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coldwind-shiningstars · 8 months ago

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Dungeon Meshi is obviously primarily about food, eating, and crucially survival through eating, but it's also focused on other aspects of survival. Sleep, rest, social ties and social exclusion. There's even extensive commentary on things like personal grooming (Marcille’s hair, Toshiro becoming depressed and no longer shaving), clean bathrooms, and other things. When it comes to disability these things are referred to as instrumental activities of daily life (IADLs), which are more complex things like shopping, housework, and cooking, which people need to do to survive, and activities of daily life (ADLs) which are the basic bare bones needs: eating, toileting, etc. Dungeon Meshi is concerned with the logistics of living and finding joy in those logistics.

This is super related to disability! Yes, Laios is autistic, this has been apparent from the beginning. But what does being autistic mean for him and the story? Mostly, it means his desires, goals, and the ways he goes about achieving them are strange, foreign, or baffling. He has different priorities than other people and the way he expresses those priorities are strange. They affect how he socializes, how he eats…

So, it absolutely makes sense that there would be a minor sideplot about activities of daily living and what it's like to be out of sync with everyone else when it comes to prioritizing things. It's Mithrun Time (he's gonna mith all over the place) and I'm so SO interested in the interplay of disability, caregiving and the logistics thereof, and intersectionality & privilege. Who needs care? How do other people feel about them needing care? How do they receive that care? And who do we think is worthy of receiving care and how does that interact with all these other factors?

Bunch of manga and extras spoilers past the cut:

“So, what's wrong with you?”

I see a lot of people talking about Mithrun's non-eye disability as a depression allegory, which I think is true, but I think it's also metaphorically/symbolically both a traumatic brain injury and a trauma response to sexual assault. The sexual assault aspect is pretty clear if you look at any of the symbolism of the actual disabling event: just look at it.

Mithrun is lying in bed and the goat comes to him, lifts him up and puts its mouth on his abdomen and lower pelvis. The eating is sexually charged, as is the particular way he struggles and protests. It's intensely violating, and things that were once desirable are lost. And the dungeon lord group therapy session involves a lot of people talking about the demons like an abusive lover; Mithrun, even though he wanted to kill the demon so badly, still says that they're gentle.

As for the brain injury, chronic TBIs can cause a wide variety of symptoms. Some immediately relevant ones are anhedonia (lack of enjoyment), executive function issues, poor interoception (trouble understanding what's going on in your body), cognitive impairment affecting ability to reason/multitask/plan/solve problems, changes in behavior and personality, depression, agitation, and restlessness. We see… basically all of these, in Mithrun, as downstream effects of the loss of desires. He can't tell when he's hungry, tired, or out of mana; he can't perform ADLs consistently even if he knows he'll die without doing them and dying without doing them will interfere with his long-term goal, he had drastic personality changes, he oscillates between impatient and totally withdrawn.

Brain injuries can also affect more complex tasks and ability to sustain lengthy periods of complex cognitive work. A common example is losing the ability to read and process longer passages; maybe you can read the words but you can't read a paragraph, or maybe you can read paragraphs but now you get a migraine after 15 minutes. Mithrun's skill loss is not related to reading but the effect is similar – he is and was extremely skilled in a particular area of magic, but also disabled in ways that specifically hinder his skill in this area – to teleport things properly you need depth perception and a sense of direction, and he lacks both of these! And while he's still an incredibly effective fighter it seems like he pretty frequently makes those sorts of mistakes.

This is treated often as a gag and it is genuinely funny but it’s also very real, to no longer be as good at the thing you were good at before you became disabled. Kui takes several throwaway gags seriously later on, not just this one. Another ~gag that's not really elaborated on is the bathroom thing, but I appreciate its inclusion anyway, since even if it's presented humorously it doesn't feel meanspirited in a way a lot of “diaper jokes” do. I think people need to talk a lot more about bathroom issues in a wide variety of disabilities, and I think it's nice that a guy I can already picture the “poor little meow meow” posts about also has this issue, you know?

Preferences vs Desire

Even referencing PTSD and TBIs it's hard to really grasp what having no desires means, and the characters don't generally ask, while Mithrun explains it in vague terms. “Desires” is a very broad term and indeed he has lost access to a wide but related variety of things. Unfortunately this lead to him often being treated as nonagentic.

Mithrun does still have preferences, even if he doesn't express them and has no desire which would drive him to seek out pleasant things and avoid unpleasant ones. He'll comment on the taste and texture of foods, for example – sure seems like he has an opinion!

People treat it like his preferences don't matter since he doesn't usually bring them up unprompted, and he's often in situations where there aren't other options.

Kabru seems best at not doing this (and, noncoincidentally, also seems to be the best at actually caring for him; the Canaries have a lot more Resources theoretically than Kabru And Mithrun Eating Monsters And Kabru's A Bad Cook, but although they are loudly distressed by the two of them disappearing it seems to have positively affected Mithrun's general health)

But, uh, acknowledgement that someone has preferences at all is a really low bar to clear and Kabru also doesn't seem to fully understand how Mithrun's brain works. Mithrun’s caregivers want him to eat when they want him to eat. They want him to rest and drink when they want him to.

He lacks the desire for a number of mundane things but also seems to lack the ability to tell when he needs them. He can't explain why he faints; is “I am out of mana” considered a desire for more mana, one that can be eaten? He can't sleep on his own; it's not only that he lacks “the desire to go to bed” but he can't do anything with his own exhaustion, even if he notices it. He comments on the unpleasant taste and texture of several meals; he may be unable to want to not eat it, but he definitely can tell when he dislikes something. But he also seems to be unable to tell when he's hungry.

Kabru will acknowledge these preferences but there's not really other food options, and Everyone Must Eat. Kabru doesn't know the details of Mithrun's condition yet but you can see the immediate frustration here and the way he offers food to him like Mithrun's a child.

Sure, he won't directly communicate preferences, so that makes it extra hard, but you can always just ask, and if he tells you he tells you.

The pathway between opinion and taking actions about it may be lost in Mithrun but the dungeon forces other people into a similar position – it forces them to eat food they don't want to eat so that they can survive or accomplish other goals. We've seen this with Marcille from the beginning. It's difficult with Mithrun because it seems like there is always going to have to be some sort of someone else overriding his autonomy – yeah, he's not hungry but he still needs to eat or he'll faint. Yeah, he's lying about whether or not he's clean but he still needs to wash or he'll die. Yeah, he needs to take a rest instead of keeping moving or he'll faint. But he's not unique in being in a situation where he has to do nonpreferred things. The difference is more that he lacks the ability to independently do anything when it comes to ADLs, preferred or not, which makes it into someone else’s choice and responsibility.

There's also a theme in Dungeon Meshi that comes up a bit of people being pushy about ADLs but from a slightly different perspective, and they're usually right. You see this in Senshi most commonly; he pushes the residents of the Golden City to actually eat even if they don't need to and can't taste it, and while he's correct in that Yaad does get enjoyment from the food even without taste he's still not quite listening to Yaad. Similarly, Kabru is correct in that he can get Mithrun to sleep without a sleeping spell, but he also ignores the way Mithrun says several times that he doesn't expect massage to work. There's a few aspects to this – wild but expected that the elves would choose the “just knock him out with a spell” route, the “easy way” Senshi always talks about when it comes to magic, instead of actually paying attention to other solutions. But also, generally, people know their bodies best, and sometimes even if you're really sure you have the trick to help them you have to listen to what they tell you.

tvtropes dot org frontslash DisabilityTropes

This is going to be a harder section just because it's so subjective; it's nearly impossible to think about the ways in which disabled people are viewed by the people around them/wider society with any degree of objectivity just because there are so many factors that go into it. But I do think Mithrun is consistently treated as relatively nonagentic and there are several ways this can manifest: being treated as a doll/pet/child, being treated as a weapon, and being a surface for people to project onto.

He's framed or treated as childlike intermittently through the manga; scattered about, just a little vibe in the way he's drawn, like the "say aah" above and Pattadol and Cithis through the teleportation scroll :

That's a middle aged man! And he's framed like a toddler getting picked up or misbehaving.

Which doesn't mean they care about him any less; his squad is really fond of him for someone who's technically like their parole officer. How dare you do this to our captain! They love him dearly; this is obvious and he comments on it! They respect him, too, as the leader and as a strong fighter. But loving someone and thinking they're a skilled fighter doesn't mean you respect their autonomy fully.

There's also an element of everyone projecting their own issues onto him; Kabru with their shared Dungeon Trauma. The canaries all suggesting wacky, midlife-crisis desires. He doesn't ever express that he minds any of this, except when they try to stop him from making particular decisions. They also don't often understand why he'd be motivated to do a particular thing, and in fact some of these projections may actually be correct! But while noodles and pottery may be good later-on goals for him, I think it's striking that a) Kabru was the closest to correctly guessing what desire Mithrun might acquire now and he was still guessing the exact opposite (suggesting a desire to not eat Falin but to help Laios, vs Mithrun's actual desire, which was to eat Falin with no thought given to the promise he made at all) and b) it's a desire that actually makes perfect sense with what we know about him, not something totally new.

And, finally, he's a weapon: people are willing to caretake him because he's good at killing things dead. If his only desire is to kill demons dead, it's easy to start seeing that as who he is. I don't think he'd argue that “trying to kill demons” takes up the majority of his life (it's his only goal and he's obsessed with it) but even if there's only one thing that matters to him he has autonomy (in the sense that he can make his own choices about what to prioritize and formulate his own plans) and personhood.

Politics and privilege – who gets to access care?

One of the things we're first presented with when it comes to Mithrun is that he is intensely capable at handling dungeons. Yeah, there's the immediately visible prosthetic eye and the navigation issues, but the Canaries are built up as being incredibly dangerous and skilled, and he's their captain; they all immediately defer to him. He's intense, he curbstomps an entire room of guards, he's efficient, he's brutal, he's strong physically and magically.

In short: yeah, he's very disabled. He's also still very useful.

At the risk of oversimplification, even within his particular disability, he's much more disabled than Marcille is (she lost something relatively simple and easy to miss, she has no catatonia-moment) but less disabled than Thistle, who seems to still have at least one desire related to the king but is still primarily catatonic. It seems like Thistle is not unusual among ex-dungeon lords, even if there's enough noncatatonic dungeon lords to form a support group later. When Milsiril finds Mithrun, she immediately intends to mercy-kill him – this seems to be a condition the elves are familiar with but consider terminal, at least to the degree Mithrun is affected, and people seem unfamiliar what it means to keep living in this state because Mithrun is unusual in that he survives at all. And he's “allowed” to survive initially because he's not as disabled as he could have been (still has a desire) and that desire is useful. They aim him at the dungeons and off he goes. It takes twenty years for him to recover enough to do it, sure, but they're elves. They can wait. He can still be useful.

Relatedly, when he loses the ability to pursue his desire he's immediately much worse off than he was previously.

The no-desire catatonia is something that can recur and the elves continue to not know how to handle it. If Kabru wasn't there to problemsolve I think he'd have just… stayed there with his increasingly distressed squad.

Speaking of his squad, there's also a fascinating power dynamic going on with just the inherent structure of the Canaries; criminals are assigned as his caregivers. There's the inherent unfairness to the criminal Canaries about them being given extra duties, this strange rich noble guy who's now their Responsibility. There's so much possibility for resentment in normal caregiving relationships, much less being forced by your jailor into caregiving someone. But there's also an element of the power the prisoner Canaries now have over him and his most basic ADLs and needs. Assigning Cithis to his care is such a can of worms! The dynamics of the situation are frankly awful for both of them; of course she resents him initially. It would be strange for her not to. When Pattadol catches her making Mithrun do embarrassing things, she instantly reminds Cithis of her lower-status – she's forced to care for this nobleman and then forcibly reminded that she's beneath him.

She's responding to having menial, low-status tasks forced on her by trying to humiliate him, and although he doesn't have the ability to care enough to stop her it's still a deliberate removal of dignity. He's the instrument with which she is punished and she punishes him in return (until it's not fun anymore and she understands him a bit more.)

Mithrun is a long-lived race, who has structural power over the shorter lived races simply because of how long they live. The dwarves and elves try to actively keep certain knowledge from other races, restricting their access to technology, and other expressions of distance. Senshi spends nearly the whole first season not listening to Chilchuck trying to explain that he's an adult and treating him like a child, and Kabru repeatedly says that the elves do the same thing (and tbh we see them doing it). There's even the fact that it took him twenty years to recover enough to join the Canaries again; a shorter-lived race might have died from old age in this time, or become too old to work in this capacity, and then wasted away without the drive to return to the dungeons. But they're elves; the other elves can afford to wait, and he's not going to age out of dungeoneering any time soon. Being an elf probably contributes to his wealth in the same way skin color contributes to wealth inequality in the real world.

Dungeon Meshi doesn't really go into race in the sense of skin color much, and Kui is writing from a different cultural standpoint than I am. While tallmen are quite accurate when it comes to skin/hair color (yes, even Kabru and his blue eyes; it's rare but possible) and cultural references, the elves, uh, absolutely are not, both in the sense of “dark skin & pale hair and eyes trope” and sense of the royals having jet black skin.

Still, I feel like race is so connected to care and caregiving in the real-world west that I would be profoundly remiss not to mention it. Skin color might not matter to elves in the racism sense, but it matters to humans and humans are the ones writing and analyzing this story. (And I fully expect as the fandom grows with anime-onlies people will like Mithrun more because he's white (has white features) than they would if he had darker skin, because fandom is also baseline racist.)

I don't think we can just not mention that Mithrun is pale-skinned and both Cithis and Kabru, his primary caregivers over the story, both have dark skin.

Racism means white people are more likely to get good medical care, the type you need to get diagnosed and prescribed caregiving. Racism means wealth distribution is uneven, favoring white people. Race affects immigrants taking on undesirable jobs like caregiving for low pay. Racism is a profound stressor which means it contributes to who becomes disabled in the first place in that it can worsen health outcomes.

Similarly to race, gender may not be very obvious when it comes to this subplot within the story but the gendered dynamics of caregiving in the real world are something I do want to touch on. There's an oft-cited statistic about how men are much more likely than women to divorce their partners when their partners are diagnosed with a serious condition; I don't like relying too much on those sorts of statistics because they can be so misleading but it does gesture at something very real, culturally. Even if men aren't supposed to be caretaken, women are supposed to be the caretakers. Certainly, it's not Mithrun's fault that he can't cook and can't do laundry and probably can't do most housework, but I do also think about all the posts passed around about “my boyfriend who won't do housework.”

Again, none of these privileges make him less disabled and less in need of and deserving of care, they're just worth talking about when we talk about caregiving in general.

It's Rotten Work, Even If It's You

People expect disabled people receiving care to be grateful, to accept anything, and to try and make it easier for the caregiver if they're able. Requiring care is an incredibly disadvantaged position, even as actually receiving it can be so tangled up in privilege. Caregiving is tremendously difficult work, it's true, but there's a particular vibe people want from disabled people – all those movies about not wanting to be seen as a burden. Never complaining. Being grateful.

And, uh, well…

Mithrun basically accepts anything his caregivers do, but he's not grateful at all! I appreciate that in a disability portrayal. He'll also lie to and ignore his caregivers, which is Annoying but is definitely an expression of autonomy even if he's probably not doing it specifically to express his autonomy. He's not going to thank you. He's not going to make it easy. He'll accept a lot of things considered “undignified,” and he's not mean or unpleasant in the sense that he's taking advantage or anything, but he's certainly not a model patient.

He's running off back into the dungeons just when you think you've finally gotten him somewhere safe.

There's always a strange tension in caregiving, I've found. It is incredibly intimate but a lot of it is done by total strangers. A number of caregiving tasks are viewed by the wider world as entitled but placing those tasks in the hands of strangers is a remarkably tough place to be in. As a disabled person, I've had to accept my bowel movements being discussed with my parents’ friends, all sorts of being physically moved places not against my will but without my permission, even my pubic hair being shaved off by a stranger (nurse) while I was unable to speak or move. When people are feeding you, making sure you use the toilet, rubbing your feet to make you sleep, helping you with hygiene – people are working so hard to help you. Are you supposed to just accept them doing whatever they want to you?

There's also a dynamic where people will say they don't mind caring for you, they're happy to do it, and then as the years go by and you continue to need care the resentment just builds up. Caregiving is hard work. It's often thankless. The goodness of people’s hearts can run dry, when it's been twenty years and you still can't bathe yourself.

Aaand I need to continue in reblogs, because I'm out of space for images. Please hold. edit: you can find part 2 here

#eat or be eaten #I'm real and I beat myself up behind the Blockbusters #tbh i tried not to talk about myself too much here. but uhhhh caregiving issues are so tender for me #tender in the ouch way not the gentle way #anyway #dungeon meshi spoilers #dungeon meshi #mithrun

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justiceforvillains · 1 month ago

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Don't you care about the Casualties

➽ PAIRING : Vampire Bangchan x Fem Reader

➽ SUMMARY: The Kingdom maintained a fragile pact with vampires, promising no harm would come to either party—until the King's greed got the better of him. As punishment, the powerful vampire Lord Bang claims his firstborn child as his own, sealing the fate of the royal family in a cycle of vengeance and bloodshed. Twenty-four years later, Bang's son, Chan, discovers the king's daughter, Y/N, who is blissfully unaware of her family's dark history, setting the stage for a clash between human innocence and vampire vengeance.

➽ WARNINGS : dead bodies

In a realm untouched by time, there laid a kingdom shrouded in a thick mist of fear and darkness. For decades, this kingdom had thrived under an unbreakable pact with its dark denizens—the vampires. Enforced under the eerie tranquility of a blood moon, the agreement dictated that no vampire would ever claim the life of a human, and conversely, no human would dare hunt a vampire. Each month, at the stroke of midnight, the royal family would deliver offerings—sheep, goats, and other livestock—to sustain the vampires, ensuring that both sides lived in peace.

Generations passed, and neither humans nor vampires strayed from their promises. The bond, however, began to weaken as the passage of time dulled the edges of fear. Unsatisfied with the status quo, The King, driven by greed and arrogance, began to entertain dangerous thoughts. In his delusions, he convinced himself and his people that the vampires had lost their infernal powers, weakened by the advancement of human weaponry and courage. Boldly, he gathered his most loyal knights and devised a dangerous plan: to invade the vampires' grand castle hidden deep in the woods.

The attack was swift and brutal, yet the King soon discovered the dire consequences of his stupidity. The vampires, far from weakened, rose to defend their domain with ferocity. The clash between the two factions echoed through the expansive realm, but it ended in tragedy for the king. Most of his men lay lifeless at the feet of their undead foes, while the few vampires who fell were mourned by their kin. Among the familiar faces turned cold were the loved ones of Lord Bang, the most powerful vampire of the castle.

Suspended in air by the vampire’s iron grip, The King choked in terror. “Give me one good reason as to why I shouldn't shred your pathetic mortal body to pieces with my bare hands, then destroy and kill everyone you love in your kingdom?” Lord Bang snarled, his voice sharp and dripping with venom.

“Ple-please m-ercy,” the man gasped and clawed at the vampire’s forearm, but the grip only tightened, the red glow of Bang’s eyes piercing through the dark, caving in the king’s pleas for life. With a flick of his wrist, the vampire hurled him across the grand hall, followed by a chilling command to all the vampires behind him: “Rip him apart!”

“NO! Please, I will do anything, please!!” the mortal cried desperately as a pair of vampires restrained him, their fangs glistening ominously.

“Stop!” cried Bang, an unsettling smile curving his lips as he approached the king. “Anything?” His tone dripped with indulgence as he reveled in the human's growing fear.

“Yes! My lord, anything you want. I’m your servant!” the desperate king pled on his knees, barely able to breathe.

“I heard the queen is pregnant?” The question was almost casual, yet it felt like a death sentence to the king.

“Ye-yes,” he stammered, hope quaking within him as he believed he could negotiate his way to safety.

“Your firstborn is mine,” Bang declared, his form suddenly looming above the only alive mortal, his long fingers gripping the King's chin painfully, sharp nails piercing the flesh. “Understood?”

“W-hy?” was the terrified response, but the vampire's hand swiftly moved to the king's throat, holding it tightly.

“YOU DON’T ASK ME QUESTIONS,” Lord Bang hissed, fury pooling in his eyes. “You just obey my orders, understood?” The king nodded swiftly, and the grip released.

“Good. As soon as your firstborn comes of age, they will be sent to live in this castle. Meanwhile, we’ll indulge ourselves in a feast from your beloved kingdom. It’s been far too long since we’ve tasted human blood, ain't that right, brothers and sisters?” The echo of wicked laughter filled the castle, sealing the king’s fate.

When the day finally arrived for the queen to deliver their heir, Bang made his presence known once more. He floated into the royal chamber with a predatory grace, drawing gasps from both parents as he held the newborn. In a dreadful motion, he dragged his sharp nails along the baby's tender skin, drawing blood, leaving behind a crimson trail.

“What did you do to my daughter?” the queen shrieked, yanking the screaming infant from the vampire’s grip. Bang merely smiled, revealing razor-sharp canines that glinted menacingly.

“Oh, don’t worry, dear, it will heal,” he purred with a cruel delight. As if responding to his words, the wound healed, leaving behind a scar that marked the child as eternally bound to the vampire. “It’s just a mark to remind you of who she really belongs to.” With that, he vanished into the shadows, leaving terror in his wake.

“Father, why do you want their child?” Chan asked innocently, his voice laced with confusion as he stared at the gruesome remnants of the royal family’s betrayal with anguish.

“I want them to know pain,” Bang replied, his voice laced with anger. “I want them to witness her grow up, and when the time comes…” His voice turned dark, filled with rage, “We will kill her right before their eyes.”

He crouched to meet his son’s gaze, a fire of vengeance igniting between them. “Listen, Chan, did you see what they did to us? Did you see how these humans betrayed us? How they will continue to betray us unless we show them fear? Promise me to always seek vengeance for your family. If you ever lay eyes on a human, I want you to kill them slowly.” Chan nodded, hatred already festering in his small heart.

Years turned into decades. The soft whispers of time nurtured the decay of history, and in the heart of a sprawling forest, an unassuming wooden hut sheltered a girl named Lee Y/N. With a spirit as bright as the sun, she was the embodiment of joy, laughter spilling forth effortlessly as she played, oblivious to the sins that followed her family’s Name.

One day, while helping her mother prepare dinner, Y/N glanced at a peculiar scar on her neck. “What is this scar that I have?” she asked, a sweet curiosity lacing her words. Her mother’s body tensed, a flash of fear crossing her face before she cupped Y/N’s cheeks, forcing a gentle smile.

“Don’t worry, honey. You’re beautiful just the way you are.”

Y/N pouted, feeling a familiar ache of uncertainty. There were days when she couldn't shake the feeling that her parents were hiding something big from her. Despite being on the edge of adulthood, her parents clung to control, imposing increasingly ridiculous rules:

1. Never invite anyone inside the house.

2. Don’t talk to strangers.

3. Come home before sunset.

4. Don’t stop to converse with anyone in the woods.

5. Always take the same path home.

These imposed limitations suffocated her spirit, and Y/N often envied the laughter and camaraderie of her peers in the village, longing for companionship but feeling trapped within her sheltered existence. As her 24th birthday approached, she mustered her courage to petition for more freedom.

Her parents noticed the change of the attitude, and despite their concern they bend the rules a little bit for her to stay outside longer, Y/N was an outgoing person she loved to stay out and not holed inside the small hut all day, but that mistake might cause them a lot….

The next few days her parents gave her a little bit of freedom, but the rules were still there, her 24th birthday was near, and she decided to try and convince her parents to let her stay out past sunset, she wanted to watch the stars

She also wanted to visit the town more frequently, she would only go there to buy bread and apples, she only talked to the shop owners, she really wanted to interact with more people, she wanted to have friends..

She was going back to town to get fish from the market, as usual it was crowded but, However, the usual vibrant atmosphere was now tinged with an unsettling tension. People moved anxiously, glancing over their shoulders. Skirting the buzzing crowd, Y/N edged her way to her regular vendor, an elderly woman with a kind smile.

“Good morning,” Y/N greeted cheerfully.

“What will it be today, dear?” the woman replied.

Before she could answer, she heard gasps and yelling when she looked back she saw people clearing the way for a tall broad man with a big Umbrella.

“What's going on?” she was confused the crowd looked scared while the man was simply walking, an old man next to her asked

“Your not from here little girl?”

“No I'm fro-” she stopped herself, her parents told her to never tell anyone where they lived

“far away..”

When she turned back to watch the scene, she found the man right in front of her, the old man gasped “pl-please” he whimpered the man sent him a glare before staring down at you, you didn't know what to do you just stood there looking innocently up at the stranger

“you dare speak in my presence?” you blinked a few times confused, you guessed that the man was very powerful and important, since everyone looked so afraid “uhh sorry..?” The man's expression went from anger to confusion “you're not afraid?”

You was growing impatient you already said sorry, you just wanted to get fish and get home “of what?”

You heard someone whisper “this girl's foolishness is going to cost her her life,” the man just kept staring at you until his eyes widened, you followed his eyes

You immediately covers the scare that was on the side of your neck “you are…” the strangers seemed to be surprised before he backed away, he regained his composition rather quickly before he glared “go home now while I have mercy”

You wanted to protest but all these scared people indirect that this person was dangerous so you just left, your heart pounding in your chest, this is definitely not the kind of conversion you had hoped to have, you decided not to tell your parents you didn't need them to worry

---

“BANCHAN! BANCHAN?!” A furious voice pierced the stillness of the grand chamber.

“What the fuck do you want, Minho? I’m not in the mood!” Bangchan exclaimed, slamming his quill down in irritation, his patience fraying.

“Stop being so pissy; I have GREAT news!” Minho cheered, bouncing excitedly, his energy infectious yet irritating.

“What?” Bangchan viably scoffed, rolling his eyes at the enthusiasm that felt out of place amidst the explosive tension.

“I found HER!” The exuberance spilled from Minho’s lips.

“Who?” Bangchan narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

“The king’s daughter!” Minho declared triumphantly, a malicious smile plastered across his face.

The vampire lord started, rising from his seat abruptly, causing his chair to tumble backward. “Where?!”

“Calm down,” Minho teased, swinging his legs playfully as he leaned against the table. “At the fish market. She was the only one who didn’t flinch in fear. I suspect she’s clueless about our existence.”

Bangchan’s expression shifted, an evil grin curling his lips. “And they’ve kept her sheltered all her life?”

“Looks that way. She’s innocent, and oh, so naive,” Minho mused.

A darkness settled over Bangchan as he gazed out the window overlooking the Kingdom of Arathos. “They will pay for their betrayal.”

“When are we going to strike?” Minho pressed, excitement crackling in the air.

Bangchan turned with a serious glint in his eyes. “We? I don’t recall including you in this plan,” he said, raising an eyebrow.

“They killed my mother, Chan,” Minho’s tone turned somber. “I won’t rest until I avenge her.”

Bangchan’s shoulders slackened, understanding the undercurrent of pain. “I know, Minho. I promised we would avenge our families, but we must do it in the most painful way possible.”

“What do you have in mind?” Minho asked, intrigue flickering behind his eyes.

The vampire lord smiled darkly, plotting vengeance that rippled with deadly intent. “Trust me…”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

✦ Masterlist ✦

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rholsof-film · 1 month ago

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Krittika & Jennifer’s Body

*Updated*

Krittika Nakshatra:

Aries: 26°40' to 30°00' - Taurus: 0°00' to 10°00'

Sheep Yoni🐑

“A Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing”

Jennifer’s Body takes on a heavy Krittika theme—as the representative of this nak is the innocent sheep yoni. However, the fundamental themes of this nakshatra are opposite of innocent. The themes are sacrifice, renewal, and transformation; In this case Jennifer is the sacrificed sheep for the selfish greed of a band trying to have their chance at fame. Much in a biblical context lamb/sheep, and goat are sacrificial in order to come into a state of renewal and transformation. Making way for the new state of mind, body and soul.

Krittika is to cut, burn and purify, it’s a fundamental hunter as well—Kartikeya being born from Krittika is a metaphysical hunter/warrior. These natives are the untamable but love the game of being a hunter taming their prey. Jennifer Check, played by Megan Fox, who is a Krittika sun native is very much “a wolf in sheep’s clothing”. I believe that is another key theme of this nakshatra that is not often talked about enough. They are often underestimated in the beginning given their image of innocence. Just simmered down to being a seducer but no one ever goes more in depth about Krittika’s ways and how they work and think.

Low Shoulder travels to Devil’s Kettle to put on a mini show as a coverup to their sacrificial ritual. When they lock into their victim Jennifer, they assume she’s this innocent virgin that has no experience sexually, which is vital for their ritual. However, she isn’t a virgin and when she is sacrificed violently, she’s brought back to life. Renewed in a transformative way as a succubus. I must note that during Low Shoulder’s show, the bar burns down and there are dozens of casualties that aren’t accounted for. Krittika burns to create and make room for the new.

As Jennifer embraces her new life as a succubus, her friend Needy begins to notice that many of the boys from school are mysteriously disappearing. Since there are no secrets between close friends, Jennifer eventually confesses the truth about what happened to her that fateful night—revealing that a part of her died in the process. There is a state of darkness within Krittika's transformation, a spiritual death. Now, to survive and maintain her vitality, she must live differently. This journey mirrors Krittika’s process of purification, which I believe is the ultimate granter of beauty. For Jennifer, feeding on boys is the price she pays to sustain her vibrance and magnetic allure.

Krittika’s relation to the birth of the masculine also connects to Jennifer only targeting boys. Although, I like to think it’s because she favors the feminine more and it feeds into her liberation for woman. Jennifer and Needy’s relationship is also homoerotic and I talk about Krittika and queerness more in a different post that you can check out in my tag.

When Jennifer sets her sights on Chip, Needy’s boyfriend, their friendship reaches a breaking point. This betrayal forces Needy to confront Jennifer, ultimately leading to Jennifer’s elimination.

After killing Jennifer, Needy inherits the unique abilities of the succubus—strength, levitation, and heightened aggression. This mirrors Krittika’s archetypal traits: immense power coupled with the challenge of balancing intense emotions.

We see this transformation unfold throughout the movie, particularly at its climax. In the beginning, Needy is in jail struggling with her emotions. This foreshadows her punishment for murdering Jennifer and inheriting her new abilities. However, by the end, she channels her newfound strength to take down the band Low Shoulder in a brutal and cathartic hotel murder. Bringing full closure to the events that started it all. All transformative and inherent to Krittika’s nature.

*Updated Version*

#Krittika #krittika nakshatra #vedic astrology #vedic astro notes #Vedic

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amons-hat-enthusiast · 6 months ago

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A petition to stop Rio Tinto’s mine from destroying Serbia’s nature

"We call upon you to prohibit extractive mining projects and metal processing in the Jadar Valley in Serbia.

In particular, we demand that you cancel the proposed Rio Tinto lithium mine in Loznica. We demand that you protect the biodiversity, fertile ground, farming villages and rich cultural areas.

Serbia’s most fertile land can be found in the beautiful Jadar Valley. Small family farmers grow raspberries and plums, engage in beekeeping and sheep and goat herding. The valley borders mountains, is surrounded by water and home to thousands of sustainable multi-generational farms.

But instead of protecting it, the Serbian government has approved a project with multinational mining corporation Rio Tinto, for the exploitation of “Jadarite”, a lithium ore in the valley. The government and the company have ignored scientists and mining experts who advise vehemently against the mine and are threatening to cause irreparable damage to the water, land, air and it’s people. Local citizens, who do not want to give up their sustainable agricultural land which has been in their families for generations, are being ignored.

The process of separating chemically stable lithium from jadarite ore involves the use of concentrated sulfuric acid. The process would take place 20 km from the Drina River and use 300 cubic meters of water every hour, while the chemically treated water would be returned to the Jadar River.

The outpouring of inevitably polluted water, as well as underground waters which contain arsenic, mercury and lead, would contaminate entire river basins and continue their journey across the Jadar to the Drina and Sava, polluting not only Serbia's but other countries' water sources as well.

We reject the pollution of the air. Treatment with the above mentioned (and additional) aggressive acids produces toxic gases that can spread within a radius of over ten kilometers and which will corrode the skin and lungs of humans and animals.

We reject the endangerment of the population around the Jadar Valley in the interests of a multinational corporate profit. Rio Tinto has promised 700 new jobs, but forgot to mention that 19,000 people are set to be displaced or severely effected.

Rio Tinto in 2020, destroyed a 45,000 year old sacred Australian Aboriginal cave. The company and its representatives have been repeatedly convicted of fraud and paid billions of dollars in damages and fines for illegal destruction of land, but continue to ravage and destroy natural environment around the world. The company is accused of participating in war crimes in Papua New Guinea, where a ten-year civil war broke out due to the presence of their mine.

The citizens of Serbia have the right to clean air, clean water and healthy living conditions. Stop Rio Tinto’s lithium mine and protect the people, our heritage, our environment and the rivers of the Jadar Valley. United we can save our environment."

https://action.wemove.eu/sign/2023-03-stop-rio-tinto-EN?akid=s1568260..uAF-ha

The text above explains the situation. This is a very important petition and I'd be very grateful if you could sign it and spread it.

(I see that only people from European countries can sign it, others please reblog for this to reach as many people as possible)

#petition #serbia #srbija #balkan #balkans #vojvodina #rio tinto #kreni promeni

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probablyasocialecologist · 5 months ago

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Most of the daily crimes against Palestinians on the West Bank take place only a few miles from the homes of Israeli citizens within the pre-1967 borders of the state. Particularly vicious events are sometimes reported, in relatively subdued and peripheral ways, in Haaretz, the only respectable newspaper in the country, and also, rarely, on the evening news that everyone watches. Still, even peace-oriented, left-wing Israelis often express shock when I tell them of witnessing violent attacks by settlers and soldiers on Palestinian shepherds and peasant farmers. It is as if that kind of knowledge were pushed away from conscious awareness, or as if the knowledge itself exists somewhere in the mind but knowledge of that knowledge does not. (Classical Indian logicians claim that one doesn’t know something unless one consciously knows that one knows it.) In short, much of the population of Israel has lived through the last five decades in varying modes and intensities of denial. Here’s a typical example. One night in late July I slept in the Bedouin village of Ras al-‘Ain in the southern Jordan Valley. Adjacent to the village, in a fiercely hot, arid zone, a cool, clean stream flows down from the hill country. The villagers need that water to survive and to sustain their herds of sheep and goats; each day they fill up five or six tankers, hitched to tractors, from the stream. Israeli settlers from the illegal outposts nearby are doing whatever they can, including committing vicious attacks, to block Palestinians’ access to the water; the goal is to dry them out so that they will have to leave their homes. The army, the police, the Civil Administration, and the military courts are all colluding with the settlers in their ongoing minibattle with the shepherds. Our activists are by the stream, night and day, to protect the Palestinians as best we can. We spent an hour or two that evening fending off knife-wielding, masked young thugs from the settler outposts who were trying to block a lone tractor and its attached tanker from bringing water to the village. Often Israeli settlers from the older settlements, who may be less prone to violence than those from the new outposts and are usually Orthodox, come to picnic by the stream. A friend of mine, a long-standing member of the Israeli peace camp and an Orthodox Jew—and thus adept in the settlers’ language—spoke to two of these middle-aged settlers about the situation in Ras al-‘Ain. “What?” they said. “You mean there is violence here? That’s impossible.” A total surprise—for people living in the heart of the West Bank, on stolen Palestinian land. I don’t think they were pretending to be shocked. Mainstream Israelis living in Tel Aviv or Jerusalem are even less likely to grasp the reality of systematic state violence directed against innocent Palestinians when news of it somehow filters into the public sphere. Simply stated, they don’t want to know, or maybe they don’t much care.

21 August 2024

#israel #palestine #gaza #west bank #zionism #settler colonialism

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helengie · 1 year ago

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cherryheairt · 23 days ago

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Dragon Dreamer pt. XVI

Chapter 16

Last chapter here

Masterlist

sailor Daenys era

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You've gotten comfortable around them."

"Dragons?" He asked, huffing.

She hummed acknowledgment.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm thinking." She deflected.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dragons run quite hot."

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

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

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

"You might find one yet, sweet boy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Go on."

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

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

"I do." She shrugged.

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

Daenys nodded again, slightly exasperated.

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

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

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

"And you're not jesting?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Corlys returned to the wheel and steered it out.

Daenys blinked rapidly, the same feeling overwhelming her again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"House Baratheon sides with King Aegon Targaryen."

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

The Baratheon would not. His pride was too great.

"Leave, boy."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Opposite?" She asked, bleary.

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

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

He raised a brow for her to continue.

Clamorous flapping of ripped wings.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

But he was not.

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

Two ships.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Borros.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sunfyre unfortunately had to wait.

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

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

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

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

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

Wrong place at the wrong time.

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

"How do you know all of that?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His hands clamped around her throat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

'Lord of the tides.'

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

He was a linguistic and a scholar.

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

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

Except his sword.

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

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

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

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

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

#dragondreamer #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #cregan stark #hotd fanfic #cregan stark x oc #hotd #hotd season 2 #hotd fanfiction #writing #fanfic #cregan

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