#THE SUN AND THE BLIND DRAGON thanks for remembering them

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[randomdragonfires]

Kalopsia | One Shot

Text Divider by @saradika-graphics

Kalopsia (n.) The delusion of things being more beautiful than they really are.

SUMMARY | She associates the words with brighter days and happier memories that she’ll never get back. And yet, when he utters them into her ear, they've never sounded more tainted and wrong - but she'll tell herself they aren’t, until the lies become truth.

PAIRING | Daemon Targaryen x Reader

WARNINGS | 18+; smut; DD:DNE; penetrative sex; dubious consent; exhibitionism; forced prostitution; canon typical sexism; infidelity; angst; ambiguous and unclear motives for sex - both Daemon and reader are fucked up people in this story, and there is much about their mental conflict that may be quick to trigger someone. Please read with caution.

WORD COUNT | 8.8k

A/N | This is a dark fic with heavily triggering themes. Please don't hate anon me. Thanks. :)

SHE REMEMBERED THE DAY SHE MET HIM. 

It was a hot summer’s day when the sun had burnt her through her dress, leaving her sweating and reaching for a drink of water every few moments. He was a vision - flying through the skies of Pentos on the Blood Wyrm, with his beautiful wife, the lady Laena Velaryon right behind him as she rode the historic wonder, Vhagar. They were a wandering couple, and talk about them had been rife in the Free Cities - dragon sightings were feared, what with the Rogue Prince’s reckless nature making people assume that he’d bathe them in dragonfire for his personal amusement. 

She remembered seeing them fly out of Pentos the first time, to tour the other Free Cities. This was almost a year ago. By the time they’d come back to reside with the Prince of Pentos, the lady Laena had suspected that she was with child. Based on what she saw of the royal couple, Prince Daemon, in his own way, was appreciative of his wife.

But being appreciative of his wife certainly did not mean that Daemon Targaryen was in any way blind to everything else around him. It was this fact that had led his eyes to her.

A striking purple, and they had met her melancholic, unmemorable ones from where he stood as the Prince of Pentos barked orders and asked her to see to Lady Velaryon’s every need. His gaze held a very peculiar combination of condescension and amusement for those around him, and she was pulled to him, in the same way that fishes were to the sea. Her world seemed to melt as she looked at him in all his Valyrian beauty - it stunned her. 

He took one leisurely glance at her - beginning his perusal of her, neck to navel. His eyes rested for a moment longer between her legs, and she’d never forget the way her thighs quickly met under her skirts in a desperate attempt to keep herself contained.

It had been a long while since she felt anything but the fleeting sense of sadness that had taken over every part of her since she had lost it all and ended up in this city. And now, as Daemon Targaryen lingered - nay, took over her line of sight, she felt something more, more, more. 

She did not know what to think about the slow storm brewing in her mind, so she chose to disregard it for a time. This was royalty, and this entire matter was well and truly beyond her weight. She should not bother with the likes of those who were higher and mightier - those that would never choose her and harm her with no regard.

But the intense wildfire-like heat that passed through her body was hard to ignore, especially given the potent lack of it in the last many years. It scared and excited her in equal measure, and regardless of the possibility of danger, she could not help but be drawn to him. She felt like an ungrateful, wanton whore for lusting after another woman’s husband - a very good woman, she would soon find - but how could she reject the man who had woken her passions once more, after she thought they were long lost to her? All with just a single look, no less?  

It was often said that the Targaryens were closer to Gods than men. With their dragons, intoxicating eyes and intense gazes, she was inclined to agree. 

It was why she brought him his bathwater and helped him with his bath every morning after his dragon ride; why she scrubbed at his scarred skin with the washcloth even though he was in no need of assistance. She cleaned his chambers, and continued to do so even after he’d stepped in and burned her with his stare. Of course it burned, he was the blood of the dragon after all.

She found herself bringing his heated bathwater despite the flight of stairs that she had to brave while carrying the weight. She helped him in and out of his clothes everyday, listening to his commands like a mindless soldier who only did what she was told. She always looked for him, even in a chamber of more than a hundred people - her young girl’s gaze, flitting about - trying to find his spun-silver hair.

Whenever she caught his gaze, he was already looking.

She supposed she'd never get tired of the heat pooling in her belly whenever she was in his presence - or how her hands found their way inside her already dampened smallclothes whenever she pictured him with shut eyes at night time.

Perhaps that’s why she felt like it was a long time coming when he creeped up behind her, hand holding her in place as it snaked around her waist. His palm flattened against her stomach and the other held her neck, squeezing just enough to make the heat rush to her cheek and between her legs. He brought his nose down to the side of her neck, laughing darkly as they breathed each other in, and she let a small whimper escape her lips.

“What took you,” she breathed out before adding, “…so long?” He responded to her meek attempt at a question with a sharp bite to her neck and a growl, effectively silencing her voice and awakening the fire in her once more.

“Don’t be too loud, you’re going to wake my wife,” he whispered before turning her around to meet her eyes.

Those words should have woken her up and brought her to reality. She should have awoken from her wistfulness and tossed her fantasies where they’d bother her no more. This was a married man, a married prince. 

This was wrong, wrong, wrong.

But the blood rushing through her veins, the excitement of being coveted and central to a man’s gaze - it excited her in ways that she had never been before. The allure of him was hard to ignore, and by the looks of how eagerly his hands were slipping under her haphazardly hiked up skirts, he felt the same way too.

She’d missed this feeling - this feeling of being alive and full of life. The prospect of excitement and a renewed zest for life, after all she had been through, had only pushed her towards him a lot more. 

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

She was blind to the dangers of the man, and she'd never been happier to remain ignorant. She did not want to want him, and she hated that she did. She did not say yes to his command, or emphatically agree. She simply took his lips in hers and sunk her fingers into his hair, reveling in the feel of his rough hands holding her backside in a tight grip.

She may not love him, and she did not like him. But she wanted this, she needed this. She needed to feel something, anything at all. She supposed that there’s something that he wants too - though she does not know what.

She soon found that there was very little in their burgeoning arrangement that would favor her fantasies, and that Daemon Targaryen simply did not care - for anyone.

“WILL YOU BE NEEDING ANYTHING ELSE, MY LADY?”

Laena Velaryon is undoubtedly one of the most beautiful women she’s ever laid her eyes on. She is also one of kindest souls she’s ever had the courtesy of encountering - which is why her guilt eats at her tenfold whenever Daemon seeks out her company.

She wants to say no. She wants to say no each time.

Initially, it was an infatuation that was within her control - but the day she had indulged and let her body overshadow her mind, it had become a bit much. Initially, he had sensed her hesitation despite her being welcoming. He’d plied at her with sweet words, each syrupy sweet and meant to break through her doubt. 

She melts each time, her weak will giving in like water slipping through her fingers.

Conflict is a funny thing. Each time his hands pin her wrists above her head as he takes her for all that she is, or when he’d let a finger slip through her smallclothes and glide through her folds, she wants to say no. She wants to be the good girl that her mother believed she was, but the pleasure was too much. The high that he takes her on each time is too much to ignore, too good to pass up on.

She wants to say no. The words wait at her throat, but refuse to tumble out of her lips.

It is wrong, but she wants to feel pleasure. She wants to be reminded that she is a woman worthy of pleasure, and she feels good- no matter how guilt-ridden - each time his cock sinks into her. No other man has wanted and loved her like this before, and despite the horridness of it all, she finds that she cannot say no - no matter how hard she tries. 

However, she doesn't know what he wants. Daemon Targaryen wears his intrigue as well as he does his arrogance and condescension. She never knows what he wants - but she also worries that she may not like what she finds.

She will find out soon.

“That will be all, my sweet,” Laena says. The exhausted smile she wears as she cradles her hugely pregnant belly makes her want to throw herself at her feet and cry for mercy - but she is too in deep. How could she tell Daemon she didn’t want to share his bed anymore? How could she, when his power and famed temper may just harm her? 

I’m sorry your husband fucks me each night. I’m sorry I like it. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

What right does she have, after allowing it all these times? What right does she have, after enjoying it each time? She doesn't love him, but in those moments, she loves what she feels. The regret that follows is gut-wrenching, but she chooses to indulge each time. It was a blind and burning desire, and it is this very same wave of emotion that compels her to follow his instructions, blind and eager to please.

A servant walks into the room and looks towards the window, eyes flitting about and nervous. “The Prince Daemon has asked to see you, lady.” Her tone is apologetic, and when Laena Velaryon stands, she feels herself crumble to a thousand pieces. When she is half-stood, the Valyrian beauty realizes it is not her that her husband wants to see tonight.

“Go. He doesn’t like to be kept waiting,” she murmurs. A heavy sigh escapes her lips as she sits back down, the weight of the impending babe taking a toll on her.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.

She is ashamed of the peculiar heat pooling in her belly as she walks out, unable to meet Lady Laena’s eyes. The walk to Daemon’s chambers has her head facing the floor as some of the other servants eye her and whisper the words.

Homewrecker. Whore. Concubine.

She wonders about how she could still want him after all the irreparable damage that she’s taken in her mind. She wonders when her lack of spine would dissipate, and when she’d be able to reject him outwardly and speak her mind. She wonders when she’d be able to make up her mind and stand by her decision.

She hates that she enjoys it, she hates that she’s at the center of it all. But he brings her to her peak effortlessly and with such intensity that she forgets for a moment, for just a moment, how wrong all of this is.

She pushes the door open and gulps at the sight of a half naked Daemon Targaryen sitting at the edge of his bed, hands pumping his cock with no urgency. The languid movements and his haphazard state of undress - his linen undershirt doing little to hide the lithe muscles underneath - make her head spin. He is yet to touch her.

She watches, his presence magnetic as he pulls her attention easier than he should. His gaze then finds hers as she stands frozen near the door, his breath a mangled mix of moans and groans as his hand refuses to relent. He looks at her as he continues his movements on his cock, and her thighs slap together while she folds her hands just below her breasts, pushing them up above the neckline of her dress.

A drop of sweat trickles down the side of her face as she makes her way to him, each step feeling labored and long as she positions herself between his legs. Her view of his cock is undisturbed and clear, and she hates that it is the most beautiful one that she’s ever seen. Slightly leaning to the left, the girth of it impresses her each time he pushes into her, making her feel fuller than ever before.

She continues to watch his hands move, movements as slow as ever. Her eyes are fixated upon the light silver hair that marked a path below his abdomen, and the veins that marked their way through his erect cock. The glistening white pearly drops of seed on the tip called to her, and her mouth began to water. 

“Take it” - he grunts through his pleasure - “off.”

She’s been in this position long enough to know what it means.It is one thing to lust after a man from afar, and another to be fucked by him. It is neither safe, nor ideal for her to be using her mouth on a Westerosi Prince whose wife was only one door away. And yet, they’ve been giving each other company for almost a year. 

She works through the laces on her front one by one, her focus on his almost black, dilated pupils. He wants her, and she wants him. It is seemingly simple, and yet it is the most complicated entanglement she has ever known.

He’s never been the most patient man to grace these halls, and it is evident as he stops the hand on his cock and stands up. He reaches for the dagger on a tray of fruit by the table, and swiftly cuts through the loops in a series of flicks. Each time the dagger cut through, the stray threads flew about and he dusted them off with the same disregard and impatience. 

“You’re going to take my cock in your mouth like the good girl that you are,” he growls. Candlelight illuminates his face as his dagger makes its way through the fabric, revealing her soft skin and exposing her breasts to him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

And yet, as the cool metal of his dagger grazes over her nipple ever so slightly, the fire in her burns bright. Her fear dictates that she say no and run before it can spiral into something beyond her control, but the faint waves of pleasure that cause the dampness between her thighs  keeps her there - almost as though her legs are stuck in quicksand.

The dress pools at her feet and she steps out of it, his hurried hands removing her shift. And when they stand, facing each other - and she wishes this was something else.

She wishes this was a simple and innocent love affair. She wishes that this was a man she could love, one that would love her just the way she would. She wishes that there was more comfort to be gained from this than the highs of the pleasure in itself - It will never be enough for her.

She reaches forward and kisses him flush on the lips, devouring his as she slips her tongue in. He bites into her lip and she tastes the copper of the blood bubbling through; he grabs her by the hair and pulls her up to meet his eye. “I said -”

“Please. Please, just… Please. Let me have this.”

He leans back and assesses her for just a moment before swooping in and taking her lips in his, no questions asked. And when he kisses her so, she can try to convince her little girl’s heart that this - what they have - is a lot more beautiful than it is meant to be.

The kiss makes her think that this is what the heavens would feel like, should she ever manage to meet the caress of a lover who’d love like she could, like she wants. A gentle and calm hand, a kind disposition that would care.  But it does not last long. He is quick to wrangle her mouth away and join her forehead to his, breathing in the scent of her as she closes her eyes and wonders how this could ever be what she wants, wrestling with the contrasting realization that she has not been loved like this, not ever.

But is this love, really? This cannot possibly be love. No. She’s known love before. It is simple, easy and comforting. Nothing about this is. 

She wants it just the same.

It is this thought that occupies her mind as she gets down on her knees. The stone cold floor and the ridges grate at her knees almost immediately, moving slightly as she bobs her head back and forth. She slowly but surely adjusts to his length, choking a little and allowing the spit to pool in her mouth, dripping down to her chin by the side of her lips. If she didn’t know better, she’d have mistaken him gently wiping it off with the tip of his thumb as affection.

She grabs his thigh with one hand and massages his stones with the other, her head continuing to bob back and forth relentlessly. His hands grasp at her hair, keeping the stray strands at bay as she reminds herself to breathe through her nose. She moves almost mechanically, forgetting him and his towering figure as she wonders. What do I look like to him? On my knees and eyes pooling with tears? 

It is a common saying among the common folk - A King’s child will be royalty, and a whore’s child will be a whore. She is the daughter of a whore, and she hates that the words may hold true for her too. 

Mama wanted for me to be more. Dignified and happy. She should not have died and left me alone.

She remembers a time when her mother had brought a friend of hers from the whorehouse back home. Her mother was a favorite amongst the nobility, and she’d entertained both the then-Prince Viserys and Daemon.

She’d become with child soon after, and had her. The idea of either man possibly being her father is sickening to her, given the position she now finds herself in. Of course, it will not matter much to them, with their Valyrian blood and queer customs - but it makes her want to cry her eyes out and worry about the kind of sickness she must inhibit to want Daemon Targaryen as much as she does despite the knowledge, despite the wrongness of it all. Her only consolation is that she has no Valyrian features. There is no way of knowing for sure, and she chooses not to entertain these thoughts while being aided by this realization. 

“Good girl. Go on,” he moans. His voice immediately brings her out of her reverie, and the words are enough to send her conflicted conscience spinning on its head.

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

Her mother called her a good girl many times before she died. The connotations of the word when they tumble out of Daemon’s lips make her want to retch. He probably believes that the tears are because of her choking on him, but she knows.

Those words meant much and more to her once upon a time, but not anymore. The loss hurts her more than it should. A lost childhood, a happiness that slipped through her fingers through no fault of her own. A much happier and carefree time that is now out of her grasp.

Her thoughts are interrupted when Daemon pulls her up - a thread of spit flowing out of her lips as she adjusts to an empty mouth - and pushes her, caging her between him and the cold stone wall.

Good girl, good girl, good girl. 

WHENEVER SHE THOUGHT OF THE TIMES that she got called a good girl, her mother was always the first to come to mind.

The city of King's Landing - she’d spent almost her entire life there before running onto the ship to Pentos - sprawled around them like a tapestry woven from the threads of countless lives. Towering structures of stone reached for the heavens, casting long shadows that danced across cobblestone streets worn smooth by time. The bustling crowd, a mosaic of colors and voices, flowed like a river through the labyrinthine alleys. The scent of roasted meats, exotic spices, and the ever-present stench of refuse mingled in the air, creating a symphony of odors that was, somehow, comforting in its familiarity.

Her mother worked at a whorehouse nestled amidst the chaotic and filthy heart of the Street of Silk. It was a place where laughter and merriment battled with sorrow and desperation, where secrets and pleasures were shared over wine, closed curtains and weak beds. As a child, she was vaguely aware of the nature of her mother's work, but she didn't fully grasp its complexities. What she did understand was that her mother often came home weary, her shoulders burdened by the weight of the world - or by bite marks and blooming violet bruises.

"Why would anybody bite you there, Mama?" she had asked once. Her mother had only chuckled, but she did not look happy. It always worried her. The bites always looked red, angry and painful.

It was the same bite mark and a line of violet bruises on her mother’s shoulder that she focused on today as she overheard her speak to her friend - another whore who worked at the same whorehouse. She watched as her mother exchanged quiet words with her friend, their voices a hushed whisper as they discussed their day.

“He does something magical with his mouth, Brenna. You would not believe it!” Her mother’s friend looked very happy as she giggled and recounted a story that she caught pieces and fragments of. The mother herself did not look happy, however - the little girl knew when her mother wasn’t happy. Don’t ask how, she simply did.

“I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

The evening sun painted the walls with warm hues, and as the other woman departed, her mother sank onto the edge of the bed. a far-off look in her eyes and a heavy sigh on her lips. 

Without a word, she fetched a basin of water, warm and soothing, and knelt by her mother’s side. Gently, the child removed her boots and began to massage her mother’s tired feet, her small, untrained hands working diligently to ease the discomfort to the best of her ability. The older woman closed her eyes, and a soft smile graced her lips as the tension in her muscles began to melt away.

In that moment, she saw her mother as more than just a tired whore; she saw her as a woman who carried the weight of their little world on her shoulders. The love she felt for her was immense, and it swelled within the child like a river after a storm. But the bite marks and the bruises still looked painful, and they still scared her.

And so, the child’s curiosity got the better of her, and she let the question slip from her innocent lips. "Will I have to work there too when I'm grown up? At the whorehouse?"

Her mother’s eyes flickered open, and a shadow of sadness crossed her face, barely noticeable but unmistakably obvious to her daughter’s young heart. She took a deep breath and then, with a gentle smile, replied, “Perhaps you won’t have to. Maybe you'll find a husband who'll love you more than anyone has ever loved me."

"But I love you a lot, Mama," the young girl said, her voice filled with innocence and devotion.

With a tender sigh, her mother pulled her close, wrapping her arms around her as if to shield her from the harsh world beyond that she was yet to see. 

If only.

"And I love you, my sweet child," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "You are such a good girl. You’re my little girl."

In that moment, the girl felt a profound sense of pride in being her mother’s daughter, in the simple act of bringing comfort to her tired soul. The city of King's Landing may have been a tumultuous sea of chaos, but in that room, with her mother's arms around her, she found her anchor, her safe harbor, and a love that she hoped would guide her through any storm.

HER BACK PRESSING INTO THE STONE WALL MAKES HER SHUDDER.

The cold sensation grating against her skin and the eerie chill of the night air make her weak in the knees. Daemon Targaryen’s cock moves against her cunt like it belongs there and nowhere else - the irony of that thought while his wife waits for him in her chambers close by is not lost on her, but she cannot deny how strongly she feels that the man is made for her.

Even if he truly was not.

His lips are immediately on hers, and she devours them for all that they are worth. She enjoys being kissed - it helps her feel wanted by him.

Even if she knew he did not.

Her hands move to the hem of Daemon’s linen undershirt, pushing it up, up, up until it is carelessly thrown halfway across the chamber. She only has one moment to get a look at his naked figure before he pushes against her and cages her between his towering figure and the wall once more. The feeling of heat passing through the pair of them and the smell of sweat and sex is intoxicating to her in a way that she struggles to put into words. Her cunt is wet with arousal as she whimpers into the kiss, allowing him to slip his tongue into her mouth. 

Time stops when they kiss. She supposes it is a beautiful thing, no matter how wrong it was.

Do things have to be right for them to be beautiful anyhow?

Her breasts are flush against his chest as he takes a hold of them, pinching her nipples until they hurt and she gasps into his mouth. He does not stop, however - her pain only seems to spurn him more, and she is ashamed to find that she is aroused as well. One of her hands travels above his neck and she tightly grips onto the root of his hair, pulling until he is in just as much pain and pleasure as she is. The other moves over the scarred planes of his back, almost as though she was mapping out a route to paradise.

The feeling of his cock pushing against her wet cunt sends waves of pleasure coursing through her, the blood rushing to her head and making her feel hazy. She lets the touches take her to the Seven hells - both the man and the circumstances making that their only possible destination.

She wonders if Laena Velaryon wishes for that too.

His cock pushes into her, stretching her walls so wide that she fears he may just split her into two. She needs a moment to adjust and he is generous enough to let her have it as his lips descend onto her neck, leaving her staring blankly at the bed as she breathes heavily. She cranes her neck just a little as she lets his cock settle in her.

And then, he moves.

She often believes that she lives with an aching sense of yearning and pushes through each day finding something to leave her feeling fulfilled. It is an empty feeling really, and the only time she ever feels like she is not a living shell of a woman is when he takes her. The feeling of being filled by him is one that always takes her by surprise - but unlike the other times that she's been taken unawares, this is something she welcomes.

“Yne drējī sȳrī jiōrā, talus. Sepār otāptan, sepār ñuhys ēdruryssy iemnȳ.” [You take me so well, niece. Just as I believed you would, just as I imagined.]

He always says these words whenever he enters her, and she never manages to retain them long enough to ask what they mean - the high of her peak always leaves her mind feeling like melted gold, taking away any chance for coherent conversation. 

Is he referring to someone? Is he appreciating her? Is he saying that he loves her? Somehow, she knows it is not the latter. She won’t have to try and remember to ask tonight - she would find out soon what it is he has gotten out of this all these days.

Every thrust is punctuated by grunts and moans, with both of them hungry for more. She meets every single one of his harsh thrusts as one of her hands slips in between them both, circling and pressing onto her pearl like her entire life was dependent on the pleasure that came from it.

It made sense. The pleasure he gives her each time is what keeps her alive.

Each brush of his flush pink tip against a rough spot inside her cunt makes her eyes roll back in pleasure. He hits it with each thrust as he pounds into her, face always wearing a mask of pursuit - but of what?

What does he want from her?

Her hand on her pearl and his cock in her is swiftly building a pool of heat in her belly - no, not the blazing kind, but a warm kind. It builds, builds, builds and she flies, flies, flies until she can’t go any higher, and she lets herself go limp in his arms as her peak takes over her entire being. 

“That’s it….” He grunts, pushing into her while punctuating each thrust with his words as he relentlessly pushes into her. “Good girl. Dāeremās, sȳres riñus iksā.” [Let go, you’re a good girl.]

She sees red as the pleasure washes over her, vision becoming hazy and rendering her incoherent for many a moment before she manages to bring herself back down to earth. And as the sights around her become clear again, she clings onto him and breathes while looking over his shoulder.

The world looks newer and brighter each time she comes down from the highs that he causes. And in this moment, his last words hit her like the stone wall that she stands in front of.

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

How can a pair of words remind her of what she was then and is now, all at the same time? How can these words hold so much power that they’d coax her into paradise and leave her there, lost and wanting for more, more, more?

She leans back and holds herself straight, looking into his eyes for only a short moment as she gathers herself. It is a deep sea of bright violet and she drowns, drowns, drowns.

She's been drowning in him and trying to catch her breath for a long while now. She's not sure if she wants to be saved - she wants a hand, and pushes it off too.

What does that mean for her?

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

The memory forms in her mind as Daemon Targaryen moves them both and turns her around to make her see out the window - fully naked. She braces herself with two palms holding onto either sides of the window as he pulls her backside to him and spreads her wide, leaving her glistening and sensitive cunt open for him to take once more. His hand moves almost softly over her rear as he enters her once more, this time purely to chase his own release.

“Good girl.”

KING’S LANDING WAS BUSTLING WITH TRAVELERS THIS TIME OF THE YEAR, and she was now fourteen summers old.

She had blossomed into womanhood, her youth adorned with beauty and a vague innocence - yet tarnished by the harsh realities of her life. She toiled at a tavern, where raucous patrons screamed sweet syrupy words at her, attempting to lure her away with their promises. 

“I’ll show you a good time, lass! C’mere!” The man at the table said, patting his thighs and indicating that he’d like for her to sit on his lap.

She had witnessed her own mother endure such advances, and now, as a grown woman, she was the object of many a man’s desire. She was both confused and intrigued, for the attention made feel disgusted yet wanted at the same time.

On one seemingly uneventful day, she counted her earnings - four copper pennies - and began to try and do the addition to determine how much more she would need to settle her mother's debt with the ominous madame of the whorehouse that her mother worked at. Her brother was meant to bring home his pay too tonight, and the sum of their combined efforts held the promise of lifting their family from the pit of debt that had ensnared them. As she left the tavern to head home, the weight of her responsibilities hung heavily upon her young shoulders.

Along her path back home, she encountered a pair of inebriated travelers, their intentions dark and menacing. They seized her arm, grip threatening to harm her fragile spirit. In the midst of her fear, a figure emerged from the shadows, a protector amidst the dangerous chaos. It was Brynden, her brother’s Riverlander friend - she has secretly admired him for years. As she held onto the stone walls of the roads for dear life, he  confronted the drunken men and drove them away from her.

She could not help the slight blush on her face as he checked if she was alright. Her mother once told her that she might find a husband that would love her - is this what love is?

Her young heart believed that it was.

Once he was sure that she was alright, Brynden brought her the news that he’d wanted to tell her. Her brother, it appeared, had squandered his earnings on ale once more and now lay incapacitated on the side of the Street of Silk after finishing an afternoon at a whorehouse. Determined to shield her mother from disappointment, she rushed to her brother's side, her heart pounding with a fervent resolve.

The smell of baked treats and food soon morphed into fragrant yet strong oils, wafting from half-naked women hoping to get a man to pay for their cunts. As she looked around, she finally found the whorehouse that her brother frequented. 

She found him in a pitiful state, his speech slurred and incoherent as he mumbled in his inebriated stupor. Anguish welled within her; he would not be bringing any money home this time either. But despite her frustration, she could not help but love him. He was her brother, and the bonds of blood ran deep.

Gently, she guided him through the winding streets, their journey fraught with the weight of her responsibilities and the uncertainty of their future. He babbled on, his words a testament to his gratitude and admiration for her sense of duty. 

“You’re a good girl, sister,” he’d said, his voice trembling with affection. “Good girl.” She pressed a tender kiss upon his sweaty forehead, her love for her brother transcending any and all disappointments. 

As the night unfolded into dawn, she herself succumbed to the embrace of sleep, her brother beside her, a fragile moment of solace amidst the tumult of their lives. When she awoke, he was gone, vanished into the shadows of the city, never to be seen again. Her heart ached with longing, but she never harbored resentment. She waited, and in her waiting, she remained faithful to the last words her brother had spoken to her. 

Good girl, good girl, good girl.

In the years that followed, she missed him every day. Her mother's health deteriorated, the weight of their struggles taking a toll. But she persevered, striving to be the good girl her brother believed her to be, even in his absence. 

Those two words became a guiding light, a reminder of the love they shared, of what she always hoped to be.

THE COLD AIR HITS HER SQUARE IN THE CHEST, and she is made aware of how exposed she is.

Daemon’s apartments are located at the topmost floors of the Prince of Pentos’ home. From where she stands, with her naked figure holding onto either side of the window as he takes her from behind, she has a clear view of the city at night. Logs of fire are lit and fitted onto stone walls on the roads, and the blurred fiery orange is visible to her as she looks down at the city that saved her. Any passerby close to her can crane their neck up just a little, and see her naked in all her glory, from neck to navel. 

Her breasts bounce as Daemon’s cock moves in and out, shining in the moonlight that her figure now obstructs, keeping the light from entering the dimly lit chamber. She lets out a strangled moan as he bullies her spot with each thrust, grunting and moaning in a mix of pleasure and exertion. The sweaty sheen on her forehead dries in the chill of the night air, and her line of sight is unstable with the way her head moves with the rest of her body.

“You like this, don’t you? For the entire world to see you spread out and wanting like this…” he says, with his lips nibbling on her ear enough to make her scream. “For them to know that you are mine. Fuck, fu-uuck!”

Mine, mine, mine. 

Is it such a bad thing to be? In this moment, as she rolls her eyes back at wave after wave of pleasure and the rapid heat blooming in her belly once more, she supposes it is. She will hate herself for wanting this when they are done for the night - but she’ll cross that bridge when it comes. 

Or burn it.

“Fuck,” she whispers as she loses herself. The shame of being put on display for every common man and woman to see is non-existent, but her heart drops at how she hates that she likes it.

A whore’s daughter is a whore too. How quickly had she given in, after all that she had done to escape a fate that wasn’t her doing?

With one particular thrust, she pushes forward a bit more than expected. She worries that she’s going to fall, fall, fall - the drop would be deathly steep and long.

She imagines what the fall would be like if her grip wasn’t tight. Her naked form falling down with her hands unable to find any purchase, flailing about as she is suspended in the air. She’d probably see all the bricks and windows in close view - perhaps, someone leaning against another window may scream as they notice her falling to what she hopes would be death, naked as her name day.

Would she be able to live it through if she miraculously and unfortunately survived that fall?

Almost as though he sensed her fear of slipping, Daemon’s hands move away from the loose grip they have on her waist. One hand snakes around her breasts and his forearm presses into her pebbled peaks, while the other cups her cunt and covers it from the cold completely. A fresh wave of arousal takes over her as he groans at the wetness that now coats his palm. The sudden warmth of his hand has her whining and moaning for more, and she moves, riding against his palm, wanting for more, more, more. It would seem that they are both insatiable tonight.

Daemon picks up the pace, his movements speeding up as she senses his desperation for release. She feels his cock hit her all the way up to her lower belly as the coil builds once more, giving her the excitement as she anticipates the sweet pleasure of release once more. She almost gives in right then, knees buckling and legs almost melting as she feels herself fly high, higher and higher still once more. Her peak washes over her in an instant as he pushes deep, her cunt only protected from the stone wall below the window by his palm.

It is a particularly long wave of pleasure that takes over her, making the hairs on her body stand upright as she struggles to stand on her own. Fire courses through her veins and her face is flushed as she finally smiles, drinking in the intense pleasure as Daemon’s thrusts get slower and slower until he spills in her too - a mix of grunts and moans as he falls apart.

The heady mix of sweat, slick and seed dripping down her thighs is enough to make her hazy and feel light in the head. Her head seems as though it is filled with cotton as her thighs quiver, making her experience relief like never before and she wants to turn and kiss him, hope to let the delusion that he loves her fester in her head a bit more and give herself the luxury of feeling genuinely loved for just a while as he-

“Good girl, Rhaenyra.”

His hands have moved away and he quickly pulls out of her, making her move forward. The stone wall hits the dark mound covering her cunt as she winces at the sudden emptiness - from both between her legs and her heart.

She’s lost her home, her memories, her happier days and a life that she loved. She’s lost enough and more for a lifetime. Daemon was never hers to be considered a loss, and she knows it too. And yet, as the realization that even his sex-addled, ill-meant compliments weren’t hers to own washes over her, she finds a lone tear slipping from her eye.

The salty taste on her lips feels like home.

Good girl, he’d said. To whom was he saying it, really?

TWO YEARS HAD PASSED SINCE HER BROTHER WALKED AWAY FROM THEIR LIVES, leaving an empty space that seemed impossible to fill. She was now a fully grown woman who was struggling to make ends meet in the bustling streets of King's Landing. Life had grown harsher with each passing day, and now, a shadow of illness loomed over their humble home.

Her mother had fallen ill, a fever that refused to break. She was too sick to continue working at the whorehouse, so they lived on scraps while the young girl’s earnings went toward settling their debts. She couldn't afford the services of a maester for her mother in the capital city, and the local healer's herbs offered little solace. Still, she continued to scrape together every copper she could find, pouring her earnings into the apothecary's pouch in a desperate attempt to buy her mother some time and relief.

Debt was a relentless specter in their lives. The madame of the local whorehouse hounded them incessantly, demanding the repayment of their debts. Her once cozy home felt increasingly suffocating, its walls closing in around them as they fought to survive.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the room, she returned home to a sight that sent a chill down her spine. Her mother appeared more sickly than usual, her brow damp with fevered sweat. She rushed to her mother’s side, her heart pounding with fear. She pressed her palm to her mother's forehead and felt the searing heat.

In her delirious state, her mother noticed her efforts to help and laughed softly, her voice a mere whisper. "Thank you my love, you’re a good girl," she murmured weakly, her eyes glazed with fever. The girl's heart ached, and she did what little she could to ease her mother's suffering. She prepared a hot bowl of soup and fed it to her mother, tears welling in her eyes as she watched the warm liquid spill from her mother's lips.

Good girl. The last words her mother had said to her. 

The night passed in anxious vigil, but by morning, her mother was gone. She had wept bitterly, her tears soaking the tattered bed linens that held the memory of happier times.

Days later, the madame of the whorehouse came knocking, a cruel glint in her eyes. She had no sympathy for the loss, only an insistence that the debt must be paid. With ruthless determination, she thrust the girl into her mother's role, forcing her to walk a path that her mother had promised she’d never have to.

“Maybe you'll find a husband who'll love you more than anyone has ever loved me,” her mother had said once. The words had no power or weight as she braced herself to welcome the lustful drunks of King’s Landing with a closed heart and open legs.

Distressed and terrified, the girl found herself in a living nightmare. The once-bustling brothel became her prison, and her innocence was sacrificed to repay a debt she had not incurred. As the first man walked through the doors that fateful night, she realized that her life had taken a dark and irreversible turn, and there was no escape from the cruelty of King's Landing's unforgiving streets.

She remembered looking at the ceiling as she whimpered, the pain of being taken for the first time making her well up in earnest. The bed made a series of creaking sounds as she let him have his way with her, and the gold coin that he’d flicked at her abdomen afterward shined like nothing she’d ever seen before.

“Gold?” she whimpered, unable to recognize the shiny metal. She looked at the coin in awe, and the man laughed cruelly. 

“Maiden whores are worth more than the usual,” he said. 

In all her years living in the stink of the city, she’d never felt dirty - but she did now.

With each night, she caged her heart and saved up the money. On some days, it’d be a penny and on some others, it’d be a silver stag. Every coin saved would buy her escape and freedom. And one night, she finally ran. 

Five silver stags for a journey aboard the first ship she could find. To Pentos.

Her job as a chambermaid at the Prince of Pentos’s home came to her as a kitchen maid took pity and took her in. For months, she’d safely worked and made more money. They provided her with a little chamber that she shared with the other maids, and food so her belly would never feel empty. She’d escaped the brothel and she wanted to believe that she’d made her mother proud. She didn’t know if she was happy, but she was her own person again - it had to count for something, regardless of how empty she felt.

Three months later, a silver-haired Rogue Prince made his descent on the palace grounds, atop the most terrifying dragon she’d ever seen - awakening what was dead in her once more.

DESPITE HOW ROUGHLY HE’D HANDLED HER JUST MOMENTS BEFORE, she felt as though she’d been doused with cold water.

Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra, Rhaenyra.

She’d believed that she was a blot of shame on Laena Velaryon’s marriage, but it would seem that a silver-haired princess - the Realm’s Delight, his niece - was doing far worse in her absence.

Had he been taking her from behind, hoping against hope that if he closed his eyes and thrusted enough, he’d be able to picture her? 

She turns around, the thrill of being put on display while in the throes of pleasure wearing off of her. She walks over to the table near the fireplace with unsteady steps, and slips on the robe that he’d discarded - possibly before she’d stepped in. The wine pitcher invites her with open arms, offering her the comfort of ignorance and forgetfulness as she tries to wrap her head around finally finding out what he’s wanted all this time.

She wanted to be able to feel something, and he wanted to feel her. Neither of them wanted each other, and she supposes that the field is now even. Somehow, she feels a bit more powerful with the knowledge that she wasn’t just someone that he took mindlessly, but was someone who helped him satisfy what she now clearly sees as his guilty desires.

She must have known. Rumors of whores being asked to call him uncle as he fucked them dizzy have floated about before - she thought they were lies, but now she’s seen firsthand how true they are.

He was married to a woman whom he probably wishes was someone else. He was straying from his marriage vows with another woman, not even the one who he wished for. She wonders if Rhaenyra Targaryen knows how deeply she is wanted and loved. 

She wonders if she will ever be loved the same way. A whore's daughter will also be a whore. Is she a whore now? Has she become what she tried to escape? And worse - does she genuinely enjoy it? 

They accompany each other in silence, the only noise being the cacophony of thoughts in their own heads. He slips into his soft trousers and sits on the edge of the bed as she passes him a goblet of wine. She sits opposite him whilst nursing her own goblet, simmering in her thoughts as she muses about her life’s journey - from a mere happy tavern wench to a prince’s solemn bed warmer.

There is a knock on the door that brings both of them out of their reverie. The servant slips in when Daemon mutters his permission and she takes in the sight of them both before looking to the floor and murmuring words that are inaudible.

“Speak up, girl,” he says. As the servant maid breathes in, she has a startling realization. His Valyrian words, the ones that she did not recognize or understand - were they for Rhaenyra too? She does not plan on asking. She supposes she’ll never know.

“Lady Laena has begun her labors, Prince Daemon.”

The servant scurries out, leaving the door half open as Daemon throws his head into his hands. She sets the goblet aside and stands in front of him, taking his head in her arms and letting it rest on her robe-clad abdomen. Her hands run over his hair in a soothing motion, almost in a lover’s embrace. Almost.

In this moment, she can tell herself that what they have is more than just sin and adultery. In this moment, she’ll tell herself that what they have is not dirty, but beautiful. 

“Go. She needs you,” she murmurs, the words once again reminding her of the precarious position she finds herself in. He walks away after dressing himself, and in the wee hours of the morning, the Prince and his wife welcome twin daughters - Baela and Rhaena.

Only four days later, she finds herself being summoned to his private apartments once more. She is now about to fuck a man who had not one, not two, but three girls in his life that he would disregard when he takes her - all in delusional pursuit of a woman who is half a world away. She hates what she is about to do, and she hates that she is already wet and wanting. 

She wants him. Despite it all, she wants him.

Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Her mother and brother called her a good girl, once upon a time. Would they say the same about her now?

Somehow, she knows that the answer is not something she'd want to hear.

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MASTERLIST

[togegiri]

✎ᝰ ❛ Y/N'S DRAGON BUTLER ! ❜ — malleus draconia.

ੈ✩‧₊˚ featuring. malleus draconia x gender neutral reader.

.ೃ࿐ WARNINGS ! gender neutral reader. you/your and they/them pronouns is used. master is used but still is gender neutral reader. — not proofread ( 1.3k words )

content. You never knew that your drunken state would hire a dragon butler accidentally.

As the sun began to show up, the shine shoned at the blinds of your window. The alarm made a sound making you furrow your brows. Opening your eyes you slowly groaned as you stopped the beeping of your alarm as you got out of your bed. 

“Ahh… my head hurts,” you complained, feeling your head hurt from having a migraine like autopilot mode. You did your usual routine, like changing to your usual working clothes, eating a simple breakfast, brushing your teeth. 

Meanwhile, there a tall male looked at himself in the mirror, putting on an all black and cool looking butler uniform. On the table on the side there placed a magazine and there a male posing as a butler is seen. Looking at any imperfection he looks at himself, “there, good,” he huffs with a smile. Pride on his face as he feels that his looks are good enough.

“Ooh~ little malmal is all grown up now huh?” a small male said putting his weight on the door looking at the taller draconic like male before him. “Yes, well then I'll be on my way now.. I don't want my master to wait for me,” with that he opens the big windows. Feeling the cold winds of the day. 

“Well then good luck to your job little malmal,” the vampiric like male said waving at him as the male jumped at the window. Turning into a black dragon as they flew away. The pink-black haired person chuckles, “must be nice being a youth in love~” 

Back to you, you looked at the mess of your apartment that was filled with cans of beer making you sigh. Putting on a coat you take your bag as your eyes widen at the time, “uwah, I'm gonna be late.” you say as you make your way to the door of your apartment. 

The dragon male placing himself infront of your apartment, as you open the door your eyes widen. A gust of wind came to your face as your eyes met with a deep shade of green ones. Breathing heavily as you blinked your eyes. 'eh?�� you thought as the dragon disappeared. Appearing as a tall, handsome male with a butler uniform, “ehh…?” you say aloud.

Malleus smiled at you, “hello, It's me, malleus draconia your dragon butler from today onwards,” he closed his eyes. Suddenly sparkles went behind him as your brain tried to compute what just happened. Thus a reason came to your head, 'ah… a dream?’ 

“Please do come in,” 

You open the door for him, letting him walk in (hospitality is always good to have.) 

“Thank you,” malleus walked in as you followed him closing the door, you sat down at the chair as he too sat down. You looked at him weirdly as you bit our lower lip feeling awkward,  “so uhmm who are you?” 

His eyes widen, chuckling as he tilts his head to the side, “oh? I'm pretty sure I have introduced myself already (name),” he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

“y- yeah you did… but I'm pretty sure I didnt hire a… butler you know,” 

“oh…” his tone was laced with disappointment. 

“I even don't remember how we met,” 

His brows furrow as his lips curl up in a small pout, “you don't remember? we met in the mountains,” you tilt your head cluelessly at this, “mountains, mountains… mountains?” you repeated the words until your eyes widen remembering the events happened last night. 

—

“hehe… hehe~” you laugh, your face feeling hot as you stumble upon the rocky road on the mountain. The place was scary if said by a bystander. You didn't know that, you're drunk right now. With the fog on the mountain, the trees seemingly do not have any leaves and have pointy branches. 

“Oho? a human, tell me why have you come here?” malleus eyes widen seeing a human casually comes in the mountain, nevertheless in his territory. Especially in a very drunk state, “hmm? oooh? ah! hello! hello! want a drink?” you smile stupidly waving at him with alcohol on the other side of your hand. 

He lets out a chuckle amuse at your actions, “I supposed why not,” you smile as you take a cup in your pocket(why did you even put that there?). Pouring him the alcohol, “Hehehe! drink up! drink up!” you encourage with a big smile on your face. 

“I am, I am,” he chuckles as he drank all the alcohol in the cup in one go, “oooh! you know how to drink huh? I love it!” you giggled drunkenly patting his shoulder making his eyes widen at the contact. His surprised face turned into one with adoration. 

“hahaha what an interesting human you are,” he laughs as you cocked your head to the side, “I am..? hehe thank youuu~ say you know about butlers?” 

“hm? a little bit,” malleus tilts his head at the sudden topic about butler, “you should know alot more about them they—” thus you began a long rant about how great butlers and the many more facts about them. Rambling like a passionate mad man about butlers. 

“Say.. Why do you live here alone?” your sudden question caught the draconic male off guard, “haha how do you know I live alone?” he asks cocking his hide to side as you smile at him, “its easy to tell you look lonely after all…” 

His eyes widened at this as he smiled back at you, “well I do have some servants here but… It does get lonely from time to time, humans are… well quite scared of such things as, I,” malleus grip the cup with a little more strength as he looked down sadly. “live with me."

His green eyes looked at you with suprise as you smiled at him, “pardon me?” in his eyes suddenly you were bright and sparkling, “live with me, I'll make you meet with many people, and I promise you… you won't be lonely with me by your side malleus,” a warmth spread on his heart as he felt his face hot, “oh…” 

The sake is certainly not the one for this flustered state of his. 

—

“sorry but… I- …I can't keep that promise, I didn't even say I want a butler,” you mutter the last part though malleus heard it quite well. “Oh the butler part was my idea, I wanted to surprise you but… I- I see.. no worries (name), it was my fault for barging in so suddenly,” he looked down as he smiled at you sadly apologizing as he got up the chair. 

Your eyes linger towards his retreating figure seeing a tear forming in the corner of his eyes feeling guilt in the pit of your stomach, ‘wait if this isn't a dream… that means!’ your eyes widen looking, remembering something as you look at the clock in your arm. 

Running towards Malleus who was near the door, you yelled his name, “Malleus!”  you took his wrist as he looked back at you in surprise. “Yes?” 

“Can you fly?” 

“y- yes?” 

—

“Uwaaaah! too fast!” you say that as you feel the wind hit your face too hard. Making you close your eyes, “apologies, I didn't hear what you just said.” malleus says in his dragon form. There you sat on the back of a black dragon. “I say too fast!” he slows down. 

“Right, I'll try to not be too fast,” feeling the wind slow down you open your eyes seeing the great view of the city up here, “hmm… guess I can hire him.” You say aloud making the dragon perk up, “really?”

You let out a low chuckle, “so you can hear me,” making the dragon sweatdrop. Though soon your eyes widen as you feel a bone crack in your lower back, ‘ah… this kind of transportation hurts my back.' 

“oh well… I guess I could use some dragon butler plus I promise you that you won't be lonely, so might as well keep that,” 

The dragon underneath you smiles feeling the same warm feeling blooming in his heart. He shouldn't have doubted you from backing away from your promise. 

“Sorry for cowering away at first but I swear I'll do my best malleus,” 

“Me too, I'll do my best, master,” 

You smile looking at the sky. Today is a great day.

[bluegalaxygirl]

Celestial Wedding (ZoLu X Reader) P2

Plot: Reader gets taken as revenge for Luffy and Zoro's defiance against the Celestial Dragons, they were just going to kill her to make an example but now theres a wedding????.

Warning: Bad language, Blood, Violence, Drugs, kidnapping, forced marriage and salivary.

Thank you to @herwritingartcowboy for the suggestion. Reader is Female and a gunslinger, Zoro X Luffy X Reader, Poly relationship, established relationship.

P1 - P3 - P4 - P5 - P6 - P7 - P8 - P9 - P10 - P11 - P12 - P13 - P14 - P15 - P16 - P17 - P18

The cold breeze felt nice but the blinding sunlight hurt the captains eyes, with a groan Luffy opens his eyes only to shield them with his arm blocking out the bright morning sun. "Luffy" Chopper runs over seeing the captain finally awake, Luffy turns his head at the noise and sits up noticing Zoro laying next to him just starting to wake up too. "Are you ok?" The Doctor asks stopping in front of Luffy who places a hand on his head realizing his hat is gone, jumping up he looks around soon spotting it on the floor close by so with a sigh of relief picks it up and putting it on "Yea i'm good. Is everyone ok?" The captain asks looking around the deck seeing most of the crew awake. Robin sat with Nami as they watched over a sleeping Usopp who had quite a few cuts and bruises while Sanji sat close by a bandage around his head while smoking a cigarette. Franky was repairing the ship while Brook brought over some equipment for him, a groan caught the captain's attention looking down to see Zoro sit up and rub his head starting to look around as well. A sniffle made the two look over at Chopper who had his head down trying not to cry while he clenched his fists to his side "They took Y/N" Their breath caught in their throat making Luffy scan the deck again seeing your not on the deck, how did he not notice you were gone? Zoro stands up and scans the deck as well putting his swords back on his side before noticing Robin walking over.

The black haired woman stops next to Chopper with a sad look "Where is she? what happened?" The swordsman asks remembering you were with Robin most of the fight, Luffy steps closer his fists clenched to his sides as anger boils inside him, not only did they attack his crew, damaged the sunny, but they took you too. "I'll explain it to everyone" Robin sighs with a sad look before walking back over to the others who have finished what there doing and sit down to listen and figure out a plan. The only person still not awake was Usopp who along with Brook weren't knocked out by the gas but by physical force. "Robin" Luffy sits next to Zoro crossed legged his fist resting on his knees becoming impatient. "I'm sorry Captain. Those men took Y/n, i'm sure they were bandits but some of the things they said where odd and their weapons had symbols on them, I know i'v seen them before but i can't put my finger on it" Robin places her finger on her chin as Nami pulls out a piece of paper and a pen from her bag handing it to Robin "Can you draw it?" The navigator asks watching as the woman nods and starts to draw the best she can. "Oh no my Y/N-chan" Sanji holds his hands to his heart earning a growl form Zoro who more than hates the cook fawning over you "What the hell happened?" Zoro growls turning his attention to Robin, those guys gave no indication of who they where, he couldn't tell if they were pirates or bounty hunters, so they didn't have much to go on if they were going to find you.

Robin hands the paper back to Nami who looks it over, Brook bending down behind her to have a look at the drawing of four circles each one having a star in the middle. "Me and Y/n were't fully out so i heard quite a few things. Their goal seemed to be only Y/n and it seemed like they need her in one piece and unharmed" It brought a sense of relief to Luffy and Zoro hoping you wouldn't be too badly hurt "But i... I don't want to believe it but some of the stuff they said indicate that they might be working for slave traders" An eerie silence fell over the ship, most of the crew in shock but Luffy clenched his fists tighter and gritted his teeth in anger, he remembers what happened on Sabaody and how they treated slaves. If looks could kill the people who did this too you would drop dead even though their miles away while Zoro glares at the ground, his eyes burned with the desire to kill. The silence was broken by Brooks gasp, Nami jumped at the sudden sound and turned to smack the skeleton for scaring her only to see the terrifying look on his face "Urm guy... That symbol is part of the Slave traders but, I remember seeing it on Punk Hazard too, they were responsible for taking the kids and giving them to Caesar" Franky looks up in surprise before standing a look of shock mixed with anger " Wait a minute man, marines took the kids not Bandits" Luffy stands stopping the upcoming argument "I don't care who they are, all i need to know is where they are" Zoro nods at his captains words standing up and placing a hand on Luffy's shoulder.

The crew knew their captain was beyond mad so nodded and stood along with the swordsman "The Marine Commodore in charge is part of the G-5 if i remember correctly" Nami places a finger on her chin trying to remember as much as she could as Luffy's hand goes to her shoulder "Then thats where we're heading" The captain lets a big smile show causing the navigator grab him by the shirt "What?" she yells in his face as Chopper cowers behind her "We can't attack a marine base that big" The doctor yells earning a laugh from Robin and Zoro "We're going to get Y/N back." Luffy's stern voice stops Nami form shaking him anymore, she stares at him hoping it was a joke, but she knew it wasn't, with a sigh she lets go "Ok, I'll set course" Luffy nods at her before turning to the rest of his crew "Lets get our strength back and find Y/N" The captain yells getting the rest of the crew to nod, with a small chuckle Sanji nods and heads off to the kitchen to start cooking. Once everyone had left the deck Luffy sits down next to the still sleeping Usopp, he hated seeing his friends hurt, but he's confident in their skills and even though the sniper can be a cowered he's still willing to fight for the crew. Zoro watches his captain for a minute before sitting down next to him and taking the mans hand "Luffy" The swordsman manages to get the captain's attention, Luffy prying his eyes away form his injured friend to look at his first mate with a small smile.

Seeing the worry on Zoro's face Luffy knew he had to say something. "Y/n's strong she'll be fine" The captain was mainly reassuring himself with those words and the swordsman knew it but nodded and wraps an arm around Luffy pulling him into a hug "I know" Zoro whispers rubbing the captains back, the Sunny starts moving changing course to head to the G-5 base, it'll be a big battle but their main goal is to find those with the blue stars and hopefully they will have information. Luffy sighs and moves to sit on Zoro's lap letting the green haired man hold him form behind, the captain relaxes against the swordsman's chest "Everything's gonna be ok" Zoro whispers into the captain's ear before kissing his neck and laying his head on Luffy's shoulder. Usopp groans while rubbing his bandaged head and sitting up, the snipers eyes land on Zoro and Luffy "Hay, your awake" Luffy smiles over at his friend who looks around the ship "What happened?" Zoro groans into his captains shoulder not wanting to answer the question but Luffy filled the sniper in on what happened and where their heading "What? a marine base? are you sure about this Luffy" Usopp asks getting closer to his friends face, Luffy nods with a smile but that smile soon fades as Usopp tries to convince the captain not to do it. "Where getting her back." The sniper tenses at Luffy's tone and demeanor change, feeling a heavyweight wash over him as his captains eyes go almost black. Usopp simply nods knowing there's no way of convincing Luffy, he just hopes he doesn't have to fight.

With a swift kick the bandit that tried to get closer flew into the metal bars hitting his back and yelling out in pain. The other bandits growled watching as you stand ready to hurt anyone who gets too close. You were almost at the Red line, and they wanted to make you look presentable but now that you've regained your strength you refuse to do anything they tell your or at least make it harder for them to do anything it. "What is taking so long?" The captains voice calls out walking down the steps before sighing at the mess you've made, several men where either knocked out or groaning in pain while others where standing around trying to find an opening. "Can't you do anything right? Just sedate her" The captain yells making the few who are still left standing jump in fear at their captains angry tone "We already used two needles" One speaks up as the Captain walks into the cell eyeing you, the man was right, the first guy managed to stab you in the leg with a needle but luckily not much went in, the other guy got you in the arm but you didn't react fast enough. Despite feeling tired and weak, the adrenaline running through your veins helped you stand your ground and fight off anyone who got close. "Give it here" The Captain holds out his hand to one of his men who hand him their needle and taking a step back as to not be in is way. "Now be a good girl and do as your told" The captain smiles gripping the needle in his hand.

Glaring and letting a slight growl leave your lips you back up pressing your back against the wall mainly so you can push off and kick him if he gets close enough. The captain steps closer his eyes scanning you over trying to see what your next move is but stops just far enough away to where you can't kick him, the thought of charging at him did cross your mind but you knew you wouldn't be able too with the short thick chain your currently attached too. "I'm guessing you know where we're going then... you should learn early on that defiance isn't acceptable" The captain takes a few steps closer but you wait until he grabs your arm to pushing off the wall you kick will all your might, your foot landing on his stomach but to your surprise he grab your leg and turns to the side pulling you closer. You gasp at the feeling of a sharp needle going into shoulder as his other hand lets go of your leg and grabs your neck slamming you back against the wall knocking the air out of your lunges. While trying to get some air back you try fighting him off you, grabbing is hand thats around your neck and trying to pull it off while using your foot to push against his stomach. Despite your effort the captain keeps his tight grip waiting for the drugs to kick in, it doesn't take long for your arms and lets to feel tired and weak along with your head starting to feel fuzzy. "There we go.. that wasn't so hard now was it?" The captain asks letting you go and watching your legs give out form under you, sitting on the ground you pant a little trying to regain focus as a fogginess clouds your mind.

The captain turns glaring at his men before leaving the cell "Hurry up, we're almost there" His men nod rushing over to you to start their work, one grabs your arms pulling you away from the wall while another un-cuffs your hands, this would be the perfect opportunity to escape but there's no way you can run let alone stand with your legs feeling numb. They wash your skin and hair before dressing you in a white short dress and finally put shoes on your freezing cold feet "What do you think?" One man looks you over before turning to the other who hums while thinking his eyes scanning your figure. "Tie her hair up, they seem to like it more when their neck is exposed" The man finally speaks putting new cuffs on your hands before holding onto the short chain its attached too. The cuffs aren't as thick as the last ones but with how tired your body is, it feels heavy making it hard to hold your hands up for long. The other man nods tying your hair up before helping you stand and making sure your steady on your feet, your legs where still weak but luckily you can stand and regain your balance quite easily. With a growl you elbow the man holding you in the side making him yell out in pain stepping away and holding his ribs, the one holding your chain pulls you towards him knocking you off balance, but he grabs your neck shoving you back into the wall. Their eyes burn with anger but you can't help but let a small smile show, even in your tired state you can still somewhat fight back.

Managing to catch his breath and rubbing his side the bandit glares at you "Gods lady do you want to die? You know who your going to right? a celestial dragon" The man rubbing his side grows threw gritted teeth, you knew where you are going but it didn't matter, you had to get back to your crew, to Luffy and Zoro. "I belong to no one but my Captain and my crew" you glare as the mans hand tightens around your neck pushing you harder into the wood, his eyes burn with anger before letting you go watching as you take a much-needed breath and bringing your hands to your neck to rub it. "Stupid girl" Both man growl the one holding your chain pulling it hard forcing your hands away form your neck before walking out the cell dragging you along with them. Walking up the steps you shield your eyes from the blinding light until they can adjust, the cool sea breeze sends a shiver down your spine and your exposed logs but it feels a lot warmer up top despise the cold wind. "Much better" The captain smiles walking over to you and placing a thick black collar with a blue ball embedded in it around your neck, you try to step back but the man holding your chain shoots you a glare while pulling you closer so the collar can close and lock around you. "Listen closely, girl" The captain grabs your face while holding a black detonator with a big red button on top of it bringing it closer to your face and waving it a little.

You gulp a little knowing it's a bomb collar but you didn't know there were different ones. "This collar works a little different, since your being difficult and are fighting back i have no chose but to put this one on you. I won't get paid if your dead so a chained collar is out of the question." You know the type he's talking about, all the slaves have them, if the chain is broken the collar around their necks explodes, It stops the slaves from running away. Since you have a tenancy to fight them every step of the way even knowing who your going too it makes sense not to have one on you, in case you deliberately brake the chain. You wouldn't do that though, you want to get back to your crew alive and in one piece, but they don't seem to be taking any chances. "It doesn't matter where you go or how far away you are, this will be able to tell your new owner where you are and if he decides that your no longer worth the trouble then they'll just press the button and BOOM" The captain yells in your face before shoving your face away making you stumble a little, the man around you laugh a little but your focused on the detonator in the captains hand, it has a small screen on it with a blue dot. So far you've been focused on only getting out and getting back to your crew but now it doesn't seem possible at least not on your own. "So don't go running off ok?" The captain smiles grabbing your chain walking you off the ship pulling you along behind him, with a sigh you nod knowing you need a new plan but the only thing you can think of is survived until your crew finds you.

Stepping off the ship and onto the red port you look up to see the large red line that splits the earth in two, the red earth so high it goes beyond the clouds. You didn't get a good look at it the first time you passed under it, having to go under and to Fish-man island in order to get over to the other side, being pulled along you soon stop at strange looking yellow elevator with the world government's symbol on it. It makes you sick that this place is home to the world government and the celestial dragons, how can they preach about justice and saving lives while slavery and torture are going on right next to them. Stepping into the elevator the Captain forces you to sit by pushing you down by your shoulder while some of his men follow. "Now be a good girl and stay quiet" The man glares waving the trigger around as a reminder, you only nod in response and look down at the floor as the elevator doors close. Getting higher and higher into the air your anxiety and fear raises up with it, your leg starting to shake a little but you as your dress moves up your leg a small smile appears on your face. The tattoo on your thigh brings you hope knowing your crew will always be there for you even if their miles away, it helps you stay calm and remind you that your strong, you can get threw this you just have to not show any emotion around the dragons. You can't let them see how your feeling and you can't give them any bad looks, If you want to live you have to turn it off, it's going to be hard at times and you'll want to scream at them or cry but you can't, once your crew comes to get you then you can fight them but for now you just have to stay calm.

[ifideliadaworld-blog]

Dragon Hunters: GLACIER OF MADNESS

(PART 7)

Main characters & setting by: © Arthur Qwak, Valérie Hadida, Guillaume Ivernel © Futurikon Screenplay and artwork: Fideliada

Part1--Part2--Part3--Part4--Part5--Part6--Part7--Part8--Part9(end)

(Lian-Chu) I think an explanation is unnecessary now, Gwizdo...

(Cracking of crushed branches)

(Blade clinking in ice)

(Zoria) I can go by myself! (Lian-Chu) Take care of your strength, you're underweight now… (Gwizdo) It's a good thing we still didn't eat anything, Hector?! (Hector) ZDO RIGHT!

(The rustle of a graceful bounce off the wall)

(Lian-Chu) It's better to crawl out of his sight. (Zoria) I thought that monster was you, Lian-Chu… I trusted him! (Lian-Chu) No need to be ashamed, anyone could be in your place… (Zoria) Lian-Chu wouldn't get caught. Gwizdo, get away from me and think about yourself! (Gwizdo) But you... Yeah, you know better… (Lian-Chu) Your legs are wavering: lean on Gwizdo and Hector.

(Zoria) Why did you follow Lian-Chu here? Looking for treasures? (Gwizdo) Here we go again... (turns sarcastic) Yes, it's true! How else? Don't stumble, watch your shaky feet... (Zoria) Okay, boys! As soon as we get there, I'll choose my own route! (Gwizdo) What a great idea: you can't imagine HOW PATIENTLY the local "population" is waiting for your "freedom" now!

(The shelter is cracked from pinpoint strikes with probes)

(Lian-Chu) Now you guys can speed up!

(The menacing rasp of a crumbling old branch obscures the sounds of running.)

(Hector) Ugh! UGH!  (Zoria) What's gotten into you?! Let me go! (Gwizdo) Hector, move your hooves, it's not time to save your strength on the way back!

(Zoria) So this little sun can talk? (Gwizdo) If only that!.. Hector, take the bandages off her belt, or you'll go blind! (Zoria) No, let me do it. I still want to be grateful.

(Zoria) That's better! Illuminated places stand out, and we can use them as our guide! (Gwizdo) Phew!.. Lian-Chu, finally! How are you?  (Lian-Chu) Fibramorio's chewing wood chips at the bottom, which gives us a head start. But his eyes are immune to the light. (Gwizdo) Clear... Do you need a bandage?

(The crunch of wood fragments being quickly ground)

(Gwizdo) Soon he'll be done with snacking… So what do we do next? (Zoria) Thanks, Lian-Chu. I haven't forgotten how to walk, my hands will remember how to fence! (Lian-Chu) If we weaken our vision, we connect other senses. Let your ear lead you where the whispers are louder: captive souls are ready to get freed, I've heard their longing.

(Zoria) I'm in, boys! Let's release them right away! (Gwizdo) What? Are we going to destroy an entire heater here?! (Zoria) If I understand correctly, the course is for the crown... with the main heat-conducting branches! Can you get us there, Lian-Chu?

(Hector) Started looking here! (Zoria) The chorus of voices increased! We're about to arrive! (Lian-Chu) On the latest resources, everything should work out fine… (Gwizdo) We always fight dragons back-to-back in time! Look, since I can see better than anyone else at this height, do you mind if I tell you to fall back?

(Gwizdo) But what kind of navigator am I if I don't finish drawing the Map of the Isle of Tears?

(Zoria) You're kind of calm now… (Gwizdo) The main reason for joy has been completed, Mrs. Purple Tears: my manuscript can now be patented and sold to the Archeologists ' Guild for the price of a five-story villa in the area of blooming beaches! (Zoria) Thinking about big money even in this situation? (Gwizdo) Don't be so furious, everyone takes care of their nerves in their own way.

(But what a personable scoundrel he is: even his hysterical chirping manages to sound pompous and masculine!)

(Lian-Chu) This tree couldn't have grown like that just from human bodies and souls... It was based on someone really huge and smart… someone whom Fibramorio trusted the most in his long life!

(Gwizdo) AH! So, that's where the rest of the fibramorios have gone?! (Lian-Chu) The background of the Chorus was voices similar to his. (Zoria) The crown burns, we can only push off from it with a sword! (Gwizdo) An overheated trap! Does anyone have a better plan?!(Zoria) Not at all, Gwizdo! Let's try to get to the place where the whispers are louder!

(Zoria) What can you see? (Gwizdo) A sea of frightening organic light bubbles. Do you like this? (Zoria) Sounds nice. Is there anything to push with a sword?

(An angry sibilant squawk from fibramorio)

(Lian-Chu) Guys, he's re-growing his moustache: the sun is fueling his powers!

(Gwizdo) Go back! I have a lot of dirt on you with me now: One more movement, and I'll send it to the Scientific Community! (Zoria) Gwizdo, first we must free all these souls and save ourselves!(Gwizdo) Zoe, I conduct aggressive negotiations, so don't interfere!

TO BE CONTINUED...

Part1--Part2--Part3--Part4--Part5--Part6--Part7--Part8--Part9(end)

[midnight-ranger-general-jiyan]

Evening wind sighed over the curling and rising fields. Tattered armor and weapons lay scattered about, adding onto the chaos of the dry grass and dying flora. The remnants of battle left a lingering bitter smell in the air and a moan of pain sounded over the grass that rippled with the wind. One step, then another, the soldier with his arm hung heavy over the woman's neck is about to collapse but his feet move, possesing a mind of their own. One foot in front of another, he's sure he's about to collapse. How long has it been since the battle began or ended? Where was he? Last thing he remembers is the blinding pain that sent him tumbling, and his comrades and the General getting lost amidst the swarm of TDs, and the next moment he sees this...horned woman towering over him with the light beating at her back like a broken halo. He was dreaming, he told himself, already dead. But then her strong grip found it's way onto him, helping him rise. She doesn't speak to him, she doesn't feel the need to, and in an oddly comforting way he's thankful for that as talking would require too much strength. His feet take more steps, one foot in front of the other. His weight and balance hanging onto her like a lifeline.

"We're close.." She spoke, but by the time the wounded and exhausted soldiers manages to raise his head they've already taken several more steps ahead. She spoke softly to him, mild tone thick with indifference as she paused in her step to let him catch a breath. Had she not found him, he would've died amidst rock and torched grass. But he makes note to thank her later. Looking up he can see through blurry eyes the sight of men walking about the camp, but they were still not spotted themselves. "Just a little more.. You'll get proper medical care there, I'm certain" Jien said, nudging the soldier with the arm that was around his back. Her tail flicks behind her, stirring the grass.

@shards-of-the-lost 🐲

(first time doing this so please feel free to correct me if I've made any errors 🙏😔)

Jiyan stood at the crest of the hill, the sun casting long shadows over the battlefield below. His broadblade gleamed with the remnants of the day’s slaughter, and his spear was an extension of his will. The wind, his constant companion, whipped around him, carrying the scent of blood and the moans of the dying. In the distance, the swarm of TDs—a grotesque, relentless horde—surged like a living nightmare.

With a deep breath, Jiyan summoned his inner strength, feeling the aero energy hum through his veins. He raised his spear to the sky, calling forth the spirit of the teal loong. The air shimmered and twisted, forming the ethereal shape of a dragon, its scales a brilliant, pulsating blue-green.

He plunged into the fray, the loong at his side. His broadblade cleaved through the nearest TD, the creature’s ichor spraying across the dry grass. The loong struck out with its claws and teeth, tearing through the mass of enemies with a grace and power that mirrored Jiyan’s own movements. They fought as one, man and spirit, each bolstering the other’s strength. Jiyan’s spear whirled in a deadly dance, impaling TDs with precision and speed. He could feel the wind responding to his will, sharp gusts slicing through the air and disrupting the enemy’s formations. The loong, too, manipulated the currents, creating vortices that pulled TDs off their feet and hurled them into the sky.

Time lost all meaning in the chaos. Jiyan fought with a single-minded ferocity, every muscle in his body burning with exertion. His mind was a razor’s edge, focused solely on the task at hand. But the TDs were endless, their numbers seeming to multiply with every kill.

....

.

.

.

Jiyan stood amidst the carnage, his chest heaving with exertion. The battlefield was eerily silent, the only sounds the rustling of the grass and the distant cries of the wounded. He wiped the sweat and blood from his brow, his eyes scanning the horizon. The TDs were vanquished, but the true cost of the battle was yet to be revealed.

His duty now was to his men. He sheathed his blade and set off across the field, his heart heavy with dread. The dry grass crunched beneath his boots as he moved from body to body, checking for signs of life. Some he found were beyond help, their lifeless eyes staring blankly at the sky. Others clung to life, their wounds grievous but not mortal. These he marked for the medics, offering what comfort he could.

Jiyan’s eyes locked onto a lone figure struggling to rise, supported by a woman with horns curving elegantly from her head. The soldier’s uniform marked him as one of Jiyan’s own, his face a mask of pain. Without a moment's hesitation, Jiyan rushed towards them to offer assistance.

[sun-aries]

Recall (totk zelink fic)

Sorry for the inactivity ':) spring fever got me down! Thank you to @defaulthousefrau for the request! I hope you like it <3

Link was the first thing she saw.

A blinding light saturated her lidded eyes and as she blinked herself awake, she saw him there: hovering above her, respectfully distant and yet protectively close. Dripping wet and somehow warm, she laid sodden in the tall grass, unable to place herself.

Nothing made sense. Distantly, the last thing she could remember was the heat of the stone, like a lump of coal in her chest, and the cold steel against her collarbone as she embraced the Master Sword. She could remember pleading to him to find her, to somehow know what she'd done and where she'd gone thousands of years in the future.

And yet he'd done it. Not that she doubted he would.

They'd stopped at Lookout Landing first for a goodnights rest before setting off to the heavens and witnessing the departure of her newfound – or perhaps old - friend Mineru. Afterwards, Zelda insisted on stopping by Kakariko to see Impa, if only to ease the old woman's heart, and Link had followed her dutifully.

Through it all, she was different. It showed itself subtly at first - a mispronounced name here, a wrong date there. Every time someone would correct her, Zelda would pause, swallow, and nod with a distracted apology. There were moments where she'd confidently march off in the wrong direction and he'd have to step in and guide her down the right path. And though Link was there every time, he had yet to say anything about it.

Zelda admitted to him previously that she couldn't remember any part of her existence as an immortal dragon, as though she'd been asleep the entire time. It was just as how Link had lost his memories after a century long slumber; an ironic twist of events perhaps, but at this point, they were well aware of how ironic fate could be.

The breaking point was in their cottage in Hateno. Standing in the storage beneath the loft, she frantically foraged through the boxes, getting more flustered by the minute. She couldn't for the life of her remember where she'd placed the lesson plans she'd apparently had stored away. She knelt atop one of the boxes as she reached for the furthest, dustiest crate, inadvertently elbowing a haphazard pot. It rolled down the stacked containers before crashing to the floor with a loud smash. From the kitchen, Link rushed to her side.

Zelda defeatedly slumped into her makeshift seat and placed her head in her hands. His footsteps slowed to a stop beside her, and though she couldn't see him, she felt his presence light up the damp and dingy pantry. "I just-" she took a short shuddering breath, "I don't quite feel like myself anymore." She drew her head from her hands and looked up at him pleadingly. "I feel like I've lost who I am - ever since…" Her words faltered, her eyes wandering away – unwilling to finish that sentence.

Zelda knew what she was giving up when she swallowed that stone. She knew that she'd lose herself, everything that made her her, and that she would most likely never recover her human form. Despite all odds, he'd found and returned her to her true self, but it was not without loss, it appeared. Parts of her were still missing and she'd been trying to find them ever since.

But Link already knew what she meant to say. Silently, he placed his hand before her and she blinked confusedly when it came into view. Her eyes followed his arm up to his face, the unassuming, kind look that seemed everlasting, and he said, "Come. I want to show you something." Without reservation – she'd follow him to the end of the world at this point – she set her hand in his and stood up.

She couldn't say how long they travelled, but the sun had bound across the sky and below the horizon by the time Link pulled his mare to a stop at Ulri Mountain range. The princess followed his lead to the cliffside, shivering a bit as a salty breeze swept through her golden hair, lifting her cloak behind her.

Zelda took his hand once more as he carefully guided her to the spiral in the sea, where a thousand shimmering stars danced across the surface of the water. When they reached flat terrain once more, she noticed something in the sand a bit away from them and dropped his hand to investigate. He followed her.

Kneeling in the sand, she reached her hand out and brushed the petals of the flowers. "Silent Princess's? They're everywhere. What is this place?"

"This is where I found you."

Zelda looked back at him, brows raised, but he was looking up at the sky. The breeze picked up his hair and swept the bangs off his face. "I came back here every day. Sometimes I found you; sometimes I couldn't." Her steady gaze withered, her heart wrenching in her chest when she realized what he meant. "But I always looked for you."

"Link-" She rose to her feet. "I'm sorry."

The hero met her gaze and simply shook his head. There was nothing to apologize for. What she did was braver than anything he'd ever seen. "You're not lost. You've just forgotten."

Her head turned up to the sky, watching the slow glide of the few clouds. "How do I remember?"

Link reached out to his side and pulled out the pad hitched onto his belt. "When I'd lost my memory, it was you that helped me remember. Your pictures." Holding out the pad, he caught the scholar's gaze again. She took it into her hands and curiously looked at the screen.

There were pictures that she hazily remembered taking what felt like decades ago, photos that still hung on the walls of their home. Pictures of Magda working the Floret Sandbar, Chork with his beloved white goats, the Don-Don species, she'd been researching, and more pictures of their adventures together; as she flipped through the gallery, she was quick to realize just how many pictures she'd taken, all of which he'd saved.

Zelda paused and looked up at him, unsure what to say. Instead, he continued, "Now it's my turn to return the favor."

And he did. Not that she doubted he would.

[lazarusphenomenon]

festus + piper

i was asked to make this public / rebloggable.

Piper couldn’t blame them. The dragon was huge. It glistened in the morning sun like a living penny sculpture —different shades of copper and bronze—a sixty-foot-long serpent with steel talons and drill-bit teeth and glowing ruby eyes. It had bat-shaped wings twice its length that unfurled like metallic sails, making a sound like coins cascading out of a slot machine every time they flapped. “It’s beautiful,” Piper muttered. The other demigods stared at her like she was insane.

tlh pg. 140

Piper couldn’t breathe. Poor Leo. The idea of never seeing him again almost destroyed her. Khione must’ve seen it in her face. “Alas, my dear Piper!” She smiled in triumph. “But it is for the best. Leo could not be tolerated, even as an ice statue…not after he insulted me. The fool refused to rule at my side! And his power over fire…” She shook her head. “He could not be allowed to reach the House of Hades. I’m afraid Lord Clytius likes fire even less than I do.” Piper gripped her dagger. Fire, she thought. Thanks for reminding me, you witch. She scanned the deck. How to make fire? A box of Greek fire vials was secured by the forward ballista, but that was too far away. Even if she made it without getting frozen, Greek fire would burn everything, including the ship and all her friends. There had to be another way. Her eyes strayed to the prow. Oh. Festus the figurehead could blow some serious flames. Unfortunately, Leo had switched him off. Piper had no idea how to reactivate him. She would never have time to figure out the right controls at the ship’s console. She had vague memories of Leo tinkering around inside the dragon’s bronze skull, mumbling about a control disk; but even if Piper could make it to the prow, she would have no idea what she was doing. Still, some instinct told her Festus was her best chance, if only she could figure out how to convince her captors to let her get close enough…

hoh pg. 272

“You remember our dragon?” Piper asked. Khione scoffed. “This cannot be your secret. The dragon is broken. Its fire is gone.” “Well, yes…” Piper stroked the dragon’s snout. She didn’t have Leo’s power to make gears turn or circuits spark. She couldn’t sense anything about the workings of a machine. All she could do was speak her heart and tell the dragon what he most wanted to hear. “But Festus is more than a machine. He’s a living creature.”

hoh pg. 278

Before the goddess could go after the sphere, Piper cried, “Our secret weapon, Khione! We’re not just a bunch of demigods. We’re a team. Just like Festus isn’t only a collection of parts. He’s alive. He’s my friend. And when his friends are in trouble, especially Leo, he can wake up on his own.” She willed all her confidence into her voice—all her love for the metal dragon and everything he’d done for them. The rational part of her knew this was hopeless. How could you start a machine with emotions? But Aphrodite wasn’t rational. She ruled through emotions. She was the oldest and most primordial of the Olympians, born from the blood of Ouranos churning in the sea. Her power was more ancient than that of Hephaestus, or Athena, or even Zeus. For a terrible moment, nothing happened. Khione glared at her. The Boreads began to come out of their daze, looking disappointed. “Never mind our plan,” Khione snarled. “Kill her!” As the Boreads raised their swords, the dragon’s metal skin grew warm under Piper’s hand. She dove out of the way, tackling the snow goddess, as Festus turned his head one hundred and eighty degrees and blasted the Boreads, vaporizing them on the spot. For some reason, Zethes’s sword was spared. It clunked to the deck, still steaming. Piper scrambled to her feet. She spotted the sphere of winds at the base of the foremast. She ran for it, but before she could get close, Khione materialized in front of her in a swirl of frost. Her skin glowed bright enough to cause snow blindness. “You miserable girl,” she hissed. “You think you can defeat me—a goddess?” At Piper’s back, Festus roared and blew steam, but Piper knew he couldn’t breathe fire again without hitting her too.

hoh pgs. 279-280

Fortunately, Festus had been listening. He faced front and blew a plume of fire. The ship’s engine clattered and hummed. It sounded like a massive bike with a busted chain—but they lurched forward. Slowly, the Argo II headed toward the shore. “Good dragon.” Piper patted Festus’s neck. The dragon’s ruby eyes glinted as if he was pleased with himself. “He seems different since you woke him,” Jason said. “More…alive.” “The way he should be.” Piper smiled. “I guess once in a while we all need a wake-up call from somebody who loves us.”

hoh pg. 358

“Coach!” she said. “It didn’t happen like that at all. I couldn’t have done anything without Festus.” Leo raised his eyebrows. “But Festus was deactivated.” “Um, about that,” Piper said. “I sort of woke him up.” Piper explained her version of events—how she’d rebooted the metal dragon with charmspeak. Leo tapped his fingers on the table, like some of his old energy was coming back. “Shouldn’t be possible,” he murmured. “Unless the upgrades let him respond to voice commands. But if he’s permanently activated, that means the navigation system and the crystal…”

hoh pg. 361

tagslist:

@partiallypearl

[writingsofwesteros]

Daemon woke to a golden gaze — the sun was shining and birds were singing. He took a couple of moments to blink himself semi-awake. He wasn’t used to this kind of fairytale morning — more used to his door being banged open as he was yet again accused of something scandalous or waking in his warrior’s tent. Waking so naturally and gently was a treat.

So was his little niece who was currently using him as both a personal pillow and blanket, so wrapped around him that she was. He stared down at her innocent face in soft awe, still shocked to see her again. He didn’t know what he expected to find when he landed on this isolated island but it certainly wasn’t the Realm’s Lost Princess.

He couldn’t say he wasn’t pleased though. She was such a sweetheart that she was genuinely pleased to see him on her doorstep, not hesitating to invite him to her dinner table and her bed, apologizing the entire time for the lack of finery he’d been used to and the lack of a second bed. Daemon had been utterly charmed by her.

He had just been accused of soiling Rhaenyra and his brother had been quick to exile him without giving him a chance to explain that for the most part, that evening had been chaste. He had deposited her into the Strong boy’s hands — everything after that was should be on her head. Viserys however had never been one to have his back so Daemon couldn’t say that he was surprised.

He had taken off on Caraxes immediately after that conversation, barely taking a moment to pack a bag before he left. Unfortunately, he chose to leave during one of the worst storms Kings Landing had ever seen. Honestly he was lucky enough to find a safe place to land, but to find the exact island that his missing niece had been on? Spectacular luck.

It had been fun catching up with her, her face lighting up at the chance to talk about her life on her little island, her garden and her animals now a major part of her life instead of the cunts at court.

She had explained that there was only a little settlement on the far side of the island, just a handful of families that were glad to have her and her dragon, Rūkluni, around for protection — the two of them flying out occasionally to roast pirate ships to dust. Daemon had been charmed by her pink dragon, an offspring of Meleys if he’d had to guess just based on the color and facial features.

She had been on this island since she had left the Capital in a flee, drawn to it in similar circumstances as he was. The storm had driven her and Rūkluni down and the previous owner of her little cottage had been an old, half blind woman who had welcomed the help. When the old lady was dying she gave the house and little strip of land to his niece and she had been caring for it ever since.

Daemon was happy for her. From what he could remember of her before her disappearance, the court was smothering her. There weren't any smiles or laughter back then, just a silent blank face. Now she was all joy and happiness, it becoming a physical glow from her skin.

She had become a whirlwind when he first knocked at her door, taking his wet clothing and giving him some blankets to cover himself with. Pushing him to sit in front of the fire, she had darted out the door to lead Caraxes to the cavern that housed Rūkluni before she whirled back in to push some bowls of food and drink at Daemon. At the time, Daemon had been too confused to do anything other than gape unattractively at her, still in shock.

Now, weeks into his stay with her, Daemon found himself happier than he had ever been. His niece had been glad to offer him a spot in her house, laughing at his face when she told him he’d have to work for it. Now he is being sent out to work milking cows and herding chickens, having been completely banned from her garden when he had mistakenly pulled up a tomato plant not a weed.

He wouldn’t change a thing though.

💋

Oh, i love this so much!! Thank you for that xx

having been completely banned from her garden when he had mistakenly pulled up a tomato plant not a weed.

This really is just perfect and sums him up

[mtkanna]

symbolism of fours

i've bounced between world quests a bit lately, and it made me realise that, although i've seen people talk about genshin's use of the number three and the number seven, i don't think i've actually seen anyone talk about its use of the number four.

as i can remember it, the number four turns up most in three specific regions: mondstadt, enkanomiya, and fontaine.

in mondstadt, the number four is used for the four winds. it is representative of the pillars which hold up mondstadt as a nation, and each can broadly be associated with a different concept. the wolf of the north andrius represents the past, that which is dead and gone but should be remembered. the dragon of the east dvalin represents the connection between species and overcoming existing conflicts. the lion of the south--currently jean--represents the influence and power of humanity in a world dominated by the gods, and the falcon of the west likely represented the casting off of chains, or shedding the yoke (of mortality, maybe?) the number four symbolises protection and different types of unification--between past and present, between humanity and the divine.

in enkanomiya, the number four makes more regular appearances. when the traveler undergoes the three great trials, they must retrieve four divine flames; there are four described shades of the primordial one. 'before sun and moon' seems to suggest that there were four main eras: when the doves held branches; four hundred years after the held branches; the funerary year; and the year of blindness. we do not know when this was written, but it dictates times of great change--like the recreation of the world, the formation of human life, the 'second throne' of the heavens arriving, and the formation of the dainichi mikoshi. here the number four becomes a symbol of divinity, through which power is granted and the world is changed.

there are other instances of the number four. before i go into the fontaine details, i'll list them below.

there are four wardstones on seirai island which the traveler must realign during seirai stormchasers.

guizhong laid out four commandments for her followers to adhere to.

'pale forgotten glory' suggests that there were four seas of teyvat, in a similar manner to the four winds (as a physical thing that can be invoked, not as named individuals).

the two dials in mondstadt comprise a four-line poem about the connection between wind and time (and thus istaroth and barbatos?)

there are four transparent ruins in the hypostyle desert; retrieving a record within all four grants the achievement 'the king of four lands.'

an abandoned letter in hangeh afrasiyab says: "...Of course, I am keenly aware that the four pillars of our kingdom [Khaenri'ah] have achieved the prosperity they have today thanks to us spying upon secrets from beyond the skies, and thus have our mechanisms been able to throw off the shackles imposed by this world's laws..."

now. fontaine.

the convoluted corridor has four layers, three false and one real. rene-slash-narzissenkreuz had four orthants built, and the 'narcissus' of the story had four divine blades (or was it fangs...?) the form that jakob ingold took on, a type of evolution similar to abyssal lifeforms--but distinct from them--had four arms, and were described as 'envoys'. in all of these cases, four becomes a separation of perception and understanding: the false and the reality, the form (the baptist) and its initial self (jakob), and protection (the orthants as a seal) versus proaction (the orthants as a focus of power).

and looking back, this separation can be seen in earlier nations, too. before sun and moon is the written form of knowledge never meant to be understood, with names that are meant to go unwritten. the four winds are opposite in terms of experiences and written paths. the 'four lands' are all invisible to the regular eye, the four seas uncharted, the four shades hardly named...

so the number four is about opposites. polarity. and on opposite sides of the world, perhaps these reflections of each other can be seen--like the library, written into the looking-glass.

are the four orthants like the four pillars of khaenri'ah? did rene, like the kingdoms that came before him, create four pillars with knowledge stolen from the skies--and in this attempt at progression, at moving forward, did he only advance the motions of the primordial sea? if three is the ancient rule written into the fabric of the world, then does four become the image of balance, where all things flow into each other and beyond the borders of convention?

[maitaitiu]

recall

read on ao3 | 6672 words

courage need not be remembered; for it is never forgotten not even if you swallow a Stone that tears your memories, your personality, your very soul from your body in exchange for immortality

To become an Immortal Dragon… is to lose oneself.

Her personality, her body, her memories. Gone, in a flash of light.

It was a death, in a sense.

How ironic it was, to die in every way except literally for the sake of gaining immortality.

Zelda didn’t even try to quell the trembling in her hands as she held the Stone out in front of her, its golden hue reminiscent of so much. There was no point in trying to hide her fear anymore; nobody was watching.

There was nobody left to, anyway.

It really wasn’t fair, was it?

She never asked for any of this.

What she wouldn’t give to be home; in the arms of her loved ones, in a world where there was no Calamity, no Upheaval, no Goddesses.

None of this hurt and pain and waiting. Waiting and waiting and waiting, how many times did she have to walk into the arms of Death before it would grasp her tight enough to not let go?

The Goddesses were toying with her. And she knew it. And she played along.

Because really, what other choice did she have?

Accept failure? Let everyone die, again, again, again!

After everything that had happened?

No way.

The Goddesses, the stars, the moon and sun, the Dragons and Spirits of anything and everything. They could laugh themselves to death and take the universe with them for all she cared.

It was cruel.

She didn’t want to die. But at least, she’d always thought, on days where she felt especially awful, when she did eventually kick the bucket: there would be people waiting for her. People she missed dearly, so dearly, the gaping wound in her soul was still tender from their untimely loss.

This was different. She couldn’t even have that anymore.

But there was nothing to be done.

Zelda closed her eyes and tipped the Stone into her mouth.

I am going to die.

Pain ripped through her entire body, through the air itself. Glowing, molten gold light spewed from her chest, her hands, her throat, everywhere, everywhere.

And yet; her mind was clear.

She had been moments from death oh, so many times.

Too many times, said a voice in her head, sounding like Urbosa and Sonia and Mineru and Link and Daruk and Teba and Buliara and so many more all at once, I’m sorry this is the world you inherited, Zelda.

At least this time, there was no blood. No rain or dirt or tearstains or one of the thousands of different weapons that had once been aimed at her heart.

It was quite a nice day, actually.

She staggered forward. One goal. She could not dream of anything else except that her repeated sacrifices would finally mean something.

She reached for the Sword, and the cool metal hilt rapidly matched the impossible temperature of the light spilling from her being.

Her hands gripped around the Sword, as though it could save her from the Holy fire that tore her body apart from the inside out, her final plea; her only plea, broke desperately free from her throat as the world vanished in a blaze of blinding, burning white.

I am going to die.

She watched in horror as Mineru fell to the floor like a stone. The other Sages’ frozen bodies betrayed how their expressions matched to hers, though hidden under their intricate masks.

Rauru’s rage, his grief, his pain, flooded the room.

Choking.

First his wife was murdered, and now his sister, too?

A glow of blue from the corner of Zelda’s eye at least allowed her to breathe. Mineru would be gone, intangible and lost behind the impenetrable mist that was death, but, thanks to her abilities, she would still be able to speak with them. At least, for a while.

At Rauru’s unspoken command, the Sages attacked once more. He dodged them easily, and Zelda pulled the arrow, the spear, the trident, the sword- Goddess, she couldn’t remember anything but agony anymore- back, and again, he stepped out of the way, and right into Rauru’s merciless death-grip.

She knew what would happen. She had borne witness to this scene months ago, thousands of years into the future.

Nothing would change. There would be no future past that.

Her father had been more correct than he’d ever have known.

She really was the heir to a throne of nothing.

I am going to die.

She was a fool for thinking this would work; that he would be deterred by a show of cunning and wisdom. That much was clear the second she saw Sonia’s knees buckle.

She raced to her friend- though that word felt far too simple for the way she saw Sonia- and shook her, and cried out over and over, pleading with her to wake up.

The scene felt familiar.

How many times had she stood idly by as a woman she might consider something akin to mother die in a horrid fashion at the hands of someone who was cruel for the sake of it?

She distantly heard Rauru’s furious voice and his cold laughter, but all she could see was Sonia’s blood as it stained her hands, her dress, the castle, and the whole world in a deep, violent red.

I am going to die.

Gloom- no, malice, malice- hurtled towards her, and in a flash of blinding blue, Link was between her and the very essence of evil, the Master Sword in a hand that was swiftly ravaged by the poisonous mire.

He must have been in agony, and yet he still managed a powerful swing into the gloom, and the Sword shattered.

Zelda’s breath caught in her throat; Link’s immediate cease of all movement betrayed his own horror.

He spoke. And Zelda listened, and hardly understood a word, didn’t recognise a single name aside from her own and Link’s, outside of a vague recollection of reading it somewhere once, though she would know them far too well, come time.

The figure laughed a dry, pained laugh, torn from ragged, half-dead lungs, and let himself fall backwards into the abyss as the earth crumbled and the cavern’s ceiling rose and rose and rose in a shower of blood red evil.

“Link!” Zelda cried, suddenly awake to his injury, as he stumbled, grasping at his arm- oh, it was too familiar- and she made to run to him, when the world beneath her feet gave way and she didn’t even have time to scream.

 I am going to die.

She wasn’t. She knew that logically.

But her heart raced all the same.

She paced around the dining room, fretting over her outfit.

“Is this too formal? Perhaps it is. I should change. But… oh… everything else feels so informal…”

Link stared at her, not unsympathetically, but obviously quite bored of the cycle that had repeated since before dawn.

You look fine. You always do. His expression told her.

She believed him.

But would the schoolchildren think the same?

She paused her pacing when Link’s hand came to rest upon her shoulder.

You’ll be fine. They’re going to love you… Miss Zelda. he signed, one handed, a cheeky smile playing on his face at her “new title”.

A laugh bubbled from her throat, and she playfully pushed him away.

Or do you think they’ll call you Miss Princess?

“Oh, shut up!” she laughed, and so did he, nerves from the past month that had lead up to today finally released her from their clutches, “You should really drop by the school sometime. You’re a good example of how not to be an adventurer.”

Link simply stuck his tongue out at her, unfazed by her light-hearted jabbing, secretly glad she could be stressed about something mundane for a change.

I am going to die.

He remembered her. Of course, he did. She should have known that just from the look on his face.

Apprehension, adoration, fear, exhaustion. Relief.

All mixed together.

Despite the horrid amount that it had cost, Zelda felt a weight lift from her shoulders at Link’s unabashed expression of anything and everything that he was thinking or feeling.

And then her whole body seemed to suddenly fall weak and frail; a hundred years of using one’s entire strength to hold down the Embodiment Of All Things Evil would do that to a person, and fear gripped her tightly as she fell.

Perhaps she’d been too optimistic, and there was no future waiting for her specifically after the horrific ordeal of it all.

A hundred years… she was practically running on stolen time.

Of course… of course.

Her knees grazed the grass, and she was prepared to slumber for eternity, when Link caught her.

And the way he carefully lowered her to the ground, rested her head in his lap and brushed his fingers through her golden hair with a gentleness that might be shocking considering his vicious display of sword fighting, archery, and who knows what else he used against that Goddess-forsaken boar just a few minutes prior, but she was not surprised.

She was content to lay here though, at least for a little while.

She’d wake up in a couple of hours, and it felt like there was a future on the horizon after all.

I am going to die.

It didn’t matter.

Everyone else was dead anyway.

She might as well do this.

The Sword was safe, under the watchful gaze of the Deku tree.

Impa and Purah and Robbie… she knew not if they were alive.

If they were, it surely wouldn’t be for long.

Link, too. His heartbeat had been petering out the last she heard. Perhaps the brave Sheikah warriors had not made it to the Shrine of Resurrection in time to save him and had dumped his body somewhere in an effort to save themselves.

She wouldn’t fault them for doing so.

But they were oh, so selfless. She hated it. She didn’t deserve such treatment.

Maybe they hadn’t made it at all.

Maybe they hadn’t even made it past the Dueling Peaks.

Zelda’s fingers curled around one of the bangles on her wrists.

The sky was dark, gloomy, a deep blood red.

There would soon be nothing left to lose anyway.

She stepped into the castle and let herself drown in the golden light.

I am going to die.

Please run, she was begging, both inward and outwardly, please run, save yourself. Please. Please.

He was so exhausted, battered and bruised from every angle. A nasty burn from a Guardian laser had torn through both his Champions’ tunic and several layers of skin and muscle on his back.

They- the Champions- her friends- were all dead. She couldn’t let Link die, too.

Please run.

He stumbled. The vibrant red light of a Guardian’s eye, preparing to strike, lit up the bloody marks on his chest, and Zelda screamed.

“NO!”

Glowing, molten gold ripped itself from her hand, from her heart, from the air and everything around her and inside her, and it smothered the evil glow in the Guardian’s eye.

Horror and awe froze her in place, staring at the triangular mark that had now burned itself into the back of her hand, until she heard Link collapse behind her.

No. No no no no no!

Not him, too.

Please, no…

I am going to die.

She ran and ran, unable to move on her own, only continuing forward in thanks to Link’s incessant dragging.

She wished he’d just leave her to rot in the mud.

It’s all she deserved at this point.

Vah Medoh shrieked far above the trees, and both Hylians looked up.

Zelda tripped over her own feet upon seeing the horrid pink light that plagued the Guardians had infected the Beast as well as it fired onto the Field.

Not in their defence.

But searching for them.

To… to…

A white-hot laser screamed from Medoh’s beak and blasted apart the trees just a few meters behind them.

The heat of the blast stung her bare arms, though the rain doused the fire immediately.

And if Medoh… if Revali, her friend, was unable to control the Beast, then surely, surely, he was… dead.

Then certainly, the others…

Zelda crumbled to the floor, and she heard Link splash back towards her through the mud.

She half expected him to reach and grab for her, to pull her upwards again to continue running toward an impossible goal, but he only knelt down in front of her, and his movements ached with the same resignation that she felt deep in her bones.

Mipha, fiercely protective and patient, Daruk, unreservedly and loudly kind, and Urbosa… Oh, Urbosa, her closest confidant, the closest thing she’d had to a mother ever since her own had been ruthlessly slaughtered…

Dead and gone and lost forever.

What was the point in running anymore…

Zelda flung herself at Link, a flurry of tears and utter, complete anguish, and somehow it did not surprise her when he held her close to his chest with shaking hands.

I am going to die.

It’s awake.

It’s awake.

Not now. Please, not now!

Everything seemed to be crumbling; she held tightly onto the only thing in her immediate vicinity that wasn’t.

Urbosa.

The woman urged Zelda to go with Link, to find somewhere safe; leave the Kingdom behind if necessary, and a flash of anger shocked through Zelda’s core, clearing her mind- even if only temporarily.

“No!” she snapped, “I will not flee!”

All her beloved friends were about to run headfirst into danger, her complete and utter failure to do anything worthy of their protection or care or time should not exempt her from doing the same.

She had to do something.

Anything.

Urbosa’s eyes narrowed in contemplation, in worry and admiration, but knew Zelda’s decision would not waver, and the situation was too dire to even attempt to argue.

“Please, stay safe. Promise me, Zelda.” Urbosa’s voice was steady, but Zelda just barely heard it wobble for a fraction of a second.

Zelda nodded. She could try, at least.

And just like that, Link’s hand was on hers, pulling her away from her friends as they prepared to storm directly into the bloody jaws of Hell.

I am going to die.

Her lungs burned and her legs felt like they were moments away from falling off. How long had she been running?! It felt like forever; only made worse by the uneven, shifting sands of the desert.

How had the Yiga even found her?!

Her whereabouts being kept a secret was probably the only thing she could agree upon with her father at the moment, and yet they still had managed to find her during one of the few times she was alone.

A strangled cry wrested itself from her throat as two more assassins appeared out of nowhere, blocking her route forwards, and she collapsed into the sand, shuffling as fast as she could away from the two new assailants, and only ending up closer to the first.

Cornered against a rock, Zelda thought her heart might explode with how fast it was pounding, and a whimper broke free of her lips when the Yiga who’d been chasing her all this time drew their weapon- a wicked, curved sickle.

Her eyes closed, unable to face her own gruesome demise, her failure, and the Yigas’ footfalls slowed.

She swore she heard them chuckling to themselves, behind their hollow masks. Toying with her.

She felt the presence of one of them too close, heard the rush of air as a blade descended, when-

CLANG!

The sound of metal violently meeting metal, and then tearing fabric and flesh other than her own prompted Zelda to open her eyes and look.

Stood directly in front of her – how had he gotten so close?!- was Link, as his gaze flitted furiously between the three Yiga, one of whom- the one with the sickle- was now cradling a heavily bleeding arm.

Link brandished his sword threateningly, and took a step towards the Yiga, and they all stopped moving, snapped their hands together, and vanished in a poof of red smoke.

Zelda was still frozen, pressed up against the rock as Link picked up the sickle, and she watched as his face wrinkled in disgust, and he hurled it far away into the sand dunes, where it was quickly buried under the shifting, golden waves.

And her lungs still ached, but at least she was free to breathe again.

I am going to die.

Perhaps a sword to the gut would be less painful than her father’s disappointed glare.

Zelda kept her head as high as she could, knowing the second she was out of the forsaken throne room and in the safety of her own quarters, she’d likely burst into tears and cry herself to sleep.

“What I don’t understand,” his voice was grave, and it twisted painfully into her heart, “Is what is wrong with you, Zelda. Do you not grasp the severity of our situation? If you cannot fulfil your duty, everyone- everyone- will die an agonising death. The whole kingdom will be gone.”

She bit down on her lip as hard as she dared to.

Whether to keep from shouting that she was trying, so, so hard, or to keep from bursting into tears, she didn’t know.

“Your brain is too full of dreams of being something you can never be. I understand that this is unfair; were you alive for any other part of our history, you likely would have been able to pursue your passions.” Zelda thought he didn’t sound like he cared much about how fair any of this was, “But you are not. You do not have any option to deviate from your destiny. Failure, straying… none of it is an option. You will be allowed two days to recover from your journey, and then you will resume your training. Do you understand me, Zelda?”

She sucked in a breath slowly, and let it go as steadily as she could.

“Yes, Your Majesty.” She said, and at the very least, she could be proud of the fact that her voice did not tremble.

I am going to die.

Her hands hurt, and it took Impa offering her a cautious hand up for her to truly realise it.

“Oh, Princess, you’re bleeding!” her friend exclaimed, and knelt down beside her, a roll of gauze already in hand.

“I’m alright, really,” Zelda responded, distractedly; completely frazzled by what had just happened.

At least her knight had the grace to look guilty at pushing her to the floor, even if it was an accident, and even if it was so that he could block the explosive attack of a rogue guardian with a cooking pot lid of all things.

She let Impa patch up her scratched hands, though her gaze remained on the knight, watched how he glanced around over and over, watching for any further danger.

Shock from the sudden explosion, the surprise at being knocked to the floor; it all swirled together in Zelda’s stomach unpleasantly.

What in the world had happened to that Guardian?

Why did it just fire on them?

It was nothing like any other malfunction she’d seen with the mechanical beasts…

Her stinging hands itched to rip the thing apart to figure it out.

I am going to die.

Fury shot through her veins; her hands trembled as she clenched her fists so tightly that her nails left deep indents in her palms.

Really?! She wanted to scream- and she would, later, in the privacy of her own quarters- a knight appointed to follow me everywhere? And not just some random soldier; it has to be him?! That irritating silent prodigy?

As if she didn’t have enough on her plate at the moment! Trying to stay sane while enduring all the gruelling training to unlock her Sacred power, trying to maintain the very few friendships she had, trying to explore her own passions and research the ancient Sheikah technology as more and more kept being dug up, and even just trying to simply exist, would all now be a million times harder as some glorified babysitter with a sword was now tasked with tailing her everywhere.

It was not fair!

The fact that it was that stupid prodigy boy- who was barely a month older than her! - made it even more insulting.

Look at him, who was able to defeat grown men when he was barely older than a toddler, the order seemed to say, mockingly, look at him, and see just how much you lack in comparison.

Maybe his presence would make her angry enough that her power would awaken just to get rid of him.

I am going to die.

What a pathetic way to go out. Dragged from the world due to a fever.

Zelda scowled as she shivered and shivered under the quilts that Urbosa had wrapped her in. All that time in the Spring of Power, praying and praying and praying, wishing desperately for something to happen.

Perhaps the vague wishes were the problem.

After all, something had happened. She’d passed out.

And now she was here, back at their little campsite- ‘they’ being her, Urbosa, Impa, and a handful of guards- with a wet rag on her forehead and wrapped in Impa’s jacket and the aforementioned quilts.

“You’re awake,” Urbosa’s voice was gentle with concern, “How do you feel, Little Bird?”

Zelda sniffled, and forced herself to sit up, despite the aching and chill that weakened her bones, “Fine. I need to-”

“Rest.” Came a second voice: Impa’s.

She was sitting a little way back under their makeshift canopy tent, and it was clear she’d not moved at all since Zelda had been- presumably- carried back.

“You need to rest, Princess.” She insisted.

“No.” Zelda shrugged off one of the quilts and started on untangling herself from the other, stifling the cough that wanted to escape and reduce her to more shivers, “I must continue my training.”

Urbosa’s hand rested on her shoulder, and Zelda stopped her battle with the quilts.

“I must,” Zelda reiterated, though her voice was very small this time.

“Little Bird…” Urbosa sighed, her hand now moving to caress Zelda’s hair, the other pulling the girl into a hug, “Please rest. Your training can wait until you have recovered.”

“But-”

“Please. Rest.” Urbosa repeated, “If not for yourself, for me, and for your friend, Impa, and for the Royal Guardsmen, all of whom have been worrying ever-so-much about you since you collapsed.”

Guilt washed over Zelda, and evidently that hadn’t been Urbosa’s intention, as the woman spoke again, though this time it fell on unhearing ears.

Why must they worry about someone who keeps disappointing them? Zelda thought, distraught and embarrassed, I don’t deserve their kindness…

A cough wracked her body and she found she had very little energy to fight as Urbosa laid her back down and tucked the quilts back over her.

Perhaps if I do die here, the Goddess will take pity on them all; it’s not their fault that their Princess is such an abject failure, Zelda thought, as she unwillingly fell into the arms of sleep.

I am going to die.

Zelda barely noticed how her knees shook under the water as her fists came down angrily to splash the surface; ripples danced mockingly around her as she just barely held back a scream of anger.

Why won’t you answer me?!

She couldn’t even begin to guess what she was doing wrong; she spent practically every waking moment praying- well, except for when she was studying, and, oh no, what if that was the problem? What if the Goddess was angry that Zelda wasn’t actually devoting every waking moment to Her?

Tears stung at her eyes and her teeth chattered, obstructing her already shallow breaths.

Was the water always this cold?

How long had she been out here now?

A glance upwards revealed stars twinkling above her in an inky sky. Perhaps they were laughing at her.

Perhaps…

Strangely, the stars seemed to disappear bit by bit, and she felt very light all of a sudden.

Oh, well. She’d rather the stars and the Gods laugh at her than face her father’s disappointment and the knowledge that her endless failures were leading to the demise of the entire kingdom.

The final star vanished into the abyss, and Zelda felt it surround her, too.

She let herself float in it.

Distantly, someone called her name.

I am going to die.

Shame made her skin prickle as she strode through the corridors of the castle. She tried her best not to pay attention to the staff’s whispers, but she worried her discomfort was showing plainly on her face, as they only seemed to grow in volume as she walked.

She knew the idea of dying of shame was a ridiculous one, but the way her ears burned, and her heart pounded as she turned a corner- heading toward her study- she wasn’t so sure about its implausibility.

Another failure at another Spring. She was running out of Sacred places to visit. Every day she awoke terrified- that this would be the day the Calamity returned.

And while an absolutely gigantic mechanical Beast had been recently dug up in Hebra, with reports of possibly three others in other regions, she wasn’t sure if a huge weapon would be enough; if it was, what use would there be of her power in the first place?

The Legend of the Calamity had stated that four Champions had “piloted” Beasts (perhaps the ones currently being excavated?), to weaken the Calamity, but that afterward, a Hero with the Sword of Evil’s Bane and a Princess shrouded in Sacred Light had worked together to seal it away.

And then… and then… even if these mechanical Beasts were the ones in the Legend, even if she could unlock her power… they had still not found a person who was able to wield such a Holy sword. Hell- they hadn’t even located the thing!

So, she had to come up with something. She must be missing something about her power. Perhaps she needed the Sword? Perhaps the Beasts must all have pilots?

That was why she needed to get to her study; the one place she could actually think.

Her pace quickened, and she rounded another corner; the sooner she could sit in her study and lock the door, the better.

And finally- finally- the door was in sight.

She hurried across, not hearing the approaching footsteps behind her.

“Ah, Princess Zelda!”

A quick glance back was enough for her to recognise the Court Poet, a light blush painted on his pale cheeks and a scroll in hand. His mouth was open, ready to ask a question.

“Sorry,” Zelda rushed to speak before he could, and managed to get out a brief explanation. “Busy.”

And then she shut the door in his face, hardly sparing the Poet a second thought as she locked the study door and collapsed into the chair by her desk.

She’d allow herself a minute to be upset about her failure; the whispers; everything.

And then she’d get on with everything else.

She had to.

I am going to die.

This was annoying.

Like. Really, really annoying.

She was supposed to be training today- eleventh birthday be damned; there were more important things in the world than presents and cake, and she was grown up enough to know it- but she’d been so sick since last night, even her father had insisted she rest today.

But the thing was, today was supposed to be rest for how sick she had been! Not a day for her to get worse!

Her father was too busy to watch over her, but there were a few handmaidens bobbing in and out of her room to check on her; two knights stationed outside the door and two on the outside of her balcony. The staff were annoying. She didn’t need to be babied!

Only one person had been able to coax an expression other than a scowl from her.

Lady Urbosa, who had travelled all the way from her home in the Desert just to help Zelda get to and from the Spring of Courage.

She was nice, and told Zelda interesting stories while she was confined to bedrest, didn’t say silly things like “oh, you’re so brave” whenever she threw up (wasted) every bit of food she tried to eat, and had been nice enough to move the vase of flowers away from Zelda’s bed because the smell of them was giving her a headache.

Zelda also was very aware, that if she were brave enough to ask, the woman would tell her stories about the late Queen. Zelda missed her mother desperately; even though it had been years and she felt she should be over it by now, she did still ache for her.

But, as much as she’d like to, she wasn’t daring enough to ask that.

And still, as nice as Lady Urbosa was, she couldn’t completely get rid of Zelda’s ire.

Being cooped up, so dreadfully sick that she hadn’t been able to even manage to keep down half a slice of bread, and being under a completely unfair amount of pressure was a simple recipe for an extremely miserable child.

Miserably, Zelda shimmied further under her blankets, despite her rising temperature making her sweat so much she looked as though she could have been out in a rainstorm, and she selfishly, silently, wished that the illness would dispose of her completely so she wouldn’t have to worry about anything anymore.

Her father would be dreadfully disappointed in her failure to even conquer a simple illness, though, which would be a shame…

But hey, at least, if this sickness did snuff her out, maybe she could see her mother again.

I am going to die.

“Father, please don’t!” she exclaimed, running after him as fast as her little legs allowed, “Please! I promise I can do better! I can get my power! You don’t have to take Terrako!”

Her father- no, the King- stopped his march down the corridor so suddenly that she almost crashed into his legs.

A flicker of hope ignited in Zelda’s heart as she caught a glimpse of her only friend as it wiggled in her father’s arms, its mechanical chirps warbling out; it sounded as distressed as she felt.

“Princess Zelda. Take this as an order from your King.” His voice was cold, and Zelda stood up straight instinctively, feeling her hopefulness die out immediately, replaced only with the emptiness that had plagued her after her mother had… “You are to focus on your training. Not building… whatever this thing is.”

“Terrako.” She corrected in a whisper, as tears pricked at her eyes, and she raised her voice properly, “Please. I can focus. Don’t take it away, please.”

A smidge of guilt flashed across the King’s face, though in the coming years, Zelda would be sure she’d completely imagined it, as he’d continued speaking as though she hadn’t said anything at all.

“This… it will be confiscated until you can prove you have been putting in the effort required to play your part against the Calamity when it arises,” he said, his voice the same regal, distant one that she would hear when she eavesdropped on court sessions, “Am I clear?”

Zelda felt herself deflate.

“Yes, sir.” She said numbly, and received no response as the King turned back and continued his way down the hall, leaving her to stand there, fists clamped around her skirt as tears sneaked out of her eyes and tumbled down her face.

I’m sorry… This is all my fault. I have to do better.

In a whisper, mostly to herself, she added, “Good-bye, Terrako.”

I am going to die.

One tiny mistake would be enough to make her crumble. A stone in her shoe, tripping up, her plaits being too tight against her head; any one of those, and countless other possibilities, would be enough.

And she couldn’t let it happen. Not now, not ever.

Her mother was gone. She and her father marched behind the casket that held what had once been her mother, but was now just a stone-cold lump of scarred flesh.

Zelda didn’t envy whichever of the castle staff had been the unlucky ones to change her mother’s lifeless and bloodied form into clothes that were clean and befitting a Queen for the funeral.

She was sure that she could still smell the blood.

No. No. Don’t think about it.

She kept her gaze forward, looking toward an unseeable point in the distance. The future, perhaps.

If there was such a thing.

Zelda felt like she’d died alongside her mother that night.

And if she were anyone else, she’d have probably been wailing and beating the ground, begging for anyone, anything, to make everything better and to bring her mother back.

But she wasn’t anyone else. She was the Princess. And she had to act like it.

So onward she marched, stalwart and blank-faced, as people who had never met her mother stood on the sidelines, behind rope fences, openly weeping as though they’d lost a dear friend.

Zelda hated them. What right did they have to cry?

Grief was choking her, responsibilities her mother had been shouldering now placed on her, and they were crushing.

She should be the one crying.

She felt like she was going to burst.

She wanted to run home and run to her room and for her mother to come in and say it was all okay; it was a bad dream.

None of that would happen.

Somehow, a stone had made its way inside her shoe.

She wanted to scream.

Instead, she marched onward.

I am going to die.

This was just a continuation of her nightmare. It had to be.

It had to be.

Moonlight was the only thing that dared be in the room; Zelda had frozen in the doorway, her gaze stuck on something that just couldn’t be real.

Please don’t let it be real.

The air reeked of rusted metal, and Zelda’s face was soaked with tears she hadn’t even realised had begun spilling from her eyes.

“Mama?” she breathed, managing a tiny step forward toward the still figure on the floor, her heart pounding painfully in her chest.

The woman did not reply from where she lay, entangled in once-pristinely white blankets, now soaked with a dark stain that just kept growing.

With her eyes locked on the terrifyingly still form of her mother, Zelda didn’t notice the thing that was in her path.

She tripped over it- something hard and sharp- and felt a small cut be torn into her foot. She landed on the ground, and her hand, attempting to catch herself, came to rest on the blood-soaked body in the centre of the room, and her head twisted around to search for the offending object.

The entirety of Hyrule had likely been awoken that night by the screams of a little girl as her gaze fell upon a bloodied sickle that glinted dangerously in the moonlight.

I am going to die.

Zelda clung to her mother’s dress, nerves threatening to bubble over into tears, but at least she could hide those in the elegant skirt.

She didn’t fully understand what her parents were talking about, or what the Oracle lady was talking about before, but the word Calamity rung in her ears in a way that was almost painful.

It was bad. Very bad.

She knew that much.

Her parents were talking about sending parties of soldiers to all the villages across Hyrule in search of a person who could wield a Sacred sword, as well as any other strong fighters and strategists who could help.

Plus, they were discussing what role she, Zelda herself, would play against this “Calamity”. Apparently, because she and her mother were descended from the Goddess herself, they had a special type of Holy magic that could stop evil.

It had sounded cool when she’d first been told about it, but now that the idea of actually having to do something really scary and use a magic she hadn’t shown any signs of having… it just sounded horrible.

She didn’t want to have to face down a monster on her own!

Finally, her parents seemed to remember she was there- she doubted they’d actually forgotten about her, but it sure felt like it- and her father scooped her up and into an embrace.

“Don’t worry, my sweet Zelda,” he said, and she hid her face in his coat, “Your mother will tell you all you need to know about your power. We’ll have the strongest fighters the world has to offer by your side.”

She sniffled. She still felt so scared.

Her mother’s hand gently stroked her hair, as the woman hummed Zelda’s favourite lullaby to her.

“You won’t be alone for this, Zelda.” her father reassured her, “We’ll be here as well.”

And it was nice to not be alone.

But it didn’t change the heavy weight that now dragged her shoulders downward, that pressed upon her chest to the point where it was often hard to breathe, that twisted her brain into terrifying nightmares where a faceless monster would raze the whole world and ashes rained from a blood red sky.

I am going to die.

Zelda wailed and wailed, because that was all she could do.

She was (according to the whispers of castle staff when they thought nobody was listening) developmentally behind other children her age, being four and not able to speak as much as she probably should, would have likely gotten her bullied, if she attended a school instead of being educated by scholars in the castle.

She’d tripped in the garden and scraped her knee, and it was bleeding.

Never in her entire life had she felt so much pain… and she didn’t know how to shout for help, so all she could do was cry and cry and cry and hope that someone would hear her.

“Oh, no, darling!”

Zelda turned her tear-streaked face to the sound of her mother’s voice.

And no sooner than had she laid her tearful eyes on the deep, royal blue of a formal dress, Zelda felt herself scooped off the floor and a hundred kisses being pressed onto her face.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” her mother asked, as she carried the tiny girl over to one of the garden benches.

“Fell,” was the only word Zelda knew that would answer. She sniffled, and more tears ran down her cheeks, “Am I gonna die?”

“No, Zelda, you aren’t. Okay?” her mother reassured her, rubbing circles into her back, “We’ll have to go and get some medicine to clean your knee, and then bandage it up, though.”

Zelda winced. She’d had that cut-cleaning-medicine-stuff put on a splinter a little while ago, and it had really stung…

“But then we can go and read a nice story afterwards to feel better. Would you like that?”

Hm… That did sound nice.

She nodded, and touched her face as she realised her tears had dried up.

“Lovely,” her mother said, and pressed another kiss to her forehead, “Shall we go and find the doctor then?”

“Okay…” Zelda mumbled, and clung to her mother’s neck as she was picked back up.

“You’ve already been so brave, my sweet little bird,” her mother soothed as Zelda sniffled again, “Can you try and be brave for me, for just a little bit more while we go and get patched up?”

“Okay, mama.” Zelda agreed quietly, exhausted now after the whole ordeal, and let her head rest on her mother’s shoulder and her eyes droop closed as she was carried inside to safety.

She could be brave for as long as she had to be.

[dragonking10]

Together for Eternity

After Team RWBY and JNOR defeated Salem finally letting Salem and Ozma rest in peace for good, the war was finally over but however Oum himself have plans for the certain duo.

Years passed and everyone was going on living their lives, Ren and Nora got married and rebuilt Kuroyuri, Yang was off adventuring all over Remnant, Blake became the Chieftess of Mengarie and leader of the New White Fang finally achieving her dream of equality for all Faunuskind.

Weiss became the new leader of SDC doing her best to rebuild good relations to both Faunus and Humans, Oscar went back to his home, inheriting his family farm making Pines Family Farm the #1 food product.

Last but not least Jaune and Ruby got married and settled down in a new home in Patch where they lived peacefully of course they'd still answer the call if Huntsman and Huntresses need more help.

Jaune and Ruby was laying peacefully in their yard next to the tree listening to the sound of nature and enjoying the heat of the sun and the gentle breeze from the wind, all of the sudden their peace was interrupted as a blinding light shined near them, as the light dimmed enough so they could see, what they saw made them stare in awe because standing before them was no other than was Oum himself.

Oum smiled: Greetings Jaune and Ruby, it's good to finally meet you.

Jaune and Ruby quickly got up and bowed but before they could bow Oum stopped them.

Oum: Please there is no need it is I who should be thanking you for saving Remnant.

Jaune smiled: You don't need to thank us.

Ruby: Yeah who or whatever threatens Remnant, we'll always be ready to stop them.

Oum chuckled but frowned as he remembered why he came here

Oum: I'm afraid I've come with heavy news.

Jaune and Ruby frowned and waited for Oum to tell them.

Oum: The Brother Gods have not been doing thier duties all for this damn war that costed millions of lives so I destroyed them and I came up with 2 new canidates to take their place

Ruby: Wait what?

Jaune: You don't mean.

Oum: Yes I have chosen both of you as the new Gods but these two are different, Ruby you will be the new Goddess of Creation and Jaune you will be the new God of Destruction.

Ruby: . . .

Jaune: What's the catch?

Oum: The catch is the both of you will be immortal with Ruby creating new life in this universe and Jaune destroying those that threaten this universe, without death there cannot be life, with creation comes destruction and with you two in charge this universe will be in more safer hands, but don't worry you will always be together for all eternity and you can keep in touch with your loved ones even those who have fallen as a token of my appreciation for all you two have done to save Remnant.

Ruby and Jaune was contemplating then looked at each other, together for eternity huh? They liked the sound of that and we can still meet and talk with their friends and family even when they passed on is a huge bonus.

They looked at Oum

Ruby/Jaune: We Accept/We Accept!

Oum smiled: First off let's get you two in a more appropiate outfit for your jobs.

Oum held out his hands and a beam came at them when he stopped Ruby and Jaune looked different.

Ruby's cloak changed from Red to White with a symbol of Goddess of Creation on the back still has red inside the hood and white beautiful feather designed armor.

Jaune's armor changed from white and bronze to black and gold, even his shield changed to black and gold, his family symbol changed to the God of Destruction Symbol and a black and gold sash (Dragon Ball Super like Beerus' sash but different colour).

Jaune looked at Ruby's new look and thought she's even more beautiful than ever. Ruby looked at Jaune and thought he was the most hottest man alive (I'm pretty she's gonna jump his bones once they're alone)

Oum chuckled: I take it that you like the new get-up huh?

Ruby and Jaune nodded but there is one question that remains.

Jaune: What happens now?

Oum: Now I'll teach you two everything you need to know and how to handle your new powers and don't worry I already made you two immortal when I gave you those outfits, you will stop aging when you hit your prime.

Jaune: Huh.

Ruby: Neat.

Oum turns: Now I must go I'll give you two a month to gather yourselves and tell your loved ones, you'll still visit them don't you worry.

Jaune and Ruby waved

Ruby/Jaune: BYE/See ya.

Oum waved back as the light shined bright for a second and then he was gone.

Jaune: So we're immortal now, that's pretty cool.

Ruby: Yeah I just hope everyone else takes this okay.

Jaune grabbed Ruby's hands: Hey don't worry no matter what happens we'll always be together

Ruby smiled feeling a bit better: Like Oum said 'Together for Eternity'?

Jaune smiled and pulled her close: Together for eternity huh? Yeah I like the sound of that.

[spacedhead]

homestuck reread #4: hivebent part 3 (end of hivebent? i dont know when the official end is)

starting off strong here. or weak? um, this sucks. she is being completely unreasonable in this interaction and way out of line. minus points for her :(

i wish things got better for you buddy. i wish it so badly. but they do not

now THIS IS AWESOME!! THANKS VRISKA

oh man i love him so much. look at him go!!!

crazy soul read here

what the fuck are you doing stop it right now

oh god

lolllll john is so stupid

check out this team work . how come it isnt always like this with them. you guys have the capability to be so incredible together. such a shame

MEOW!!!! also this is awesome. love me some sburb session shenanigans.

ZAMN. any askers

.......................

:(

this whole insane huge block of text between karkat and kanaya was not something i remembered at all but i am loving it. they are so great :)))

so reallll

aw shit

AW FUCK

ok that was fucking crazy. so vriska, to get revenge on terezi for basically being the reason she lost her arm, used her psychic powers to control tavros, to make him use HIS PSYCHIC POWERS TO CONTROL terezis dragon lusus, to make IT USE ITS OWN PSYCHIC POWERS TO TELL TEREZI TO LOOK AT THE SUN, BLINDING HER. all that while having just lost an arm and an eye? god damn if she isnt a baller. but then later she gets mixed by aradia and is now on the verge of death. so

ok so i think ? now is the time to watch rex duodecim angelus so im just gonna do that since she seems to be describing the fight that happens in that fanimation :3

hey that was pretty awesome . loved the sollux and aradia part. and of course the vriska shit at the end was just. the best. plus they all like pose for a picture at the end so huge win

ah hell yeah

this is a cool panel

BABY JOHNATHAN . MY SON. well not my son . but he is my son

YOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO WHAT THE FUCK THIS IS SO WHAAAAAAA HI JOHN OMG HI

this is everything to me

lil bro..........

FINALLY back with john on lowas.... this is so cool

hehehe

this shit made me giggle fr

beep beep meow!!!

to be continued.................. this is so fun

[thesoftieanon]

(( Cool stuff imagine ))

The chain,sol and hesper are in time hyrule and are resting in hyrule fields. Half of the chain are looking in their bags to check on their stuff the others take whatever naps they can but blind is in the tall grass with a small bag of their own and humming a song while walk back to hand each links what they find.

Time: a old ocarina that belongs to saria

Warrior: a rare scroll in a old language

Twilight: a clear see through wolf tooth

Legend: a tiny stone that shape of a rabbit

Sky: a pure white feather of a unknown animal

Wild: a unknown fruit that have a sweet scent to it

Hyrule: a old book of different fairy kinds and even some have pixies too

Four: shiny kitstone that have four colors inside

Wind: blue seashell that he can hear the actual ocean

Sol: a plant that looks like the sun and can help regain sol in case of emergencies

Hesper: a old crown of moon that have small gems in it that glows in moonlight

Blind: those remain me of you! Oh I found this too!

Blind lift up a small dragon and the chain flip out since blind and tall grasses hold wonders.

Oh boy. I need to split this into parts.

Time

Time… Time is fine. He has… no idea how Blind found this. Not that he isn't happy to see it again, it just... brings back memories.

A lot of memories.

Some good, some...

It's really been that long, hasn't it? Since he left the woods. Since he started this journey.

He never expected it would take him this far.

He finds himself turning the pink ocarina in his hand slowly, like it was worth more than the blue one in his bag.

... He missed the Woods.

Warrior

He swears he's seen this language before. He can't remember where, but he's seen it.

The War took him all over the place, geographically and chronologically, so everything blurs together at this point, but he's certain he can pinpoint where this came from, given time. Maybe one of the others can help him identify and even read it.

But... is he going to like what he finds? Is it something that should even go back, or something he keeps?

The Old Man is much better at this time stuff than he is.

Twilight

He has no idea how the tooth is clear, but he does know what it is. This is pretty cool. A nice trinket. He has no idea what he'll do with it, but that's fine.

He looks around at the others. There's... varying reactions towards their items. Maybe some hit a bit too close to home...

He sees a fruit go flying, and he sighs, getting up to retrieve it.

Who would throw a perfectly good... banana?

... Oh.

Legend

Legend doesn't like being reminded of his other form.

It's so... vulnerable, being a rabbit. No way to defend yourself, no way to hide. That form strips down his walls and leaves him more open than he's prepared to be.

Not to mention the pink stays in his hair for weeks.

The stone in his hand is cold. He smooths his thumb over it.

... Yeah. Lucky.

He can't fault the child, but there's a small sting in knowing this reminds them of him. What does that even mean? All he can think of is-

"Hey, a lucky rabbit! Cool!"

That's certainly one way to describe him.

Sky

It reminds him of the fluffy white feathers on his Loftwing back in Hyrule, and he gets homesick all over again.

He misses Zelda. Misses her dearly. He can't wait for all of this to be over so he can hold her close and not let go for a month.

He considers this a good luck charm from her. One that sought him out over space and time.

Wild

He adds it to his red feather.

"Thank you- uh. Where'd you get a dragon, kiddo?"

Wild chucks the fruit out of reflex.

He knows the child means well, but...

He doesn't like bananas. Really doesn't like them.

... Maybe someone else will take it. Someone who isn't concerned about plátano-loving ninjas.

"Huh? What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing! Just... a bird."

... Plátano?

Where did he learn that word??

Hyrule

Hyrule wants to read this book cover to cover. It looks incredibly interesting, especially with it being about his sisters! He hoped it was accurate to them.

... One problem with that.

Hyrule... doesn't know how to read that well. Maybe he should be able to, but- who needs reading skills when you're on the run?

... Oh right.

He's on the run.

... He better start reading.

Four

Four doesn't think he's ever seen a kinstone like this in his life. He doubts he'll ever find the other half.

But he's okay with that, he determines as he turns it slowly, letting the light catch the different shades of red, blue, purple and green.

It reminds him of his adventure. All he's done, all he's learned and accomplished. It brings him a sense of inner peace.

He makes a note to add it to the string of kinstones on his side. Or maybe he'll make a necklace out of it.

This is shaping up to be his new favorite item.

Wind

Wind put the shell up to his ear right away, delighted when he heard the ocean.

It made him think of Aryll and Grandma, back in his Hyrule.

How were they doing? Were they watching the ocean, waiting for him to come back?

... He lowers the shell, hugging it gently to his chest.

He hopes they can be done with this adventure soon. He misses his family.

Sol

Sol liked flowers. And if he cupped his hands around the petals of this one, it glowed!

He thinks he'll keep this in his bag for a while. Maybe he can borrow a jar from one of the boys so it won't be crushed. Wild has so many, surely he could spare one?

It... reminds him of his other big sister, Hemera. She was always all warm and glowy. And he feels like he can do anything when he sees it!

Yeah. He'll keep this flower for a while.

Hesper

Hesper was never honored back home. She kept the camp safe, sure, but the campers preferred it when she did so hidden. In silence.

She wondered if they noticed how much she did for them now that she was gone. Maybe they had to keep the monsters in line themselves now, or they just brought in another shamed but powerful demigod to replace her.

Either way, she pitied them.

She wasn't sure what to expect when the child put the crown in her hands... it was beautiful. Something worthy of her mother's head.

And... it was hers.

Hesper had never felt honored before.

She quite liked the feeling.

Blind

"Along with everything else?" Warriors sets his scroll down, getting up slowly.

"Thank you- uh. Where did you get a dragon, kiddo?"

"In the grass!" The child grins in the direction of Sky.

"Doesn't sound like a wise idea..."

"Uh-huh! Why?"

"Should we... really let them have a dragon?" Hyrule gulps.

"Okay... Bubbah, let me see-" The dragon lunges at War's face, sending him stumbling back as it escapes from the child's grasp.

"Din- someone grab it!" The boys scramble to capture the slippery creature as it heads in Hesper's direction. "Hesper, watch out!"

Hesper looks at the dragon, calling back an old glare she would use on the monsters at camp. The dragon trips over itself, stumbling to a stop at her feet. Hesper tuts and picks it up, setting it in her lap.

"She can't be serious." Legend groans.

"A little scrawny now, but with time you'd make a powerful drákon indeed." She gives it a scratch and it settles down. "Bubbah?"

"Yes, Mama?"

"Are you taking responsibility for this dragon?"

"We have a dragon now?" Wild blinks.

"Yes, Mama!" The child exclaims excitedly, and Time rubs a hand over his face.

[driima]

The Dragon And The Mouse

Title: The Dragon And The Mouse

Pairing: Zhongli x F!Reader

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Just kissing and fluff.

Note: Holy. Fucking. Shit. I have not posted my own content in forever. I am SO sorry. Sadly, this fic has both no smut AND is unedited, however I am very satisfied with how it turned out, and I hope you guys enjoy it too! (Also, for further reference, I might make a part two to this so keep your eyes peeled ^^)

“Don’t think. Thinking is the enemy of creativity. You simply must do things.” - Ray Bradbury

“Tell me a story, Morax.”

“I’m afraid I’ve told you all of my stories, darling,” the Archon replied.

You turn your head towards him, nose scrunching slightly in disbelief. “All of them? Surely not. You’ve been alive for, well, how long? Several millenniums? You must have more stories.”

The man smiles, gazing up at the apricot colored leaves of the sandbearer trees above him. They waved in the spring breeze, orange tips pointed like arrowheads and the veins as translucent as the finest parchment paper. It allowed for the bright sun to shine through them, making them appear even more carrot-color than they were.

“Many of my stories do not have particularly nice endings,” he sighed, amber eyes closing as he reminisced in his memories. You rolled over then, laying on your stomach, scooting closer to the man who was lying beside you on the grass.

“I do not mind,” you said. “I just want to hear a story.”

“How persistent,” he mused, his smile unwavering. “But alas, if it’s a story you want, a story you will get.” You nodded despite him not seeing, and listened as he began to speak.

“Once, walking along the mountains, I heard a deep voice coming from a crack within the earth. The voice was sometimes sad and song-like. Other times, it was loud and thunderous. I searched here and there before finally unearthing a strange stone within the bedrock,” he said. “As far as I know, most of the ancient geo life forms living beneath Liyue are blind, having not seen the sunlight for ages.

“That is how Azhdaha was. I answered his wish and took him above ground. I took pity on the rock spirit and carved him into a vivid representation of a dragon. I bestowed upon him a pair of eyes to see the world and came to an agreement with him. I agreed to let him live among the people above ground. But if the day ever came where he brought ruin to order, he would once again be sealed in the dark.”

You remember stories your grandmother would tell you about Azhdaha. He was a big, fierce beast that would soar above the clouds, fighting campaigns with the Lord of Geo in the four corners of the world. There was a saying she had told you to eulogize their adventures; “The crash of a spear brought billowing dust. The mountain waters made way at the sound. The sight of a dragon bestowed with a touch. The promise of rainwater blessing the ground.”

“In the end, however, we came into conflict. Azhdaha was banished to a dark place deep underground. Over the years of his imprisonment, his power dissipated. The erosion withered his once great body away. It is said that the rattling of his shackles and his angry growls can still be heard echoing through the bowels of the mountains like memories of a bygone era.”

He ended his story with a soft sigh, brows just slightly pinched. The memory must have disturbed him just a bit, especially if his very own creation and close friend had spiraled into madness.

Zhongli turned his head towards you, gaze meeting your own. “Was my story efficient enough?”

You nodded. “It was. Thank you,” you answered.

Your relationship with Zhongli was complex. You’ve known him for only a handful of years and yet you were close to the Archon, really close. You had met him just after the Rite of Descension. Every year on that day, Liyue Harbor was graced by the presence of its guardian Morax - also known as “Rex Lapis.” He brings prophecies to the land in his steed, giving guidance on the economic path Liyue should follow in the coming year as well as granting wishes to the citizens who cast them.

That year, you had asked for a companion. The passing of your grandmother had made you lonely and ever since you were little, it had been hard making friends. All you wanted was some company.

What you hadn’t expected, however, was the God of Contracts himself to appear before you after trying to obtain the blessings of the adepti.

“It is friendship you seek of?” Morax had asked as you gaped in shock at his arrival.

You nodded frantically, never having heard of the God appearing to the wishers in person. “Yes!” you squeaked out. “Please.”

“Then allow me to be your friend.”

At first, you were dumbstruck. You couldn’t possibly have heard him right. Morax? Wanting to be your friend? Surely not?

But alas, it was. Genuine to his word, Morax, the Geo Archon, had become your friend.

What started as simple lunch dates and strolling along the docks of Liyue in the evening turned into something more, something closer than companionship.

And that’s what led you to where you were now; laying in the spring breeze under a large sandbearer tree.

Staring into Zhongli’s eyes was nothing short of fascinating. They were bright and sharp, with glowing yellow pupils set in the shape of diamonds. He always seemed to have a sophisticated flare with his fashion and you can’t help but admire the red eyeliner on his lower eyelids.

“Is there something on my face?” he had asked after a moment, catching you staring. You blinked once, cheeks flaring slightly in having been caught.

“No,” you admitted. “I’m just admiring.”

“Admiring?” Zhongli mirrored your words, intrigued.

You hummed in affirmation. “Admiring you.”

It was his turn for his cheeks to flare, just barely noticeable. Zhongli wasn’t a man to be easily flustered, no. He had his fair share of partners over the millennia and was used to people praising him on the daily. However, when it came to you?

It made him feel warm.

“You’re an interesting mortal,” he murmured, trying to deflect, looking back up at the cantaloupe-colored leaves.

“Am I?” you pondered. “What is so interesting about me?”

Everything, he wanted to say. He was enraptured with you.

“Your mannerisms,” he said instead. “You don’t look at me like everyone else does.”

“I’m sure that’s because you haven’t flat out said you were the Geo Archon, Mr. Zhongli,” you teased. Ah, you had him there.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “No, no, that’s not what I mean.”

“What is it you mean, then?”

He had to ponder that question. What is it that he meant? Yes, your mannerisms were different from everyone else. You didn’t give him those dopey, wide-eyed expressions of astonishment when gazing at him, never since the day he had asked to be your friend. No, you looked at him like he was normal, like he wasn’t the Geo Archon, one of the oldest living beings in the world. You looked at him as if he was your friend.

And that made him feel so, so warm.

“I’m not sure.”

You smiled, an amused laugh leaving you. Archons, he loved that sound.

“You’re not sure?” you prompted, a light smile on your face.

“I’m not sure,” Zhongli repeated. “You’re just special.”

“I’m just like any other human, Morax,” you said. “I’m not special.”

He looked back at you at that. No, he wanted to say. You’re not just like any other human.

He rolled onto his side, facing you. A gloved hand came up to cup your cheek, his warm thumb tenderly brushing along your skin.

“Allow me to show you why you’re special,” Zhongli murmured.

You didn’t have time to protest, for after he uttered that sentence, he was leaning forward and you found his lips against yours. You blinked once, twice, eyes widening in shock. He was . . . kissing you?

Your mind was screaming as you felt his soft lips move against yours, his hand cupping your face. It took you a moment to gather your wits, but right as you did, you found yourself melting into him, gently kissing him back.

It felt surreal to you. The kiss. It wasn’t one of heated tongues and groans you’ve heard other girls gush about. No, it was one steeped in an igniting passion. It held the promise of realness, the promise that he was there and that he wasn’t leaving your side anytime soon. The emotions flowing through the two of you felt intertwined and the volume they held, though unspoken, transcends the works of the greatest poets in Teyvat.

What felt like both a thousand years and a single second ended when he pulled back slightly, his forehead moving to rest against yours.

“You’re special,” he murmured, voice soft.

“Morax—“ you attempted to say.

“Zhongli,” he corrected. “Please, call me Zhongli.”

“Zhongli,” you breathed out.

You blinked up at him, cheeks flushed and lips slightly puckered, both confused and understanding about why he kissed you. Your heart was hammering in your chest, brain buzzing as you tried to comprehend what was happening. Why did he kiss you? Did he like you? Was he even capable of liking you? What if he wanted more? What if—

“I can feel your thoughts racing,” his voice cut your incessant worries off. “What are you thinking?”

Why, you wanted to ask. Why did you kiss me?

“I’m thinking . . .” you began, voice trailing off for a moment. “That I want to kiss you again.”

The man smiled at that, sharp features softening. “Then kiss me,” he said. And you did. You pulled him closer this time, bodies pressing flush together, and reconnected your lips.

The breeze tussled the leaves above you, the branches moaning delightfully as they swayed in the wind. The foliage cast an orange hue among the two of you, highlighting your features elegantly. Far off, you could hear the soft squawk of a crane flying overhead. You could smell the potent aroma of ripening sunsettia’s hanging nearby. You could feel the soft clothes of the man pressed against you.

That day, you kissed Zhongli beneath the golden sandbearer tree, your embrace holding the promise of future companionship, of future memories, and of future stories.

[omaano]

I guess you've already got a dozen of these BUT

💕 self-love time! talk about which ones of YOUR creations (edits, artworks, fanfics) you like the most then send to other creators to do the same 💕

That is a rather flattering assumption, my dear, but I believe I've proven to have a horrible track record in answering asks, and where is the fun in sending such nice asks to someone who will just hoard them and then feel too ashamed to answer months late? ^^; Anyway, thank you very much for this askl! ❤️ And while it is a bit mean to make me pick favourite(s) from my children, I'm only gonna pick one here (not even my biggest recent fave), because I want to talk about it and show off some details.

I thought about picking my recent cowboys DTIYS redraw, because that would illustrate pretty well the direction where my art inevitably seems to be going (and the one time where Cobb's face didn't fight me like it was his job - and returned to the old normal of Din giving me grief lol) BUT, then I remembered that I filled my (so far) last Desert Witch!Cobb AU drawing with quite a few details, and I want to show them off and talk about them a little. So here we go:

I wanted to showcase the colour palette I predominantly used in all my pieces for the Monster Mash drawings - I'll admit that I'm not very confident in my colours, so Procreate's feature of generating colour palettes for me from already existing photos is an absolute godsend, otherwise I'd be stuck with my purples and pink-oranges for eternity. I had to add the blue for a bit of contrast though, but by the third drawing I really enjoyed the warmth of these bright oranges and reddish browns. They added to a nice and cozy feeling while I was freezing and huddling close to my little electric heater.

Plus this is a good shot to point out all the shinies dangling from Cobb (he's now got a mythosaur pendant with dangling beads for the teeth(?)), and the tattoo on his arm I had an awful lot of fun with! Something's clicked in my brain and now it's permanently stuck on pairing Cobb with suns and moons imagery (mostly the moons, because A) Din is the one who is shiny and blinding and hurtful to look at when he's fully decked out in his armour, and B) I find the dichotomy of the deadly sharp points and curve of a crescent moon vs the gentle face of a full moon very fitting for our Marshal here). So he's got two crescent moons on the underside of his forearm and elbow, and a third one on the right side of his neck. And there is also a sun on the curve of his shoulder, behind the sharp-toothed skull (because I gave in and finally put a sun on him after you all somehow kept seeing it on him - although it still eludes me how you managed that ^^;). He had another one on his right shoulder as well, but well. Glass doesn't take all that well to tattooing, does it? He's also got a lot of swooping cloud and smoke shapes to match his eternally billowing robes and the sand-storms that hide in his pockets.

And now to the fun part of the chaos that the background was:

I really wanted to put an absolute mess of a workbench behind Cobb, and I tried my best to deliver it - then forgot to take into consideration how much of it he'd block out with his shoulders XD and so I filled it with books, datapads and candles, little notes and jars and vials and a real fancy scale that I tried to model after the krayt dragon. And then once I realized how many of those details got covered up, in my infinite wisdom I erased everything instead of just masking them out so that I wouldn't even be tempted to somehow work them back into the picture... so I had to take these snapshots from my process video (hence the poor screenshot quality, sorry ^^;) but this way you can also see how I used those box shapes to try and keep even the otherwise circular/organic shapes of the flowers and pots (and cauldrons omg, were those a struggle!) in perspective. I think that was a neat little trick.

It was really challenging, and I cursed myself a lot for the angle I picked for this picture, but in the end it was very rewarding to see that while I never thought I'd ever be able to pull off a detailed background, I still managed to do this here!