet kissing on your neck causing you to whine. But you started to push into her hand hard looking for the sweet friction “Ahah what did I say about being impatient baby..” she warns as she was taps at where you clit is located.

“I-I am sorry, I just need you so so so bad unnie please” you cry out trying to beg for her to fully touch you.

“Fine, since you asked so nicely but you better not start crying when you can’t handle it” she warned as she pushed you panties to the side and finally felt her thumb meet your clit making you let out a relived moan.

Your finally get that sweet sweet pressure you be looking for all night but the sudden feeling of two fingers entering you cause your legs to shut close.

“Hey I thought you were going to behave-” she growled out as she forced your legs back open with her other hand causing you get even more wetter. “Good now be a good girl and take what I give you” she said as she gave a rough thrust causing your hands to fly to hers, gripping it as if she going to tone down her thrust.

Moan after moan that’s what she pulling out of you and how that makes her movement go faster.

“Mhm! Unnnie…please—” cutting off your pleases she sticks her tongue in your mouth while gripping the back of your neck making her tongue travel more further. Continuing her abuse with her hand, she finally hits that sweet spot that makes you see star causing you to throw your head back. So she starts her recoloring her previous marks from nights before. She wants people to look at neck and just know your off limits, to know that your being taken care off.

“Hyunju!” You scream out as the hot knot in your stomach finally popped but that doesn’t matter Hyunju will continue her abuse til your done riding out that delicious high.

Sighing in delight Hyunju pulls her fingers out and makes you look at her as she stuff her soiled finger in her mouth causing you to moan.

“Mhmm~ quite a wonderful taste, now I am craving the taste but from the source” she smirks as you whimper and try to close you legs but she is already out of the driver side walking to the passenger side. Opening your door she push the button to make your seat go back as she just smiles.

She slot herself knee deep in the passenger seat while looking into your eyes she rubs and kisses your thighs. You couldn’t help but moan oh man is this casual now?

Opening your thighs she slowly leads her kisses to your folds. Groaning as she comes lips to clit she starts sucking causing your hands to grip her hair. “Ngh—unnie” you moan out causing her suck harder.

Pulling away she groan just getting a glance at your state “you really are eternal” she said was she licks your clit down to your slit. “Mh—please”that’s it, that’s all it took for her to enter you with her tongue groaning at the taste.

You start to squirm in pleasure, you just can’t get enough nor can handle it. But your put to sudden stop as she slaps the side of your thigh and grips your hip letting her nails press into your skin. All you could do was whine and shred those tear Hyunju loved so dearly.

A sudden loud moan leaves your mouth as her thumb starts circling around your clit adding more pleasure on top of what you’re already experiencing. You can feel the knot in your stomach start to twist with all the amount of pleasure so you start trying to push Hyunju head away.

“Unnie please I’m close—” you really tried to push her away but that woman won’t budge she kept her mouth where she wanted it whiling pushing in her nails even deeper into you.

“Wai—” you were cut off with your loudest moan of the night causing the knot to finally pop all over Hyunju. Gasping for air you start to calm down but that calmness is quickly gone with Hyunju rubbing her fingers over your slit.

“Mhm you did such a good job, and tasted so good” she said as she licked the leftover juices on you and her lips. “How about we head to my place?”

Oh you already know what she means…another ‘causal’ fuck with no strings attached. “Please” she mutters with that sad puppy look as she rubs up and down your leg so you just bit back that remark and nodded.

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Ahh um let me know thought because I had to pause and rethink if I’m doing this right



[helenofsparta2]

Having the whole plot between Nico and Percy be resolved simply with “You’re not my type” in Blood of Olympus was such a huge disservice to both characters

They are pivotal parts to each others journey. No person in PJO influenced Nico as much as Percy did, aside from Bianca, and no person represents Percy’s guilt and the responsibility he had to shoulder more than Nico does. The writing for both characters really suffers through this lack of a real satisfying resolution.

First to talk about what Percy represents for Nico:

Percy, first of all, represents Nico’s introduction to the mythological world

He is the first demigod Nico ever came in contact with

He saved him and Bianca from the manticore (somewhat)

Nico stated in Blood of Olympus than Percy had reminded of the heroes of his mythomagic game come to life

Nico wholeheartedly believed that Bianca would be safe, if Percy was with her and created this image of the perfect hero in his mind, putting Percy on a pedestal

2.

In Nico’s mind Percy is irrevocably intertwined with Bianca and everything that happened to her

Despite Nico naively believing, that Bianca would be safe if Percy were around, he was instead the last person to ever talk to her, and present when she died

Percy informed Nico of her death (Dead silence. I stared at Chiron. I couldn’t believe nobody had told him yet. Then I realized why. They’d been waiting for us to appear, to tell Nico in person, Titan’s curse)

Nico turned him into the scapegoat for her death, so that he could let all his grief and anger and bitterness out on him

Bianca sent Iris-messages to Percy, so that he would find and help Nico (“Percy has been worried about you, Nico. He can help. I let him see what you were up to, hoping he would find you.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Her ghost only appeared to Nico when Percy was with him

Percy is the only person Nico knows of, who also grieved for Bianca (“Bianca,” I said. My voice was thick. I’d felt guilty about her death for a long time but seeing her in front of me was five times as bad, like her death was fresh and new. I remembered searching through the wreckage of the giant bronze warrior she’d sacrificed her life to defeat, and not finding any sign of her. “I’m so sorry,” I said. Battle of the Labyrinth)

3.

Percy is the person who protected and cared for Nico more than anyone else in pjo

Tried to convince Bianca to think more deeply about her decision of joining the hunters, especially thinking of him (“Biance, this is crazy,” I said. “What about your brother? Nico can’t be a hunter.” (Titan’s curse)

Searched the woods in the dark for hours after he had disappeared (Annabeth and Grover helped me search the woods for hours, but there was no sign of Nico di Angelo.)

Didn’t tell Chiron about Nico’s parentage to protect him from the Gods. (I don't think Nico understands who he is. But we can't go telling anyone. Not even Chiron. If the Olympians find out—") Titan’s curse)

Decided to completely commit to the prophecy, solely so Nico didn’t have to bear that burden and go trough any more suffering(It was the last thing I wanted, but I didn't say that. I knew I had to step up and claim it. "I can't let Nico be in any more danger," I said. "I owe that much to his sister. I… let them both down. I'm not going to let that poor kid suffer any more." ) Titan’s curse)

Searched for Nico in the months after Titan’s Curse (Now, six months later, I hadn’t even come close to finding him. It left a bitter taste in my mouth. Battle of the labyrinth, chapter 3))

Saved his life on Geryon’s farm. (“Either way, you get my friends,” I said. “But, if I succeed, you’ve got to let all of us go, including Nico.”)

Always offered Nico a place at camp half-blood to the best of his abilities (“We missed you at dinner,” I said. “You could’ve sat with me.”“No.”“Nico, you can’t miss every meal. If you don’t want to stay with Hermes, maybe they can make an exception and put you in the big house. They’ve got plenty of room.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Invited him to join him on his birthday (“Is that… is that blue birthday cake?”He sounded hungry, maybe a little wistful. I wondered if the poor kid had ever had a birthday party, or if he’d ever been invited to one. “Come inside for cake and ice cream,” I said. “It sounds like we’ve got a lot to talk about.”, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Reminded him that he was still a child (I smiled. “Maybe it’s okay to still be a kid once in a while.” I tossed him the statue, Battle of the Labyrinth)

Helped him to get the sword of hades back to impress his father (Then I looked at Nico. Unfortunately, I recognised the expression on his face. I knew what it was like wanting to make your dad proud, even if your dad was hard to love., Sword of hades)

Acknowledged everything Nico did in The last Olympian and is one of the main reasons why Hades has a cabin at camp. ( “But your children should not be left out. They should have a cabin at camp. Nico has proven that.”)

4.

Percy was Nico’s first, and after Will, his biggest love

Nico had feelings for Percy, which didn’t leave him for around 2 1/2 years, and accompanied him throughout the most challenging parts of his life. 

Feelings, which were so deep, the god of love personally acknowledged them.

Favonius even called Percy, the person Nico cares about most in House of Hades.

This was more than just a mere crush

Percy is so completely intertwined with most aspects of Nico’s character arc, in both PJO and Hoo, be it his feeling of ostracism, his relationship to Bianca or him coming to term with his own sexuality, that them not having a final interaction, makes his writing feel shallow and unfinished. Especially Nico coming to terms with his crush on Percy opens up the opportunity for a really heartwarming conversation and a moment of character growth and maturity for both of them, instead of it being wasted on one throw-away line.

And it’s the same the other way around. Nico is also a huge part of Percy’s journey.

He especially represents Percy’s biggest failure.

The first five Percy Jackson books are characterized by Percy having to take up responsibility and him being afraid of not being able to fulfill them. Be it responsibility for camp, the world, Bianca’s death, the prophecy, his friends, teh unclaimed demigods, or everything else. Most of the time, Percy was able to make sure everything turned out fine. He saved camp, he saved Olympus, he finished his quests, made the right decision for the prophecy, and he made the gods swear upon teh styx. But there’s one exception. And that is Nico.

Percy did everything in his power to make sure Nico would be spared any more hardships. He took up the burden of the prophecy, explicitly, so that Nico doesn’t have to go through any more hardships

He searched for him after Titan’s curse, kept his identity a secret and even risked himself, Annabeth, Grover and Tyson dying if it meant saving Nico

Still, Nico is one of the characters, if not the character, who has suffered the most in PJO and Hoo, even partly because of Percy (though, of course, Nico having a crush on him was not Percy’s fault at all)

He lived alone at 11 years old on the streets and in the labyrinth, while getting manipulated by an ancient evil spirit

He was isolated and ostracized at camp half-blood

He experienced the horrors of Tartarus completely on his own

He got captured by the giants and slowly suffocated to death in a small jar

He had to deal with internalized homophobia and his complicated feelings regarding Percy

He has been a vital part of two wars at only 15 years old

Had to admit his crush involuntarily in front of Jason, etc.  

One of the things Percy battles with in Heroes of Olympus is this overwhelming sense of guilt. He blames himself for almost everything that went wrong over the last few years. Be it for Iapetus, Calypso, or especially Nico. Having Percy acknowledge this complicated relationship he has with him during House of Hades, but not allowing the two of them to talk it out is genuinely baffling to me, and one of the (albeit many) reasons why I really don’t like most of Percy’s writing during Heroes of Olympus, despite the fact that he is my favourite character by far. This could have led to a moment of character growth, where Nico helps Percy to aknowledge that he feels guilty for things he had little to no control over, while Nico himself realizes how important he actually is to Percy.

They are also so similar in terms of who they are and what they’ve been through, that even if you ignore their history with each other, it seems insane, that they didn’t interact in any meaningful way:  

Both were ostracized at camp half-blood because of their parentage, and so far are the only two half-bloods we know of with that experience

They are (together with Hazel) the most powerful demigods in the Riordan verse, and have feats which far surpass anyone else’s

Both are in some way afraid of their powers

Both went through Tartarus

Both have relatively similar relationships to their godly parents

Both have gone through immense trauma and loss

And if you read heroes of Olympus, it actually very much seems to build towards a final resolution of their relationship

Percy and Nico were, aside from Frank, the two people closest to Hazel; both saw her as a little sister, and Hazel treated them both like her brothers

Nico was the first person Percy met from his old life

Percy was the one, who received the visions of Nico being captured

From everyone present, Percy trusted Nico to lead the others to Greece in his moment of greatest desperation

They both had introspections about the other in house of Hades, Nico having to deal with his crush and Percy with his guilt in Tartarus

But, in the end, after they met again, nothing happened. The only scene we really got was the “You’re not my type” line and Percy being surprised by it for a couple seconds. That’s it.

We saw no meaningful conversation between the two of them, no acknowledgement of what they’ve been through together, no lasting feelings. Nothing.

In regards to their relationship, Percy acknowledging everything that Nico has been through led to nothing. Nico acknowledging his feelings for Percy and finally letting go of this pedestal he had placed him on led to nothing. You could argue that their entire relationship, which has been built up since Titan’s curse led to nothing. And considering that they are so important characters for each of their character arcs, their characterization very much suffers from this writing decision.

The two of them, together with Hazel, are my three favourite Riordan verse characters by a long shot, but some very important aspects of both of their characters fall so flat to me through this lack of a satisfying resolution.

 Both of them deserved so much better.  

They are the friendship with the most missed potential in the entirety of the Riordan verse and probably the most fleshed out and nuanced relationship Rick ever wrote.

R.I.P.  Nico di Angelo, and Percy Jackson, you will always be brothers in my mind.