#Love is respect. Regard. Reverence. Attention

[culminada]

I sat here scrolling Tumblr and then I heard my dad snoring on the other side of the wall.

And I've been making it a habit to consciously pay attention to the people I love, because I love them.

And so - I wasn't trying but this just came to me because of observations, and knowing, and perhaps the habit of it - I thought oh, that means he's sleeping.

Its the middle of the day. He does this sometimes. He's a very busy person, between two jobs, and 2-4 disabled kids. He takes power naps after lunch. He has a whole strategy. He's told it to me and I listened and I remembered because I love him.

He's also in burnout. My dad is burnt out and I understand because I am also burnt out. I wish I could help him but I am burnt out, and so all I can do is know him, is listen to him snoring and know that he is tired.

I get to listen to him snoring. He is tired. He is sleeping on the middle of the day because he is tired, from taking care of me, who am autistic, and my brother, with Prader-Willi Syndrome (shoutout to ppl with PWS), and his job 1 to pay the bills and job 2 to pay for the future and his wife and his other children and making sure we all get our enrichment.

And so he is snoring on the other side of the wall, and I can picture him tangled up in his blankets and sleeping because he is tired.

And so I get to listen to him snoring and think about all the things he does and how much he deserves rest, and how glad I am that he CAN rest, that he's worried and busy and anxious, but not too worried to sleep. Because he needs to sleep. And it's a blessing that he can do that.

And I'll sit here and appreciate him and all he does because I can hear him snoring (and it keeps everyone else up at night unless he uses his mouth guard, which we all call his snore-teeth, and I know this because I listen and I pay attention and I love him).

And he might never know that I sit here and think of him and love him and all he does, how grateful I am that he takes care of me when I'm his oldest and I'm autistic, and I don't feel overwhelmingly bad about that but I do wish I could help more than I do. Not be so big of a burden as I am. But all I can do is let him sleep.

He might never know that I take the time to listen to him snore. Maybe one of those days when he's feeling horrible I'll show it to him and say "you are loved and I see you and I am grateful for everything you do, I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you." Maybe I'll make bits of this post into my Father's Day letter. I've been wondering what to do for that because I've been more vocal lately about how much I love him and sometimes it feels like there's nothing left to put in a Father's Day letter that wouldn't just be the same.

There's something special in just the same, though. Like listening to snoring. There's time. And when you're sitting in the middle of time, in the quiet and the dark and listening to snoring, and wondering when the next snore is gonna come, and contemplating life and love and time - well, I'm not doing anything else. And I'm not getting any younger. And maybe right now I can't mentally DO anything else. But I can do this.

I can contemplate my father, who is wise and loving and who pours himself out constantly, fill my mind with MY DAD instead of something else, because I love him.

I lied. My first thought wasn't "oh, that means he's sleeping." Well, it was subconscious. But right after, I thought, "I wish I had someone to love this way," meaning that I want to get married and have someone to love.

But I do have someone to love. I have my father. I can love him. I DO love him. And why am I pining for something I can't have, or worse, for someONE I can't have, when my lovely beautiful Dad is right there loving me in his sleep, in his waking, in his working, in his eating, in his thoughts, in his research, in his everything. I have him? Why do I need anyone else?

[scarlet-star-witch]

The moon and his sun

Aemond Targaryen x Female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 11.5 K

Warnings: Fluffy, Aemond finally makes a friend, characters will be aged up next chapter, reader is from a made-up house

AN: This is my first time writing for HOTD and I'm excited and terrified to share this story with you. I've had this idea in my head for so long and decided to finally get it out. Hope you enjoy xx

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

~~

He was used to playing for second best.

In his short life he became used to disinterested gazes, murmurs of his supposed cold heart and fits of rage, avoidant steps when he passed, the curse he possessed as the scarred second son. 

But never from her.

She looked at him as though he put the stars in the sky. She looked at him as if he was the reason the sky bloomed with breathtaking colors in the early morning.

He felt himself unworthy of her attention and affection, something she was aware of, and she would hold him and tell him all the love she gave him was very much deserved.

It was a sentiment he always had trouble not disputing instantly. 

She made his miserable heart full. 

Aemond couldn’t believe his luck himself for the sun that entered his world and brightened his life. 

He never believed he was worthy of her love. 

And she spent her entire life trying to prove him wrong.

~~

It was a beautiful, sunny, cloudless day.

A day Aemond was dreading. 

It wasn’t often their family made trips away from King’s Landing. His father was King and most visitors made the effort to come to the Capitol and spare them the effort of a visit, but a sudden trip had their entire family uproot their usual routine and he found himself hating every moment of it. 

Being dragonless, he was left to endure the crashing waves of the sea that made his stomach turn. 

“This place is disgusting.” Aegon said the moment they landed on solid ground. 

“Aegon.” His mother admonished with a steady glare. “The Ixtal Islands are a beautiful place and they’re home to one of the most powerful houses in the seven kingdoms. You would do well to show them some respect.”

“Not like they’ll offer me anything of importance.” He muttered bitterly. Rumors had spread of his mother and father’s desire to wed him to his sister Heleana, his future already planned for him.

His mood was immediately soured at the realization that none of the beauties he saw on the Island shore were his intended, but that wouldn’t stop him from having his fun. 

“Why are we even here?” Aegon whined immaturely, making his mother suppress yet another eye roll in response.

“The Lord of Ixtal is an old friend of your father.”

“I still don’t understand why that demands my presence here.” Aegon rolled his eyes.

“Our council is in need of a new Master of Coin and your father is considering his dear friend. We are here for negotiations and our family is nothing if not loyal. Your father, our King, needs us.” Alicent answered shortly. 

Aemond was excited to finally see the Island he had read so much about. He knew their history, their riches and goods they traded with the entirety of the realm. The Ixtal Islands were the most plentiful and prosperous house in the realm and he was in awe to see his readings come to life before him.

It was the socialization he dreaded. 

Nobles would look at Aegon with respect, respect he didn’t deserve even being the first born son of the King. Helaena would be regarded with reverence, a comparison to the Realm’s Delight. 

But he was nothing more than a second son, easily brushed over.

Daeron was still just a babe, too young to understand the slight they possessed not having been born first, but Aemond understood all too well. 

Their family was escorted into a grand throne room and Aemond was in awe of the intricate ornaments that decorated the hall and he briefly wondered why King’s Landing was where the most powerful man in the realm sat when this place existed.

His wide eyes eagerly took in every sight in front of him, admiring how the vast forest behind the castle casted a mystical green glow on the room from the giant window sitting behind the intricate gold throne. 

“Viserys!” A cheerful voice called and for the first time in a long time, Aemond heard his father laugh, a genuinely delighted sound as he embraced his friend.

Aegon shared a brief look with him, his shock at hearing his father's laughter clear in the way he furrowed his brows in bitterness.

“It’s been too long, my friend.” 

“Alicent, always a delight to see you, my dear.” 

Aemond noted the blush on his mother’s cheeks as the charming lord embraced her. He shifted on his feet as his siblings were introduced. He knew what came next, the flippant dismissal was familiar yet it stung each time. 

He looked up as the Lord shook hands with Aegon and gave Helaena a polite nod, her body language giving him the signal she wasn’t comfortable with anything else. 

As he stepped in front of Aemond, he suddenly felt two feet tall under the man’s gaze. Until he smiled. It was a gesture filled with warmth he hadn’t been expecting.

“Aemond, a strong name for a strong lad.” The lord clapped his shoulder and Aemond felt his body straighten, his confidence reappearing the second he realized he wasn’t going to be passed over yet again.

He looked up at the Lord with a smile, feeling more respected by the stranger in front of him than he ever had from his own father.

“You remember my wife,” The Lord gestured to a finely dressed woman who smiled and bowed to them courteously. 

“My son and-” The lord stopped abruptly, suddenly noticing the absence of the person who was supposed to be next in line and looked to his wife who was already wincing, having expected the abrupt drop in conversation due to their eldest daughter’s absence.

“My apologies, my daughter has lived here all her life yet still feels the need to explore.” The Lady of Ixtal explained, the lack of anger in her voice that gave way to begrudging acceptance made it obvious this was a common occurrence.

Viserys laughed and looked at his friend. 

“You could not possibly think your children would give you any trouble, would you?” He chided sarcastically to the Lord who could only laugh in delight at his beloved daughter’s antics. 

Aemond watched the interaction with wide eyes, intrigued by the sense of ease that surrounded everything. 

If they were in King’s Landing and he was late to an event, his mother would have his hyde.

Suddenly, the great doors slammed open and an armored knight was seen running into the room, his hand latched onto someone small who was giggling in delight.

“My Lord, My Lady, I am so sorry, she wanted-”

“It’s quite alright, Ser Jerrod. I know my daughter could not have made it easy for you.” The Lord dismissed the unnecessary apology and smiled down at his daughter who smiled somewhat sheepishly as she passed by to take her place in line. 

She smoothed her hands down the front of her silk dress and stood straighter, putting on the air of the perfect and primed daughter, as if they hadn’t all just seen her enter in a tizzy five minutes late.

Her mother looked down at her and leaned over her brother’s shoulder to pluck a leaf from her disheveled hair. Her eyes widened slightly, fearing retribution for her antics, but her mother only raised a teasing brow, silently admonishing her. 

The girl brushed her messy hair off her shoulder and finally moved her gaze to their guests, a smile coming to her face as she met the eyes of the silver haired boy in front of her.

Aemond was rooted to his spot, his expression one of perplexed confusion. The smile she sent him, the gesture which was so simple - and usually faked by most at court - was blinding. 

He was taken aback by the fact that she hadn’t looked at the powerful presence that was the King or the Queen faithfully at his side. She hadn’t looked at Aegon, Daeron or even Helaena, the only girl close to her age in the room. 

She looked at him first. 

She smiled at him first.

It was a gesture that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, but to him, it meant everything, it lifted the veil of neglect he was so familiar with from his shoulders, leaving him to feel lighter than before.

He listened as the Lord introduced his daughter and he ran her name over and over in his head, feeling his cheeks heat, a blush easily coming to his face as she greeted everyone, but her stare came back to him, smiling shyly.

~~

“This place is beautiful.” Helaena spoke dreamily as she took in their surroundings. 

They were granted leave to look around while the servants prepared to set up the welcome feast. 

Aemond couldn't take his eyes off the white sand and the crystal blue water. He breathed deeply, relieved to smell nothing but fresh flowers and ocean water and not the filth that permeated King’s Landing.

“Father should take over this place.” Aegon mused, earning looks of disdain from his siblings, which he easily shrugged off. “What? It’s much better than our shithole of a home.” 

Aemond rolled his eyes at his brother’s crass nature and kept walking, praying Aegon would somehow get lost or at least get bored of his company and leave. 

The sound of a loud laugh caught all of their attention and they walked their way through the lavish gardens to find it. Aemond suddenly became nervous as he saw the children of the Lord and Lady of Ixtal. 

The oldest son was playing some sort of ball game with his younger brother. The youngest sibling was reading quietly with her Septa. But the eldest daughter was nowhere to be found. 

As they stepped forward, the youngest son straightened and nudged his brother to stop. Catching sight of the young Targaryen princes and princess they let the ball they were playing with drop to the ground as they bowed respectfully. 

“Hello.” Helaena spoke brightly and the two young boys were helpless against her sweet nature and they both smiled and greeted her warmly.

“Where’s the other one?” Aegon asked rudely, looking around for the pretty girl from earlier who was missing. 

Aemond grit his teeth, praying Aegon wouldn’t drive her away before he even had the chance to speak to her.

“She’s in her tree.”

“Her tree?” 

The oldest brother pointed to the enormous willow tree behind them. 

He called out to his sister, alerting her to the presence of the royal children and just seconds later, Aemond watched with a slowly growing smile as a lithe form began to descend the ancient tree. 

She was slightly out of breath as she jumped the last few feet to the ground, brushing her already tangled hair out of her face as she practically skipped towards them.

As if her Septa’s teachings and her mother’s scolding from that morning had finally caught up to her, the smile on her face fell slightly, remembering she was in the presence of royalty. She slowed her pace and curtsied slightly clumsily as she came before them. 

“It is lovely to see you all again. I hope you are enjoying Ixtal.”

Aemond felt his face heat with a deep blush at the sound of her voice, the slight accent he heard capturing him instantly and he wished nothing more than to take the book from her young sister’s hands and demand she read it to him just so he could continue to hear the beautiful sound of her voice. 

“Your home is lovely. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Helaena spoke, breaking him from his thoughts. She moved towards the girl, the two of them engaging in easy conversation. 

Aegon began speaking with the two brothers, learning the rules to the ball game they were playing, the young boys instantly getting along. Which left Aemond to stand by himself. 

He shifted on his feet anxiously, contemplating if he should leave and find his mother. He’d at least have someone to talk to then. The pit in his stomach that grew as the familiar feeling of loneliness settled over him broke abruptly at the sound of the beautiful voice again.

“Would you like to sit?”

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers and for a moment, he wondered if she had actually been speaking to him. His gaze found Helaena who was now kneeling to talk to the youngest of the children who was mesmerized by her lavish dress.

Which left the oldest daughter alone and her gaze on him. 

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and stepped forward slowly, his heart racing as he took a seat on the bench next to her. 

“What are you writing?” He asked after clearing his throat, wincing to himself at the nerves that lingered in his words. 

“Drawing actually.” She corrected. “And not very well by the looks of it.” She shifted closer to him to show him the sketches in her notebook, the scent of lavender invading every one of his senses as her shoulder brushed against his.

His eyes looked over the shaky drawings of flowers and the willow tree she had been sitting in just moments ago. 

“They’re beautiful.”

She smiled and the sight was enough to leave Aemond thankful that he was sitting. 

“Do you draw?”

“No, nowhere near as well as you.”

“You must be shit then because these are awful.”

Aemond choked on his breath at her words, his wide eyes looking over at her in shock. She had a carelessness to her that he thought he would’ve found arrogant, it was certainly how he felt about the other ladies at court who were so brazen before him. 

But he found he could only feel enamored by the girl beside him. 

A quiet laugh escaped him, his stomach flipping in ways he had never felt before. 

“They’re not so bad.” He spoke quietly, his nerves reverting him to his bashful nature. 

“You’re quite the flatterer, Aemond.”

No words came to him, he was left to stare back at her, completely taken aback by her easy nature and blinding smile. 

She continued to show him her other sketches, the conversation between them flowing easily, something that Aemond had never experienced. 

Later, as their guards escorted them away to prepare for the feast, Aemond’s ears rang with the sound of her laughter, leaving him to hope he would hear it again before he had to leave. 

He spent the night with a smile on his face, behaving more animatedly than he had in all his life. Alicent had looked at her second son with barely contained emotion, delighted to see him so at ease. 

She was so caught up in her emotions, she hadn’t even noticed how his eyes never strayed too far from the eldest daughter of Ixtal. 

~~

The mischievous island girl was known to walk around the halls of the castle at all hours. It had happened so often for so long the guards didn’t bother to stop her anymore and no one batted an eye when they saw her wandering. 

She made her way to her parents chamber hours after she had been put to bed. 

She couldn’t stop the thought in her head and she had to see it through. 

With a smile to the guard at her parent’s door, she strolled in as if it were her own chamber. Her parents looked startled for all of a second before they sighed in resignation. 

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Darling?”

“I was.” 

Her father huffed out a laugh. “So what brings you here, Troublemaker?”

She let out a breath, her shoulders straightening, as if portraying herself as proper would help her cause. 

“I want to go with you to King’s Landing.”

Her request did not go over as easily as she wished, she spent the next hour arguing with her parents, pleading her case. She may have overstated how much her decision to learn more about court, but her parents did not need to know her desire lay purely with her need to explore what the Capitol could offer. 

Her parents knew she loved to explore and the chance to see a new part of the realm was too tempting to not indulge her in. Her parents loved her more than anything, they loved and doted on all their children in ways that left Lords and Ladies from other houses to scoff and roll their eyes in disdain. 

They couldn’t say no to her. 

By the next morning, she stood at her father’s side as their ship sailed to King’s Landing, her arm linked through his, her head filled with the wonders of what this new place would have to offer. 

A smile grew on her lips as she pictured the shy boy who had complimented her drawings and her excitement began to grow. 

~~

She was more reserved than she had ever been as she sat beside the table of royals. King Viserys had planned an extravagant welcome feast for the Lord of Ixtal, his new Master of Coin and his daughter to welcome them to King’s Landing. 

She had never experienced so many Lords and Ladies approaching her before, giving her their hand to shake and curtsey before them in greeting. It felt as though she had never truly existed until she made it to the Capitol, where the matters of the court actually held weight and prospect.

Her father had regaled many a knight and Lord over the course of the night, leaving her by his side to sit quietly, the overlooked daughter. She knew the power her house held, she knew the reason most Lords gave their good fortune to her father was to ensure their trade routes would continue prosperously. She knew she was nothing more than fodder at her father’s side.

She picked at her food unhappily, contemplating her decision to venture so far from her home, so far from what was comfortable. Her eyes rose from her plate, surveying the large throne room before her, catching sight of her father in talks with a large group of Lords from around the realm. 

With a heavy sigh, knowing she couldn’t interrupt her father, her eyes moved to the head table where the Targaryen family sat. 

The head seat where the King sat was empty, he was busy at her father’s side. She let her eyes roam over the queen, taking in her quiet servitude and demure presence. Her gaze fell to the heir, Princess Rhaenyra sat with her husband Laenor Valaryon, her brows quickly rising at the sight of the brown haired children sat beside the silver-headed wedded pair. 

Her eyes fell to Queen Alicent’s children, a small smile growing as she caught the gaze of Princess Helaena, the quiet girl sparing her a wave to which she eagerly reciprocated. 

She was never one to fade into the background and she eagerly took the Princess’ gesture as a sign of goodwill, standing from her seat to make her way to the head table. 

Helaena beamed at the girl as she approached, oblivious to her elder brother’s lustful intrigue and her younger brother who sat up straighter as the girl approached. 

“Hello, my Lady, I hope King’s Landing is treating you well.” Helaena greeted the girl happily. 

“It is lovely, Princess. I am sincerely grateful to your father for allowing myself and my father to reside in your home.”

“We are delighted to have you.” Helaena assured her. She fidgeted with her hands for a moment, her face turning bashful for a moment. “The ladies of the court will be gathering tomorrow, you should join.”

“I’d love to.” She responded eagerly, relieved to know her newfound solitude would not be long held. 

“You should join us for breakfast as well. I can show you my collection.” Helaena added excitedly. 

“By the Gods, Helaena.” Aegon groaned beside her. 

“Collection?” She asked, staunchly ignoring the prince sitting next to the blushing princess.

“My insects. I’ve collected quite a beautiful group of them. I’d love to show you.”

Helaena had a lovely innocence to her she was powerless against. 

“I’d be delighted to see them.” She told the princess sincerely, hoping she had found a friend in the eccentric girl. “I’ve also heard wonderful things about your library. I’m eager to read the works about Valryian history and the Targaryen dynasty. There are only rumors where I come from.”

Aemond sat forward in his seat, his eagerness to interject himself finally coming to a head.

“I can show you to the library.” Aemond offered, finally making his presence known. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to take you from your duties.”

“You won’t.” He insisted, positive his face was blooming with a pink blush as her attention now lay on him. “There are many books that have not been translated, I would be happy to read them to you.”

He seemed to melt under her gaze that watched him curiously. 

“You would do that?”

“Of course.” He insisted.

“That would be wonderful.” 

He was thankful he was sitting because her smile would have knocked him off his feet. 

By the next morning, as soon as the sun rose, he was sitting in the library, anxiously anticipating her arrival. He didn’t have to wait long until the door creaked open and her eager eyes took in the vast shelves around her. 

She greeted him with happiness as if they were long time friends, causing his stomach to flutter in ways he had never felt before. 

“This is incredible.” She mused, eyeing the many books she had to indulge in.

They spent the afternoon together, her at his side as he read the Valryian texts of their history, stopping every few minutes to answer the many intrigued questions she had. 

Aemond was sure his face was on fire, he had never blushed so hard. No one had ever taken such an interest in him, no one had ever paid so much attention to him, no one had ever bothered to listen to him.

But here she was, this girl at his side, eager to know more, asking question after question, trusting him to give her the answer. As soon as he began to fear he had spoken too much, taken too much of her time she’d drawl out ‘tell me more’ or ‘what happened next’ and he was rooted to his seat, turning to the next page as he explained the history of the Targaryen dynasty to her eager ears. 

He had never felt so important. 

~~

King’s Landing proved to be just as wondrous as she dreamed it. Granted, it didn’t have the luxurious beaches or sprawling forests her home did, but she was just thrilled to be exploring a new corner of the world.

Aemond had quickly become her closest ally. He had taken to showing her every inch of the place he thought she would enjoy, dragging her along to the mazes of gardens, the weirwood tree, the luxurious Sept, but her favorite had to be the library. She had spent many late nights with Aemond at her side, perusing through the many ancient works of Valyrian history. 

It fascinated her, but she couldn’t deny she loved to hear Aemond’s voice as he read to her, enthralled with stories of Aegon the Conqueror and his two sister-wives, stories of ancient dragons and their riders, of wars long passed.

A week into their stay, as she broke her fast with her father, she was practically bouncing in her seat, shoveling her food into her mouth as quickly as she could, eager to get the meal over with so she could meet with Aemond and Helaena, the two of them quickly becoming her closest confidants.�� 

“Slow down, my love, you’re going to choke.” Her father warned with a chuckle at her enthusiasm. 

“Sorry.” She mumbled through the food in her mouth, causing her father to grimace at her very unlady-like behavior. 

“Your eagerness wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Targaryen, would it?” He asked slowly, his knowing smile teasing her clear affection for the young boy she was growing closer to each day. 

“Helaena and I are good friends.” She shrugged, effectively dodging her father’s prying. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, watching her thoughtfully. He had no idea where she had gained such a witty mouth, it certainly wasn’t from him or his sweet, quiet wife. 

She finished the rest of her breakfast at record speed and hopped out of her seat, pressing a quick kiss to her father’s cheek.

“I’ll see you at dinner!” She called out over her shoulder as she skipped to the door. 

“Be safe!” He called out, but she was already racing down the halls. He looked to the guard at the door pointedly who nodded and trailed after the rambunctious girl. 

She slowed her pace once she reached the courtyard, suddenly very aware of the many eyes that would be on her if she was caught sprinting through the halls. She spotted a head of silver hair by the gates and she beamed, throwing all care out the window as she began to jog towards him.

“Aemond!” She called out and watched as the boy turned to her, his own smile growing at the sight of her. 

“Took you long enough.” He jested playfully and reveled in the dramatic scowl she sent him. 

“I’m not late. You are just an insane man that voluntarily wakes with the sun.” 

It was so small, something so miniscule, but it still managed to make his heart race. Knowing she remembered a small detail about him, no matter if it was something that was so inconsequential, was something he couldn’t wrap his head around.

He hadn’t expected it to affect him the way it did.

~~~

She found herself with Helaena in the gardens, finding any bugs she could for the enigmatic

princess. Digging a jittery bug out of the dirt, her nose scrunched in distaste as the many legged creature crawled over her hand.

“What is this thing?”

Helaena peered over curiously and a wide smile beamed on her face.

“That’s a beetle.”

“They’re not poisonous, are they?”

The princess laughed in amusement at the widened eyes that met her gaze and she shook her head. “No, you’re safe.”

The girl nodded and, though still on edge, was less stressed as she held the bug in her hands. 

Helaena, preoccupied with her own bugs, stole frequent looks at the girl next to her, noting the unease in her eyes. She smiled lightly and leaned in close to her.

“You don’t have to do this with me. I know not everyone likes the things I like. I can do this by myself.”

The girl looked startled by her words, a frown growing on her usually bright features and she looked down at the bug in her hands again, her eyes shifting from a look of disgust to one of determination, as if she could force herself to not feel grossed out at their existence.

“I like being here with you.” She said softly. “I don’t really have anyone else here.”

Helaena frowned, the thought of her brother immediately coming to mind and the smile that would grace his usually sullen face every time he was with the Island girl. As if she had conjured him herself, she looked over her shoulder, noticing him coming their way.

“Hello, Brother.” She smiled, though it was futile as his attention was locked onto the beauty beside her.

“Hello.” He spoke, though his eyes never left his sister’s friend. “What are you doing?”

“Finding bugs. Would you like to join?”

Helaena, having expected a ‘no’, given it was always Aemond’s answer anytime she asked him for help digging through the gardens, was shocked as he took a seat among them and dug his hands in the dirt before them without question.

The Princess watched with barely contained delight as her brother and friend immediately started conversing as if she weren’t there, the comfortable ease between them thriving. 

Usually she would feel slighted by such an occurrence, but rather than feeling ignored, she was happy to see her brother, who was usually so serious, look completely unburdened. She worried about him, about how tightly wound he was, but since the Lord of Ixtal and his daughter had come to King’s Landing, she had noticed his demeanor change, as if he could finally take a deep breath and release the things that so often held him down.

Aemond looked at the dirt beneath his fingernails and mourned at what his night routine would be subjected to, but he found he didn’t care all that much. The stolen glances to the girl beside him had all sense of propriety out the window. 

“Do you do this every day, Princess?” She asked the Targaryen who shrugged shyly.

“Most days. I find I prefer the company of bugs over people.”

The bark of laughter that left her had both the siblings smiling, her joyful nature contagious. 

Aemond was transfixed, until he heard his name and he was forced out of his daydreams. He looked up at Aegon who was standing before them, judgment painting his features.

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re digging for bugs, Brother.” Helaena answered innocently, her eyes thankfully locked onto the caterpillar on her finger so she didn’t see how her brother rolled his eyes in disdain.

Aemond glowered at his brother, his mood dampened, his protectiveness for his sister rising involuntarily whenever he was around. He hated seeing Helaena’s eyes dim with every one of his hurtful words.

The Island girl looked between the siblings, beginning to understand just how different they were to her and her own siblings. The more time she spent with Aegon, the more she disliked him. She looked back at Aemond and frowned, noticing the dower expression grow on her friend’s face, and she called his name. 

“Hmm?”

“What are these?” She asked, her dirt covered fingers trailing over the petals of the flowers in front of them, diverting his attention from Aegon.

“Marigolds.” He answered quickly, as if he wanted her to be impressed by his knowledge. “You don’t have these in Ixtal?”

“No. It’s a shame, they’re beautiful.”

Aemond bit his lip, his heart racing as she moved back to digging for bugs. He ignored the nerves that coursed through him and reached out to pluck the flower. 

“Here.”

She looked up and her eyes widened, her cheeks burning as he tucked the flower behind her ear, his shy smile mirroring hers, his hesitance clear, but his bravery clearer.

Aegon scoffed, rolling his eyes at the pair. 

The noise caused them both to glare at the older Targaryen, their eyes narrowed in annoyance. 

“You two are pathetic.”

“It’s not our fault your pea sized brain cannot comprehend the idea of caring for someone other than yourself.” She snarked easily, making Aemond’s eyes widen as he nervously looked between her and his brother whose face twisted in anger.

Thankfully, his brother was smart enough to know not to start a fight with her and he stomped away, most likely in search of more wine.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Aemond mumbled, his worried eyes lingering on his brother’s figure as he stormed off.

“Do what?”

“Antagonize him.” 

“Someone needs to knock him off his high horse. Why can’t it be me?” She shrugged, perfectly content to be the antagonist in Aegon Targaryen’s life.

“Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Why would anything happen to me?”

“Because… he’s… it’s Aegon.” He stressed, as if his brother’s existence was enough explanation.

“Yes, and he’s an absolute cock.”

Aemond’s eyes widened, not expecting the vulgar word to leave her lips. Helaena giggled and leaned into the girl at her side. His shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to laugh, amazed yet not surprised at her ability to evade him of his worries. 

~~

A body crashed into her as she turned the corner, almost knocking her off balance, but arms that quickly wrapped around her waist stopped her from falling to the floor. 

She recognized the boy immediately. 

“Aemond.” She greeted breathlessly with a smile. He pulled away from her instantly, taking a step back to create space between them, his head bowed downwards, avoiding her gaze. 

But she saw the tear streaks through the stains of ash on his cheeks. Her smile fell and she stepped towards him, her hands gently lifting his chin, though he vehemently refused and harshly pulled himself away from her. 

“What happened?” She asked, trying to keep the hurt from her voice at his avoidance, something she had never experienced from him.

“Nothing.”

“Aemond.” She admonished gently. She hated when he acted like this, so unlike the kind boy she knew. 

He kept his head down and she sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest. 

“I won’t leave you alone until you tell me what happened.” 

Aemond huffed and side stepped around her to continue on his way to lock himself in his chambers and wallow, but she was too quick. She grabbed his hand to stop him and pulled him back towards her. 

He spoke her name, the groaned pronunciation indicating he wasn’t in the mood. 

“I just want to go to my chambers.”

“Fine. We can go together.” She said simply and linked her arm through his as they began to walk.

Aemond let out a long breath, his annoyance flaring for a second, but the moment he looked over at her it faded away into nothing. He brought his arm that was linked with hers closer to his chest, as if needing her touch to soothe his nerves. 

He thought he wanted to be alone. After his mother had brushed off his tears and scolded him yet again for venturing through the dragon pit, he just wanted to wallow by himself, but with her arm in his, her steady presence at his side, he found he wanted nothing but to be with her.

Once they made it to his chambers, he reluctantly let go of her and practically slumped his way to sit on his bed, his head bowed down to his feet, his brother and nephews' latest prank ruminating in his head, causing shame and anger to cascade over every inch of him. 

“Are you going to tell me what happened now or am I going to have to force it out of you?”

Aemond huffed at her words and began to fidget with his fingers, focusing on the sand that lingered on his skin rather than meeting her inquisitive gaze. 

She rolled her eyes and moved to sit next to him on the bed, brushing the sand from his hair. 

“Were you in the dragon pit again?”

He nodded wordlessly and she felt something inside her clench. She would never understand the hole in Aemond’s heart, how his lack of a dragon made him feel so worthless. 

“They said they found a dragon for me.” He mumbled, causing her to look over at him with concern, her stomach sinking at the hurt she heard in his voice, knowing his dreams hadn’t come true that afternoon. 

She knew it could only be a cruel prank at his expense. 

“They gave me a pig.”

Her shoulders slumped, her hand reaching out to grab his, intertwining their fingers with an ease as though she had done it a million times before. She had only held his hand a few times and it made Aemond blush bright red every time, even now as he wallowed. 

“I’m sorry. They shouldn’t be so cruel to you.”

“They’re right. It’s pathetic, a Targaryen without a dragon.”

“Aemond-”

“Maybe I’m not worthy and I’ll never get a dragon, maybe that’s why my egg never hatched. I don’t deserve it.”

“Stop it.” She spoke sternly, gripping onto both his hands in an effort to calm him down from his ranting. “You are every bit as good as any one of them, dragon or no dragon.”

Aemond sighed shakily and moved his gaze back down to his shoes, feeling as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

“What if I never find one?” He asked quietly, as if afraid to speak the possibility out into existence. 

“You will. I know you will.” She assured him, though it did little to release him from his sadness. “There are plenty of Targaryens that didn’t claim dragons until later in life.”

Aemond gave her a plain look, to which she just smirked. Serves him right for teaching her about his family history. 

“Aemond, we’re young, we still have so much life to live. It’s not over because you don’t have a dragon yet. You have so much time to find what you’ve always wanted.”

The breath that escaped his lips left him feeling lighter, his hand finally gripping hers back, sending a bashful smile her way, hoping it was enough to convey how grateful he was for her. 

He didn’t think he could ever find the words to tell her. 

“You’d be with me, won’t you? For my first ride?”

“You would want me there?”

“Of course I would.” 

She smiled and he was powerless but to return his own. “Then I’ll be there.”

~~

Aemond’s glare was steady on his face, his eyes locked onto the Strong bastard that twirled her around. 

How dare he ask her to dance, how dare he touch her, how dare he make her smile.

His disdain for his nephews was clear, they certainly didn’t give him much reason to be cordial, but this was the last straw. Seeing Jacaerys’ hands on her made his blood boil. 

Those damned nephews of his had already stolen her away from his side that afternoon. He could only watch helplessly as she played around with the bastards and spoke politely to his half sister Rhaenyra. 

He almost resented how sweet his friend was. He loved her kind heart, he just hated when it extended to his elder half sister and her sons who he despised. 

He hated when Jacaerys and Lucerys stole her away from his side. It was happening more and more as they became closer. He felt like he was losing her, the more times she spent breaking her fast with his eldest sister and her brood, the more he dreaded every moment away from her. 

She was his only friend, the only one he felt truly understood him, or at least made the effort to. Losing her would mean losing the only shred of happiness he’d managed to find for himself. 

He averted his gaze from Jace and the Ixtal girl, the sight of both their bright smiles becoming too painful.

“They seem to get along well.” His father mused, prompting Aemond to torturously follow his gaze to the pair yet again. 

His heart began to race at the insinuation, at the knowing look in his father’s twinkling eyes. 

“Yes, he seems to be quite taken with her.” Rhaenyra noted with a loving smile. 

“They’d make a fine match.” His mother added. Aemond looked to his mother, betrayal in his gaze. His mother knew how much his friend meant to him, she knew someone so precious shouldn’t be shackled to a bastard. 

He refused to hear another word. His chair screeched loudly against the floor as he abruptly stood and made his way out of the room as if there were no air left for him to breathe. They couldn’t take her away from him, they couldn’t give her to that bastard. 

He raced to his chambers, hoping he was quick enough that no passing guards could see the tears forming in his eyes. 

By the next day, he found himself in the gardens, his eyes locked onto the open book in his lap as he read and re-read the same sentence over and over, his racing mind not allowing him to focus on the words in front of him. 

The dread he had been feeling since the night before had not dissipated in the slightest.

“Aemond!” 

His heart leapt within his chest at the sound of her voice. His hopeful eyes looked around the garden before landing on her and a feeling of lead settled within him, bringing him right back down to his dour mood as he noticed Jace and Lucerys beside her. 

She motioned for him to join but he just shook his head softly and moved his gaze back down to his book. 

He let out a long breath, trying his hardest to ignore the bitterness that grew in his heart, one that was all too familiar from before he met her. He startled slightly as a body slumped next to him. He looked up and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of her looking at him questioningly.

“Why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking.”

She breathed deeply, as if disappointed by his obvious lie. “Why didn’t you join us?”

He shrugged, he couldn’t very well tell her the truth about how he despised his nephews and seeing her with them was like a dagger to the heart, how he feared losing her, his greatest friend. 

“I didn’t want to intrude.” He spoke softly. 

Her eyes narrowed at his words, her gaze moving to the two Velaryon boys who were talking quietly amongst each other, their curious eyes occasionally drifting to her and Aemond. 

She knew there was tension among them, the way they seemed to side with Aegon and play along in the cruel pranks he would play on Aemond always made her stomach twist. She suddenly felt guilty that she had never considered how it would make Aemond feel to be forced in their vicinity after how they treated him. 

She turned to her friend and shuffled closer to him. 

“You could never intrude.”

Aemond looked over at her, but quickly averted his gaze, finding it just too much to look in her eyes while she sat so close to him. 

“You don’t have to stay with me. If you want to be with them, I won’t stop you.” He spoke quietly. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel smothered by him. 

“I’d rather be with you.”

Her answer left him using all of his willpower to keep himself from marching directly to his father and demanding a betrothal this instant. 

She chose him. 

No one had ever chosen him.

~~

She was bored out of her mind. With Aemond and Helaena gone to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral, she was left without her closest confidants, leaving her little to do in their absence. She wished she’d been granted leave to attend the funeral with them, but her father had never met Laena and had been tasked with extra duties while the King was gone, leaving her to stew in her loneliness.

She was curled up on the settee by her bed, her sketchbook in her lap as she scrawled out an attempt at drawing Dreamfyre, to horrible failure. 

A soft knock on her door made her lift her head and she sat up straighter when her father entered. The look on his face made her stomach twist, dread falling upon her like a crashing wave. 

She got to her feet quickly, feeling unsteady on her now weak legs.

“Darling, there was an… incident on Driftmark.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart racing. “What happened?”

“I wasn’t privy to all the details but all I know is that Aemond has been injured.” 

The breath was knocked out of her and at the first sign of her face crumbling into despair, her father crossed the room and held her tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as the first sob broke free. 

“Is he alright?”

Her father let out a long breath at her hiccuped words, holding her tightly. He knew his daughter had certain affections for the young boy, but hearing her now made him realize just how deeply she cared for him. 

“The Maesters say he has lost an eye.” 

A shuddering breath escaped her and she suddenly felt faint. She had no idea how, what could have unfolded, who would dare to do something so barbaric to him. 

The next days were spent in agony. She barely left her chambers. Every time her father came to check in on her, he found her sitting by her window, her gaze locked onto the horizon, waiting eagerly for the Targaryen family’s arrival. 

On the third day of her lonely torment, she finally spotted it. Dragons on the horizon. She was on her feet in a second and racing down to the courtyard. She was out of breath and disheveled by the time she made it, but her pace only quickened when she saw Helaena with her mother. 

She called out to her friend and Helaena let out a breath of relief when she saw her, her arms opening for her as she approached. 

Helaena didn’t let many touch her, but she was one of the lucky few she allowed. 

“Are you alright? Where’s Aemond? Will he be ok?” She fired off questions, not even able to get a breath out through her frantic words. 

“It’s alright, my Darling. Aemond will be fine.” Alicent consoled her, placing her arm around the shaking girl’s shoulders.

“Where is he?”

“He’s been taken to the Maester’s solar. He’ll have to spend some time there while he heals.” 

“What happened?” She asked breathlessly.

“What I told him.” Helaena interjected calmly. “He gained a dragon, but he had to close an eye.” 

She looked at Helaena with shock. “He… he claimed a dragon?”

She couldn’t make sense of the despair, relief and joy she had felt all at once. Knowing Aemond and his endless plight to gain a dragon, she knew he would see it a worthy trade, but the thought of him injured, permanently maimed, made her want to crumble to the ground below her. 

After bidding goodbye to Alicent and Helaena, she made her way to the Maester’s wing of the Keep. She was denied entry, but she was determined to not let it stop her. Each day, at the crack of dawn, she’d drag herself out of bed and, before even breaking her fast, would make the trek to the Maester’s wing and ask to see Aemond.

She was refused each and every day, but it did little to deter her. She kept trying. 

It had been weeks since she had seen Aemond. Her heart was aching without the presence of her best friend, without the boy that made her smile like no other could. 

On the fifth day of the third week, as she made the familiar walk to his door, the guard stopped her, as usual, though his words were different.

“The Prince does not wish for any visitors.” 

She frowned. It always used to be the order of the Maesters or Alicent, claiming her son needed his rest, but now it was Aemond himself refusing her. 

She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but she knew she had felt her heart crack in a way she had never felt before. 

She walked away from the door with her head bowed in defeat.

The hurt she felt mirrored Aemond’s own. Refusing her made him ache, but the thought of her seeing him as he was and looking at him with disgust was unfathomable and he would delay that inevitable despair as long as he could. 

He sulked in his bed, the dour expression on his face one that had been constant for weeks. 

His mother was by his bedside as she had been for weeks. He couldn’t stand to see her wince or her teary eyes everytime she looked at his ghastly scar. 

She had been trying, in no subtle terms, to get him out of the room, even going as far to bring up his friend, the one he longed to see yet dreaded ever seeing the same look on his mother’s face on hers. 

“It’s been a few weeks. She’s been worrying herself sick.” His mother told him, making his already weak heart more fragile. 

He stayed silent, his frown deepening in despair. 

“Aegon and Helaena will be heading out tomorrow to Ixtal. You should take Vhagar and join them.”

Aemond shifted uncomfortably. He knew his friend was leaving tomorrow, to visit home for her mother’s name day. They had all been invited, but with his father’s fading health and his mother’s refusal to ride on dragonback, it left just Aegon and Helaena to join the festivities. 

“Aemond.” His mother prompted again, the disappointment in her voice clear. 

“I don’t want to go.” He mumbled, one of the few sentences he’d managed over the past few weeks. 

His mother sighed in defeat and didn’t bring it up again for the rest of the night, leaving him to his solitude as he preferred. 

The next morning, Aemond lay in bed, the wound over his eye itching gratingly. He longed to claw at the wicked scar, to scream in anger, to enact his vengeance on that Strong bastard. The fury festered in him like the open wound on his face, red and flaming. 

The soft sound of his door opening and closing made him stir, assuming it was his mother yet again. As he lazily turned his head, dread settled in his stomach, his remaining eye widening in horror at the sight of her, the one he longed for yet resisted. 

She froze in her place at the door, her jaw falling slack, a shaking hand covering her mouth as a hitched breath escaped her at the sight of him. 

Aemond’s face twisted in agony. This was exactly what he wished to avoid. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked angrily, tears forming in his remaining eye. 

“I just wanted- I wanted… we’re leaving soon.” 

It was faint but he heard it. Fear. The stuttering of her words, the quiet, almost docile way she spoke that was so unlike her was like a hatchet to his heart. The look on her face was even worse. She could barely make eye contact with him.

“Get out.” He spoke lowly through gritted teeth.

“Aemond, I-”

“Get out! I don’t want you here!” He screamed at her, tears steadily falling down his cheeks. 

Her own tears began to fall, her face twisting with agony. He hated it. He didn’t want her pity, he didn’t want to see the disgust on her face that everyone would face him with for the rest of his life. 

“Leave me alone! I never want to see you again!” 

She let out a sob and turned on her heel, leaving the room with haste. 

Aemond slumped back in bed, placing his hands over his face, ignoring the way it made his eye ache, and he cried for what he had lost. 

Not just his eye, but his love, his happiness. His everything. 

~~

She stood on the balcony of the banquet hall, breathing in the fresh ocean air. She missed home. She had thought of this moment for weeks, had been eager and excited to finally visit, yet now that she was there, it was bittersweet. 

The sound of the waves weren’t as peaceful as she remembered. The food she ate wasn’t as delicious as she remembered. The music and the dancing wasn’t as exciting as she remembered. 

“Darling?”

She turned to see her mother approaching, concern written across her face as she moved to stand next to her daughter, her arm crossing over her shoulders, bringing her in close to her side. 

“Are you alright? I thought I’d see you dancing all night.”

“I’m fine.”

The Lady of Ixtal looked to her once vibrant daughter worriedly. She was far from the girl that had left all those months ago. From all the letters she had sent, it seemed her daughter was having the time of her life in King’s Landing. The girl she saw now wasn’t the one who had gleaned nothing but happiness.

“Was it not what you expected?”

She stiffened, the need to defend her friends and her new found home rising. “No, it’s- King’s Landing is lovely.”

Her mother sighed. She had gotten a short re-telling of the last few weeks in the Capitol from her husband and she was starting to put the pieces together. 

“I couldn’t help but notice your friend isn’t here.” 

She looked up at her mother, her wide doe-like eyes giving everything away. 

“Aemond?”

She felt her cheeks heat and she turned her attention back to the view before her, focusing on the waves of the ocean, mirroring her breathing with each crashing wave. 

“He’s not my friend anymore.” She spoke quietly through the lump that grew in her throat. 

“From what I’ve heard, it sounds as though he is going through an awful time, something no one, especially someone so young, should ever have to endure. People don’t exactly act rationally when they are hurt. It is easy to speak things that are untrue in that state.”

She stayed silent, taking in her mother’s words thoughtfully. It was easy enough to explain, but it didn’t lessen the hurt she felt. 

“You can stay here if you wish. The Gods know I would love to keep you in my arms, but I don’t think that is truly what you want.”

She let out a shaking breath, her mind a mess as she thought of her life in King’s Landing, of what she’d be leaving behind. But, if Aemond was being truthful and he didn’t want to see her or be her friend anymore, what would her life be like there?

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Her mother assured her. “Or else we’ll have a dragon landing on our shores demanding you come back.”

The smile on her mother’s face made the hurt inside her melt away slightly. Her conviction that Aemond would forgive her for her intrusion, that he would bring her back into his life and his arms made her hopeful. 

Her mother was never wrong and she prayed she wouldn’t start now. 

~~

She clutched onto Helaena’s waist as they flew on Dreamfyre back to King’s Landing. No matter how thrilling it was to ride a dragon, no matter that she felt as light as a feather, that she could touch the clouds and feel as though she was in a magical, untouchable realm, it felt wrong. 

Her first ride shouldn’t have belonged to Helaena, it shouldn’t have been with Dreamfyre. It wasn’t what she promised. 

As they dismounted, Helaena’s hand held hers and stayed, holding tightly as they made their way from the dragonpit to the Keep, as if knowing her friend needed the comfort. 

As they parted, Helaena promised she’d spend the day with her tomorrow, knowing she needed the distraction from Aemond.

She smiled, though it wasn’t as bright as usual, and with a wave, they parted. She stepped into her chambers and sighed heavily, mourning what her time in King’s Landing would hold. 

She moved to her bed, content to hide under the covers for the rest of the day, but she stopped, noticing a bundle of flowers on her desk. She frowned, she certainly hadn’t put them there before she left. 

She stepped closer, her fingers gently tracing along the soft petals. They were perfectly bloomed and freshly plucked, most likely just placed on her desk mere minutes before she arrived. 

It suddenly struck her. 

They were marigolds. 

She remembered the flower Aemond had tucked behind her ear, the ones he would bring her on occasion simply because he knew she was fond of them. 

Her heart began to race, her stomach flipping at the merest notion that it could’ve been from her best friend. She picked up the bundle, inhaling their fresh scent with a small smile. 

She noticed the slip of parchment below them, the simple words in familiar handwriting brought tears to her eyes. 

I am deeply, truly sorry.

I didn’t mean a word of what I said

Please forgive me

- Your Aemond

Her breath hitched, her chest feeling tight with sorrow. 

The words he had screamed at her that day hurt her deeply, yet the thought of not having Aemond by her side, not having him as her friend, was unfathomable.

She spent the remainder of the day in her chambers, picking sparsely at the food her father had sent to her, knowing she wanted her solitude. By the next morning, having thought of nothing but Aemond all night, she was determined to see the end of their rift.

She dressed quickly and stepped out of her chambers, determined to march her way straight to Aemond, but she was stopped by her guard.

“The Prince has requested your presence in the gardens.” 

The crease in her brow that signaled her determination smoothed out, leaving nothing but hopeful nervousness as she quickly made her way through the halls of the Keep. She ignored the looks of disdain from the ladies of the court as she raced past them, ignoring the whispers of her undignified behavior. 

They were the last things on her mind.

Her heart was racing within her chest as she approached the gardens. She walked the familiar path, one she had taken countless times, to get to their usual meeting spot. Her feet came to an abrupt stop as she turned the last corner and saw him sitting on their bench, the one they always congregated to over the months together. 

Nervous butterflies fluttered within her as she approached him. 

She called out to him softly, cursing herself for how her voice shook in hopeful anticipation. 

Aemond turned to face her and she was shocked to see the eyepatch across his face, covering the angry looking wound she had seen that morning in his chambers. 

Her heart ached at the sight of the red scar that peeked out from the patch. It looked painful and the reminder of what he had gone through, what his own nephew had inflicted on him made her want to cry. 

He spoke her name in greeting, giving her a small, weak smile. He winced slightly, the pull of his cheeks causing his scar to flair with pain. 

Her chest tightened at the sight of him. He seemed smaller, as if he sat hunched over, trying hard not to take up too much space in the world. 

“I’m sorry.” She blurted out before he could speak. He looked up at her incredulously, his stomach twisting at the despair he saw on her face. “I shouldn’t have just barged into your chambers. I knew you wanted privacy and I ignored your wishes and I’m sorry. I never meant-”

Aemond spoke her name breathlessly, stopping her rambling apology. He had never seen her so frantic before, it was unnerving to him, nothing at all like the lively girl he was used to. And it was his fault.

“You don’t have to apologize.” He told her softly. He looked down at his hands that fidgeted in his lap, shame overcoming him as he thought back to that day, when he had yelled at her so callously. He had replayed that moment over and over again in his head for days and it was torturous each time. 

He couldn’t get the sight of her tears out of his head. To know he was the cause was his greatest shame. 

“I’m sorry.” He spoke earnestly, looking her in the eyes intently, hoping she would believe him. “I never should have spoken to you that way. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I never will again, I promise.” 

She let out a long breath, his words stirring something inside her she couldn’t recognize.

He frowned deeply at her lack of reaction, shuffling over and patted the space next to him on the bench, motioning for her to take a seat beside him. 

She moved slowly, hesitantly taking her seat next to him. 

“I’ve never seen you that angry before.” She spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper as she recalled that dreadful day. 

Aemond sighed and bowed his head. 

“I…” He started but soon found he had no words, no excuses for how he had treated her. Nothing would ever make it ok, never to her. “I hated to see you look at me like that.” Was the only thing he could think to say.

“Like what?”

“Like you were horrified of me.”

“I was horrified.” She said and he felt his insides turn to stone, his throat tightening with emotion. “But not of you. Never of you.” She added quickly, causing him to look over at her, his eye wide and shining with unshed tears. 

“But-”

“Aemond, the thought of what happened to you, the thought of you in pain… it hurts me.” 

The vice around his heart lifted instantly. His mind was spinning with the insinuation of her words.

“You… you’re not-”

She reached out, taking his hand in hers, causing words to fail him.

“I could never be afraid of you. I could never feel disgusted by you, I could never think any less of you, or whatever other horrible thing you think I feel for you now. No scar will change how I care for you.”

The weight that had been suffocating him for weeks now seemed to lift just the slightest, allowing him to feel as though he could finally take a breath. 

He let out a shaking breath and tightened his hand in hers. She smiled softly and leaned in closer to his side, letting her head fall to his shoulder, letting him revel in her closeness.

He hated the stares he got from the ladies at court, he hated the winces, the horrified gasps as he passed them. He hated the worried looks he received, as if he was seconds away from collapsing like a weak mannered child. 

But none of it mattered. 

She still cared for him, she was still by his side, her hand in his.

Even the burning fury he held for his nephew seemed dim in the wake of the pure delight he felt in her presence.

“But, if you ever raise your voice to me like that again I will smack you.” 

Her threat, that held no anger in the slightest, made him laugh and duck his head against hers as his body shook with each breath of laughter. 

His first laugh since the incident. 

From then, they were closer than ever. One was seldom seen without the other at their side. 

The Ladies at court through the two of them were just about the most darling thing they had ever seen. Yet, not everyone was rooting for the threads of young love to flourish. 

Alicent watched her son in the training yard with a frown. Her second son, so dutiful and so smart, was becoming distracted. Her eyes never strayed from him as he neglected his own lessons to play around with his friend, watching with a scowl as the two of them laughed together, as if there was no care in the world.

The sight of the young girl in the training yard was enough to leave her appalled, but her son’s willingness to indulge in such unseemly behavior was worrying. 

“We cannot let this go any further.” Her father spoke from beside her. 

“I can’t very well tell him he cannot be her friend. It would devastate him.”

“Let them be friends, but make it clear that is all it will ever be. Aemond can’t get any ideas about marrying this girl.”

Alicent chewed on her lower lip anxiously. The thought of tearing her son away from such happiness turned her stomach, but the thought of him marrying a girl so unpredictable was just as unfortunate. 

“Would it really be so bad? We could gain leverage with her father.”

“Ixtal is a neutral house. They have never taken a stand in any war, that won’t change now. We cannot risk Aemond allying with a house that could not give us leverage for Aegon’s claim.” Otto hissed angrily. 

Alicent wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes falling back to her son, taking in the sight of his smile while she still could. She doubted it would be a common sight once he was forced away from the Island girl. 

But they all had a duty to perform.

~~

Her arm was looped through his as he guided her past the dragon pit. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at the structure that housed the mighty Targaryen dragons they had just passed. 

“Vhagar doesn’t stay there. She doesn’t fit.” Aemond explained, a slightly smug smirk crossing his features as he subtly boasted about his newly claimed dragon.

Her smile twitched slightly, her nerves suddenly overtaking her. She’d been hesitant when Aemond offered to introduce her to his mount, but the reminder of the great beast’s sheer size had the beginnings of fear creeping through her veins. 

Noticing the subtle shift in her expression, Aemond tightened his grip on her arm. 

“I would never put you in danger.” He assured her. “Vhagar is bonded to me, she can feel what I feel for you and she would never hurt you.”

“If I could hear that directly from Vhagar I might be able to breathe properly.” 

Aemond snickered and led her forward excitedly. 

Soon, they arrived at the crest of the hill, Vhagar’s enormous form coming into view. A shuddering breath escaped her when she came face to face with the historic dragon that fought in wars long before her time. 

She could barely comprehend such a beast of her size existed among them, that the sweet boy beside her commanded her or even willingly approached her. 

“Relax.” Aemond told her softly, moving out of her hold so his hand could take hers, intertwining their fingers. 

The pair of them stepped towards the sleeping giant. She watched, mystified, as Aemond spoke a few words of Valaryian, the dragon's eyes sleepily opening, her large head lifting towards them. 

She felt her body freeze, the blood in her veins running cold as the mighty dragon looked past her rider, her curious gaze landing on her. A low rumble shook the ground, Vhagar’s protest to the stranger before her. 

Aemond soothed his dragon, placing an affectionate hand on her snout as he spoke soft commands. 

She doubted a few measly words would suddenly convince Vhagar that she wasn’t a tasty snack, but she could only watch, her eyes widening as the dragon became disinterested by her presence, laying her head back down on the warm grass she had been slumbering on. 

Aemond looked over his shoulder at her prone form several feet back and smiled, motioning her to come closer. 

She shook her head adamantly, her feet frozen in place. 

He spoke her name, holding his hand out to her. 

She looked to his hand and then to his dragon and back again, contemplating the risk to her life. 

“Do you trust me?” Aemond asked and her tense shoulders sagged. She had no reason to doubt her best friend. With one look in his eye, she knew he would never let any harm come to her. 

She took slow steps forward, her fear not allowing her to move any quicker. 

She reached out and took Aemond’s hand in hers as soon as she was close enough, holding on tightly.

“It’s alright.” He assured her. 

He guided her hand toward Vhagar, watching the girl beside him closely, gaging every expression that crossed her face in a matter of seconds. From fear, to doubt, to disbelief and suddenly to awe. 

A shaky laugh left her lips as her hand softly rested on the rough scales of Vhagar’s side. Pure delight was etched across her face as she pet the mighty beast as if she were nothing more than a house cat. Aemond saw how excited she got when one of the many stray cats that roamed Flea Bottom ventured their way into the Keep. 

The excited smile she wore now as she pet his dragon was the same one he saw when she would cradle those strays. 

The thought made him laugh and he leaned in close to her, letting his head rest against hers. 

Seeing her now, fearless by his mount’s side, only confirmed what he already knew. 

She was meant to be with dragons. Meant to be with him. 

~~

I will hopefully have the next chapter out within the next couple of days! And yes, every chapter is going to be long, I have no control. Hope you liked it xx

[hvlcy0n]

SAY IT (PT. 1) . . . hayato suo x fem!reader

+ you’ve never reciprocated any of suo’s confessions of love, but a chance to eavesdrop on a conversation among you and your friends grants him all the insight he needs.

+ 4.2k words

+ NSFW (MINORS DNI) // UNEDITED // brief mentions of sex // mentions of edging at the end // brief mentions of overstimulation // mentions of past heartbreak/insecurities // established relationship // manipulation // i got all the big stuff but i’m definitely forgetting some minor stuff i’m just tired of looking at this

+ this is my first time writing suo so plEASE cut me some slack, i got tired of seeing it every time i opened google docs. i left any descriptions/names of your friends extremely vague on purpose so you can fill in whoever. the NEXT part of this will be centered around smut, but this one was more just kinda the build-up to his decision to push you out of your comfort zone.

suo has always been able to see right through you.

granted, that was his area of expertise—the ability to pierce through people’s defenses as if they were nothing more than a gossamer film and unearth whatever information he resolved to discover. he was regarded as dangerous by both allies and enemies, capable of sinking his fingertips into peoples’ psyches and peeling back the layers until their self–control began to fracture and ruby welled beneath his touch and trickled down to obscure his opponents’ vision in an all–consuming bloodlust that left them vulnerable and uncoordinated. 

he had a critical eye and a terrifying intuition; and while his friends wouldn’t trade him for the world, they were also aware of the uncharted territory of suo’s complex character—not to mention the existence of a small distance between them that had been discreetly established by suo himself. while he genuinely enjoyed the presence of his friends, he valued his privacy and space, and he often kept information about him restricted. he was more enigmatic than anything else. 

so, when suo offhandedly mentioned having a girlfriend, they were shocked. although emotionally intelligent, none of his friends pegged him as a romantic, his secrecy and manipulative tactics seemingly too insurmountable an obstacle in a relationship. generally, he was kind and respectful, but his demeanor could flip on a dime in the face of discourteous behavior. he could be mean—unfair.  it wasn’t uncommon for him to mask his slick tongue and cruelty behind refined language and his gentlemanly composure as he subjected his targets to public humiliation. sometimes, his emotions could get the better of him, and he could be frightening when they do. a gentleman? maybe. but there’s more nuance to him than that.

unbeknownst to them, suo was remarkably softer with you. warmth and genuine kindness emanated from every content smile and careful dance of his hands over your skin, calloused fingertips bearing an ardent reverence that would cause even aphrodite to flush. the sharp edge to his tongue smoothed, his teasing light-hearted and devoid of the faint, underlying drip of venom that could sometimes be heard punctuating his words if someone listened closely enough. when he observed you, his eyes glowed with innocuous curiosity and rather than distant analysis. 

the more time he spent with you, the more he could read you like an open book, deft fingertips tracing over even your most tattered, weathered pages and the most smudged ink to wholly bare the contents of your soul to him. he sought to know you in your entirety—your likes and dislikes, how you like to be touched, how you react to certain things. after all, the more he knows about you, the better he can protect you. 

the better he can love you.

love.

that’s a tricky subject for you to navigate, he’s learned.

you were never one to shy away from his affection. in fact, you clearly delighted in the attention he lavished you with. there was never a question as to whether you would hurry to lace your fingers with his if he reached out to you, if you would lean into his caresses, or if you would let him pepper kisses across your cheeks. you were so receptive to his ministrations, so much so that it was almost natural for your body to drift toward his in search of some sort of closeness. whatever he doled out, you returned, and that included the light banter and flirtatious remarks you two often exchanged. you fascinated him, kept him on his toes. 

the only area of your relationship that you fell short in was verbal confessions of love. suo knew that you were fiercely protective of your heart, already having subjected it to enough bruises and scrapes throughout your life to make you want to guard it to the best of your abilities. he was fortunate as it was that you had trusted him enough to relinquish it to him.

he knew that you were still learning to navigate the choppy waters of vulnerability—true vulnerability. it was easy enough to bask in suo’s attention and rely on his ability to comprehend the unspoken, but to say the words aloud would be to speak it into being, to charge the universe with the magnetic force that will bind your fate to his, to make it real. you never said anything that you didn’t mean, and suo understood that after all your hard work fortifying your emotions, to openly admit it would require you to let down your guard entirely and let him in.

there’s no doubt in his mind that you love him. he can feel it in the way you pour every ounce of heartfelt emotion into the kisses you press to his lips, your dedication toward memorizing and analyzing all of his microexpressions so that you can understand him on a deeper level, and the adoration that pools in your eyes like molten honey as you observe him when you think he isn’t paying attention. only a fool would mistake the depth of your feelings. 

he can read you like a book, that much is true, but it’s much more enjoyable to have it read to him line–by–line than to flip through the pages on his own. 

it’s quite endearing, actually, the way your skin would warm and your brain would stall whenever his lips would brush a saccharine “i love you” over the shell of your ear, or the way goosebumps would scatter across your skin and you would clench around him whenever he’d pair the words with a well–timed thrust inside you. he thrives off flustering you and witnessing your demeanor crumble into a delightful shyness that never fails to cause a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips.

even so, he sometimes finds himself yearning for that reassurance that you’re as irrevocably enamored with him as he is with you—that you crave him the way he craves you. he understands that it’s greedy of him and that he should tamp down such self–centered emotions. he knows what your feelings toward him are; it would be inconsiderate of him to pry you out of your shell until you’re ready in order to satisfy his own desires. the concept of love operates differently for different people, and he can accept that. 

it always slips his mind how swiftly things can change.

it was a complete coincidence when he’d stumbled upon you in the outdoor seating area of a restaurant, accompanied by a few  friends of yours. he recalled you telling him that you were going out for lunch with them, but he had no idea that his outing in search of a new pair of shoes to replace his worn ones would cause your paths to cross. he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on your conversation, only to simply greet you and then continue about his business, but he paused when he heard his name leave one of your friends’ lips.

“so, are you and suo still together?”

oh? before he can even acknowledge the gravity of contravening your privacy, his body is sparked into motion all on its own. he’s quick to retreat, melting into the slanted shadow proffered by the slim alleyway he had been poised to exit, just beyond the scope of your view.

he’s well aware that this is an infraction of the trust you extended to him, but he forces himself to disregard the prick of guilt aside in favor of potentially learning valuable information about the inner workings of your brain. it may not be ideal, but it’s for the best, he reasons. what if you reveal to your friends ways that he could better serve as your boyfriend? what if you feel more comfortable explaining to your friends your reservations about returning his heartfelt confessions? besides, the conversation is technically also centered around him, so surely it would be rude to bar him from listening in.

“of course,” the thought of you denying your relationship was never a concern for suo. you both trust each other implicitly, but to hear you stake such an immediate, explicit claim over him rouses a ticklish spark of delight in his stomach all the same. you scoff, as if the idea was so improbable it was ridiculous. “i’ll tie that man up in my basement before i let him just leave.” suo chuckles gently to himself. perhaps you truly are as invested as he is, after all.

“the dick must be fucking life–altering, if that’s the case.” she laughs. “come on, tell us. is it?”

“wh—” suo’s lips settle into a small, amused smile as he watches you flounder under her questioning, eyes feverishly flitting to your other friends for help, only for each one of them to leave you to drown with their own wide–eyed, inquisitive stares. “oh, my god, i’m not telling you that!” nervous laughter wracks your chest. suo’s shrewd gaze can practically perceive the memories flickering through your brain as you try to maintain your composure, each one spliced together in a salacious collage that has blood thrumming beneath your skin. suo has always been one to fine–tune his craft, and his perfectionism extended to the bedroom as he used his meticulous attention to detail and acute awareness of your reactions to guide you to your peak over . . . and over . . . and over again until he was satisfied.

and of course, you knew that.

“but seriously,” another girl props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm, observing you closely. “i’ve never seen you like this before. before him, you were all ‘ew, gross, men’—not to say that isn’t still valid, but y’know. maybe suo really is a good match for you.”

“do you love him?” the first girl pipes up ecstatically.

now we’re getting somewhere.

it requires significant concentration for suo not to laugh outright when a jolt of surprise grips your body, your muscles visibly tensing and eyes rounding. your lips part to speak, but the words remain wedged in your throat. “i—uh . . .”

“wait, for real?” the third girl, who had remained quiet this entire time, finally speaks up. “do you not actually love him?”

this time, when you don’t at least make an effort to deny their claims, suo’s smile begins to wilt. from suo’s angle, your expression is sapped of the typical bashfulness he had been anticipating. rather, your features are murky with conflict, brows furrowed pensively and fingertips drumming against the chilled glass of the untouched beverage sitting between your palms. for the first time in a while, he can’t read you, and while he’s always enjoyed a bit of reticence and mystery, he doesn’t want it like this—not when such uncertainty is founded on the future of his relationship. did he misunderstand you somehow? was he wrong? no, there’s no way that you’d have done everything you did if you didn’t harbor some type of love for him. it’s simply not plausible. right? 

the silence is unnerving, causing a chasm of apprehension to split his stomach and swallow up the candlelit flicker of warmth that once resided in his chest. he’s never been an anxious individual, typically collected and level–headed under pressure. in fact, he’s always prided himself on his ability to remain composed; but now, as he stands here, body stiff and heart thumping as he waits for you to continue, he figures that love really is one hell of a drug. only the wideness of his eyes betrays his usual poise, but even that would be enough for any of his friends to notice that something is amiss. well, mature as he may be and as far above the fragility of human nature that others believe he is, he’s still only human. and it’s times like this that remind him that he’s still weak.

god, how far has he fallen? how much power did he give you?

“all this time, i thought you guys were in love.” the second girl gasps, hand flitting up to cover her mouth. “so, what’s going on? what’s wrong with him?”

“nothing!” you’re quick to find your voice to defend him, but for some reason, it doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest or the worried spin of his mind. “he’s wonderful, it’s just—”

“is he mean to you?” the second girl presses. “because if he is, i can—”

“he’s obviously not mean to her if she’s still with him.” the first girl retorts, silencing her with a dismissive wave of her hand. before the second girl can argue, she continues. “it could just be that it’s too early for her to know if she does.”

“it’s been months.” the third girl points out. “something has to be up if she doesn’t love him—”

“i do!”

suo’s fingers twitch.

your friends fall silent as the words burst from your chest, unwavering and aflame with conviction. your voice quiets as you fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair, eyes still fixated on the cup in front of you. “i do love him, it’s just . . . i’ve never felt like this for anyone, and i don’t know what to do. it feels so real and intense, and it’s scary.”

your words reverberate through suo’s mind as he expels a breath he didn’t notice was wedged in his chest. “i do love him.” his entire body seems to decompress, the tension in his muscles alleviating. “i’ve never felt like this for anyone.” suddenly, your hesitance makes sense. not only were you protective of your heart to begin with, but the magnitude of the importance of this was much larger and therefore more frightening than he realized. suo’s heart swells in his chest at your confession, pride licking up his sternum to grace the apples of his cheeks with a feather–light kiss of ruby. he’s honored to be the first person you’re entrusting with such a privilege—well, even if he’s not supposed to know about it yet.

“what do you mean, you don’t know what to do?” the first girl stares at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head. she flips her hands over with her palms facing toward the sky. “tell him?”

“i can’t just do that!” this time, it’s your turn to look at her like she just told you she ran over a family of five with her chevy tahoe, and suo chuckles.

“and why not?” she flops back in her seat incredulously.

“i just told you, it’s scary!” you insist matter–of–factly. “you remember the last guy i was with? it lasted one month, and in that amount of time, i aged thirty years and had stress levels that would’ve gotten me sent to the emergency room.”

suo hums softly in surprise. you didn’t tell him about that. of course, he had suspected that someone had dragged you through the trenches prior to accepting him as your boyfriend, but he felt as though that was a topic that would be better left to your discretion. you would tell him if you wanted him to know, so he never questioned you.

“yeah, but suo is way better than him.” the third girl reminds you. “at least, i think so. i only met the guy like twice.”

“helpful.” the second girl remarks dryly.

“no, he seriously is so much better.” you insist. “he’s everything i could’ve asked for, but it’s just . . . exposing myself like that would mean he has everything he needs to hurt me, and if i end up flat on my ass again, i don’t know what i’m gonna do. and i know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but . . . ugh, this is impossible.” you let your head loll back. 

there’s a brief stretch of silence before the second girl speaks up again, and this time, her voice has flattened into a deadpan. “girl.” she blinks at you. “that’s the issue?”

clearly not anticipating that reaction, you stare blankly at her for a moment, searching for the right words. “i—what?” you bristle defensively. “what’s that supposed to mean? is that suddenly not a good reason to bare my heart and soul to this man?”

“no, it’s actually really not.” the third girl joins the second’s campaign. she scoots forward in her seat and folds her hands delicately on the table. “let’s reflect. this is suo we’re talking about. this is the same man who stayed the night and took care of you religiously when you were sick with food poisoning from your first date, the same man who gave you earrings similar to his for your birthday, and the same man who showed up at your house in the pouring rain with nothing but the clothes on his back to accompany you when that storm knocked your power out—as a ‘friend.’” 

“why did you use air quotes around the word ‘friend?’” the first girl narrows her eyes at the third.

“because he was playing the long game, okay? he was plotting. stay with me now.” she answers quickly, placing her hand on the first girl’s knee. 

suo chuckles, raising his brows. he has to admit, your friends are impressive.

“so,” the third girl continues. “those are just a couple examples, but it’s crystal clear that suo is devoted. like he’s in this to stay.”

“or he’s some sort of supervillain.” the second girl interjects.

“don’t say that!” the third girl snaps, aghast. “no, yeah, you’re right. the ‘untouchable’ furin graduate who took a bat to the ribs just to keep her safe is definitely here to create lifelong trauma for her. anyway, as i was saying,” she turns back to you, “if that’s not enough, think about it this way. suo is really private, right?”

“right.” you nod.

“well, he was probably in a similar boat as you, then. i mean, you said that you were worried that you’d be giving him what he needs to hurt you, but the inverse is also true, and he already told you he loves you. he trusted you not to hurt him with that information, so you should be able to trust him not to do that to you, either.”

“that’s . . . wait,” the wheels rotate in your brain as you mull over her advice, and your hand drifts up to conceal your mouth in a moment of clarity. “oh, shit. no, wait, yeah, you may have a point. i didn’t think about it like that.”

“that’s what you have us for.” the third girl grins.

“so, does that mean you’re gonna tell him?” the second girl quirks a brow at you. “maybe? probably? hopefully?”

“uh . . . probably not . . .” you wince, only to jump when you’re promptly subjected to an onslaught of groans and complaints from your friends.

“dude, what the fuck?” 

“i know, i’m sorry!” you yelp.

“did you get nothing out of the conversation?”

“no, i did, i swear!” your desperate attempts to defend yourself against your friends are fractured by bouts of laughter. “trust me, i did.”

“so, what’s the problem now?” the second girl drags her palm exhaustedly down her cheek.

“the issue is that it’s still embarrassing!” you whine. “you literally said it yourself earlier. i’ve never been like this—ever! just thinking about saying it makes me wanna crawl in a hole. it makes me feel, like, exposed or some shit, i don’t know—quit looking at me like that! i don’t know how else to explain it!”

“don’t piss me off.”

 “what?” your lips pop open in indignation. “but—”

suo’s slender fingers settle delicately over his lips as he chuckles to himself and steps completely behind the alley corner. his eyelids flutter low, gaze soft with contentment, as he listens to you scramble to defend yourself against your frustrated friends. it’s alright, they’ve done plenty. he can take it from here.

the conversation bounced around between the four of you has certainly altered the circumstances, providing you with the clarity needed to shed your reservations about setting yourself up for a potential heartbreak and unfurling the remaining layers of your defense to reveal the lingering issue still barring you from being honest about your feelings. at this point, it seems to no longer be about you being ill–equipped and underprepared to handle such a divulgence, which he could certainly accept. now, it appears to be about disentangling yourself from the binds of shame and embarrassment. about you requiring a little push in the right direction—well, less of a small nudge and more of a guiding hand that you would trust to unravel you down to the strings of your heart.

fortunately for you, there is no one more aware of what loose threads of yours to tug on in order to achieve his goal than suo himself.

maybe it’s unfair of him to change his mind and concoct an excuse to denounce the leniency and understanding that had been fueling his patience thus far. maybe it’s unfair of him to take the initiative to strip you of the protective cocoon he had previously been more than prepared to allow you to reside in. maybe it’s unfair of him to press you, to utilize his silver tongue and honeyed words to draw out your rawest and most vulnerable state.

but when the opportunity has practically tripped and fallen into his lap, how could he not? it isn’t as if it would be a detriment to you. he has never led you astray, and he certainly isn’t going to start now. 

a venereal plan is already brewing in the back of his mind as he mulls over how to best extract such a confession from you. no matter what type of attitude you may acquire or how sturdy you believe your resistance to be, pleasure has never failed to whittle and melt you down into a pliant puddle that’s all soft edges and hazy, trusting eyes. an even trade—a release only he can provide for the secret you’re trying so hard to keep from him? this evening, perhaps, if he plays his cards right. you don’t have plans tomorrow, which means you certainly can’t be too angry if he keeps you awake into the darkest hours of the night. 

he can practically feel the ghost of the warmth of your skin under his fingertips as he keeps you pinned so that you can’t escape his ministrations, taste the salt brimming in your tears of frustration as you war between your pride and surrendering to the pleasure he plans to dangle in front of you, and hear your whines and moans as he keeps you just barely balanced on the precipice of release. he can already predict how you’ll label him as mean—manipulative, even. and maybe he is.

he’s only human, after all. 

and what would humans be if not flawed? if not a bit cruel? if not a bit . . . selfish?

[earthtooz]

x : QUIET LOVE :*+ﾟ

in which: neuvillette doesn't understand human emotion, but a quiet night after a bustling gala with you might help him.

warnings: fluff, gn!reader, pining neuvi but he doesn't know it, quiet walks along the beach at night, gentlemanly flirting bc it's neuvillette, hand kisses lol

a/n: sacrificial fic because neuvillette is not coming home, so i poured my blood, sweat, and tears into this, even if it's not all that. ALSO, this was inspired by a wip on @gum-iie's page (hi gumiie >_<), so i hope you all enjoy !! i tried my hand at the vision i saw.

Gatherings in Fontaine are nothing short of magnificent. The nation of justice will never shy away from a party that reeks of grandeur and extraordinaire, with crystal chandeliers dripping from the ceiling, flowing gowns, and slicked-back hair. With an archon as dramatic as Furina herself, what else can the citizens of Fontaine expect?

Except for a long life such as Neuvillette himself, he has seen this scene one too many times. Gazing out amongst the sea of people, there is an ocean of unfamiliar faces, a sight that doesn’t bring him much peace. It’s not that Neuvillette does not enjoy interacting with humans- even if he’s not so good at doing so, but being amongst so many at once is the unpleasant part.

Despite his distaste for these kinds of bustling environments, he still thinks it’s good manners to attend, even if he will leave after an hour or two. 

Yet, it has been half an hour past the two hour mark, and yet the Iudex still has not seen himself out because there is a particular someone that he is hoping to catch the eye of. Someone who is worth all this extra trouble and socialisation. 

The melusines frequently run back to Neuvillette, concern and curiosity animated in their expressions as they ask their beloved father figure why he is still present. Their questions get brushed off by the Chief of Justice, who merely thanks them for checking up on him before telling them that there is no need to be worried, he is merely waiting for something. Or rather, someone. 

Only at the third hour since the party’s commencement, does he get what he wants: your attention. 

“Monsieur Neuvillette!” A voice cuts through the crowd and straight to him, causing him to turn around, eyes dancing wildly around the room to search for the source. He effortlessly finds your gaze and watches as you come closer to him, outfit flowing behind you and he decides that the crystals of the chandelier are no match against the ones that dance in your eyes. You are more radiant than the purest diamond and Neuvillette can’t find it in himself to glance away. 

You are perhaps the most ethereal being he has ever seen in his long life. 

What Furina promised him has arrived. Neuvillette can enjoy the night happily now.

“Y/n,” he greets, curt and polite, but the smile on his face speaks volumes. It tells a tune of subtle delight and enthusiasm mulled over for the sake of appearances and composition, and it is a melody that you are deaf to. In fact, the melusines are perhaps some of the only souls who can read his silent song of adoration but instead of meddling, they have resigned themselves to the corner of the hall, watching their beloved Chief Justice.  

“I did not expect to see you tonight,” you murmur, placing your empty glass of wine onto the plate of a passing waiter. “What a pleasant surprise.”

He wants to say something charming, perhaps something like telling you how lovely you look tonight or how absolutely magnetic you are, but the words fall short and Neuvillette panics briefly, scrambling to continue the conversation. “It is important to keep up social relations, after all. Not attending would be problematic.”

“An utmost scandal for the Iudex, no less.” There is a teasing glimmer in your eye, one that most people keep away from him but you are an exception; you always have been with how you regard him. Many respect him but also fear him, he is revered but avoided by the public, people speak of him but never would do so causally to his face. It is a particular dance that Neuvillette has become accustomed to, and you have slotted yourself in a position that none usually take: right beside him. 

He doesn’t completely understand human emotions just yet, but you evoke one that he cannot describe. 

“How has your night been?” Neuvillette asks.

“Tiring, fleeting, boring,” you murmur, expression melting into something more fatigued. “I want to leave, monsieur, is that too frank of a confession?”

“No, not at all,” he sees an opportunity and scrambles to get the words out, “may I accompany you or will I be overstepping?” 

You blink at him before a small, cheery smile pulls on your lips. “I would love your company, but I only ask that we leave at this very moment because it is getting far too stuffy in here.”

“Then time is of the essence.” Neuvillette extends his arm for you to take and he relishes in the feeling of when you do. 

Leaving the venue and helping you down numerous flights of stairs, the lighting and allure outside is far more romantic than it is inside. The street lamps of Fontaine were made for functionality so that no citizen could walk around unassuming and unaware of the darkness, and never were they made with the intent of illuminating anyone’s beauty. Yet here you stand before him, radiant under the warm tones of the lamp with the evening breeze flowing through your hair. 

Moreover it is quiet out here. There is no one to bother the two of you, no melusines, no meddling Archon who lives for drama, no loud music and chatter, just you and him, together. It is a contrast so stark that he fears reality will shatter any second. 

Naïve to his internal turmoils, you tug at his arm gently. “Let us go for a walk along the river,” you propose. A muted feeling of enthusiasm flows through Neuvillette and he readily agrees to your suggestion, more than happy to indulge in the gentle kisses of the sea breeze on his face.

The stroll is peaceful and quiet, neither of you speak too much but it is not awkward in the slightest. Your gowns trail behind the two of you with each step, dancing in sync with the wind as your slow pace allows the two of you to bathe in the light of the moon. 

Although Neuvillette does not want the night to end nor to let you go, the amount of yawns you’ve suppressed since leaving is alerting him of your fatigue, and he’ll feel bad if he keeps you from your sleep any longer. 

Finally, with one long yawn that you were not able to shut away, he stops you in your tracks. “Tired?” The Iudex asks.

You look up at him with eyes forced open, wider than they usually would be. “Just a little, but the night has been lovely so far, I’d hate for it to end.”

“Please, if you need the rest then you should rest.”

“Thank you for your concern, however-”

“There will be no objections. Let me walk you home.”

The moonlight casts a shade of melancholy over your features and the last glance you give to the ocean is nothing but full of longing. You surrender reluctantly. “Alright.”

You two make it back to the last aquabus just in time, and you’re the only passengers onboard. There is occasional chatter with the conductor, as well as private conversations, but Neuvillette has no qualms just spending the ride in silence, admiring you whilst you gaze out at the beautiful landscape of Fontaine. 

“There are so many stars out tonight.”

He glances away from you. “So there are.” Then he makes a brave leap. “There is one right beside me, too.”

“Me?” Your voice is strained with disbelief and your hold on his arms tightens just a little. There is momentary silence before laughter- a quiet sort of laugh, shy and not at all mocking or condescending. “Thank you,” you whisper, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “I’m very flattered you think so highly of me.” 

It becomes quiet again after that but your hand never leaves his. If anything, Neuvillette feels you even more now, your warmth pressed up against his side is addicting, he cannot help but want more of it; he cannot help but want more of you. He wants more nights like this with you, days even- just as long as he can spend some more time with you, he’ll be grateful.

Humans and the complexity of the emotions they feel are something Neuvillette still can’t get a grasp of, but you fill him with something so inherently humane. Sitting beside you on an aquabus that is minutes away from its end is a bittersweet reminder of how little time there is until the evening ends, and this mesmerising evening becomes nothing but a memory. How irrational it is to yearn for something so temporary, but that is what makes it beautiful.

The walk back to your neighbourhood is quick, too quick for Neuvillette’s liking, but the smile you give him when you stop before your door is heartwarming. “Thank you dearly for walking me home, Monsieur Neuvillette,” you begin. “You have been the best part about this lively evening.” 

The Chief Justice has never had a way with words, rather, they have always been his enemy, so instead of speaking to convey what he feels, Neuvillette takes your hand instead and places a kiss on your knuckles. A gentlemanly act to many, but he holds and kisses you with such firm intention that it makes you dizzy. It makes you think deeper about whether or not there are underlying intentions to address, and it’s exhilarating questioning what exactly you are to the Chief Justice of Fontaine. 

For now, you’ll find contentment in the moonlight dream that was this evening, and he’ll engrave the feeling of you so close to him into his memory. 

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[madamestephanie]

If Snape was using Occlumency to shield his mind from Voldemort, why didn’t Voldemort become suspicious that Snape was hiding something since he couldn’t penetrate his mind with Legilimency?

It’s because Snape did something far cleverer than merely “shielding his mind” from Lord Voldemort.

As one can make out from their interactions, Snape seemed to be the only Death Eater whom Voldemort ever had any modicum of respect for. You don’t merit Lord Voldemort’s esteem by being incompetent or stupid. Snape clearly earned his spot as Voldemort’s most revered servant by proving himself and being the asset that he was.

See, Snape never lied to Voldemort. Snape knew that Voldemort’s skill in Legillemency would immediately alert him to duplicity, so instead, Snape only told Voldemort the truth.

When Voldemort first returned, Snape justified his initial absconding from the Death Eaters by saying that he thought Voldemort had been vanquished in Godric’s Hollow. In The Prince’s Tale, we learn that this is actually true. Snape thought Voldemort had gone, and it was only Dumbledore who insisted that he would one day return. Later, he told Bellatrix that Voldemort forgave him for impeding him in his plot to purloin the Philosopher’s Stone because he did not know Voldemort was the mastermind behind the enterprise, and only thought that “unworthy” Professor Quirrell (whom Snape hated for getting the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher position) was trying to take the Stone for himself. Again, this turns out to be completely true.

Snape then spent 2 years “spying” on Dumbledore, and relayed what little he knew of the Headmaster’s activities to Voldemort. Dumbledore chose to keep Snape in the dark on most of his plots, which was actually (justifiably I might add) a source of great frustration for Snape. Then he killed Dumbledore just as Voldemort wanted.

Before the Battle of the Seven Potters, Snape gave Voldemort the correct date of Harry’s departure from Little Whinging. He correctly pointed out that Yaxley had been given a false trail, and truthfully divulged that the Order of the Phoenix distrusted the Ministry and the Auror office and wanted nothing to do with the institution. Re-read the scene from The Dark Lord Ascending in the books and pay close attention to the description of Voldemort’s body language. He hangs on to every word Snape says with great interest, and invites Snape to sit by his side. Meanwhile he ignores and then silences Yaxley (whom he shunts beside Dolohov), and expresses contempt for the Malfoys and Bellatrix by humiliating them. But Snape he holds in far higher regard, arguably valuing him more than anyone save for his beloved Nagini.

Voldemort was quite correct in recognizing Snape as an impressively talented and exceptionally intelligent wizard. He just never calculated that Snape’s cunning could be used against him. Even if Voldemort had decided to raid Snape’s mind, he would’ve found little of interest. Snape’s love for Lily Potter was already known to Voldemort (and he foolishly underestimated it, just as he did with Lily’s love for Harry), and the fact that he spent a great deal of time scheming with Dumbledore would not have perturbed Voldemort, but would’ve pleased him. That was literally the job that Snape was given; to earn Dumbledore’s trust and spy on him, and then relay his plans to Voldemort.

Snape’s deception of Voldemort is honestly one of the most underrated feats in the entire series, not necessarily because it was magically impressive (although it was), but because it was carried out so cleverly. As was made clear by his potion riddle all the way back in Philosopher’s Stone, Snape’s greatest talent was his cleverness, which so many wizards seem to lack. Hermione was quite right in recognizing Snape’s genius.

Snape fooled Voldemort with the truth, not with lies. That’s how he got away with it for so long.

Our Snapey has the brightest mind in the entire series, period. 🖤

[haphazardlyannotated]

So I was thinking about how Steven, Connie and Stevonnie all have a duet with one of the main Crystal Gems and I realised how masterfully these songs are deployed to tell us things about them.

First of all, On The Run for Steven and Amethyst.

Amethyst is the Crystal Gem who relates the most to Steven's experiences and vice versa. They're both the 'juniors' in their household, they've both been struggling with being respected by the older Crystal Gems for a while now, and though Amethyst is very much Steven's guardian when it comes down to it, she's also Steven's peer in a way that Garnet and Pearl just aren't even when they try to include Steven.

And now this song sets them up as parallels in other contexts, too. They're both from earth! They both don't wholly belong in one category (Steven as a half gem, half human, Amethyst as a Crystal Gem who never fought in the rebellion and whose existence runs against the Crystal Gems' original wishes for Earth), and as we are about to learn, they both came into existence at the cost of other life and might harbour guilt about it, even though they had literally no say in this.

And then later on they continue to be parallels, especially in season 3 (though they share the child of divorce energy during the Sardonyx Arc). They both compare themselves to impossible standards of what they 'should' be (Steven to the idea of Rose, Amethyst to Jasper) and it is their recognition of their own struggles in each other that allows them to at least partially overcome them. No wonder Smoky Quartz is Steven's first fusion with another gem!

Next up: Do It For Her, sung by Pearl and Connie.

Speaking of parallels! It's pretty obvious watching the episode that Pearl is spending some time in projection city regarding absolute devotion to a beloved, if not revered partner, but she might actually be closer to the truth in some respects than she realises.

Remember Lion 2: The Movie? When Connie said that she didn't understand why Steven would hang out with someone as normal as her? Doesn't this remind us of someone else who feels like she's objectively inferior to a special (in several ways) someone? Someone who stepped out of the predetermined role she was supposed to fill to join her loved one on their dangerous path? Who lived a double life to avoid retribution from controlling authority figures? Couldn't say.

Also, they're both the knowledgable planner to their all loving goofball partner.

With all of this, I think Do It For Her both draws parallels between Pearl and Connie as well as Pearlrose and Connverse, and shows us how the example of Pearl and Rose's unresolved dysfunction could stop Steven and Connie from falling into the same trap before it was too late. I think seeing Pearl demonstrate the end of the road they were beginning to walk was what enabled Steven to step in before they got to Pearlrose's point, where Pearl was to deep in her self sacrificing mindset for Rose to reach her.

And finally, Here Comes A Thought for Garnet and Stevonnie.

First of all, obviously, Garnet and Stevonnie as an embodiment of the love and harmony between Ruby and Sapphire and Steven and Connie respectively.

It also draws parallels between Ruby and Connie and Steven and Sapphire though. (I saw a great meta about that in my lurking days, which I will link here if someone could kindly direct me to it). Sapphire and Steven as people who would rather bury negative feelings, like Sapphire tries to in Keystone Motel and Steven in... the entirety of suf to name just the most prominent one. Which of course only leads to more problems in the long run, because they haven't processed the feelings at all.

On the other hand, the comparison with Ruby draws attention to a trait of Connie's we maybe wouldn't have noticed otherwise: She is, for the lack of a better term, much more confrontational about things that make her unhappy. Just look at The New Crystal Gems.

Also, letting Ruby and Sapphire demonstrate their conflict resolution for Steven and Connie gives us an insight into what goes into keeping Garnet together through everything. Love takes work indeed. It's also worth pointing out that Connverse have been paralleled with both Pearlrose, Rupphire and (a little bit in We Need To Talk) Gregrose this way.

This show has so many layers, I swear, I'll be on my deathbed and I'll still find new nuances to write an essay about. Well done, Crewniverse.

[zapreportsblog]

↳ what the heart wants ↲

➘ summary : Neytiri finds herself falling in love with the caring scientist that works on her planet

➘ Neytiri x reader, avatar the way of water x reader

Deep within the lush and vibrant world of Pandora, Neytiri, the fearless Na'vi warrior and leader of the Metkayina clan, found herself drawn to the human scientist (Y/N). As the days turned into nights, and the moments of interaction between them accumulated, a profound connection began to form.

(Y/N) had joined the research team on Pandora, driven by a deep love for nature and a burning curiosity about the planet's unique ecosystem. Her dedication and genuine respect for Pandora's natural beauty caught the attention of Neytiri and her people, who held the planet and its delicate balance in the highest regard.

In the heart of the dense jungle, Neytiri watched as (Y/N) immersed herself in learning the ways of the Na'vi. Her fascination with their customs, language, and spiritual beliefs endeared her to the clan. Neytiri admired (Y/N)'s open-hearted enthusiasm and desire to connect with the land and its inhabitants.

One evening, (Y/N) found herself alone in a serene glade, surrounded by the lush bioluminescent plants that painted the night with their ethereal glow. Unbeknownst to her, Neytiri had been silently observing from the shadows, captivated by (Y/N)'s presence.

Approaching with a quiet grace, Neytiri's voice was a melodic whisper in the tranquil air. "(Y/N), you honor us with your respect for our ways."

(Y/N) turned, her face lighting up with a warm smile as she recognized Neytiri. "Neytiri, I am grateful to be a guest on your planet. The beauty of Pandora and the spirit of your people have touched my heart."

Neytiri's eyes held a mixture of curiosity and something deeper. "You are not like other humans who come here seeking to exploit our resources. Your heart is connected to this world in a way that few understand."

(Y/N)'s cheeks flushed, humbled by Neytiri's words. "I can't deny my love for this planet. Its wonders are beyond compare, and the Na'vi's connection to nature is something I deeply admire."

Neytiri's gaze held a tenderness that went beyond words. "And I find myself drawn to your spirit, (Y/N). Your genuine love and respect awaken something within me."

The atmosphere between them seemed to shimmer, a delicate dance of understanding and emotion. (Y/N) felt a growing bond with Neytiri, a connection that transcended language and culture. Their conversations turned from sharing knowledge about Pandora to sharing stories of their own lives, hopes, and dreams.

As the weeks went by, (Y/N) joined the Na'vi in their efforts to protect Pandora from external threats, and her dedication did not go unnoticed. The respect and admiration Neytiri felt for (Y/N) deepened, and she found herself falling in love with the human scientist's compassionate heart and unwavering commitment.

One starlit night, as they stood at the edge of a sacred forest, (Y/N) turned to Neytiri, her eyes shimmering with emotion. "Neytiri, my heart is entwined with this world and with you. The love I feel for Pandora and your people is beyond words."

Neytiri's hand reached out to gently cup (Y/N)'s cheek, her touch tender and filled with longing. "And my heart is bound to yours, (Y/N). Your presence has brought a new light to my life, one I never thought possible."

In that moment, under the watchful gaze of Pandora's night sky, Neytiri and (Y/N) shared a kiss that held the promise of a love that would bridge two worlds. As they held each other, the stars above seemed to shine brighter, as if celebrating the union of two souls united by a shared reverence for the world around them.

Their love story was one that defied boundaries – a human scientist and a Na'vi warrior, brought together by their love for Pandora and a connection that could not be denied. And as they faced the challenges that lay ahead, their bond only grew stronger, a testament to the power of love that transcends differences and finds its home in the heart.

As (Y/N) continued her work on Pandora, the scientists around her began to notice something remarkable. It wasn't just her dedication to the research or her enthusiasm for understanding Pandora's ecosystem that caught their attention – it was the deep bond she shared with Neytiri, a love that transcended the boundaries of their respective species.

Dr. Grace Augustine, one of the lead researchers, observed (Y/N) and Neytiri interacting with a mixture of fascination and a knowing smile. She had seen love in many forms during her time on Pandora, but there was something extraordinary about the connection between these two individuals.

One evening, as the sun set over the horizon, Dr. Augustine approached (Y/N) in the research camp. "You and Neytiri have something truly special," she began, her voice soft and understanding.

(Y/N) looked up, her eyes meeting Dr. Augustine's. "Our love for each other is beyond words. She's changed my life in ways I never thought possible."

Dr. Augustine nodded, a thoughtful expression on her face. "And you've changed hers too, in your own unique way."

A silence hung in the air for a moment before Dr. Augustine continued, her tone carefully measured. "We've been working on a project – a way to bridge the gap between humans and the Na'vi, to create a true connection."

(Y/N)'s brows furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Dr. Augustine's gaze was steady as she explained. "We've developed a technology that allows a human consciousness to be transferred into a Na'vi body. It's a way for us to understand Pandora and its inhabitants on a deeper level."

(Y/N)'s heart skipped a beat, her mind racing with the possibilities. The idea of experiencing Pandora as a Na'vi, of being able to truly share in Neytiri's world, was both thrilling and overwhelming.

Dr. Augustine continued, her voice gentle. "I've seen the love between you and Neytiri, (Y/N). And I know that this technology could offer you a chance to be together in a way that was never possible before."

Tears welled up in (Y/N)'s eyes as she looked at Dr. Augustine, her heart aching with longing. "You're saying I could be with Neytiri?"

Dr. Augustine nodded, a knowing smile tugging at her lips. "Yes, (Y/N). With this technology, your consciousness could inhabit a Na'vi body, and you could experience Pandora as she does."

The offer was both exhilarating and terrifying. The thought of sharing a life with Neytiri, of experiencing the world through her eyes, was a dream come true. But (Y/N) also understood the gravity of such a decision – to leave her human life behind, to immerse herself fully in a new identity.

As (Y/N) looked out at the landscape of Pandora, her heart torn between the life she knew and the life she could have, Dr. Augustine gave her a reassuring smile. "Take your time, (Y/N). This is a decision that only you can make."

The days that followed were filled with contemplation and conversation. Neytiri was supportive, understanding the weight of (Y/N)'s choice. Together, they discussed the possibilities, the challenges, and the depth of their love.

In the end, (Y/N) made her decision. With a mixture of excitement and determination, she stood before the team of scientists, ready to embark on a journey that would forever bind her to Pandora, to Neytiri, and to a love that defied boundaries.

As the technology hummed around her, as her consciousness merged with the Na'vi body that awaited her, (Y/N) felt a rush of emotions – anticipation, fear, and a profound sense of belonging. She closed her eyes, the world around her fading as her new reality took shape.

When (Y/N) opened her eyes once more, she saw the world of Pandora through Na'vi eyes, felt the breeze against her skin, and heard the song of the forest with newfound clarity. And as she turned to see Neytiri standing before her, their eyes meeting in a silent embrace, (Y/N) knew that she had made the right choice – to be with the one she loved, to share in a world that held endless wonder, and to embark on a journey that would forever unite her heart with the heart of Pandora.

As(Y/N) adjusted to her new life as a Na'vi, the world around her took on a vibrant and awe-inspiring quality. Every sensation was heightened, every color more vivid, and every sound a symphony of life. Neytiri was by her side every step of the way, guiding her through the intricacies of Na'vi culture and teaching her the ways of their people.

Their love story, once bound by the limitations of their respective species, had now transcended into a deeper and more profound connection. As (Y/N) moved through the dense forests and explored the bioluminescent wonders of Pandora, she felt a sense of unity with the land, the creatures, and the people who had become her new family.

Days turned into weeks, and (Y/N) embraced her role as a member of the Na'vi tribe. She joined them in hunts, learned the ancient traditions of their society, and even found herself communicating with the spirits of the land. Every moment was a revelation, a testament to the beauty and magic that Pandora held.

Neytiri watched with a mixture of pride and tenderness as (Y/N) adapted to her new life. She was constantly amazed by (Y/N)'s open heart and willingness to learn. Their moments together were filled with shared laughter, deep conversations, and stolen glances that spoke volumes of their affection.

One evening, as they watched the sun set over the horizon, (Y/N) turned to Neytiri with a smile. "I never thought I could feel so connected to a place, to a people. It's like a dream come true."

Neytiri's hand found (Y/N)'s, their fingers entwining in a familiar embrace. "You are part of us now, (Y/N). Your spirit is intertwined with Pandora, and your presence enriches our world."

As the days passed, (Y/N) found herself falling even more in love with Neytiri and the beauty of Pandora. She marveled at the intricate ecosystems, learned to communicate with the flora and fauna, and developed a deep respect for the balance that the Na'vi maintained with their environment.

One day, as (Y/N) stood atop the floating mountains, Neytiri approached her with a knowing smile. "Do you remember the first time we met, when you were still a human?"

(Y/N) nodded, a fond smile on her lips. "Of course. It feels like a lifetime ago."

Neytiri's gaze was filled with emotion as she continued, "You chose to leave behind your human life, your identity, to be with me. That decision touched my heart in ways I cannot express."

(Y/N) reached out to cup Neytiri's cheek, her touch gentle and filled with affection. "And I would make that choice a thousand times over, Neytiri. Being here with you, sharing in this world, it's more than I ever could have imagined."

Neytiri's arms wrapped around (Y/N), pulling her close in a tender embrace. "Our love is a bridge between two worlds, (Y/N). It is a testament to the power of connection and the strength of the heart."

As they stood together, overlooking the vast expanse of Pandora, (Y/N) felt a profound sense of gratitude. She had chosen love, chosen a new life that brought her closer to the land, the people, and the person she loved most in the universe.

And as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, (Y/N) knew that her journey was only beginning – a journey of love, discovery, and a bond that would forever connect her heart to the heart of Pandora.

[halfagonyandhope]

ignite the stars │ch. 4

first chapter (x); previous chapter (x)

Satine Kryze is an internationally-recognized scholar in genocide studies who recently resigned from the Department of State over her concerns regarding the agency's ethics. Ben Kenobi is a tenured professor at Georgetown University studying the use of religion to justify military conflicts. Once high school sweethearts, the two haven't spoken since parting ways for university. That is, until Satine accepts a research fellowship - at Georgetown.

---

The rest of the week moves quickly, full of meetings - of both the dreaded office kind and the personal encounter kind - and Satine spends free moments at work making progress on her second book. Her free moments at home are spent in a mix of professional and personal: she reads Ben’s dissertation cover to cover.

Most dissertations, she knows, are not the author’s best work. They are the result of sleepless nights, the culmination of years of eighty-hour work weeks, attention split between planning lectures, grading coursework, submitting one’s own coursework, and - between it all - managing to conduct research. Most scholars cringe when forced to interact with their dissertation after they’ve graduated, finding various typos and illogical arguments not initially caught by tired eyes or disinterested committee members.

But Ben’s dissertation - 

It’s a work of art. His writing is academic poetry, each word chosen for maximum emotional impact. And it’s not just the writing but also the subject matter that he appears to have approached with reverence, with respect. 

He’s a storyteller, just like Satine. He’d conducted dozens of key informant interviews, performed qualitative content analysis - all to highlight marginalized voices. 

Again, Satine is astounded by the parallel tracks of their lives. 

He, of course, had noticed the similarities well before she’d been aware of them; he hadn’t been lying when he said he’d cited her dissertation within his own.

Kryze (2015) eloquently argued for increasing emphasis on qualitative data in the realm of conflict prevention studies, which historically has prioritized quantitative modeling to predict conflict. While giving credit to the importance of such algorithms, Kryze noted the dangers of overlooking the voices and stories of those most affected in favor of discrete data points captured by scholars halfway across the world who do not understand the language or culture of those they are studying. She proposed that such conflict prediction algorithms could be improved and enriched by incorporating qualitative analyses that highlight the lived experiences of those most deeply harmed by these conflicts.

She’d had to pause reading after the first mention of her name, and then again later when he’d cited the postdoc paper she’d spent two years writing and honing. And when she’d finally finished reading Ben’s dissertation - all two hundred and fifty pages of it - she’d had to pour herself another glass of wine.

Satine hadn’t thought anyone had read her dissertation or her postdoc paper. She still isn’t convinced the reviewers at the journal where the latter was published had even read it, either.

But Ben had read them both. And not just read them; he’d acted on them, engaging with them in such a way as to build upon her argument and strengthen it.

He’d considered the qualitative model she’d proposed for predicting genocide, and he’d tweaked it to apply the framework to his field, adding his own critical theory and background to predict - and thus possibly prevent - attacks of religious terrorism against Muslims.

It is, Satine thinks, taking another sip of wine, incredible work for a doctoral dissertation. And it’s more than that, too, and she knows it. It’s an academic love letter.

Satine downs the rest of her wine.

But a feeling nags at her. Ben had followed her career, and closely. He’d had to have known when she accepted the postdoc at Northwestern. She was in Evanston, IL, for two years while he was in Wisconsin’s capital. They’d been fewer than 150 miles apart during that time, and such a distance would have been a trifle if they’d mutually agreed to rekindle things.

And yet he hadn’t reached out.

Satine thinks of their last words to each other.

“We’ll see each other again; I know we will.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise you.”

After they'd walked away, even thinking of him was agony incarnate. Had he felt the same? It seemed unlikely, given how well he knew her work. But if it didn’t bring him as much pain as it did her, if he’d truly engaged with her work and had been open to the possibility of giving things with her another go…why had he not contacted her when they were both in the Midwest?

And by Satine’s calculations, their time in DC has overlapped for the past five years. If Ben was open to a relationship with her, surely he would have initiated contact in that time.

Frustrated, Satine wipes at the moisture welling in her eyes. Maybe she’s misreading everything. Maybe she’s reading between lines that don’t even exist.

She shuts her laptop and heads to the kitchen in search of a pint of Ben and Jerry’s.

---

Early on Friday morning, she runs into Ben in the hallway. He takes one look at her expression and says, “You read my dissertation.”

Satine nods, face still warming up after her trek across campus in the cold. She removes her hat and fumbles in her coat pocket for her keys. She’d forgotten her mittens at home, and her frozen fingers do nothing to help her locate the stubbornly missing keychain.

Ben, who appears to have arrived well before - his coat hangs in his office, and his eyes aren’t watering from the cold - notices the way her fingers clench and unclench, and he reaches for her free hand, rubbing it between his much larger ones to generate heat. When glorious feeling finally returns, he grabs her other hand and repeats the process. “What did you think?” he asks, his voice low.

“I…” starts Satine, but she’s having trouble remembering which words go in what order to form a proper sentence with the touch of his skin against hers.

He takes a step closer, no longer trying to warm up her fingers, but he doesn’t release her hand.

She looks up at him, glances at his lips, and then meets his eyes again.

“Ben, there you are!”

They jerk apart and turn to meet the new arrival, a man in his mid-twenties, taller than Ben by an inch or two with long, wavy, dirty blond hair. His right hand is covered by a leather glove but his left is not.

“I was meaning to ask you…” But the man trails off as he notices Satine and Ben, and even though they’ve moved apart, Satine realizes they’re still standing too close to be entirely appropriate.

“Uh, hey,” says the man, with a look from Satine to Ben. “Ben, you going to introduce me to your girlfriend?”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Anakin,” he groans, voice low. “This is Satine Kryze, and she’s not my girlfriend.”

The man, Anakin, steps to Satine and extends his right hand. It’s a prosthetic hand, and a good one - she wouldn’t have clocked it without the handshake. “Nice to meet you, Doc,” says Anakin. “Would you like to be Ben’s girlfriend?”

“Anakin,” says Ben in a warning tone, and Anakin backs up, hands up in a pacifying manner. Ben turns to Satine. “The insolent youth here is my postdoc, Anakin Skywalker.”

Satine had known Ben had a postdoc, but seeing him in person is something different entirely. She blinks at Ben. “They gave you a child? You?”

Ben rolls his eyes again. “Even worse: this child has a child, for all intents and purposes. He’s largely in charge of mentoring my master’s student, Ahsoka.”

“Hey! I’m right here, you know,” Anakin interjects.

Ben sighs at him. “You and Ahsoka can contribute to this conversation when the number of postgraduate degrees I have doesn’t outnumber the number of postgraduate degrees you two have combined.”

Satine tries to keep a straight face and fails miserably.

“Look, I didn’t fail my master’s,” says Anakin, and by his tone, this is a discussion they’ve had before. “I just wasn’t invited to continue at that program.”

Satine finally manages to locate her keys. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” she says with a smirk, and she lets herself into her office, listening to the two men continue to banter as she shuts the door behind her.

---

That afternoon, Satine departs her office a bit early in order to head to the seminar room. As she locks up, she feels more than hears Ben beside her.

“Confident in your ability to find the room?” he asks, and she can hear the wry smile in his voice.

Satine turns and leans her shoulder against the wall separating their offices. “Ducking out of office hours early to attend the seminar?” she shoots back.

He chuckles. “Guilty. But I have a good reason.”

“Escorting me so I won’t get lost isn’t a ‘good reason,'” says Satine.

Ben locks his door. “It is good reason, but I actually meant that I’m giving the seminar talk today,” he says. “And no matter how many times I present, I still have the inevitable nightmare that my slides don’t work or that the screens won't turn on.”

Satine nods, immediately empathetic. “I stand corrected.”

Ben smiles at her. “Walk with me?”

So they fall into step.

The silence is companionable, but Satine’s nerves are not. “Your dissertation was good,” she offers. “Very good.”

She steals a glance at him, thrilled to see the softness of his gaze. 

“High praise from you, Madam Secretary.”

He opens the door to the stairs for her, and they descend together, the sound of her heels echoing in the stairwell. “Yes, well,” says Satine, hand on the rail - she does not need to tumble down in front of him - as she glances behind her. “I can hardly say differently if I inspired parts of it, could I not?” But when they clear the landing, she turns to face him so that her expression makes clear she is joking. 

Ben, however, doesn’t look like he is being facetious as he says, “You inspired all of it.”

And then he opens the door and exits to the first floor, and she has no choice but to follow wordlessly after him.

The seminar room is, mercifully, next door to the stairwell, and Satine watches Ben walk down the aisle, past the rows of - as of yet - empty seats, and log into the computer at the lectern. Satine ponders where to sit, wondering if Ben would think it rude for her to choose a seat in the back or too distracting for her to be in the front. She decides to sit toward the middle but to the side, hoping it is an acceptable compromise.

At that moment, the door opens again and Anakin barges in, his long legs skipping steps as he makes his way down the stairs. “Thanks again, Ben,” he says, handing Ben a small device.

Ben just looks at him, amused. “Not a problem,” he says eventually. “I know I’m not technically your doctoral advisor any longer, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t tell you to purchase a spare PowerPoint remote. Is this the second time you’ve had to borrow mine before one of your lectures?” And he plugs the USB component of the remote into the computer.

Anakin grumbles, "This would be the fourth.”

Ben gives him a withering look. “I think I’ve made my point.”

As Ben loads his slide deck, Anakin notices Satine, and he heads over to her. “Mind if I join you?” he asks.

“I’d prefer it, actually,” says Satine.

Anakin grins. “You want details on Ben?” he says, not bothering to lower his voice.

“Anakin,” warns Ben, not even bothering to look up from the screen.

But Satine just laughs. “I’ll settle for insider gossip on the department. Any intel you have on Ben would just be icing on the proverbial cake.”

So Anakin takes the empty seat next to hers, and he begins to point out the names of the people who are trickling into the lecture hall in anticipation of the seminar. “Dooku Serenno,” says Anakin, nodding toward a man with graying hair who chooses to sit in the first row. “I assume you already know him.”

Satine nods. “Yes, he was on my interview panel. He’s the chair, right?”

“A relatively recent change, but, yes - he’s department chair. It was basically a successful coup attempt on his end. The previous chair had been in that position for something like twenty years. It was time for Dr. Yoda to retire, which is the only reason the rest of the faculty allowed it.”

Satine frowns. “Twenty years is a long time to serve as chair.”

Anakin sighs. “Academics,” he says in frustration. “Once they get a little taste of power, they won't give it up. It’s why I’ve told Ben to never let me apply for something like that. It fucks with you.” He taps his temple.

“Indeed,” says Satine.

Anakin leans over slightly, lowering his voice. “But you wanted gossip? Dr. Yoda was Serenno’s advisor, back in the day. And Serenno advised a man by the name of Quigon, and Dr. Quigon advised…” He waves his hand to Ben.

Satine raises a brow. “Ben?” She breathes in. “I’ve never heard of Dr. Quigon. Where does he work now?”

Darkness flashes across Anakin’s face for an instant, but it’s gone as soon as it appears. The din of more people filing into the hall gives cover for Anakin’s next words. “He doesn’t,” Anakin says eventually, making sure no one gets close enough to hear him. “He was found dead when he was doing fieldwork - " Anakin gives her a loaded look at the word. " - abroad, just before Ben defended his dissertation. There were no leads, and no one was ever arrested.”

Satine turns to him, horrified. “God,” she says, feeling suddenly nauseated. “Why wasn’t it widely reported? Surely that kind of news would have made the rounds in academia?”

Anakin shrugs. “Quigon seemed to deliberately keep a low profile. I think Ben suspects he worked for the Agency. They might also have killed any stories about his death.” He winces. "Poor choice of words, but you get my meaning."

Satine turns over his words in her mind. It’s not unheard of for scholars in international relations to have security clearances. And among those who do have access to classified information, it’s also not unlikely to be recruited for more sensitive work. From her undergrad coursework, Satine knows that anthropologists in particular were recruited as spies during World War II and during the Cold War. And the Agency, she knows, is shorthand for the Central Intelligence Agency, so Anakin is suggesting that Ben’s doctoral advisor was indeed an intelligence operative - and that he was killed on assignment.

This, actually, is the only explanation that makes any plausible sense to Satine, given that academics are the worst gossips she’s ever had the misfortune to work with.

"Was he killed in Russia?" murmurs Satine, feeling cold.

Anakin's eyes flash up to hers. "Yeah," he says. "How did you know?"

Ben’s sudden interest in learning a new language after landing a tenure-track position now makes a lot more sense.

"Lucky guess."

Anakin doesn't press for further explanation. Like her, he's aware of the growing size of the crowd around them. It's for the best, Satine realizes, for if her suspicions - and Anakin’s - are accurate, then any information they’re discussing could be classified. He really shouldn’t have revealed as much as he already has, especially in such a public setting. But Satine gets the feeling that Anakin has never cared enough about rules to follow them, or even to acknowledge they exist.

The moment is gone, however, as Anakin raises his hand and yells, “Snips! Over here!”

Satine’s eyes follow his own, landing on a young woman - Desi, Satine would guess, based on the style of her traditional clothes - whose dark hair is highlighted with streaks of blue and split into two braids. She’s wearing a gold nose ring and gold bangles on her wrists, and a bindi rests above her eyebrows. The young woman smiles when she catches sight of Anakin and heads in his direction. When she reaches them, Anakin says, “Snips, meet Ben’s girlfriend. Satine, this is Ahsoka.”

Ahsoka’s jaw nearly drops to the floor. “I always thought Dr. Ben was ace,” she says. “Or aromantic maybe?”

Satine glances at Ben, who is leaning against the lectern, ready to be introduced to the room; however, his eyes are on her, his expression telling her he knows exactly how Anakin has introduced her and exactly how Ahsoka has responded.

She nearly laughs at the panic in his eyes.

Satine offers her hand to Ahsoka. “I am Satine, but I am not Ben’s girlfriend,” she says. “I’m the new fellowship hire,” she elaborates. “I’ll be here for a year as I write my next book.”

“Oh,” says Ahsoka, reaching to shake Satine’s hand. “Nice to meet you, then. I’m Dr. Ben’s master’s student. It’s my second semester.”

"Congratulations on surviving your first," says Satine with a grin.

Satine would dearly love to ask Ahsoka at least ten questions, but at that moment, Serenno rises and heads to the center of the room, and the packed lecture hall falls silent. Ahsoka sits beside Anakin, and Serenno begins to speak.

The introduction is hardly needed for those in the department who know Ben already, but Satine knows the seminar is open to the entire school, and not everyone in attendance is already familiar with Ben’s work. It’s an impressive introduction, on account solely of Ben’s accolades and not at all due to any warmth Serenno exudes. Satine bites her lip, wondering why the man introducing his academic grandson doesn’t appear to be more fond of him.

But then Serenno gives the floor to Ben, and Satine’s attention is captured.

He’s a masterful speaker, she notices immediately. He has the air of someone who’s practiced and knows his arguments like he could give them in his sleep, but he’s not over-practiced or rehearsed. His cadence is not too slow nor too fast, and he smiles and makes jokes only at appropriate moments.

It’s breathtaking.

And a breath later, forty minutes have gone by, and Ben lands on a slide that says only:

Thank you! Questions?

The audience politely claps, and Satine waits for the inevitable awkward few minutes of people wracking their brains to grasp onto any question they can think of to make it seem as though they’d been paying attention. But to her surprise, several hands fly up immediately, and she smiles.

Ben fields the questions with ease, like he was born to be exactly where he ended up.

Finally, Satine raises her hand, and Ben nods at her.

She raises her voice and asks if he can re-explain a small detail. He listens to her, eyes on her like they are the only people in the room, and launches into a clear explanation.

She smiles again.

She’d understood what he said the first time, of course, but she knew that others hadn’t grasped it yet. And this piece is important, so important that she wants him to have a chance to explain it again, to make sure everyone in the room knows how incredible his findings are.

He catches her eye as he finishes his answer, and his expression tells her that he knows exactly what she’d been doing. He sends her a half smile.

She gives him the other half.

[cilil]

How vindictive can Yandere Varda be?

𝓐𝓝 ~ She is scary for sure. Always love myself some dark takes on Varda (the irony)!

𝓕𝓮𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 ~ Gender-neutral pronouns are used for the darling , so it's up to the reader's imagination ♡

𝓣𝓦𝓼 ~ Yandere, possessive and obsessive behavior, emotional and psychological manipulation, unhealthy and abusive relationships

The short answer: Very.

The long answer: Varda, Lady of Light and Queen of Stars as well as Arda itself, is greatly respected and revered by the Children of Ilúvatar as well as her peers. She knows what she wants and what she doesn't want and is used to getting exactly that - and naturally, that also applies to her love life.

˖⁺‧₊˚✦ Vindictiveness in regards to her love interest

Most would be honored to catch even a brief glimpse of her, let alone be graced with her presence and undivided attention, so if the one she has chosen to be her darling rejects her or spurns her affection in any manner she will be offended. Dignified as always, Varda may not show the true extent of her feelings, but it certainly remains on her mind. Aside from surprise and frustration, she may also be intrigued - not even Melkor gave her this much trouble, at least not before he started hating her.

What Varda does next depends on how grievous she thinks the offense was.

If she finds her darling's behavior curious or even alluring in a way, she may decide to "give them another chance", meaning that she expects them to show a more desirable reaction next time. The Queen isn't categorically opposed to a challenge, but her patience is limited, especially since she thinks they should be grateful to receive her favor.

If the darling has sufficiently angered her, Varda may decide that a bit of punishment is in order. The idea that their no is final doesn't cross her mind - ironically, considering her opinion of Melkor and those like him. She makes her displeasure known through clear gestures such as withdrawing from them, taking away any boons, favors or other things she granted them or harshly rebuking them in public whenever an opportunity presents itself.

If this takes place while the darling is already in close proximity to Varda, such as living with her or being otherwise dependent on her, these punishments will also be carried out in private. They will be expected to apologize and make it up to her - or they face the full force of her displeasure.

˖⁺‧₊˚✦ Vindictiveness in regards to romantic rivals

Once the Queen has decided that someone is her enemy, she is merciless. Her keen instincts and foresight make it hard, if not nearly impossible, to hide one's true nature and intentions from her. The prospect of someone else interfering with the darling she has chosen as her very own is appalling to her, and she will immediately voice her "concerns" to discredit her rival both privately and publicly. Varda won't rest until she's successful in her endeavors and has secured her darling for herself, ideally causing her rival to be shunned by them and others.

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @bluezenzennie @edensrose @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-big-tits @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot

[thegreeks]

Whispers in the Dusk

"It is dusk. I want to know how to be close to you. Closer." - Else Fitzgerald, "Everything Feels Like the End of the World"

The quiet, descending dusk blanketed Pemberley’s grounds with a veil of stillness, painting the evening in gentle shades of lavender and silver. The great hallways and rooms of the house had settled into a warm hush, as if honoring the twilight hour with a reverent silence. You were standing in one of its more intimate sitting rooms, your gaze fixed out the window where the last traces of daylight lingered, softening the grand gardens and the rolling hills beyond. Yet you found yourself only half-aware of the scene before you, your thoughts a quiet storm within, disturbed only by the sound of a familiar footfall approaching.

Gazing beyond the glass at the twilight landscape, you felt your husband’s presence behind you, a warm shadow enveloping your form. He was a man who commanded both respect and admiration, and in his company, you had found a sense of belonging. But tonight felt different. An electric tension laced the air between you, thick with unspoken truths and desires.

Mr. Darcy paused in the doorway, observing you for a moment before he spoke.

“Do forgive the interruption,” he murmured, his deep voice breaking the silence in a way that felt altogether too lovely. You turned to meet his intent gaze, where the fading light caught the depths of his dark eyes, illuminating his features in a halo of romance. “I wondered where you had gone off to.”

“I needed a moment to myself, I suppose,” you replied softly, though the truth was that you had found yourself unexpectedly restless, seeking solitude in hopes that your thoughts might settle. Yet even alone, you had found yourself unsettled, a gentle but undeniable yearning that you could not name stirring within you.

He stepped closer, his movements as measured and deliberate as always, yet tonight there was a different air about him—a gentler softness, a kind of intimacy in his quiet regard. You could almost taste the anticipation that hung heavily between you, igniting your senses. For a moment, you simply looked at one another, a silent conversation unfolding between glances. He looked as though he wished to say something, and the weight of his gaze filled you with a warmth that spread from your cheeks to the very tips of your fingers.

“It is dusk, and the hour invites contemplation,” he murmured, finally breaking the silence, his voice a little rough, as though he struggled to express what lingered in his heart. “I find myself wishing to know…” He paused, his gaze unwavering. “How it might be to be close to you. Closer.”

His words hung in the air between you, tender and vulnerable, and the sheer honesty in his voice made your heart ache. You felt your cheeks warm, and a soft smile touched your lips as you absorbed his meaning, allowing the quiet beauty of his words to wash over you. It was a declaration cloaked in the language of the heart, and as the twilight deepened, the world beyond faded, leaving only the two of you suspended in a moment that demanded all of your attention.

“Mr. Darcy,” you began, your voice a hushed murmur, “do you not see? You are close to me now, in ways words cannot fully express.”

A shadow of a smile passed over his lips, and he moved nearer, his presence enveloping you in a way that felt safe and thrilling all at once. The room around you faded, the encroaching night dimming all but the soft glow in his eyes.

“And yet,” he whispered, his hand reaching tentatively for yours, “I cannot help but wish, selfishly… for more.”

His fingers brushed against yours, hesitant, as if uncertain of his right to ask for what his heart clearly desired. Your hand moved to meet his, fitting into his grasp as though it were the most natural thing in the world. His hand was warm, his grip firm yet tender, and the contact made your pulse quicken. He looked down at your joined hands, his eyes tracing the shape of your fingers as though they were the most exquisite thing he had ever seen.

“There is a closeness of hearts,” you murmured, your voice scarcely more than a breath, “that transcends mere touch.”

He looked up, meeting your gaze, and in his eyes you saw the depth of feeling he carried, feelings that words could never capture, yet here, in this quiet, sacred moment, were laid bare.

“Then permit me,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, “to be close to you in every way, to share in your heart’s every joy and every sorrow, to be… wholly yours.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and without thinking, you reached up to trace your fingertips along his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. He closed his eyes briefly, as if savoring the sensation, and you felt a gentle shiver pass through him.

“Dearest,” you whispered, your heart overflowing, “you have been mine since the very moment I came to know you.”

His eyes opened, filled with a tenderness that made you feel as though you were the center of his world. Slowly, reverently, he lifted your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your fingers, a gesture so tender it made your heart ache with love.

As the last vestiges of twilight surrendered to the deep indigo of night, you stood together, hands entwined, closer than words could convey, bound not only by touch but by the quiet, steady promise of shared hearts and lives intertwined.

[morose-marble]

MAN SUANG SPOILERY STUFF UNDER THE CUT

Afdhdjdk I'm consumed by what Shine could be and terrified of getting my hopes up for things that might not occur, and vice versa lmao.

Pond mentioned the show not being a sequel to Man Suang but rather it's own story, and yet the characters are the same.

Combined with the tone of the show promised to be a light romantic comedy full of hope, I'm super afraid of what might come of Khem's character in the show.

Like, I really, really hope they don't for instance ignore Khem's traumatic past regarding sexuality, or his lack of agency in life stemming from his class in society, for the sake of lightness. Especially considering their different class backgrounds at opposite ends of the spectrum.

In fact, it would be optimal that Khem getting some agency for once would be a big part of their romance, because it would give it so much more emotional weight.

Imagine, Khem never having had the power to choose, decides to allow Chatra to love him, because he wants him. Chatra has so much reverence and respect for Khem that he understands the weight of that and is attentive and understanding towards him. Or even better, he learns to. It would be so agshjdkfkfflllglg Agshskddld Hhggggffffrrdded jsjdkskdlslssl

I am getting ahead of myself here, this was released today for god's sake help meee

[sasster]

Reverence

In which a young Cylion learns a valuable lesson.

Google doc for your comfort.

—

Cylion watches, mostly with indifference, as his sister curls up into his lap and cocoons herself into her tail. This is her newest ritual, ever since she pupated it seems that she can’t really get comfortable if not in the arms of one of her prophets.

He thinks she is becoming a bit spoiled.

Once she is good and settled he turns his attention to his ancestor, working silently on something he isn’t quite old enough to understand or care about yet.

“Father, why does she get to be so special?” He inquires, absently smoothing his hand over her tail. It is silky against his fingers. “You treat her like she’s made of glass. The most precious thing in the world.”

“She is quite precious.” His elder responds without looking up to meet his gaze.

An unsatisfying response.

“You said she wasn’t supposed to be like us.”

“I would hardly call you or Somnia precious.”

Cylion’s wings flatten against his face, a manifestation of his annoyance that also causes him great embarrassment. He is almost relieved that his father has not looked up from his work to witness it. These wings are, after all, among the reasons his father would not consider him precious no doubt.

“That is not what I meant.”

“I know,” the larger troll says as he finally shifts his attention to regard his descendant fully. Cylion nearly squirms under his gaze. “It is important that she is loved. That she feels respected.”

“You said--”

“I know what I said.” He snaps back, voice sharp. “Understand this, boy, you will be her prophet. For as long as she is treated well, you will reap the benefits. Get this through your head.”

The finality in his tone tells him that this is the end of the conversation, so he screws his mouth shut and nods in response.

“That’s better.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Sometime later they are at a service, Cylion stands off to the side as his father preaches something of dreams and the inherent divinity found within them. He would much rather be anywhere else, but his job is to be by his fathers side to take the young godling when she is no longer being shown off to the congregation.

Any old troll could be standing here for the handoff, he thinks. Why not Somnia?

Her followers watch in awe as she, secure in her fathers clawed embrace, rests her teeth on her knuckles and watches them with wide eyes. She is still quite unused to all of the attention.

Everytime she settles a gaze on any of the onlookers, they squirm in their seats with barely contained excitement.

It’s funny, Cylion thinks, that perhaps he is not the only person not listening to the impassioned words being preached.

Nymira is beloved.

Then, just as they practiced, her first prophet turns to hand the godling off to the second and though he has held her many times before this, he finds that he is nervous as he takes her into his arms. Favion shoots him a look that cuts like a dagger.

Cylion collects himself and cradles Nymira into his chest, releasing the breath trapped in it when his father turns to resume his preaching.

Nymira, for her part, is no longer interested in the prying eyes that trace every one of her movements. She immediately curls in on him, a sleepy smile crossing over her features.

“Cy, go sleep now?” She whispers, reaching a small hand up to touch one of his face wings. 

Her small voice goes unnoticed under the booming voice of her prophet, he is the only one that hears her. He tries to speak just as softly as he responds.

“Yeah, go sleep.” He whispers, smoothing his hand over her tail as she starts to cocoon it around her body. “You did good.”

The last he sees of her sleepy face is a delighted smile as it disappears behind the large tail.

When Cylion looks up again his father is silent and all eyes are on him. There is an impressed murmuring spreading throughout the congregation.

Nymira rests peacefully in his arms, and a stolen glance at his ancestor tells him that the man is pleased.

He turns his attention back to the trolls in the crowd, a smile creeping onto his face that very quickly replaces the previously disinterested look he sported throughout the service.

[aaluminiumas]

Lyric On His Tongue

This is Chapter 1 of 2. You can find the entire fanfic here.

Astarion was jaded to the core. 

He was so infernally bored that his daily—or, was nighttime a better word?—routine seemed a senseless undertaking he wanted to avoid at all costs. It was all the same, the risible performance of lust, predictability, and humdrum. Gaudily dressed people trying to attain their preposterous goals. Artificial conviviality slithering between the tables. Hideous music thundering in the ears—

Had he been alive, he would’ve called in sick, feigning the worst case of pneumonia known to humanity and staging the ensuing miracle of recovery. Had he been alive, he would’ve concocted a lovely, not-quite-believable story where he saved a cat, a child, or a wizard in distress from an unnamed threat, and the entire city would've fallen for it. Had he been alive, he would’ve said he had his reasons, and no one would incriminate his actions. After all, he was a magistrate. A very respectable magistrate, revered by all citizens of Baldur’s Gate. Well, maybe the Gur were an unlucky exception, but really, who would’ve listened to a bunch of crazy folks who did nothing but deceive the kind denizens of the city by foisting their fortune-telling bogus! He was still better than them. 

Or, rather, had been. 

Astarion huffed and reclined on the counter, gazing into a glass of wine. He had ordered the drink a few hours ago and pretended to sip the Ithbank every now and then, but the crimson liquid didn’t ebb. Gods, how did he want to slough off this rotten task, hightail from this hellish shithole of a tavern, and recede into the gloom, feigning defeat!..

Unfortunately, the news about his smashing defeat did not sound even remotely plausible. None of his carefully cherry-picked pick-up lines was ever nugatory. None of his tantalizing gestures was ever accidental. None of the unctuous notes in the dulcet voice with a penchant for taking a seductive edge was ever misplaced. In short, Astarion was aware of his bedazzling looks, and he didn’t miss a chance to put his charms to good use. 

So, even the dumbest spawn of the lot, Pale Petras, wouldn’t buy it.

Swerving his ruby eyes to the diverse crowd, Astarion idly scanned the throng of people teeming in the tavern, eyeing each visitor with ill-concealed contempt. They all came here to get a harlot. Their intentions were crystal clear. Those who missed Sharess’ Caress on the way to Baldur’s Gate always sought a sufficiently respectable establishment to tend to their physical needs and caprices. Taverns like this didn’t scream brothel, but they very well could be one—such inns only pretended to specialize in food and drinks. If you wanted additional entertainment to go with a bottle of Ithbank, you needn’t even get up to ask for assistance. Maybe all places in Baldur’s Gate were the same. Call it a hallmark, if you wish. Whatever. 

Ah, how he loathed it. Endless strings of people, loudmouthed whores, artificial smiles, whistles emitted by an invigorated lumper, and hackneyed advances of a lame artist. Oddly enough, one of them had managed to captivate Lady Jannath. What did she find in this pathetic idiot? His pitiful attempts at courtship didn’t even look ludicrous—they were outright deplorable. Surely, some women had no taste, and appreciation of art played little role in personal proclivities and preferences. 

Astarion examined the visitors again, this time with a modicum of curiosity. Harlots, wantons, rummies, and lost travelers looking for a place to stay over the night didn’t deserve a mere scrap of his attention; they all seemed so unbearably dull they wouldn’t even serve their only purpose: to be a decent banquet for a true connoisseur. 

Astarion’s lanky fingers circled the edge of the glass brimmed with gold. To hells with it. Cazador had no illusions regarding the spawns’ attitude: if he ever had a good trait of character, it was his relative sobriety. For all his intimidating bluster, he never deluded himself into believing that any of the spawn truly admired him or his teaching methods. He could do nothing about that. He could imagine the most ferocious tortures, contrive the most vicious trials, devise the most ruthless and savage ordeals, but no torment could change Astarion’s or, for that matter, Petras’ mind: Cazador was detested by his own very spawn. He could not be vanquished, true, but he would never be venerated either.

The sad thing was that this fact didn’t afflict him or undermine the current status quo: you couldn’t just inveigle a goblin and offer this lovely specimen on a plate. 

Especially, if you had his looks. Petras might just be the perfect fit for goblins and the like, but Astarion, on the contrary, was too well-groomed, too cultured to attract such foul prey. His victim might not be immaculate, but it had to be good. After all, this victim must please the perverse and exquisite taste of the abhorrent tyrant who always reveled in torturing others. In torturing his own very spawn. 

On a side note, if his today’s target turned out better than acceptable, he might be spared. Maybe even rewarded. Ah, to see Petras’ disgusting muzzle contorted by jealousy and hunger when Master tossed a scant commendation Astarion’s way. What a sight, really. Truly remarkable. One of the few genuinely fascinating things in this moldy, decaying, dismal, and grim castle that needed a monumental revamp ten centuries ago.  

Maybe Cazador would even go as far as offering him a handful of human blood he could savor for days to come, highlighting the peculiar, ever-changing aftertaste sticking to the palate—

Hells. This was unnecessary.

Irked by his wild imagination, Astarion felt the tang dissipating on the tongue, dispersing and morphing into the feeling of egregious thirst he was too familiar with. The mere inkling of the scene he had started to envision was too much for him to bear. 

Luckily, his train of thought was interrupted by a faint squeak of the double doors. A mere mortal wouldn’t have noticed that, and the screech of the old hinges would’ve drowned in the raucous tumult of the tavern, but as someone with a preternaturally acute sense of hearing, this indiscernible sound became a cue—a new visitor. 

A new potential victim. 

Reacting to the creak, Astarion jerked his head to see who was coming. 

He expected another run-of-the-mill drunkard, another adventurer, perhaps, but his eyes stumbled over a particularly unusual sight, practically extinct in notorious Baldur’s Gate, the city of the depraved. The man, faltering at the threshold of the tavern, made a strong contrast to the local vermin. 

The unwritten rule of Cazador’s—never hunt the rich—shaped up in Astarion’s head. Not that the miserable vampire lord cared about the benefits they could bring to the city. The reason was so quotidian it shouldn’t be explained: he didn’t want to leap directly into a predicament. The well-to-do would get alarmed immediately if one of their ilk vanished without a trace. One thing might lead to another, and inadvertently, his vampire lair might be exposed to the public, which would eventually entail a spectacular execution of all seven spawns and their lord at the helm. Therefore, most of the time the spawns were bound to choose the safest option of the unsafe: stray travelers, opulent merchants from overseas, prominent guests visiting local galleries, foreigners, loners with means... In a nutshell, everyone who looked presentable enough and whose absence would not be noticed. Evidently, the young man didn’t fall into the category, but something in his demeanor betrayed a novice. Inert, palsied by the picture unfurling before his eyes, he looked utterly vulnerable, as if he never belonged to the city in the first place. Maybe he was a foreigner, after all. Well, he had bumped into this lovely little nest, so he was either desperate or looking for a crepuscular adventure. 

Either would do.

Consummate seducer, Astarion swept his eyes over the tall, slender figure, dressed in an embroidered doublet. Clearly, an aristocrat; but for someone with his ancestry, the man struck with his baffling innocence. Where the hells was he hiding while the entire city indulged in vices, flaunting them all the way, spurning church and succumbing to repudiation of decency? Was he enchained deep under the dragon’s den waiting for his eighteenth birthday? This outstanding display of chastity looked almost unnerving: magistrate in the past, Astarion dealt with venality and corruption on a regular basis, not always on the side of justice. And for his entire career, he had never faced virtue as a concept. 

Not that he broke a sweat trying to find one, though. Now, Madame Virtue seemed to have found its way into this man’s body and blindsided Her erstwhile servant. The red eyes transfixed on the visitor in a most unsettling way. 

If you liked the extract, please feel free to check out the whole Chapter here:

[fenicenera83]

@apprentice-albinus

I'm not sure if you take requests from non-mutuals, but if you do, for the pairing & opening sentence of a fic:

Albinus/Marius : 'is... is there anything amiss with Amadeo, Master - he seems so wearied and we worry about him,' Albinus stammered.

-Marius, placed the paintbrush he was holding between his elegant fingers, the ring he always wore on his right ring finger glowed red in the candlelight, he let Albino's words bring him back to reality, away from the lush garden to which his thoughts were giving life on canvas. His desire to paint instantly put aside, Marius turned slowly, towards Albino, with a smile he walked the distance that separated them. His pupils, whom he regarded as his children, were respectful and well-behaved. That respect and dedication now shone in Albinus' eyes, the distance kept by the boy a sign of respect and reverence for his Master. Marius, he was aware that if Albino, always so poised and dedicated, had left his brothers, bringing their voices to the Master's ear, his sons must have noticed something during his absence, and their concern was his. He trusted and loved each one of them, and when even one of them came to him for any problem, even the smallest, but which could be big for their young hearts, Marius made it his priority. Always. He placed his hand on Albinus' shoulder, the gesture attracted the boy's attention, who raised his gaze full of affection towards his Master, and it was undeniable in Marius' eyes, the sincere concern, the anxiety of Albinus.

"Amadeo, he needs you Albino, needs you all. Your affection, your support, your laughter and your games. He needs the love of each one of you. There is a struggle in him, and it exhausts him, frightens him, torments him." Marius, fondly stroked Albino's hair, "When I am not here with you, you must care for Amadeo even more, you must teach him what affection, understanding and deep union is between you. Amadeo does not know these things, or has forgotten them, and remembering is painful for him, so much so that he does not even want to see again the beautiful things that belonged to him." Albino listened attentively and silently, when the Master spoke, in his low, firm voice, no one dared interrupt him. Never. Marius continued, as his hand remained gentle but firm on Albinus' shoulder, "Be good to him, give him time, all this is new to him, he has to acclimatise, he is learning and seeing so many things. Each one of them teaches him, makes him more aware, more curious, more open, and less afraid of the world, and thanks to your friendship, happier. Albino, Amadeo is tired because he has lived in fear and pain, he fought with all his might, and he must find the strength and courage to make peace with that part of himself. You can give him what he needs to overcome this moment. That is why I entrusted him to you, because to no one else but you, I would give him, no one else has my trust and the deep love I have for you all." Albino's eyes sparkled with joy at those words, and Marius felt that Albino's concern had turned into pride and dedication. Marius was proud in turn, for his pupils were intelligent and loving, he had taught them well, and they made him prouder with each passing day. He pulled Albino into a hug and gave him a gentle kiss on the forehead, which Albino accepted with a smile and blushing with joy.

-Thank you very much for the request!

[freeunicornhug]

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[ikilledamanforthisurl]

Minami anon x4 but you bring up a lot of really interesting points abt like subcultures / attitudes and also more personal life stuff I never thought about b4! In my head the kinda headcanon justification I made for myself was like the idea Minami used to be formerly realllyyyyy low on the yakuza ladder and as thus kinda just acted like a robot / as dully competent as possible (he wouldn’t drink because What If that affects his ability to Do Anything etc) and so on and Internally Really Wanting To Live A Much different life / be more important then just Another Guy In this Organisation. Which is why he clings so hardcore onto emulating Majima who IS someone eye catching and attention grabbing and to him Important. I think my main basis for this is all of the times Minami in like fight scenes acts really dramatically and even when he loses tries to insist on Keeping On Fighting UNTIL Majima walks in and Minami completely shuts down and just lets him Do As He Does. Sorry if this is a rly big deviation I didnt have a lot to respond to your previous answer outside of I think it’s all really interesting especially the stuff in tags regarding his tattoos (who is she fr!) and if this were a situation where we were having a more private one on one conversation i'd nod very enthusiastically

HAHAHA i know this feeling. thank u for indulging me either way anon and idm the deviation it's like waving a new set of keys in front of my adhd ass. passionate conversations with me derail all over the place i'm very used to it ^_^

and i really like your point about him not wanting to blend in, wanting to Stick Out as a Somebody. it would not phase that kind of Minami if drinking + whatever else was the norm amongst his peers. perhaps it was influence from Majima that convinced him to drink after all........ its certainly what i like to think....... makes their stupid toxic dynamic hurt a little more

and i am so glad u also noticed the way he refuses defeat every chance he gets it literally plagues my thoughts the most.... i think about it sooooo much so so soo much. it's definitely an ego thing + just another nod to Minami's utter reverence of Majima. he goes from being pretty emotional and throwing a tantrum when you Throw Off His Groove™ but forgoes doing what he wants the second the bossman gives the order. Boss' word takes all priority, regardless if you're stupid, or emotional, or whatever else.

I love picking this apart trying to discern their dynamic but it also reflects on how Majima is with his men in general..... I've yet to see any of his boys defy him. And for good fucking reason (insert montage of him smacking around his own men)........ Minami also kindof reflects this in how he strings along a bunch of his fellow Family men to watch him fuck around on the karaoke machine, who CLEARLY don't want to be there but tolerate him regardless! I'd like to think he doesn't randomly assault them though. Not over small shit anyways, he seems pretty lenient and understanding (see: "shit happens"). He's probably just very obnoxious when ribbed, as he is in many other aspects. Or hell, maybe he shuts down and gets so bummed out that its obnoxious in a really cringefail pitiful way

Ideally Majima's garnered respect not strictly through violence.... We have all seen how personable he can be and how he got himself roped into helping random folks all over in y0. Ideally Minami even less so, if he is as lenient as he seems. Which leads me to asking what's up with his title, "junior leader"? What the fuck even is that? Surely it doesn't bring all that tolerating respect with it yknow. I dont think anyone else in the series is a JL. We're not particularly clued in to how Yakuza life actually works in the game about Yakuza, but you can bet I can pull ideas out of thin air to tie stuff together if given scraps

Least likely in my opinion: JL is literally a next-of-kin for a leader position in the Family, possibly for patriarch itself, which implies a much closer relationship between Minami & Majima than we're ever clued into. i'm also not so sure it suits him (though i can pull arguments for it out of thin air as well if you want) since he really seems like the kinda guy happy doing his regular grunt work. brother is not patriarch material imo...... not for what i personally believe a patriarch's duties are, anyways.

Funnier option: he got the role to be appeased. you mentioned that you think he wants to Be Somebody and i completely headcanon-same..... this scrappy little shitkicker kid waltzed in one day, hounded someone until they let him join, and has been gunning for respect ever since. not necessarily power, i'd like to think he wants to be well-liked, but also, it's totally an approval-from-the-father thing. he wants to do good enough for Majima to Notice. since Minami wouldn't know subtlety if it socked him in the face, it's not difficult in the slightest to see this and he gets thrown a Special Role because he's just the most Specialest Boy Ever.... in this case Junior Leader probably just reflects stuff he was already good at while working. Couldve been a socialite amongst the new kids on the block, could even be a trainer. Higashiyama and Nojiri (Dead Souls Majimagumi) seem to imply that recruiters and their recruitees generally work one-on-one and get to know one another pretty well, but that could easily just be a Them thing. I'm sure there's plenty of newbies who get recruited by already-busy blokes.... fuck it, have Minami show them the ropes, get em ready ASAP and keep it going......... yknow that type of thing