#almost made all the armor golden but it was too distracting

[midnightcrows]

"My master in life was revenge," said the Sleeper. "My mission is one of— Goddamn it, I'm not going to start talking like this."

[acatalystrising]

Alriiiight! As I promised to @daimyosprincess - here at long last is Small Favors! This fic…sheesssshhh, this fic. It almost destroyed me! It’s absolute pure filth borne of one too many days of Boba brain rot, so buckle up, people!

Enjoy the ride! 🫠😉

(Zwei, this basically ended up being dedicated to you after all the lovely prof Boba content you’ve been giving us. I hope it lives up to your expectations! 💚🖤)

TW: NSFW, minors dni. This contains smut - predator/prey, fingering, dirty talk, pre-discussed non-consensual sex, piv, f!receiving, bondage, dom!Boba, pet names, teasing, slight degradation, all the usual suspects 🙃

Small Favors

The day Boba Fett called you a hellion, you were pretty certain it altered your brain chemistry.

To make things worse? He’d said it on his way out of the door, dressed in full armor, heading down to the throne room for yet another day of rulership.

Leaving you alone to ruminate on his words.

That simply wouldn’t do. You tried to be his good girl - lounging on his bed, boredly counting the cracks in the ceiling, doing as you’d been told…but where was the fun in that? You couldn’t help but let your imagination take over, wandering to a particular scenario that had intrigued you as of late.

Oh, the Daimyo was strong. Powerful, capable of overpowering you in seconds despite your best attempts to put up a fight. You could never forget it, no matter how many times he pleasured you senseless. But it made you wonder…

You knew how Boba the Daimyo handled you. But…how would Boba the bounty hunter? The mere thought of your love hunting you down like prey sent thrills coursing through you. But you’d been hesitant to mention it, given how many times he’d openly stated those days were behind him.

But the day was crawling miserably by, the hours even longer, and you needed a distraction. You knew you’d probably regret it, even as you stood and got dressed. But right now, you felt like doing something dangerous.

You were going to play with fire.

-

You were merciful (or smart) enough to wait for his last visitor to leave for the day, but not a moment longer. You struck before he had the chance to get up.

Boba still sat on his throne, powerful thighs spread like an invitation too good to refuse, as you made your way to him. His eyes followed your every step, hunger unabashedly flaring in his amber gaze.

But instead of sitting in his lap as he surely expected, you skirted around the throne, tracing a lone nail along his armor as you walked behind him. He reached for you, but you dodged his fingers with a smirk, tapping the back of his head instead.

“See you’re in a teasing mood.” His voice was gruff, tinged with exhaustion from the day’s tedious events, but you pressed on, still staying right out of his reach.

“I don’t don’t know what you mean,” you tapped his pauldron with another grin, and he shifted to face you, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“What game are you playing at, little one?” He patted his thigh, a command he expected to be obeyed. “Been a long day.”

Oh, you were at war. You knew it was probably in your best interest to do as he said, and he was tired, after all. Perhaps he’d be too tired to play along. But…you didn’t want to throw your plan out the window just yet.

“Maybe you need some exercise. Wouldn’t want your skills to go to waste.” You raised a brow, stepping around the armrest and stopping before him, still out of his direct range. “Why don’t you come get me?”

Boba arched a dark brow, gaze locked on you, completely still. You realized a moment too late he was waiting for you to continue. Either that, or calculating his next move. Probably both. It sent a thrill coursing through you.

“I…”

“What’s this about, hmm?” He crossed his broad arms over his even broader chest, heaving a deep breath that flexed his beskar plates as he fixed you with a quizzical expression bordering intrigue. “Wanna play hard to get? We both know how that would go.”

Ahh, there it was, your golden ticket. That, or the action that would seal your doom. At this point, you’d already committed, and it was too late to back out, now.

“I don’t think you could catch me, old man.” You smirked, hands on your hips, looking at up at him with a raised brow. “You’re a Daimyo now. Lots and lots of sitting. You’re bound to lose your edge.”

Oh, you knew you were asking for trouble.

Boba regarded you evenly, a small smirk working its way on the corner of his lip. Those thick, skillful, beautiful lips. Oh, he did too.

“Is that so?” He looked down at you, eyes narrowing imperceptibly, a teasing lilt to his voice. Ahh, so he was humoring you. Good. “So confident today, mesh’la.”

You had the audacity, or stupidity depending on who you asked, to spit your tongue out at him. Him, Boba Fett. You were probably one of the few that ever could and live to tell the tale.

“Definitely.” You made a dramatic show of shrugging, making sure you leaned forward just enough to let the low neckline of your shirt do its job. “In fact, I don’t even think it would be hard. I’m fast, cunning too. I bet I’d even be able to outsmart the greatest bounty hunter who ever-”

Boba was on you in an instant, and you couldn’t help but loose a shriek as you were pulled into his lap before you could blink. Damn, that was quick. Quicker than when you had anticipated. And you’d thought you’d given him a wide enough berth. He curled his arms around you, pinning you to his armored chest, and pressed his face against your neck, breath hot and scalding - voice low like the thunder of an oncoming storm.

“Wanna flirt with death, little one?” He nibbled your earlobe between his teeth, a low growl rumbling from the depths of his throat, sending heat pooling between your legs. “Fine. But we both know you’re biting off more than you can chew.”

Oh kriffing gods.

You somehow managed to pull two halves of a thought together to form a sentence.

“Wanna test that? Give me two days. Bet you can’t catch me.” You shot him a smirk and shrugged. “Who knows, it could be fun.”

“And what would I get in return?” Boba’s voice was cold, calculating. Calculating, as he watched you, eyes narrowed, studying your blown out pupils and shallow breaths. He had to know you found this arousing. Especially if his hunter senses were still keen.

“Anything,” you confidently met his gaze, even as his grip on you tightened. “Anything you want.”

He fell silent for a moment, chest heaving, heart thundering beneath the beskar. A sly smirk curved on the corner of his lip, accompanied with a cutting gleam in his eyes, and it was then that you realized you were screwed.

“Anything.” He mirrored, dipping his head to meet your neck, sucking a bite on your pulse point. You bit back a moan despite your best efforts, far too keenly aware as one of his hands slid down your side and settling on your inner thigh, dangerously close to your crotch. “But you’ve already given me everything, mesh’la. Why would I risk losing what is already mine?”

Oh maker, he was playing with you. Making this harder than necessary. Punishing you for disobeying him.

“Umm, I…” you swallowed hard as his hand slipped between your legs, stifling another moan as he slowly, gently, torturously caressed your clothed clit. Gods, this wasn’t how you’d expected this to go. “I…just thought it would be fun, ya know? I’m always…maker…always wanting to try new things with you.”

He hummed, kissing your neck again, then your ear, your cheek, and finally your lips. He kissed you like a starved man, greedily nipping at your lips, tongue carving a path into your mouth, claiming you as his. He slipped his hand underneath your pants, your underwear the only barrier, deft fingers already bringing that coiling heat closer to the surface. You bucked against him, chasing his fingers, and he kept you flush with his chest with a growl.

“So my little princess wants to be hunted, hmm?” He had the audacity to lick a stripe up your neck as he circled your arching clit. “She wants to be hunted like a bounty? Like prey? That what you really want, little one? To feel helpless? Trapped with nowhere to go? Darling, I’ll show you helpless.”

You could only nod, a whimper breaking from your throat when he slowed his movements, delaying your pleasure. It nearly brought tears to your eyes. Dammit, this was supposed to be your game, not his, and yet you found yourself unraveling in his clutches yet again.

“Please, please don’t stop. I’ll do anything, I’d let you do anything,” you pressed against him with a whine, meeting his waiting gaze as you made your plea. “Fuck me bound. Even if I said no. Make me yours, break me, ruin me, I don’t care. I just want…wanna…”

You fell silent, embarrassment flaring your cheeks, but you should have known that he wouldn’t let you get away with silence. His free hand gripped your chin and tilted your face up to meet his, just forcefully enough to make his point.

“Say it.”

There was no room for disobedience now. Not when you were literally at his mercy. Not when his command rolled through you, making you tremble with excitement.

“I want you to hunt me.” You forced yourself to speak, even as his eyes darkened, his fingers slowly caressing you again. “Chase me down, and capture me. Use me as you see fit. That’s…that’s what I want.”

He chuckled darkly, the sound echoing on the stone walls, as he zeroed in on your clit again, your pleasure nearly bubbling to the surface.

“So much begging, poor princess,” his voice was a mocking coo as he wrung the pleasure out of you, your vision going white, jaw slack as your orgasm hit with the force of a speeding train. “You’ll have one day, sweet thing. One day to run, and when it’s over, you’ll be begging me to come for you.”

-

You should have believed him.

Should have realized how hard he’d make this for you. But you’d been confidently foolish, going so far as to travel off world to some backwater forest planet on a neighboring system - albeit sparely populated…just to be safe.

But as the minutes had ticked to hours, and hours into the evening, there still had been no sign of your hunter. Whether this was because he was toying with you, or you’d actually given him the slip, you didn’t know - but you pressed on anyway. And as the cerulean sky faded to lilac and crimson hues, you started to worry.

You’d taken a one way trip to get here, even hired a smuggler to fly you. Anything to make it more exciting. More real.

But perhaps you’d gone too far.

You couldn’t help but feel a sliver of worry cut through your chest. Maybe you’d been overconfident, going to such lengths. What if he had lost his edge? What if he couldn’t find you? You’d be stuck alone, on a strange planet, with nothing but a short range commlink to try to call for help.

Stars, you also missed him. Missed his voice, his touch. You’d underestimated how quickly you’d tire of his absence - and as you slipped through the trees, slowing to a leisurely walk, you finally let your guard down, too lost in your whirling thoughts to keep playing the game you insisted on from the start.

The shadows had crept over the foliage, enshrouding the trees in darkness, hiding the armor that would have otherwise glinted in the sun.

You didn’t seem him until it was too late.

Strong arms suddenly wrenched yours behind your back, throwing you off balance and against a nearby tree. Your scream broke the silence, unheard in the miles of uncharted wilderness, unable to break free from the vise like grip clamping down on your wrists.

Boba’s breath flared hot like blaster fire on your cheek as he pushed you against the tree. The rough bark bit into your skin, only a minor fleeing pain, the true cause for your panic currently locking your arms behind your back in a vice like grip.

“Really thought you’d give me the slip, hmm?” His deep voice was rough and staticky with the helmet, tone absolutely deadly as he lifted his binders to your wrists. “Poor little girl.”

You clenched your legs at that - unable to stop the reaction from pushing your brain off the edge, diving into a freefall. Damn it, not yet. You couldn’t let him have his victory this easy. You had to be more of a challenge, flustered brain or not.

“Let. Me. Go!” You twisted in his grasp, tucking up your legs and lashing out with a kick to his chest.

He grunted, the force of your attack pushing him back a few centimeters - just enough space for you to work with. You broke free, heart locked in your throat, and spun around the tree to give you some distance.

You knew you couldn’t win. He was the better fighter in every way - an opponent you’d never once been able to beat, despite your own skill. But just because you knew you were going to lose didn’t mean you were going to go down without a fight.

The trees whipped past in a blur as you carved a wild, desperate path deeper into the foliage. All was silent save for the crashing of your boots through the fallen leaves - the first warning that you were doomed. The second warning came too late.

A sharp prick bit into your shoulder, and your reflexes reacted too late - a scream stuck in your throat when a whipcord whipped around your body - throwing you to the ground. You could already feel the effects of the tranquillized taking over - vision blurring at the edges even as you still struggled in vain. Even as Boba stepped into your rapidly fading sight, armor glinting in the sunlight.

“Careful, little mouse,” his voice was cutting, sinfully victorious, as he knelt beside you. Kriffing hell, you knew he was smirking underneath that damn helmet. “Wouldn’t want you getting hurt. You’re worth more alive.”

You felt the moment the binders slapped on your wrists, sealing your fate…

And then your vision went dark.

-

By the time you awoke, the Slave 1 was already well in sight.

You were slung over Boba’s shoulder like a carcass, arms and legs limply dangling, mind still buzzing from the sedative he’d given you. You tried to open your mouth to speak, but your words were a pathetic slur.

He either didn’t hear you, or was ignoring you. You could feel the strength of him, muscles coiled underneath armor - all sinew and power. He held you with one arm, but you knew you’d never escape, that large gloved hand locked around your neck. You whimpered as the ramp lowered, ushering you both inside - inside to whatever fate he had planned for you. It closed, sealing you both in, and dooming you.

You couldn’t help but feel a thrill as he unceremoniously dropped you to the ground, right outside the cells. You wondered if he’d cage you in one to make the experience more real, but Boba seemed to have other ideas. He grabbed your bound arms and drug you across the floor, ignoring your shrieks of protest when he stopped in the center of the cargo hold.

Boba was quiet - he hadn’t said a word since your capture, and part of you wondered if it was part of the act, or if it was truly upset at the lengths you’d gone to evade him. So, you tried to take matters into your own hands.

“Please, I didn’t do anything wrong. I bet of you, let me go!” Your broken voice was truthfully cracked, parched after your strenuous day. “I’ll do anything, I swear I didn’t do anything wrong!”

Boba Fett had the audacity to ignore you. In fact, he turned his back on you, lifting his gauntlet to key in a code. A mixture of indignation and embarrassment flooded your chest, prompting your next move.

“I know you can hear me under there, bucket head.” You rolled your eyes with a scoff. “Or are you as deaf as you are dumb?”

“You know what you did.” His voice was low like thunder - cutting. A very different tone than the one he oh so often used with you.

This…this was entirely different. Excitement mixed with fear coursed down your spine as he slowly turned, that black t-visor locked on you with deadly focus.

But you wouldn’t be deterred that easily.

“What exactly did I do, huh?” You would have crossed your arms if you could. Instead, you opted to dramatically shrug. “Shouldn’t be too hard to list off my crimes. That is, if big words aren’t too much for a brute like you.”

Boba lunged forward with the speed of a viper, taking you entirely by surprise when his fingers gripped your chin, absolutely wrenching your face up to meet his - albeit hidden behind that helmet. And you were starting to realize why many would find it so terrifying. Heart hammering in your chest, you whimpered when his fingers squeezed your jaw, effectively clamping your mouth shut.

“Mouthy little brat, aren’t you?” His helmet was inches away, your panting breaths fogging the visor as he lowered his hand from your jaw to your neck. “Could just put you away in a cell. Would be what you deserve. But I might have to teach you a lesson.”

Oh gods. You swallowed, hard, and couldn’t resist the urge to wriggle beneath him, breaths growing shallower by the moment.

“You? Teach me a lesson? In your dreams.” You had the audacity to roll your eyes, spitting out your tongue to goad him further. “Sorry, but I have standards. I don’t fuck trigger happy bounty hunters.”

Boba Fett had the audacity to chuckle. A deep, dark chuckle that rumbled through your chest and tingled down your spine. Oh shit…you were in trouble. Big trouble.

“Is that so?” He gave your neck a squeeze, his free hand gripping your binders with another dark snicker. “Poor little kitten’s trying to give me orders? Ironic.”

His hand left your throat, and you yelped as he single-handedly picked you up by the binders, lifting you into the air, and pinned you against the ship’s wall. He magnetized the binders with a soft buzz, then left you dangling there - your toes barely able to touch the floor.

“What the hell?” You huffed, straining to reach the ground, heartbeat hammering so loudly you could barely concentrate, even as you felt his gloved fingers caress your jawline. “Let me down! Stop this, I mean it. Let me go, you kriffing jerk!”

Boba ignored you, helmet titling slowly to the side as if tracking his own journey tracing your neck until it stopped just above your shirt.

“You asked for this, little one.” His tone was impossibly husky, dark and rich like spotchka on the back of your throat. “You have a choice, kitten. You can either fight me, or…”

His hand slipped under your shirt, burrowing beneath your bra, and caressing your nipple with deft, skilled fingers.

“Choose to enjoy it.” He pinched your nipple too hard, and you yelped, thrashing even as he slowed back to a caress. “Your choice - but you’re not getting out of this.”

“N-no, please,” you tried to shy away, but he wouldn’t have it, pinning you to the wall with one hand, the other lifting from your shirt and wandering ever so slowly lower. “I’ll…comply. I’ll do anything. Just…please don’t hurt me.”

He chuckled, hand settling just above your crotch.

“Still giving orders, hmm? That’s not how this works.” He deftly unzipped your pants and slipped his hand into your waiting heat, a dry hiss emitting from his vocoder when he found the evidence of your arousal. “Dirty, dirty girl. Getting off on this? My, my.”

He circled your aching clit, and you cried out, trying to arch against him, breaths coming in near choked gasps as he quickly worked you towards oblivion. Damn, his patience must have flown out of the window. Perhaps he…

Just when you were on the precipice, Boba pulled his hand away. You cried out on frustration, heart pounding like a drum when he dropped his hands to his own pants, pulling his weeping cock free from its confines.

“Little kitten looks like she wants milk.” His voice was a sinister coo as he ran his thick shaft through your slick. “Poor baby.”

You whined - you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t stop the moan that ripped from your chest when his fingers once again found your clit, wringing your pleasure back to the surface. But yet again, when you were on so close, he pulled away.

“Ah, ah, ah, not so fast.” He raised his hand to your mouth, and you begrudgingly licked your arousal off his gloves. “You’ll come only when I tell you too. Can you be a good girl and do that?”

“Boba…I…” you writhed, pleading, but he promptly removed his hand from your clit with a growl.

“Didn’t give you permission to say my name,” his voice was all thunder and hellfire even as he seated himself in you with one brutal thrust. “It’s Sir to you.”

Your eyes widened, moans bouncing off the durasteel walls as he pounded into you, somehow feeling even bigger than normal. Your hands clattered uselessly against the wall, pleasure arcing up your spine as a steady heat grew in the pit of your stomach.

You cried out when he changed the angle, his cock hitting that deep spot that made you see stars. You writhed against him, legs wrapping around his back, trying to force him deeper. He growled, not slowing his pace in the slightest, and you whimpered when a hand reached up and tweaked a nipple.

“Bo-Sir…I…I’m,” you hated how pathetic you sounded, begging like some weak willed thing. But you felt it, your orgasm approaching like a speeding train, and there would be little you could do to stop it. “I’m…so close. Can I, can I…”

“I don’t know, not sure you deserve it,” he slowed his pace to a torturous crawl, slowly sliding through you, the wet sounds painfully loud in your ears even as you cried out in frustration. “Got your manners yet, little one? Have you learned your lesson?”

Oh Maker, he was torturing you. This was not how you had expected this to go - this was calculated, focused, intentional.

“I’m…I’m sorry. So sorry. P-please…” tears pricked your eyes, and you swore he was driving you absolutely mad, edging you with a calculated skill he hadn’t done before. “I take it all back. I’ll be good…I’ll behave. Just please, please…”

He pulled nearly out of you, helmet pressed against your shoulder, rasping voice directly in your ear.

“Please…what?” He stopped moving entirely until the only sound that could be heard was your desperate panting.

“Please, please let me come.” A tear slipped down your cheek, more from the building denial than anything else. “I’ll…I’ll be a good girl. Your girl.”

Boba grunted, pounding back into you with renewed vigor, one hand finding your neck, the other, your clit. He fucked you relentlessly - your back slamming into the wall as the edges of your vision dimmed.

When you finally came, your vision went completely white - all sound reduced to a ringing as burning hot pleasure seared you to your core. You screamed, writhing against him even as he continued driving into you, less focused and more reckless, chasing his own high.

“There you go, kitten.” His voice was dark with lust, armor flashing in the dim lighting. “Not so hard, hmm?”

When he came, it was with a deep groan that reverberated into your chest. He had you pressed against the wall, helmet against your neck, breaths rasping as he finally slowed to a stop.

For a moment, all was silent save both of your panting breaths. Boba was completely still, and for a moment, you worried he was genuinely angry. Had you gone too far? Had you done something wrong? Had you-

His hands reached up and unlocked your binders, catching you before you could fall to the floor. You couldn’t help but cling to him as he carried you to the cockpit, gently laying you in the small cot.

“You okay, my love?” His voice had regained some of its warmth, but still carried a dark edge. “Hope I wasn’t too rough with you.”

“I’m okay,” you nodded, meeting the visor with a small smile. “You weren’t. I’m honestly impressed you found me so quickly.”

He grunted, sitting beside you, gloved hand slowly caressing your hair.

“Didn’t expect you to leave Tatooine.” The helmet tilted in your direction. “You had me worried, little one.”

Oh stars. Had you gone too overboard? It hasn’t crossed your mind that Boba Fett would be afraid.

“Oh…I’m so sorry,” you curled into his chest, holding him close. “I’d only wanted to make it realistic. I didn’t want to worry you.”

“It’s okay,” he wrapped his arms around you and held you close. “Only startled me initially. Gotta admit it was fun, watching you trying to give me the slip. It was cute.”

Wait a second.

You narrowed your eyes as he removed his helmet, mirth shining in his own.

“Exactly how soon had you found me?” You tilted your head to meet his gaze.

“Oh, little princess,” he pressed a kiss to your temple, then your cheek, and finally, your lips. “You never left my sight.”

Taglist: @daimyosprincess @hideflen @thirsty-boba-fett-posts @marierg @deewithani @rain-on-kamino @rexxdjarin @ceapa-mica @bobathirstaccount @dukeoftheblackstar

[sculptorofcrimson]

to kiss a Thunder Warrior

A/N: I trackdrifted from Aphrodite’s Cell into this. Please do not bang the Thunder Warriors, this is definitely heresy and I totally do not condone it! Small drabble. P.S. I know no other Thunder Warrior. I am sorry. Relations: Ushotan/gn!reader

“So if you're looking, you will find me standing next to him

Kissing underneath the palm trees, feigning for his sin

I don't care if it's not righteous, I don't give a damn”

What does it feel like to kiss a Thunder Warrior?

Rough, unrestrained, a trace of whiskey and the acrid taste of combat-stimns. The undercurrent of blood boiling just beneath it all. Bones and muscle and all rough edges, occasionally tinged with a laugh as ragged as barbarian armor as Ushotan pulls back a chuckle still trailing from his strained voice. Hands, trailing around his thick neck, fingering the scars that were inlaid there, ignoring the way he shivers and groans as fingernails tease over the rim of his neural interfaces, the tubing old and harshly integrated in a Thunder Warrior’s frame but still functional. Barely. His scars, so close, the primarch himself purring in a ragged growl, like the hiffing of the run down engine, but still snarling against its own demise, still powerful underneath all that rot. The way his storm-grey eyes briefly slip closed as he tolerates hands tugging against his cropped hair and the occasional mischievous drag on his tabard. The Thunder Warrior still surprisingly playful as he lets himself be tugged, how he follows his darling lazily, without a care in the world, his grin somehow both brash and with that cynical jesting he was know for. The clanking of his armor. The soft hiss of the servos as he helps detach the seals, unarmoring him in silence now, without even another sharp joke from him except for his ragged voice. 

He’s almost hot to the touch. Thunder Warrior metabolism. Embracing was like hugging a furnace, meant to burn bright and short and then burn itself out. Only one heart, originally meant to be claimed - literally - at the hand of the captain-general. 

You saved him from that fate.

(It’s a good distraction, at least. A good distraction to forget what Valdor did to him. The way he held him. The way his gauntlets had felt, so cold against his neck, warmed by the fresh blood. The nightmares, the snarls, the screams. The silence of the utter violation, the treachery, the bones upon the first. The death from which no soul could recover. The snow will never spare him as long as he lives.)

There is no hint of that trauma. No hint of that sorrow, that guilt, the hollowness beneath that false bravado he wears, only the liveliness as he eagerly returns. As restrained as he was, he was still a Thunder Warrior. He couldn’t help but be rough, possessive, almost too greedy as he nips and unkindly manuveers his beloved close enough to nip surprisingly sharp bites, lips curled into a grin even when he was nearly rough enough to draw blood.

(Of course, no Thunder Warrior could call themselves sane. They lost their sanity when they were strapped upon that dissection slab so long ago.)

Almost playfully, he sometimes growls during the kisses. He’s frisky, this one. You can feel his heart rate speeding up, rising from its usual lumbering pace to a pace akin to the battle frenzies his brethren had. The way he playfully traces and teases, smug and arrogant and somehow still a glorious bastard even through all he had suffered. Rough and ragged and flamboyant, without the same frost the Astartes had. He was, after all, a man. A man that was made to die a demigod, and entombed in golden armor. 

The way he laughs as his lover pushes him down, his broad frame crashing against the bed. Thunder Warriors played, they had their games, they wrestled, tackled and grappled. Ushotan was no exception. The same rough playfulness shines through as he grasps the darling that had dragged him from the snow and the frost and easily rolls over to pin them down beneath his greater bulk, smugly stretching overhead. 

(That bastard.)

(That playful bastard.)

(It’s a wonder how he never learnt the meaning of punishment for insubordination). 

The way he sounds both like the growling roll of a mountainslide, and somehow playful like the purr of an ancient cat. How large hands cup around his lover’s neck, the Thunder Warrior not resisting as they reverse his position, chuckling slightly as he was the one pinned down this time, although his storm-blue eyes still showed a hint of smug humor. 

“Hmph. Surprise me a little less next time, will you?"

[geode-crystal]

@whumperofworlds this one is for you!

Characters involved:

Whumpee: Darius, "the Shining Knight"

Caretaker: Mianu, "the Lost Prince."

Some random Whumper idk

Contents: kidnapping, restraints (chains), a little bit of torture, a little bit of blood, a whole lot of angst

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

The prince’s quest was noble. No one could deny that. Noble, but very, very dangerous. And Darius had sworn—both to his prince and to himself—that he would protect Mianu with his life.

Prince Mianu’s self-assigned mission was meant to be kept secret. His identity was meant to be secret. No one, aside from those who needed to, was supposed to know he had even left his kingdom. It didn’t matter that he was still trying to set right what had once gone wrong. They were all aware of the risks. Of what might happen if someone found out he was royalty.

Darius was never going to forgive himself when he got out of this.

If he got out of this.

The first thing Darius had done when he was alert enough to be fully aware of his situation was fight against his chains.

This was a living nightmare.

Everything that had led to his capture came back to him in a rush. It had all been too simple. Too easy. He was supposed to be better than this. But a simple ambush had been all that it took. He’d allowed himself to get distracted. He’d been naive enough to let Mianu wander a few feet out of his sight. And he’d been jumped. Just like that.

Darius had put up a fight. But it wasn’t enough. All too soon, the world had gone dark.  

And now… here he was. Chained in enemy territory. No armor. No weapon.

Darius had been through a lot in his life. But had never felt so exposed and vulnerable.

He had to get out of there before anything else happened.  

His training ran through his mind. Don’t make any noise, don’t alert the enemy to your presence… but the enemy already knew he was here. Hells, they put him here. Find something to use to your advantage… but the tiny, dark room he had been thrown into was completely empty. And his hands were chained high above his head. Of course, there were cuffs around his ankles, too, despite being dumped awkwardly on the floor, left on bruised knees. He could barely move, let alone investigate.

Really, guard training had much more to say about avoiding getting into these situations than what you should do to get out of them.

He would have to complain about that later.

“Oh, good. You’re awake. I was starting to think my crew had been too rough on you.”

Darius went rigid. He’d never heard that voice before, but he knew that tone too well. His eyes quickly scanned the little room. Nothing. It looked empty. Felt empty.

Darius hissed out a rather un-knightly word. Magic. The one thing he couldn’t defend against.

“Who are you?” he shouted. “Show yourself!”

He could have sworn his captor was smirking. “Well, if you insist.”

There was a soft sound, like a curtain being drawn. And then someone stood before him. Nearly towering over him. A bandit or a mercenary, by the looks of her clothing and the dagger at her belt. A successful one at that. She was practically littered with rings, her belt embedded with gemstones. A pendant with a golden chain dangled from her hand.

Darius’ breath caught in his throat.

That was his pendant. The one that Mianu had given him. One of a matching pair, enchanted so they could keep in contact even if they were apart. So they could find each other when they needed to.

Seeing it in that woman’s hands made his blood boil.

“Who are you?” Darius snapped.

The mercenary raised an eyebrow. “You’ve used that one already. I’d hoped a royal knight would be more versed in the art of conversation than that.”

No. No. This wasn’t just some random kidnapping. She knew exactly who he was.

“Whatever it is you want, you’re not going to get it,” Darius said as firmly as he could.

But how? They’d been so careful not to be recognized...

The woman made a soft sound, almost a laugh. “Alright. I’ll play along. What, exactly, makes you think I want something from you?”

Dread seeped into Darius’ heart. He refused to let it show. He glared daggers at his captor, surging against his bonds as though he could break free by sheer force of will. His wrists were definitely mangled at that point. He didn’t care.

“If you wanted me dead, I would be by now,” he hissed. “You’ve had plenty of chances.”

“True.” The woman still spoke as though they were chatting about dinner. “But I have something else in mind.”

She took a single step forward. Darius stayed frozen, torn between trying to back up and trying to lunge forward again. He knew both options were stupid and pointless, anyway. But he wanted to do something. Anything, to try to get out of this, to try to get back to Mianu before his captor did something much worse than just knocking him out and chaining him up…

But the woman only dangled the pendant in front of him. The deep emerald in the center shone, even in the dark room.

“What a fancy little toy you have,” the woman sneered. “Not something an ordinary knight carries around, hmm?”

All of his instincts told him to turn away. To hide. But Darius refused to back down. He couldn’t show any weakness. Not now.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he lied.

The gemstone flashed again.

The woman rolled her eyes. “Please. I daresay I know more about magic than the likes of you. Which is exactly why I need your darling little prince.”

Darius couldn’t keep his expression steady this time.

This was exactly what he’d been afraid of.

“What did you do with him?” Darius’ voice was far too soft for his own comfort.

And the woman had the gall to laugh. “Nothing. Not yet, anyway.” 

“If you’re expecting me to help hurt him—”

“No need to worry yourself over that,” the woman cut him off. “No harm will come to him. Or you, for that matter, as long as you both behave.”

“I will never do what you ask,” Darius snapped.

The woman’s smile was heartless. Sickening. “No need to be so modest. You’re already playing your part wonderfully.”

And abruptly, Darius understood.

Whoever this woman was, she didn’t have Mianu. But she needed him. Everything had been a trap... but for Mianu. Darius was only the bait.

He’d rather die than get Mianu mixed up in this madness.

“It won’t work,” he said firmly. “Whatever you want, he’ll never give into your demands.”

“Won’t he?”

The woman’s tone was still cool. Confident. She was utterly convinced she had already won.

“We’ve all seen how… fond the poor little lost prince is of his dashing knight,” she went on. “Hard to blame him. What a handsome face.”

She gripped his chin, twisting his head this way and that. Darius jerked free.

“Whatever sick game you’re playing—”

“Oh, enough,” the woman snapped. “Don’t you have anything better to say? Besides, we don’t need him, really. Just his magic. I’ve heard the princeling has a certain affinity for working in the shadows.”

Darius’ heart could have stopped beating and he wouldn’t have noticed.

“No… no,” he choked out. “He won’t—you can’t.”

He struggled against his chains again, knowing full well it was useless. He didn’t care. He couldn’t let Mianu use that dark magic again. Mianu had sworn he would never call on the shadows again. The magic was powerful, but dangerous. Incredibly dangerous. Mianu had almost lost an arm to those dark powers. He’d nearly lost himself. If he fell into that darkness again…

Darius couldn’t lose him. Not like that.

“You can’t make him use that magic,” he said almost desperately. “I won’t let it happen.”

“That is not for you to decide,” his captor snapped.

She straightened up, holding the pendant closer. It kept flashing. Mianu was desperately trying to contact his knight. And the mercenary knew it.

“Let’s send him a little message, shall we?” she smirked.

She ran her thumb over the face of the gem. And instantly, the flashing changed to a solid glow. Mianu’s voice filled the air.

“Darius? Darius, are you there? Where are you? What happened?”

“Good evening, little prince,” she said with a smirk.

The panic and desperation in his voice made Darius’ heart fracture. But he stayed silent. It was the only weapon he had.

Of course, his captor had other plans.

Mianu’s reply was instant. “Who are you? How did you get his pendant? What did you do to him?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” said the mercenary. “He’s right here with me. I promise he’s all in one piece. And if you want him to stay that way, then you’ll come and meet us. Alone.”

“Prove it,” Mianu demanded. “Prove that he’s there. Alive.”

The silence from the pendant was deadly.

Then...

The woman shrugged. “A reasonable request. Darius, dear, won’t you say ‘hello’ to your prince charming?”

If glares could kill, the woman would have fallen on the spot. But Darius said nothing.

The woman sighed. “Have it your way, then.”

There was a brief flash of light. A single whispered word. Darius had no idea what spell hit him. But it felt like a knife slicing right into his side. It must have made a seeious cut. He could feel the sting of it. Could feel the blood slowly soaking his tunic.

But aside from a quick gasp, far too soft for the pendant to pick up, he made no sound.

The woman clucked her tongue, as though chiding a small child. “You’re only making this more difficult for yourself, you know.”

Darius still said nothing. Not aloud. But in his heart, he screamed out, as though Mianu could hear his silent prayers.

Don’t listen to her, Mianu. Just run. Don’t let her get to you. It doesn’t matter what she does to me, as long as you’re safe…

His captor scowled. She closed the distance between them in a few strides. And she kicked him, hard. Right in the gash she had just made under his ribcage.

Darius screamed. He couldn’t help it. The cry was forced from him as easily as the air was forced from his lungs.

Mianu swore. “Darius! Just hold on. I’ll find you. I’ll get you out of there, I promise.”

“No!” Darius’ shout was more like a cough. “Mianu, don’t! Stay away! She’s going to—”

He was cut off with another cry as his captor delivered another sharp kick. Darius was nearly doubled over at this point. If it weren’t for the chains holding him up, he would have crashed to the floor.

“You’d better hurry, princeling,” the mercenary sneered. “Or your knight in shining armor will face far, far worse than that.”

“If you touch him again, I swear you will pay,” Mianu growled.

“And if you try any tricks, he’ll be the one to suffer for it,” the mercenary replied colly. “See you soon, your highness.”

She ran her thumb along the gem again, cutting off the connection. Then she tossed it over her shoulder. It clattered to the floor in some hidden corner of the room... where it distinctly cracked. Darius winced. He hadn’t just failed to protect his prince. He’d managed to lose an important gift from him, too.

He was a failure. As a knight. As a partner.

The mercenary’s eyes flashed. She looked almost like a kid on her favorite holiday.

“Well done,” she hissed.  “You played your part perfectly. Just like I told you.”

And something inside of Darius snapped. He forced himself as upright as he could get. It took much more effort than he would ever admit. And he couldn’t get his breathing steady. He hated himself for being so weak, for nearly crumbling after so few blows.

Mianu deserved better than that.

But he would not show this monster how weak he was. He would not allow himself to truly fall.

“You’ve made a big mistake,” he choked out. “Mainu’s stronger than you know. And he will show you no mercy.”

If he had hoped to intimidate his captor, he was severely disappointed.

“I don’t doubt his power,” she said smoothly. “I need it. Or have you already forgotten? I didn’t hit you in the head, you know. Though that can be arranged.”

Darius didn’t rise to the jibe. He kept fixing the mercenary with the coldest glare he could manage.

And she laughed again. “What a pathetic showing. I’m sure you think your prince is strong, but I promise you, I am more than powerful enough to handle anything he will attempt to use against me. And failing that… I hold all the cards.”

She sneered at Darius. Darius kept his expression cold and harsh. At least, he tried. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

Hope and fear warred inside of him. He knew that Mianu was on his way. That the prince would do everything in his power to save him. It would have been reassuring… if that hadn’t been where the danger truly lay.

If Mianu was hurt—or worse, if he actually gave in and broke his promise, if he used his magic again—it would be entirely Darius’ fault.

A part of him truly hoped that Mianu wouldn’t risk something like that. But his hopes were dashed all too soon. It wasn’t long at all before Mianu arrived.

The first sign of it was the cold. One moment, the small room was just as annoyingly warm as always. The next, the air was like ice.

The door burst open. There was a hissing sound, one that was all too familiar to Darius. And a figure stood in the doorway, a single point of brightness against a wall of shadows. Magic curled around his arm like whisps of smoke. 

A powerful voice rang across the room. A voice full of the type of fury that only royalty could truly summon.

Royalty… and a very pissed off boyfriend.

“Let. Him. Go.”

Shadows howled along with him. Darius’ heart pounded. Mianu had found them. And his power was already unleashed.

[lady-rosie]

Navena Dren

Navena Dren was exploring the local Ayleid ruin named Wendir while performing a yearly ritual of ridding it of the Undead. With various magic spells she would turn them away, quickly crack the bones of skeletons and slice the heads off of zombies. She would then try to dispel whatever enchantments brought them back, and then leave. This time however, she decided to delve deeper. At first she was fueled by a need to escape the drama and discrimination of the world above, and she found that escape. She’s killed the undead so many times over the years, it came easily, and as she went deeper it was almost meditative. Like a way to release pent up frustration while actually doing something good! Deeper she went until she turned a corner, and realized she’s never seen this area before. With the immediate judgemental and reactive mind of an inquisitor in training, she turned back around to figure out where this was, and realized with a complete blow to her confidence, that nothing looked familiar. She hacked at some more undead, but it was no longer meditative.

Navena ran around, trying to find her place. The smooth stone surfaces and calm blue lights slowly turned into oppressive gated rooms and dark corners where she’d falsely see watching eyes. She pulled out her compass and her maps, kept the undead at bay, and tried to figure out the way back, but it was impossible. Then the floor went loose beneath her, dropping her down to a floor she never even knew existed. When the dust stopped making her cough, she looked up to see a dimly lit room around her, with a slightly ajar gate on the other end from her, and beyond it another room with a shining golden helmet. It captivated her for a moment, until she heard the creaks of bones and growls of zombies. She could barely stand up before a zombie tried grabbing her. With her dagger she started slicing and with her blabbering yet practiced mouth she started repeating her spells to turn them all, and it was barely enough. Arrows were shot and narrowly missed, and skeletons with blades cut through her armor. She fended them off all the way to the room, where she slammed the gate closed, and barred them with nearby bricks. But that wasn’t enough for her. Before she could rest she started casting her blessings at the undead on the other side of the gate to turn them away. When they finally seemed to be distracted, she heard a sheath behind her, and following her training she quickly turned and tried to conjure a shield, but it was too late. A sword from a regal skeleton sweeped at her face and sliced across it. She fell to the floor, and the skeleton haunted out some ancient words. Foolishly, she hadn’t thought there would be another undead in the room. As the skeleton stomped over and readied to execute her, Navena reached for a scroll she used for the most dire circumstances. She read the memorized scroll aloud right before the skeleton stabbed, and an explosion of sunlight came from her words blowing it’s bones away, shattering them against the walls, and leaving it to nothing but dust and withered robes.

After all was done, Navena was left there wheezing on the floor. The scroll slowly burned away in her hands, and she started to feel the blood from her face wound reach her eyes and enter her mouth, which caused her to jerk up, now gasping and wheezing with a smile on her face. She survived. She made it. Navena started laughing, and almost cackling, despite the taste of iron in her mouth. She just had an adventure! When she was done, and still recovering her breath, she propped herself on the wall, and started warming up her healing hands. She started feeling dizzy, and knew she needed to get herself patched up. She put her hands to her arms and started slowing down the swelling scratches. She put her hands to her.. head and started sealing up the cut. There wasn’t much she could do about armor, but the undead were nothing but predictable, and she’s raided Wendir before in nothing but clothes. Then she put her hands back to her.. head again. As much as she hated seeing it, she reached into her bag, and pulled out a mirror. “Does it look bad?” Navena asked Navena, and Navena looked back with her uneasy and hideous face, now covered with dirt and stained with blood, and stained with the ugliest scar slashed across it with a noticeable nick in her nose. And her hands grew weak as memories came back. Lopsided, crooked, snarled, monstrous, and now it’s even worse. She drops the pocket mirror and its clink asks what a passerby would think now? What would people above her think? That she’s crazy? That she’s even more undesirable? “It never looked that great anyways.” She reassured herself.”You’ve always had to fight for respect anyways. How different is this now?” She scrunched her face and tears started forming. “People always found it hard to respect me, maybe now they’ll.. Fear me more?” Her underbite bit at the pain, and she started cursing as all the frustrations of the world above started crashing down on her. Through repressed breaths she shakily mouths out the words “Why the.. fuck am I even.. thinking about such shallow.. things as.. looks… Who cares what others think? That doesn’t matter..” She lied. She’s known all her life that it absolutely does matter what others think but that scar on her crying face made her beg. As her wet eyes catch another glimpse of that glorious helmet, she remembers where she was. “I’ll.. I’ll hide my face. I’m going to hide it for now. I’ll.. I’ll make it back to the Weynon Priory and show Jaufre.. He’s always been understanding. He might know what to do.” Navena shakily stands up, and coughs. Her wounds might be greater than she thought, but she stumbles forward. She needs this comfort more than she needs medical help. Her mind screams hatred at herself as she touches the surface of the golden helmet, and it feels enchanting.. She might even wear it all the time. Maybe hide in it forever, her alter ego jested. Its sides have two huge horn-like structures that seemed to come out of the neck of the helmet, and the two horns went up the sides. It seemed like a Daedric and Dwemer construction, in an Ayleid ruin.. She keeps repressing her mind that tries to put herself down about how It’d be a shame to be worn by her. But the shape of the top of the helmet was like a cone, almost silly, and made it feel amazing. She picked it up, and put it over her head, and it fit snugly, and finally quieted her thoughts.

And then with a deafening metal slam she felt the two horn-like structures on the side of the helmet fall to her shoulders, and lock tightly around her neck. 

[contreparry]

Hello Ann! Happy Friday :) For any characters "Running their fingers through your hair until you’re asleep"

I wanted to write this for the corporate espionage AU because I thought Zevran would fit this prompt perfectly. So here's some Surana/Zevran for @dadrunkwriting!

He woke up to fingers in his hair.

People liked playing with his hair. Zevran knew it was pretty- like the spun gold from a fairy tale, he was told when he was young, and he knew how to press every aspect of his being to his advantage. People liked pretty things. Pretty people. Whenever Zevran primped and preened he took extra time to tend to his hair. It served as armor, as weapon, as a tool that lured his quarry into his grasp. When someone was too distracted by the beautiful golden creature before them they often forgot what they were trying to hide.

But Zevran didn't want to be rid of this someone. Not yet. So he kept his eyes shut and let the man play with his hair some more as they lay curled up on his cheap mattress, under piles of blankets with a dog laying at their feet. Bran didn't seem to notice that Zevran was awake, for his hand never faltered. His fingers combed through Zevran's hair slowly, gently, a fluid, soft petting motion that was rather at odds with Bran's usually blunt, often harsh demeanor. Perhaps he was cruel with his words, but gentle in other ways. It made sense, Zevran thought as Bran continued to run his fingers through his hair. Bran Surana had been so very careful in bed, every touch as measured and calculated as if he was in his alchemy lab measuring out combustible materials and casting unstable spells. He treated Zevran as if he was fragile, as if he was as precious as gold. Little did he know he had invited quicksilver into his bed, a danger that he ought to toss away unless he was burned and forever scarred from his contact with him.

But Zevran didn't wish to move. Not yet. Tomorrow, he sleepily promised as Bran brushed his hair out of his face and a pair of soft lips kissed his forehead tenderly. Under Bran's touch he felt like he was golden all over. Bran sighed and shifted until their legs were tangled together and Zevran wanted to melt into the moment for as long as it could keep him.

"I don't know what to make of you," Bran Surana mumbled, his voice sleep rough and lazy. "Have no idea what you see in me."

Good. The mystery might keep Bran engaged, at least for a little while. It would keep Zevran by his side for a time. And maybe by the time the novelty faded Bran would lose interest and Zevran could... could do his work, as intended. And then they would leave each other both better and worse than they started. Bran would have a taste of intrigue and adventure, something outside of his sheltered upbringing in mage Circles and academia, even if he had to lose some of his research in the process. And Zevran would have completed his contract and... best not to think of what leaving would do to his psyche.

Crows weren't supposed to have hearts, after all.

But for now he could pretend. He liked playing pretend, and with Bran he could almost convince himself that moments like this- Bran's fingers in his hair, Barkspawn's soft snoring, warm blankets with printed nugs dancing over the cotton, the scent of mild laundry detergent- Zevran could almost believe that these moments could last forever.

[iamdarkness]

To Feed a Tiger: Forces of Will

Alfonse x reader summoner, Lif x reader Summoner,

Dimitri x reader x Alfonse x Lif one sided.,,or is it?

Chapter 5

Chapter Summary:The Alfonse and his summoner ( you) embark on a journey to gather intel about the rumors of war and find more than they were ready for.

Through the years you had spent in Zenith, it had become a habit, to help Alfonse out of his armor. Despite him having his own retainer, he had relied on you to do the job while on the go during campaigns. Now it was almost a ritual for the two of you to do this at the end of each day and journey. It was a very intimate moment even when there was no romantic or sexual motives involved.

It all had started a couple of weeks after your arrival, with a fascination for the armor on your part and curiosity on how it was all put together. It was easier to ask Sharena of course but the proximity of his chamber to yours had made it easier for you to ask him instead on a whim. You still remember his blushing face when you asked if you could see how it was taken off and put on.

-Come on Alfonse ! One of theses day it is going to be just the two of us in a mission and I am not going to be able to help you into it properly if I do not know how to do it before! You could get killed!

-Just the two of us?

-Well yes! Who else would I take on a two person mission but you? Or like if we get stranded somewhere.- Alfonse had blushed and in his heart he felt something warm at the show of trust.

And so Alfonse had agreed with the idea, because it was always a possibility of everything happening in a war. So with a blushing face the Prince with the Golden Wings, called his retainer Einar and asked him to teach you how to dress and undress him. Most of the armor was easy enough for Alfonse to handle by himself if needed, but some items were only able to be adjusted by a third person and that was where the retainer came in.

At first the stern look on Einar’s face when he heard about your request had taken you aback; until you remembered how conservative these people were; but the man of around thirty years of age had softened when you showed real interest for the details of the armor. He had given you names and uses and details of the history of the make and design of each royal armor. It was very interesting information. It was later on and with an embarrassed face that you realized that you had almost treated Alfonse like a personal doll when you asked Einar if you could do it yourself and without asking Alfonse himself.

- Of course Summoner! That is…erm…if His Highness permits it.- Said Einar embarrassed as well since he had been so engrossed in the conversation and Alfonse had been so quiet you both had almost forgotten he was present.

Alfonse cleared his throat and with a blush on his face he answered.- Yes…of course.- His voice almost a whisper. If you had not been so distracted by the work and the instructions you would have noticed the blush never left his face and he was stiff as a board and very nervous.

-I’m gonna need more practice! Don’t worry Sir! By the time I learn to do it right, I will be able to undress you and dress you in no time at all! I can even help Sharena too!

At your words Alfonse’s heart was raising fast. He had no idea why your words had that effect on him, but he was so embarrassed he could not answer you. He was afraid you could hear his heart about to burst our of his chest. Thankfully and strangely enough sadly, your gaze was not long on him and you did not notice his state.

Soon after thanking Einar for his information, and Alfonse for his compliance, you left for him to get ready for bed. As the door to the study closed behind you, he let a breath out he did not know he was holding. He relaxed his stance and noticed that now that his jaw was loose, it was trembling a bit as if the room was cold. Yes, you never noticed this, but Einar who knew him since he was younger, did and his knowing smile puzzled Alfonse. It was until later, when he understood his feelings towards you, that he realized his retainer knew even before himself that he was in love with you.

Years later and here you two were again. You give a small laugh at the memory, while you are standing ready for Alfonse to call for your help. He looks up at you from his sitting position where he was taking off his leg guards and gives you a inquiring look.

-Do you remember the first time I took your armor off? When Einar was instructing me on how to do it?- You ask while he comes to stand in front of you facing the med.

-How could I forget…You two forgot I was there.- He said looking over his shoulder at you, who now stood ready to take the rest of the armor off.

-Why didn’t you say something? You just let us talk and undress you!

-Well…I was a bit embarrassed and …I confess I could not talk at the moment.

-You could have told me you did not want me to touch you, you know.- You say undoing the bindings of his mail and helping him get it off. He takes his tunic off and is left with his under armor.

-Then you would not have been able to help me all those times you have. You needed the practice and I your help…besides- he takes a moment looking down to his hands that are taking off his gloves, then he looks you in the eyes.- Maybe I wanted you to undress me.

This confession takes you by surprise and you stand there like deer in the headlights, with parted lips and blushing face. His deep blue eyes darken with emotion and you feel him get closer to you. As much as you two love each other, he was ever the respectful man and he mostly kisses your forehead or hand . Knowing and understanding his position, the respect was mutual so you never tried to touch him in any improper manner in public. You were not lovers even when both knew you were devoted to each other and had been for years.

It was this kind of respect that allowed you two to be able to be together alone and sleep next to each other during campaigns and to keep your shared chambers in the castle. Now it had allowed you to stay together for the two person team mission without a chaperon.

At this time though you were too preoccupied to think of nothing besides Alfonse too close to your face and about to kiss you, while you were alone in a room, in an Inn, in a small town, in the middle of nowhere.

-Alfonse…- The name came out breathy from your lips. This made Alfonse make up his mind and finally kiss you. He places his arms around you and pulls you to his chest. He wanted you. He had wanted you for a long time. In fact he had found himself fantasizing about you months after he had met you. He had been afraid to fall in love with you and had tried to suppress his feelings and attraction, but it all had been in vain. Now the prospect of loosing you was real and he found that he was not ready to lose you so easily. The day you had asked him to let you have him had played in his head over and over for the past nights and it was getting harder to not march up to your door and give in to temptation.

For the first time since you two have been together Alfonse feels bold enough to act on his feelings. It may be that he is finally away from the pressure of his duties and the people surrounding him. Here and now it is only the two of you.

He sighs into the kiss and leave your mouth to kiss your neck. Your heart is pounding like crazy and you feel yourself starting to heat up. You feel those tender lips fluttering on the sensitive skin of your neck. He opens his lips to taste you and you feel his wet tongue, soft and hot lick tentatively. It is a tender and soft gesture but you feel it like a hot iron branding your skin. You hear yourself moan softly and he responds with a groan of his own. A guttural sounds that makes your inside melt.

His hands tighten around your waist and one of them finds the edge of your blouse and lifts it to touch the skin on your back. His hands roam your upper body until he reaches one of your breasts. He stops and looks at you with half lidded eyes. He is asking for permission. You nod at him to continue.

- Your Highness? Prince Alfonse? Is the Summoner with you?- You hear the gruff voice of Fallen Dimitri. He knocks the door again.

==Oh yeah we are not alone yet.==

Alfonse jumps back a step and looks at you. You are still too out of it to respond. Knowing he can not lie to him since there really are not too many places where you could be and lying would look suspicious he clears his throat and responds.

-Yes. She is here.- This bring you back to reality and you go and open the door hurriedly. Dimitri stands there looking suspiciously inside. Alfonse has turned away to fix the pieces of armor and mail on his bed to move it to the chair. He turns his face to acknowledge Dimitri, trusting that his hair is obscuring his face enough that the blond will not see his blush.

-I’m sorry to make you wait. I was helping Alfonse with his armor. How can I help you? Do you need help with yours?

-No thank you Summoner. Freyr is helping me out. I came to let you both know the innkeeper said he will have the provisions ready in the morning and the extra horse you needed to carry the tent and provisions. Also supper is ready. Will you be having dinner downstairs or would you like to have dinner in your rooms?

-Alfonse?

-We will be down in ten minutes if _____ is fine with it.

-Sure!- You answer faster than you intended.- Thank you Your Highness.- Dimitri eyes you both suspiciously and nods before he leaves.

-That was close…-You say. Alfonse nods blushing. He walks up to you and kisses your forehead.

-Come. Let us get ready to go down.

==We will have time for this when we are alone.== He thinks and sighs in anticipation.

Here in this moment while you are at the intersection where your two person groups will part ways with Team Dimitri /Freyr and with the prospect of the time you will be spending alone; he has forgotten about Lif and his engagement as a problem impossible to fix. Here and now he has promised himself to find a way to fix his situation and a way to find a way to keep you by his side.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~***~*~*

Your parting with the other team left you worried. You had not liked the idea of F Dimitri going on a mission so far from home and much less taking Freyr, but you also figured they did need the time off and the distraction. Plus they both had enough medicines and you had the medallions to alert you of their well-being. They promised to check in with you every night and to take care of each other.

They took the road South and you took the road Southwest.

It has taken you days to reach the Western coast. You two had ridden through various little towns and a couple of cities and gone past the Northwestern Nibel Mountains where Alfonse’s cousin Earl Andreas of Nibelheilm lived. His fortress was only surpassed by Midgard’s Keep in the North. Alfonse suggested a visit as well but the time it took to get to the coast had taken longer than anticipated and you had a schedule to keep. (1)

-We can visit him in the next mission if the rumors prove false.- Says Alfonse looking longingly at the distant snowy mountains. It was very hot in the coast.

-Is he the one that saved your father when Hel first attacked Askr years ago?

-His father. Uncle Andreas died along with my grandfather and cousin Alfonse almost died as well. I am named after him. He was General of the Royal Army right until we fought Hel. He retired after that. I wish you had met him back then. Come we need to get something to drink.

- Oh that New Year Festival you hosted by yourself when I had to go with Fjorm was there right? - You asked. Alfonse nods. You look around the terrain. The trail ended on a clearing surrounded by palm trees and some other fruit trees.-There is no one around here though. Are you sure the town is supposed to be around here? The coconuts look good. If we shake the palm tree we can get the water out with the sword.

- The map indicates the town should be around here. I mean this is the trail that leads to it. I came here when I was eleven. Cousin Andreas has a Beach House close to here. I was counting on using it to stay there some days.- Alfonse said focusing on the map in his right hand while he used his handkerchief to dry sweat from his forehead and neck.- It was not this hot back then…

- Maybe they moved the town…So how about the coconuts? They are great for hydration.

- Why would they move the entire town? How is this place hotter than Muspell?

-It is not. It is the humidity. Muspell was hot dry and sweat did not bother you, it just gave you headaches and people just passed out from dehydration. This is not as hot but very humid so it does not dry your sweat. It makes you more aware of the heat I guess. So the coconuts?

Alfonse sighs.- Fine. I will go up the palm tree and get you, your coconuts.

-You don’t need to go up there. We can shake the …and there he goes.- You watch as Alfonse goes up the palm tree and as he makes his way up you see something.- Hey Alfonse!! Get down! There is a Coconut Crab up there!

Alfonse looks down frowning. He has no idea what a coconut crab is or how it looks so he thinks you are joking because a coconut crab really?

The color and texture of the crab makes it hard for him to see it even though he is closer to its side. Alfonse keeps going up.

-For the last time. We don’t have Pokemon in Askr.- He says smiling.

-What? NO! Alfonse! That thing is huge! Careful with its claws! - You know they are not very hostile, but seeing one so close would be a scare if he has never seen one before. Also you know he does not like spiders. Alfonse still does not listen to you, but you see him halt. He stays motionless for a second and then scampers down the tree so fast he falls the last distance and lands on his butt. Unhurt he gets up and point to upwards.

-What in Askr’s name is that? Is that a giant spider?- He says louder than he intended. You try to keep from laughing.

-That is the coconut crab I told you about. They eat coconuts.

-Crab? That is a huge spider ________. You said crab. Crabs are small…not …that huge and …ugly.- He says disturbed.

- I did not want to scare you and make you fall…And they are actually crabs…just huge… I told you it was huge. Oh dodge!- You say when the crab cuts a coconut and causes it to fall down. You try getting out of the way but bump into Alfonse who is still looking up bewildered. The coconut hits you partly on the shoulder.- Oh CRAP! That hurts!! Alfonse!

Alfonse’s eyes are huge with worry. He takes your hand and moves you away from the palm tree. He moves the torn blouse to see your shoulder and arm. There is a scrape runs from the top of the arm almost to the elbow. There is not much blood coming out of the wound but it is an angry red and he knows it will be turning purple soon. The coconut hit you with the top part and the stem was the one that scraped your skin.

-OH Askr! I am so sorry! I thought you were playing. It sounded like on of those Pokemon you sometimes talk about.

-Coconut crabs do sound funny…- You say smiling. He is obviously worried, feels guilty and embarrassed and will probably be torturing himself ever your scrape for days.- Don’t worry I did not believed they were crabs at fist either. - You explain while he takes the med-kit to cure the scrape.- I also thought they were huge spiders. They are not hostile…much, but don’t make them angry any ways. Their claws are very strong. Hey you !! You owe me a coconut after this! - You joke yelling at the crab, who has already cut another coconut.- Make it two!

Alfonse’s brows furrow at the joke but he also smiles. He finishes putting a salve on the wound and dressing it up. You walk up to the palm tree and look up.

-Hey I’m taking two of those if you don’t mind. Thank you! You are a life saver!

-You are taking it’s coconuts?

-Heck yeah. It can climb up faster and more easily than us. Besides, I already paid it with my blood.- You say laughing. Alfonse is looking at the crab with trepidation as it climbs down. There are four more coconuts on the ground besides the ones you took.- Want to look at it cracking the coconut?

-No.- He says a little disturbed and turns around to leave. You smile. At least he has forgotten about the heat.

-It’s weird…back on Earth they lived on islands that are more to the South where the climate is hotter. What are they doing here?- Alfonse send you a look that said “hotter?”.- I mean this year feels hotter than usual, but it is still colder than their original habitat.

Alfonse found a place under some trees and after checking out for more crabs he cuts the top of the coconuts with the big hunting knife he carries. After drinking the refreshing water he crack it with Folkvangr. After that rest you come to a place where there are some fishermen by the sea.

Alfonse approaches the men to ask for the town.

-A storm last year destroyed most of the town. The people relocated closer to the mountain north of here. We still come here for the fish. The road forks out some distance before the bridge. You didn’t see it?

- I thought it was a new settlement not on the map. Why didn’t your people report the move to the higher authorities?- Asks Alfonse furrowing his brows. The men look at each other.

-Are you related to Lord Andreas?

-Yes. He is my First Cousin once removed.

-A noble then?

-You may say that.

-Well. The pirates do not want the Lord to know about this.

-Pirates?!

-They have their lair inside the mansion near the new town. They arrived with the storm… We suppose their ship was taken off course and they landed here. They liked the place and took the mansion as their own. When we started relocating they prevented us from sending word to the Lord. They have the town hostage.

-I see. -Says Alfonse and then looks at you. You understand immediately what he is thinking.- We are going to need reinforcements.- You nod and call out your messenger owl.

-Celeste! Here!- You shout and then use the whistle that will alert the owl to come to you.

-A messenger Owl?- Asks one of the men.Alfonse goes to the horses and unpacks some parchment to write the message out.

-Yes. Will they know it carries a message?

-No. Messenger owls are rare here. Only the late Mayor had one and they killed it…along with the late mayor.

The message explaining the situation was sent to the Earl for him to send troops. After that the men told them how to get to the town but told them they would be watched.

Alfonse decided to make camp right there but not too close to the palm trees.

-Ah! You saw the giant spiders? They came with the storm and have been a real menace! I think the pirates were carrying them.

-They do look like spiders.- Says Alfonse under his breath.

-So they are invasive! I knew they could not be native! Have they been eating the birds too? Kittens?

-Yes and everything smaller than them. They come at night to hunt…how do you know?

- The coconut crabs are known to do that the island they live on is devoid of birds. They will throw valance of the ecosystem off.

- We have killed all the ones we have seen in town, but they are reproducing and people are afraid of them. We are more mindful of the kids, that is for sure.

- Do you not eat them?-The men look at you shocked.- They are giant hermit crabs without a shell. People in the islands eat them and say they are very good. They even think they are aphrodisiac….I mean they are not, but they think it.- The men look at you, then at each other and then at Alfonse who shrugs.

-They are not poisonous?

-The ones at home aren’t…I mean you don’t have to eat them I was just asking.

After setting up camp and getting the tent up and camouflaging it so the pirates would not find it so easily, you set up to cook something. The fishermen pitch in with some fish and some of them comeback from inland bringing something. After one look you see it is one of the coconut crabs.

-So mam. Do we just cook this like any other crab?- You nod. And they get to cooking it. It is too big for the pans so they dig a hole in the ground and fill it with the fire’s embers then a layer of sand and then some leaves and the crab. They place more leaves and cover them with a layer of sand and on top of that they build another fire where they roast the fish and you cook some of the food you have.

Alfonse had gotten very good at cooking on an open fire and he demonstrates when he cooks beans and bacon with ham, sausage and spices. A recipe he got from Gonzales. The men use coconut shells as bowls and cups. You had a great time while Alfonse questioned the men about the pirates and about any rumors they may have heard about the upcoming war.

-So what is your name Mam?

- It is ________.

-That is an unusual name. You seem to know a lot about them crabs. Are you from them Islands?

-What? Oh I just read a lot and have seen them on pictures…drawings.

-I have been wanting to ask. -Said the oldest one of the six.- We have heard tales…are you from The Order?- The man asks.- You are a nobleman and I can tell you are a warrior, not just by that one sword, but because of the way you move, and that sword could not belong to just anybody…- You leave this one to Alfonse.

- I am Prince Alfonse of Askr. As you can tell by my questions we are on a mission from The Order to find information about some rumors we have heard. Luckily we found you so we can help you out with the situation.

They all are shocked by the information except the oldest of them. It looked like his suspicions were true. There are coughs from one of them when he chocked on his food.

-MY name is Rauni Elmerson, I met your father once. Years ago. Maybe you do not remember me since I have aged, but I met you too Your Majesty. My father was the elder and he was your guide when your family last came to visit. You are just like your father. A man of the people. A good man. It was thanks to him that we survive the big storms. Before his visit we used the caves as shelter when the storms hit, but they are far and sometimes people did not make it on time. He ordered to build a shelter not far from here under Lord Andrea’s Villa. We built the new town next to it. The pirates use it for their lair. We have had no storms as of yet, so we have had no need to use the shelter.

- Of course I remember. We stayed in cousin’s Villa for two weeks. You and your wife came to bring us fruits and I remember your wife cooked for us. You had four children then. I did not recognize you with that beard.

- Yes. You remember. I have three children now. The oldest died last summer during the storm.- The man said. Alfonse and you gave him your condolences.- Thank you. My mother is the elder now. Your sister? I hope she is doing fine. I remember she was a ray of sunshine! She made friends with all the kids in the village.

-She is doing great. She is still a ray of sunshine and making friends with all the heroes in the Order.

-Yes. That is our dear Sharena.

- My Lady is your fiance?- One of the men asked curious. You could feel yourself blushing as bright as Alfonse. They looked at you and then you two answered that you were not engaged at the same time.

- I am his Summoner…well I am actually Askr’s Summoner. We are…partners.

-Oh! Please forgive me. I…

-No no…it is fine. We are alone in a mission after all. - Alfonse says.- We are partners, so they gave us the mission together. I did not want anyone else to be her guardian.

- I would not trust anyone else to be my guardian to be honest.- The men shared a knowing look but said nothing.

The men dug out the crab and they started eating it. They found they liked the taste better than the smaller crabs. They also could not believe they were dining with royalty and the legendary Summoner; that their prince would turn out to be such a humble person; refined and polite of course but humble enough to dine with some fishermen and even cook for them all. They were surprised he was such a great cook too.

The fishermen left for the village and the two of you were left alone. You had agreed not to get near the village until the reinforcements arrived. Still Alfonse felt it was a good idea to look around. Alfonse did not want to put you in danger but he did not want to leave the people alone. They had already suffered enough without help.

You two gave yourselves a dip in the sea before going to sleep but despite the cleaning you were sweating not long after going to sleep. Alfonse had planed on staying at his cousin’s beach house and spending some quality time with you but as thing were it would take some time to resolve the problem and you would end up not staying for too long after. Besides. It was too hot and he was too weary of the coconut crabs. He did not say anything but he thought he was going to have nightmares. He cursed his mind, that reminded him of that one book/movie about the dwarves lost in the fores with the giant spiders.

Alfonse looked at you from across the small tent. You were reading some lines from the report you had started to write moments before. He really wanted to breach the distance, but he also wanted to take off his skin with this heat. He bit his lower lip and then furtively he checked his armpits for any foul smells.

==All good…==

-I am so tired. I wanted to write the report, but my eyes are closing by themselves…That is it. This heat is getting me too sleepy. Good night Alfonse. I will finish this tomorrow.- With this you rolled over to your side.

There it was. He had taken too long staring at you and thinking about it. He sighed in defeat.

-Good night ________- He answered. He debated a good five minutes, weather he should try it again and get near you. He made up his mind and rolled over to your side. He looked over your shoulder and was about to plant a small kiss on your neck when he noticed your lips slightly parted and your even breath. You were asleep already.

He looked at you for some moments and smiled. He was tired too. He rolled over to his mat and went to sleep.

==Maybe tomorrow.==

The next day before setting out to explore the area the owl came back with a note. “We arrive in two days. Send map of location and how many sentinels there are.” They hear a raven and notice it had been following the Owl. This was Lord Andreas’ own messenger bird.

-I’m liking your cousin more and more. - Although you knew there were raven messenger birds, The Order used mainly owls as messengers and you had never seen an actual raven messenger bird.

- We need to get close to the village and see how many sentinels and guards there are but I don’t want you to put yourself at risk.

-I wonder if the fishermen will come today. I am sure they went out to fish earlier than dawn, but I wonder if they could give us an idea or a hand.

- Come we should get some breakfast and then form a plan after.

They were preparing their breakfast when a young boy of about fifteen years came walking fast holding some sacks on his back. He kneels on one knee in front of Alfonse in reverence and starts talking not looking directly into his eyes.

-Your Majesty.. My Lady. I apologize for my lateness. I have been tasked by my grandfather to be in your service. I was supposed to arrive here earlier but the pirates are in town today and it was hard to evade them to come to you.

- Rise up. Your name?

-Arlan Sir! Arlan son of Iver son of Rauni.

- Arlan. You are the elder’s great grandson then.- Arlan nodded.- Well met. Do not worry about your tardiness. It is better to be cautious than fast. I am grateful you have come to aid us. We will need some information, but first tell us. You said the pirates are in town. I don’t suppose it means all of them.

- Well they do leave a guard or two. One in the mansion and one in their ship close to the caves. Still they are not as cautious as you would think. They know how many people we are in town and they spy on us and the people and the merchants that come and go. They know no one of us will dare go near the mansion or the ship with them in town. My friends and I counted them and only two of them are missing so it means they were probably left behind to guard the treasure and the ship.

-Will they not miss you then?

- I was supposed to be fishing with my father so they should not miss me. Father will come pick me up when they are finished with the fishing.

-I see. Do you know how many of them are there? How many stay to guard the town in regular days?

-Of course! My friends and I even have an schedule. They may be pirates and a rowdy bunch but they are very organized! Their captain is a very strict woman.

- Great! Tell us everything and then help me draw a map of the new town -Said Alfonse writing some notes.

Notes taken and information made into a letter; Alfonse called at the raven waiting for their response. The creature came down to stand on his arm. Meanwhile you gave him a hand by tying the letter to the bird’s leg where a leather case was waiting for the papers to be kept safe. Arlan looked nervous and mistrusting at the bird. He had heard they could pluck your eyes out.

-Raven and crows are naturally intelligent and sometimes mischievous. They recognize faces and are able to pass this information even to their young; which means if you make them your enemies so then their future generations will remember too.…and they do like and collect shinny things. I am afraid they have a bad reputation because of that. I wonder if it may let me pet it.- You say looking at the raven. It turned its head sideways to better look at you and suddenly…

-YES!- Came the deep croaky voice of the raven answering. (2)

-See! He is not going to poke your eyes!- You said as you pet the raven’s soft and shiny feathers. -So what is your name?- You ask the bird.

- Draven

- That is an awesome name. Do you think your cousin would get very angry if I teach it to randomly say “Nevermore”?

-Why?- Asked Alfonse curious bout it.

-There is a poem about a guy who lost his bride and a raven appears to him through a window and keeps on saying ‘nevermore’.

- Please don’t do that. My cousin…

-Oh crap! Did he lost a loved one?

-…In a way…

-Oh! I’m sorry. I promise I will not teach him anything bad.

- Some say he was not the same after the war with Hel because he lost someone dear to him. Others say he goes to another realm to visit his love and it is an impossible marriage.- Says Arlan, his face reflecting sadness.- I do not know what would be worse.- Alfonse looks down and changes the topic.

-We better send him back and go take a look at the caves.- He looks at the raven and thanks him, instructing him to go back to his master. You could see he was avoiding something. You made a mental note to ask later.- Arlan you can lead us to a safe way to the caves after some breakfast.

- Of course your highness. By the way. My father told me to give this keys to you. They open the fortress mansion. Well…the secret entrance. You see. My great grandfather told us that there is a secret entrance before he was kidnapped by the pirates. Only a few people know about it. My Great grandmother is the elder now so she knows and she passes the knowledge to us who will one day perhaps be elders ourselves. This is why he was not able to say this in front of the others yesterday.

-They kidnapped your great grandfather?

-It was months ago…We haven’t heard anything from him. We believe he is dead.

-Are you too afraid to inquire about him?- Asks Alfonse with a furrowed brow.

-No we have done so may times. They just tell us he is safe and not to worry about it. I suppose they have got him as hostage to keep us in line…but…he is probably dead by now and that is why they will not let us see him or give us any information about him.

-I see. We will see that they meet the right punishment.Thank you for bringing these keys. We should give it a look after we come back from the caves. Arlan. Do me a favor. It is better for you to call me just Alfonse for now, in case we are taken captive. They should not know who we are.

-I…as you wish your…Alfonse.

-_______ ? Could you please take some supplies from the bags so we can prepare some lunch for the way?- Alfonse asks and you nod and go back to the horses that are tied up behind the tents. Then Alfonse turns to Arlan.- Arlan I need you to promise me something. Whatever happens to me, make sure she is saved no matter what. Do you understand?

-But…- Arlan started then a look of determination was set on his eyes when he saw how serious and solemn Alfonse was.- Upon my honor…Alfonse.- He said and took Alfonse’s offered hand to seal the deal.

-Excuse my curiosity but…do we really need to take lunch?- Asked Arlan some minutes later.

-She will get cranky otherwise.- Alfonse answers smiling fondly while looking at you.

You had a hurried breakfast and take the map and form a plan of where to go and how to get there.

~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~

-Will we not get spotted ? -You ask when walking out of the cover of the trees and step on the stones of the rocky slope that led to the caves.

-The pirates do not care about the caves. Apparently they explored it and found nothing of use in there. There really isn’t anything of value to them. The people used them only as refuge once ago, but their value is in their beauty. You will see. Besides it is close to the old road. The one you took. They do not keep watches over it. That is why they did not see you coming.

- You should have told me that before so I could inform Lord Andreas.

-Well I thought hey would be using the old road since he will not be aware of the new one….was I out of line?

-No. I suppose you are right. Still I will send the Owl to let him know this and any useful information we may get from the caves. Why don’t they watch the road?

-They think it’s haunted.

-What? Haunted? Why?- Alfonse asks a little to fast.

-Ever since the dead came back to walk the living world he have had sightings of…well strange happenings.

-Oh… I see. - Alfonse said nothing more but you could see in his face that he had something in mind.

- We have you to thank for saving us from that right? We are pretty remote so we did not see much of the situation and no battles thank Lord Askr, but we have no love for that witch… she came through here once you know… and him…

-Hel?

-No! Queen Thrasir! She came through here some time during the war against Hel. What she was looking for we do not know, but sometime later He came. I only saw him briefly…The first King. He was a sight to behold too… - Did they give you a lot of trouble?

-She did. When she came. She brought a horde of the dead. Lord Andreas was around thankfully. The people who cold not fight hid in the mansion.I was too young to fight, sadly…Lord Andreas was fighting her personally and they say it was an impressive battle!

-And Lif?

-No… he…came by himself one night…He came when Lord Andreas was away fighting in the front. My friends and I were out patrolling and we saw him on the road. He disappeared near the Mansion and we did not dare follow. Some people say they have seen him around, but I think it is just their imagination. Can I ask you something?- Asks Arlan who had stopped walking and was looking down to his feet. Alfonse made a sound of assent, but avoided looking at you or him.- Is it true? We heard he was being manipulated by Hel, but…is it true he was the one who saved us in the end?

Alfonse stopped. It had been a general agreement to keep the secret of Lif’s and Thrasir’s true identities. Only a couple of people knew the truth counting F Dimitri because he had seen too much. He sighted looking grim.- It is thanks to his and Thrasir’s sacrifice that we were victorious…

-Oh…I see.

- I wonder why he came by himself? And are you sure the people who saw him later are not …actually seeing him?

- Of course not! They have seen him recently and I mean the dead did disappear after Hel was killed right?- He asks nervously.

-You are right sorry.- You say avoiding Alfonse’s eyes. Alfonse said nothing but he had the feeling there was more to it and he knew you knew. He wondered why Lif would be coming to these parts of Askr.

-Let’s get going then.- Was all Alfonse said.

Once in they reached the caves you spare a moment to use the spyglass to take a look at the pirate ship.

-Do they ever sail to steal other ship’s cargo?

-They have done it a couple of times, but they always leave people to watch the town. I think they are afraid of Askr’s Navy, and that is why they don’t sail more often. Also they find all they want at town.

- We have had no reports of attacks to ships. I will have to have a talk to the Navy officers when this is over. Come we need to get inside and take a look.

-Should one of us not stay behind to keep watch?- You ask. Alfonse shares a look with Arlan.

- Will stay to keep watch Alfonse. The cave does not branch enough to get lost, but be careful. We have not been around to inspect it. There may be something dangerous.

- We will be careful.- Said Alfonse and took your hand in his to go inside.

It took some time to explore the caves. The entrance tunnel of the main cave was as expected made of what looked like what once had been an undersea cave with tale tell signs of human interaction. There was a main “road’ where the sediment was darkened black by the acidic touch of mammals, but beyond the road flanked by column, stalactites and stalagmites the rest of the surfaces were covered by the wet sheen of water and glitter of crystals of many colors that hit with the light of the lamp shone like stars. It took you by surprise that being a shelter for the people it was so well taken care of. They had been sure to interact with the natural formations as little as possible and so the beauty had been preserved.

You came to an open space with a raised in the middle that was as big as a baseball field. The middle ground was higher than the surrounding paths and was full of small basins where water once flowed. It looked like it had been dry for a long time.

This place was once the shelter the village used before the shelter at the mansion was built, now it was home for the hundreds of bats hanging upside down from the ceiling.

- Damn…that’s a lot of… bat crap…and bugs uggg…- You whisper as to not disturb the bats and covering your nose because it smells horrible.

-We better circle around to the other tunnels. Although their presence will disturb the cave formations.

-I would throw a stone and watch the world burn, but I am afraid of rabies and a cloud of bats coming from the cave would alert the pirates of our presence.

-We will get rid of them after we take care of the pirates. Come.

You go around the atrium and are about to take the widest tunnel which seem to be on a rise when you step on a whole you could not see before. As you fall the stone around it cracks up and fall which inevitable makes it big enough for you to fall completely down it.

Your try grabbing on to the sides but they crack and you fall down the hole into the darkness. The fear is numbing you and you can barely hear Alfonse scream as you are swallowed by darkness. The last thing you see before shutting your eyes to brace for the impact was Alfonse ‘s hand trying to grab your outstretched hand.

The fall did not last long and the pain was not as sharp as you thought. When the shock was over and you were not as dizzy you were aware of Alfonse’s frantic calling.

-________! ________! Are you alright? Are you hurt!!

-Umm…I’m alive?…wait let me get up… I’m a little sore but I’m good…Hey! This place is not so deep.. and I think I fell on something soft.

-gggrrrhh

-OH FUCK ! Alfonse I think there is someone here!- You say while you look down to where you had landed and find someone trying to get up.

Alfonse lowered the lamp to look around and find you trying to help the person in the hole to get up.

-I am so sorry! Are you alright?- The man was dressed in some kind of very dirty uniform you had never seen before but had the Askr insignia on the chest.

-grrr…- The man responded backing away with his face lowered. That is when you noticed the dark stain on the uniform. It look like old dried blood.

-Alfonse! He is hurt!

Alfonse who was watching the scene unfold without talking suddenly said.- _______. Are you hurt? Are there any open wounds on you? Get away from him!

-What? Why?- You ask confused. The man then looks up at Alfonse with widen eyes and then at you.

-Can you for once do as I say?

-I…OH WHAT THE FUCK! Crap,crap,crap,crap!!!- You say as you see where the blood had been spilled. It was his neck. His neck had been slit from side to side. It was a wonder the guy could make a noise at all. At the sight of your reaction the man backed away further in the darkness with his hands in from of himself as if letting you know he meant you no harm.-Alfonse. It’s a zombie!! It’s a fucking zombie!…wait…wait… I don’t think it wants to hurt me…-You add because the man looks more scared than you.

The man made a noise and stepping up to the light still with his hands up in front of his chest and shaking his head. He even made a signal to Alfonse who growled a little in anger.

-Just stay where you are and check if you have any open wounds, while I tie the rope somewhere and lower it. And stay away from him.

-Ok.- You answer.-So…- You start awkwardly- …you have been down here for long?- You ask and the the man shakes his head again.- Were you brought here by Hel?- He seemed to think about it and then nodded once and then shock his head.- Ok… I am going to need Alfonse for this…- You check your hands, legs and torso for blood and find none.- So are you stuck here?

The man lowers his head and slowly shakes it. He points down and then along what you assume now is a tunnel. The movement seemed sad to you somehow. It made you feel bad for being afraid of him, but you had not been around a dead person since Hel…well not counting Lif. - He’s been away for some time…- You say looking up.- Sorry I fell on you…and that I scared you…

The man just nods. You take a look at him on the bluish light of the lantern his skin looks almost translucent. His hair is dark blue and his eyes deep red of course as are all of the risen. He looked like he was a handsome man just out of his teens. You start to get sad by all these thoughts so to distract yourself you start to hum. The sounds is amplified by the stone around you. Looking around to see what else you can make out in the dark; you see movement and turn to find the man moving his head a little and tapping his feet.

-Oh you like that?- He nods.- I would sing but there is a horde of bats on the ceiling just waiting to find us lacking…I mean…you know…what they do…- You try to explain and find that he is looking up at the hole with trepidation.- Although…they probably flew out scared when I yelled back then.

-Here! I will lower the rope so you can climb up.- You hear Alfonse saying.

-Hey Alfonse what about the bats? Did they fly out?- You ask while taking the rope to try and climb up. In your opinion he had too much faith in your capabilities.

-Just hold on and I will pull you up.- Alfonse says. You take the rope and at the moment he pulls at the rope there is some movement and noise. You look up to see bats flying around his head. A moment later he slips and falls down. He would have fallen on you but he got a hold on the rope and your new friend pulled you away just in time to not get hit by his falling body.

-Fiddlesticks! Did I hurt you?- He asks looking around for you. You are standing next to the guy who is holding you close to him protectively. When he feels Alfonse’s glare he lets go of you and backs away. You understand two things at the moment. One if this guy had wanted to hurt you he would have done it already. As frail and sickly as he looked, he was actually inhumanly strong and fast. You had felt it in how fast and easy he had taken you and carried you to the side away from danger in a heartbeat.

-No. He saved me… again. Thank you Sir!

-Great…- Grumbles Alfonse. - Thank you …Sir…Let me climb up and then I’ll get you out, just in case the pirates were alerted by the bats.

-Hey Alfonse… wait. Sir… you said you were not stuck here. Is there another exit?- You ask him. He looks at you and then his eyes harden when he looks at Alfonse. He looks back at you and then he nods.

-That is great!

-Wait…you can talk?- Alfonse asks because most of the risen you two had seen during the war were mostly just killing machines that behaved like beasts.- The man shakes his head and points to his throat.

-Oh!…I see. I…my apologies. I did not mean it that way…it is just we have not encounter …err…dead that can understand us.

The man looked at the fallen lamp that was still lit and lowered himself next to it, to touch the ground with one of his fingers. You saw him write something on the dirt.

-When Hel commands you…-erases when he makes sure you two are done reading.- you have no control….we were beasts to her.

-I see. I am sorry to hear that. We saw that with one of our friends.- You say remembering how she had used Lif and Thrasir against their will as if they were her puppets.- You said Hel had brought you here and then not? How is that? But first you need to tell us your name.

-I was called Gerard Viscount of Nibelheilm.

-Gerard Andreas…you were killed in the Battle of the Thousand Tears against Embla. During the first war.- Alfonse says in wonder. Gerard nods.- Lord Askr! You are the second youngest General in history!- Exclaims Alfonse excitedly. Gerard looks puzzled.

-Who is… first now? - Gerard asks. Alfonse sits on the ground next to where Gerard is writing. Gerard mimics the motion.

-The current Earl of Nibelheilm. Your great, great, grandson.- Alfonse says.- Cousin Alfonse Andreas.- There was a small smile on Gerard’s lips.- I am named after him.

-Wait…- You ask hating to stop Alfonse’s fangirling.- General? Son? Just how old were you?

-I was 22… when I was …appointed General.

-By merit! I read all about it! You were a genius in the battlefield! Cousin Alfonse is as bright as you!

-I had …my first son at 23…a daughter at 24…died at 26.

-Wow …I don’t even have a cat…unless you count Ranulf and Lethe…

-You have an army of heroes to manage.- Said Alfonse looking your way.

-True. They do behave like toddles sometime…

- You are …the legendary hero…- writes Gerard.- And you are prince Alfonse…- a confirmation, not a question.

-Oh so you remember us from the battles?- You ask.

-No. I never saw you in their ranks. I would have noticed. Hel would have used your gift…this is why he came here…- Says Alfonse staring at Gerard.

-What do you mean?

-Did he bring you here? Do you know who Lif really is?

-Yes…yes.

-Why? I get him keeping your skills hidden to not be used by Hel… but why ? And why keep you here?

-The plan was…to work for Hel only…to get the kingdom back….then finish her off… I would help him with that…

- So Lif’s plan was always to fight her back?- You ask.

-Yes. Except he was not waiting for Hel to ask for this world in particular to end…our world. It threw the whole plan off…we threw it off.- Gerard nodded and Alfonse looked away for a moment, thinking.- And …now…I see…so that is what he is planing…

-What? What is he planing? Alfonse?…

-It…Don’t worry about it Summoner. We need to go before the pirates find us here. We need to seal the hole…We can’t let anyone know you are here.- He tells Gerard. Gerard nods and jumps up the rope and climbs out. Soon enough the rope is thrown down along with Alfonse’s and your backpack that had fallen on the tunnel floor and then he jumped in.

- I will cover the hole…after I show you the exit.

Alfonse got up and took his pack. - How is it that you still bear your wound? All the others seemed …healed except for Lif and Thrasir.

-I could talk before….it came back after Hel…was destroyed.

-So he can keep you here but is not strong enough to keep you complete?

-He can not heal me…or himself…yet.

- “Yet”…not for the lack of …I see…

There is no confirmation or denial on Gerard’s part and even though you did not fully understand what they are talking about you don’t ask anything. Alfonse would tell you later if it was important right?

-I can sew up the wound…and then I will be able to talk…but there is no time now.

He pointed to his neck and you were able to see the cut was just under where the vocal chords would be. They would be intact. Indeed if the wound were to be sealed he would be able to talk. Or at least in theory.

-Interesting!

-Indeed you are right. We have been here too long. Come we need to leave.

-Oh wait my bag! We have the lunch in there.- You say going to pick up up the backpack. Gerard looked interested when you turned around. You start walking together while he leads you to the other entrance.- We have some cheese and bread with sausage, in case you want some.- You say and are surprise by how fast he turned to you and nodded. Alfonse looks puzzled in the low light of the lamp.

-So you can eat?- Alfonse asks and Gerard nods, makes notion with his hand that lets you know he does not actually need to eat.

-Ah you can but don’t need to. I do suppose I would miss the taste too.- Gerard nods and smiles at you.

Soon he leads steadily to a branch of the tunnel that starts to rice until you reach a dead end. He pulls a lever on the wall and a piece of rock moves and gets out of the way. It lead to a smaller tunnel that leads to the auditorium. The walls are solid rock without moisture and you can see why it was chosen to be the exit to the tunnel. It is located higher by a couple of feet, than the actual floor of the tunnel and in the shadows so it would not be visible from below as there is a rice in the edge before you can jump down.

-Thank you for saving me Gerard! Here! Have this food. I hope you like it. There is some sweet bread in there too.- You tell him and give him all the lunch in the bag. You knew he did not need it but you know how craving something you don’t have feels like. Gerard motions at you and Alfonse.

- Ah don’t you worry about us. We have food at camp. It’s where the old town used to be in case you want to visit.

-Just be careful not to be seen and of the giant crabs.- Alfonse says making a face.

-It’s not like they are going to kill you Alfonse. They will only eat you if you are too wounded to move or are already dead.

-What?!- Exclaims Alfonse with a look of horror mirrored by Gerard who had had a puzzled expression beforehand.

-Any ways. You can also write to me if you can or need to. Just use a code name like Sirius or something.

- It may be in our best interest if you do not risk yourself but do reach up to us if you need to or want to… Just be careful.- Says Alfonse with a serious expression.- Do you have means to communicate?

Gerard nods to that but motions to something far off.

-Only to him…

-We can leave Celeste with him. Our Owl.- You tell Gerard. He closes his eyes for a bit and shakes his head in a resign sort of way.

-I see…it is better this way. It is up to you to tell him about us…Thank you again Sir. I am very grateful for what you have done for us…and glad to have met you. We will see each other again.- Alfonse says gravely. Gerard nods solemnly. He turns to you and caresses your head and hair.

- I wish… Thank you…Until we see each other again.- You say filling so much at the same time.

You two jump down and leave. Gerard can still hear you talking while walking down the tunnel back to the light of the day he misses so much.

-You were kidding about the crabs right Summoner?

-Sadly…no…they are scavengers Alfonse…just like regular crabs…what? You did not know that?

-No.- Says Alfonse and in his mind he will never see crabs the same way again.

-Wait until I tell you about Spider Crabs…- You say mischievously. Gerard hears only a groan from Alfonse.

Still your surprise visit had lifted his spirit. Smiling he goes back to the chamber where his rooms were located. He needed to think whether he should report the incident. He will think it over as he fixes that hole in the ceiling tonight.

Once out you find that Arlan is coming back from the forest. He tell you he could hear your scream and had gone to see if someone else had been around to hear it. He had encountered one of the pirates and followed him around. Apparently they had not heard anything. When he confirmed all was fine he came back to see if they needed any help.

Alfonse explained that you two had slipped on guano and hut yourselves and you had twisted your ankle to boot. Arlan had explained that the bats were a new addition to the caves since they were afraid of the crabs. In Alfonse’s mind those crabs really had to go. All of them.

That night you two are too tired and sad for anything else but check on Dimitri and Lord Freyr.

- Dimitri is not responding…

-He is probably already asleep. Do not worry. He is a capable man and he is with Lord Freyr.

- I am worried about him too… and about…him- You motion to the direction of the caves-…I feel bad leaving him by himself…in that place…

-He is in a better place than his prior residence.- You take that to mean that the caves were better than Hel…and yes they were even with the bats and beetles. But he was alone and he seemed sad.

-He seemed sad…

==Anyone would be sad after meeting you and letting you go.== Thought Alfonse smiling warmly at your sad face. The urge to cares your cheek was overwhelming.

- We will see him again. Do…you..Do you need a hug?- He asks and his heart flutters at the bold suggestion. He was going out of his way and comfort zone and you knew it. Alfonse was not one for hugs. Not like he did not like hugs in general. In fact Alfonse was a bit touch starved and craved being hugged by Sharena and you but the way he had grown up prevented him to be comfortable with shows of intimacy. He had come a long way by letting himself be hugged and holding you when stressed out, but he still was very reluctant to ask for or offer them. You smile at him and let yourself be hugged for a bit. Soon it was too hot and you let go to go to sleep.

Alfonse would have wanted more, but as you succumb to sleep and he watches over you, his mind is too busy with all the ideas swimming in his head. He knew he had to think about all the possibilities of your discovery. The impact it will have on the war and how it changes his perception of the past.

It was a while before he too succumbed to sleep.

AN:

This is the same Earl Andreas from my oc story Iris, but from another Askr. This one from this Askr knows the people from Iris though. They met during a winter festival. I am yet to write that part.

Ravens and crows can be taught to talk and imitate human voice like parrots and are much more intelligent than they are. There is a kind of Ravens that do talk like humans do in the Middle Earth of J R R Tolkien. This crows will be of the same quality.

I think my characters are hijacking the story and I have no idea how to stop this!T_T I literally just wanted something cute that was part of a Hero’s Journey and here we are! Dimitri is being so difficult and shy and Alfonse so possessive and jealous T_T XD As a side note I just learned the “possible” fate of Amelia Earhart. I came cross the video by chance. I think Google is at it again with the spying. So I added it to the story as an after thought. Poor Alfonse will surely have nightmares.

[skeksha97]

Birthday Special:

Since today is my birthday I figured I’d do a short story for you guys as SkekSha as you all know is pretty much my Skeksona. It will feature most of the canon Skeksis as well as two Ocs of people who I’ve now made friends with in this wonderful fandom. Enjoy! I will have a drawing done later as well for this scene. I know Skeksis don’t really have birthdays but I thought it would be fun.

It was early morning and SkekSha’s birthday and her four best friends, SkekNor, SkekSiv, SkekLach and SkekEkt had the idea to throw a special surprise party and banquet in her honor. They got SkekSo’s permission of course and he agreed as he too wanted to do something special for her. SkekSo ordered all the Skeksis to help SkekNor, SkekSiv, SkekLach and SkekEkt decorate the throne room while he went to spend time with her and also distract her. He knew she’d be a little suspicious but being her mate, it was the least he could do as if anyone else tried SkekSo was almost certain that they would only make her really suspicious that something was going on or depending on who went to distract her they might spoil it all together so it would be best if he did it himself.

He spent the morning actually offering her cuddles in bed and also reassuring her that she could sleep in if she wanted as it was her birthday after all. All the while keeping a close eye on her. An hour later, SkekSiv came to SkekSha’s room and let SkekSo know that the decorations were finished and SkekSha could come to the throne room now. So he nuzzled her awake and said “Darling, put on your best robes and come with me for a minute.” To which she replied confused by his commands “Why Sire?” Only for him to reply “Because I said so and because you won’t want to miss what I want to show you.” She got dressed after that and once she did, SkekSo covered her eyes with one hand and SkekSha said unsure of what he was doing “What are you doing Sire?” To which SkekSo answered “Do you trust me my love?” She nodded at this as she said “Of course I do.” SkekSo then began guiding her to the throne room.

Once they arrived SkekSo said “Alright darling, you can open your eyes now.” She did as asked and what she saw almost brought tears of joy to her eyes. There was a banner hanging in the throne room that read “Happy Birthday SkekSha” on it and all the Skeksis she trusted there as obviously after all the pain SkekShod and SkekNa caused her SkekSo for sure didn’t want them there ruining her special day and the banquet table was clearly set up in her honor by SkekAyuk. As she looked around the other Skeksis said at once “Happy Birthday Empress!!!” After the other Skeksis said this she teared up a tad as she said “Guys, you didn’t have to do this for me.” Only for SkekSo to answer “Of course we did my love. It’s your birthday after all and we all agreed to make it special.” Before giving her a kiss and he said “Happy Birthday my love.” Before he presented her with a gift that was surprisingly well wrapped.

SkekSha opened it and inside was a beautiful golden necklace with a diamond in the center. She then said with a smile “Thank you Sire, it’s beautiful!” Causing him to smile back as he said “Your welcome darling.” Afterwards he kindly helped her put it on. Then she opened her gifts from the other Skeksis. SkekNor got her a beautiful tail bracelet, SkekSiv got her two matching golden bracelets that matched her crown as well as the first necklace SkekSo ever gifted to her, SkekLach gave her a trinket she got from the Gelfling as an offering that she thought SkekSha might like, SkekEkt made her a beautiful sparkling sky blue robe, SkekZok gave her a nice bracelet with ruby gemstones, SkekSil got her a very nice golden decorative piece for her new robes. SkekAyuk made SkekSha the best cooked Nebrie for her birthday dinner, SkekOk got her a journal as he knew she liked to write in her free time, SkekVar got her a new decorative armor helmet, SkekUng gave her a new sword, SkekSa gave her a new Sifa made charm and SkekMal gave her a decorative fur pelt. As she opened each gift she thanked each of her comrades.

Later that night, when she went to bed SkekSo kindly stayed with her and said as her eyes slowly closed “Good night my love, happy birthday.” To which SkekSha tiredly answered “Thank you Emperor.” Before falling asleep in his arms.

[bakingwithmair]

Journal three - Homemade Bread

For my third journal I upped the difficulty level, challenging myself to make a good ol' loaf of plain bread. It may be the simplest bread recipe, but it's still bread, and that's my goal here! I think first experiencing the precision, waiting, and egg washing (I wasn't confident about this topping, but it actually made the loaf taste better) will allow me to be a little more confident on my last journal entry- my attempt at an original loaf of bread. "Original" is a very loose term. I may end up altering someone else's recipe; I believe a deviation from instruction can ignite more confidence in my future baking.

For this bake, I sought out my roommate's advice (she's a stress-baker). With her explaining the basic science of activating yeast and rising dough I found myself becoming more interested in my bread dough, and was excited for the result.

I followed Lauren Allen's recipe off the website Tastes Better From Scratch.

I dreaded the time I had to "let" dough rise, which doesn't really make sense to me. It's almost like a really complicated piece of popcorn- why haven't we invented its microwave equivalent? I even used "instant" yeast, and they sat for an hour before puffing up.

My confusion didn't make me any less interested. In fact, I got even more anxious having to wait for a ball of dough to puff into a tall loaf. The end result was wonderfully, marshmallowy soft.

I learned how to egg wash without a fancy culinary brush (apply with chopsticks then blend with paper towel), and we topped it off with sprinkles of pink Himalayan salt.

Take a look at that big ol' loaf!

I honestly didn't think I'd get any sort of golden crust, but egg washing really made the difference. Carrying them out of the oven, they shone like medieval armor.

Needless to say, the venture was a delicious success. The crust was juuust crispy enough so that soft ventilation could bake the inside, no too doughy and not too dry!

I'm quite proud of myself for this one. Next time, I plan to make my own kind of loaf with mix-ins and toppings. I believe this freestyle process will be quite humbling.

All in all, this was a good distraction from the news and social media, especially considering I made this the day after the election. I've seen a lot of people online and in real life genuinely afraid their very existence will be criminalized.

It was nice to think about bread, only bread, just for a few hours.

[ficsilike-reblogged]

As High As Honour

Summary: You never expected to leave Lys. You never expected to learn your mother had a family in Westeros. You definitely weren’t expecting dragons, politics, and heartache. You weren’t expecting Aemond Targaryen. Pairing(s): Eventual Soft Dark!Aemond Targaryen/F!Reader & Ser Harwin Strong/F!Reader (No Y/N) Warnings For This Chapter: Canon typical violence, death of loved ones, childbirth, death of a child (not detailed), canon typical misogyny Word Count: 8.1k A/N: No Civil War AU!! I know I said no more ASOIAF/HOtD…but this wouldn’t leave me alone. This is going to be a slow, slow, slow burn. Aemond isn’t in this chapter and Harwin only shows up for a few sentences but please come along on this adventure with me. It will set up the dynamics for the rest of the story. Reader has no physical attributes aside from silver hair and purple/mauve eyes. She is technically Aemond’s second cousin so…(Targcest?). Anyway. I’m having fun with this story, and I hope you do, too.

Book One: The Shrike

You scarcely remembered your last day in Lys. If you wracked your memories, you could recall washes of green, the smell of salt water and spicy perfumes, and the tinkling of your mother’s laugh as your father threw you into the air with a smile on his face.

But you also remembered your mother bundling you up into her arms, ripping you from sleep, and fleeing to one of the many docks around the city. Your father was nowhere to be seen. You would never see him again.

She taught you about the Seven Pointed Star and the Faith of the Seven on the weeks’ long journey, trying to brace you for the differences that awaited you when you docked in King’s Landing. The only houses you remembered, from her careful drawings on sheets of discarded papyrus in the belly of the ship, were the three headed dragon and the falcon.

“Those are the only two you need anyway,” your mother said with a low, soft laugh.

You just liked that you made her laugh. You hadn’t heard her laugh for almost the entirety of the voyage. But that was quickly wiped away when you moved through the foul-smelling city and into the red fortress that stretched into the sky.

The strange, sharp throne had you frowning as someone in a golden suit of armor announced your mother’s name into the cavernous room. He barely managed to get your name out before a woman who looked so eerily like your mother was sprinting toward you. “Maegelle!” She shouted.

Your mother stretched out her arms and caught the other woman with a strange mix of a cry and a laugh. “Oh, Aemma. It has been far too long.”

The woman—Aemma—pulled back and grasped at your mother’s face with shaking hands. “You haven’t changed at all.” But then her periwinkle eyes moved to you. “Oh!” Tears started to slip down her cheeks.

Your mother reached for you and you readily set your small fingers against her palm. “My little shrike, this is your aunt, Queen Aemma Targaryen.”

You truly did not understand what you and your mother had run from in Lys and the family dynamic you had been thrust into in King’s Landing. But you tried, piecing it together where you could.

Your mother was the twin of Aemma Arryn-Targaryen. The rebellious twin to Aemma’s dutiful and pious counterpart, which was ironic considering your mother was named after your great-aunt Maegelle Targaryen who had become a septa. Your mother had absconded to Lys while their father, Lord Rodrik Arryn, had been distracted by Aemma’s betrothal to Prince Viserys. The Lord of the Eyrie eventually accepted his youngest daughter’s foreign marriage—apparently your birth had softened him to it all.

You were six years younger than your cousin, Princess Rhaenyra, and followed her around the Red Keep endlessly. While you were your mother’s ’little shrike,’ you were Rhaenyra’s ‘little shadow.’ And where Rhaenyra was, Lady Alicent was sure to be.

Your lessons were spent at their sides and you often could be found in one of their chambers, asleep on a small mountain of pillows and blankets at their bedside. They encouraged you to participate in court, visit the city with them, and took you with them whenever they needed adventure away from the shadows of the Red Keep. Alicent took pains to teach you the prayers of the Seven and Rhaenyra, more than once, was half-heartedly scolded by her father for allowing you onto Syrax’s saddle with her as she flew around the city’s limits.

“She is Rhaenyra’s cousin in blood, but her sister by choice,” Aunt Aemma murmured to your mother one day as you broke your fast. You doubted she cared if you heard her, she and your mother were often together, too.

“And little Lady Alicent has gained a sister, too, it seems!” Your mother laughed.

But still, you were not entirely accepted at court. Some of the courtiers called you and your mother the Lysene Dragons. Then came the whispers. You knew your mother was different. Special. You knew it before your lives were upended in Lys. It was something Maegelle wore like armor with her head held high. Her ability to know things, to see things others could not, gave her a power you knew she was trying to pass onto you when you were alone together in her chambers in the quiet of the night. And then there was the fact that you looked more like your father than your mother—still clearly of Valyrian descent (the blood of Old Valyria was thick in Lys) with your silver hair and mauve eyes (a shade you shared with your mother), but just different enough. You were strange in their eyes, too. A little too ready to climb a tree or take your supper plate and eat by yourself in some dark room or to turn around in your horse’s saddle “just to see what it was like.” You preferred silence to idle chatter and had become a terror with a mace in the training grounds as your mother cheered from her perch. Rhaenyra doted on you and delighted in the way you still needed to learn how to hold your tongue with other highborn ladies–calling Lady Reyne a “kitten who assumes she’s a lion” to her face had the princess in stitches for a week. Giggling at inappropriate things had become something else associated with you as your time at court continued (an example of this would be when the King’s Counter was found guilty of stealing from the crown and blubbered for his life in the quiet of the Great Hall—your mother had to drag you out of the hall when your laughter could not cease). Your Lysene background made you an outsider at court, despite being able to prove your Targaryen heritage and the wealth your mother had smuggled out of Lys, but you didn’t particularly care to change anyone’s preconceived beliefs about you.

You delighted in the attentions of your mother, Aemma, Alicent, and Rhaenyra.

The men of court were another matter entirely.

King Viserys and his Hand, Otto Hightower, only served to make you uncomfortable or angry. Or both. You did not particularly care for how Viserys had apparently made Aemma suffer through torturous pregnancies over and over again in his want of a son. Your mother had held Aemma’s hand through her latest miscarriage and explained to you what had happened. Then Lord Otto had sneered at you and your mother when you first arrived but had changed his outward opinion when servants brought trunk after trunk after trunk, filled with gold and jewels, from your ship. He would whisper to the King whenever your mother spoke at dinner, suggesting something or other about the state of the kingdom, and you knew he was undermining her opinions. Prince Daemon was the only one who you marginally liked but he had a horrendous habit of touching your hair even after you and your mother slapped his hands away.

You tried, and you know your mother did as well, to make the Red Keep home. But by the time your first year in its shadows ended, your life was upended again. A blue and white carriage slowed to a stop in front of the fortress as you watched from your chambers a few floors above. You heard whispers whispers whispers of something you didn’t grasp. Something about your mother. Something about you. Something about that other house—House Arryn. But the pieces didn’t fit; you could not solve the puzzle yet.

Then you were alone. Your mother was frequently away behind closed doors and you were shooed away from listening against them whenever you tried.

But soon, both Alicent and Rhaenyra grasped your hands and led you forward as you were called into the Great Hall and you were presented to a frail old man. You curtseyed as Alicent taught you but could not stop the confused frown from pulling at the edges of your mouth as you glanced at your Aunt Aemma and your mother as they stood beside him. What was happening?

His weathered, age-marked hand reached out and the backs of his shaking fingers brushed against your cheek. It could have repulsed you or confused you further. Instead, traitorous tears welled in your eyes.

Your father used to do the same before tucking you into bed at night. Before you left Lys. Before he died. Before you learned your uncle seized control of his late brother’s trade agreements and drove you and your mother from the island. Before.

“My shrike, this is your grandsire, Lord Rodrick Arryn, Lord of the Eyrie.”

You learned that the children Lord Rodrik Arryn had with his first wife all perished, either from sickness, the sea, or the clashes with the Mountain Clans of the Vale. The number of possible heirs dwindled until…there was only you and your mother. As the only known child and grandchild of Rodrik Arryn and Princess Daella Targaryen, Rodrik’s second wife, not in line for the Iron Throne, you were named heir to the Vale of Arryn. You, at the behest of your mother, agreed to be known as an Arryn, instead of your father’s name, to keep the Arryn name alive and settle some of the fears the Valemen had brought before Viserys and Rodrik. Those had been the meetings your mother had weathered behind closed doors, fighting for your place in the line of succession. Instead of the red and black of House Targaryen you had almost become accustomed to wearing, you adopted shades of silver, blue, and white lace. Your obsidian necklaces were locked away and you wore sapphires, pearls, and opals in their place.

And then, with your little heart breaking, you were loaded into that white and blue carriage alongside Lord Arryn and your mother while Aemma, Rhaenyra, and Alicent wiped at their tear stained cheeks from the Keep’s steps.

Your life was out of your control; that was a strange realization for a child to make.

But your grandsire—Rodrik insisted you call him that with a kind smile you could not refuse—was good to you and told you stories of the Vale and the storied history of House Arryn as the road took you further and further from King’s Landing. Your mother also tried to assuage your fears and told you that your chosen sisters and aunt were not leaving your life permanently. “You shall see them again, my shrike. I swear it to you. Your wings have not been clipped.”

When you and your mother were presented to the assembled noble houses of the Vale in the Eyrie’s Crescent Chamber, you could feel their judging eyes moving all over you both. Even after Rodrik gave his personal approval of you and your mother, welcoming his “last daughter, back from her own adventures,” and reading the royal decree King Viserys had drafted, stating you and your mother were the trueborn Arryns you claimed to be, the stares persisted. But their judgment soon turned to awe when your mother presented your grandsire with a Valyrian steel sword, a falchion with ripples of sky blue shining across the blade and a large sapphire embedded in the intricate crossguard. Your mother had taken it from your home in Lys before fleeing to Westeros. It had been your father’s prized possession and Maegelle knew that it would strike at her good-brother’s pride to find it missing. And you surmised that this gift would gain her (and you) the approval of at least some of the lords waiting to discredit your claims to the weirwood throne of the Eyrie. (Several more trunks of gold and jewels adding to the Eyrie’s treasury probably helped, too.)

“A gift for my father,” she announced to the crowd with a knowing smile. “He has long served the Vale faithfully, and has been its greatest defender. He deserves a weapon as unyielding, strong, and just as he is.”

Rodrick took the sword and stood, holding the weapon up for just a moment before setting it aside and hugging your mother with all his strength. The crowd cheered and your mother was quick to tug you into the familial embrace as well. As they broke apart, Rodrick—your grandsire—smiled down at you, his dark eyes clouded with age but kind.

It was only then, as the assembled lords and ladies raised a toast to “Lady Maegelle” and called you “the little Lady Arryn,” did you truly take a breath.

Perhaps this could be home.

The Vale had its charms. The Eyrie had a harsh beauty and your mother was full of smiles as she showed you the fortress’ hidden passages and once helped you retrace the steps she had taken when she had absconded to Lys. While you could still see the sorrow in her eyes whenever she spoke of your father, you could tell that being here, in her childhood home, was some form of comfort for her. Both of you giggled when your grandsire insisted on naming the Valyrian steel sword Talon—but you supposed it did suit House Arryn’s sigil. And she still took time to teach you all she had learned during her ‘adventures.’ How to cut to prevent death. How to see what the future held with just a drop of blood. How to mix potions to heal, to hurt, to subdue. You knew that most would not understand her. She called herself a healer. She was your hero.

“I’ll not have you defenseless in this world, my shrike.” She said it every night after your private lessons. But after your third year since settling into the chill of the Eyrie, you started to hear a touch of sadness in her voice.

“What ails you, mama?”

Her smile would be sad, too, but she would, without fail, lean down to press a kiss to your forehead as you rested atop your featherbed. “The future is ever shifting. I simply must keep trying.”

However, her smiles grew dimmer when the raven arrived, announcing the tourney King Viserys was hosting to celebrate Aunt Aemma’s pregnancy. “He believes she will give him a son.”

A feeling you were learning to embrace rolled your stomach. “She will,” the words tumbled out of your mouth. You knew them to be true but something else lingered, leaving an unpleasant taste on the back of your tongue, but you could not voice why. You were still learning.

Your mother nodded and set the missive aside before drawing you into her arms. A sigh rattled through her and you felt it shake your hair. “She will.”

Your grandsire could no longer make the journey to King’s Landing but smiled at you and made sure your cloak was tied tightly around your shoulders with a familiar, kind smile. He brushed his fingers against your cheek. “Sweet and safe travels to you, little bird.”

He and your mother spoke in soft tones, too, ending in a tight but gentle hug and your mother pressing a kiss to his cheek. And after the trek down to the carriages, you and the Valemen traveling party departed to the south. The feeling that had rolled your stomach weeks ago only grew stronger as the distance between you and the capital grew smaller. Something was going to happen. Something was in motion. But you did not know what.

Your feeling of ill-ease only subsided marginally when Rhaenyra and Alicent wrapped you in their arms as soon as you stepped out of the carriage. “How you’ve grown!” Alicent said with a smile. “I cannot believe it!”

“The Vale has made a lady of you!” Rhaenyra teased, pulling at the fine lace of your sleeve. “Not a speck of dust on your gown.”

Your mother snorted beside you before stealing a hug from Alicent and Rhaenyra, too. “Give it time; she will find the largest bit of mud and sully it soon enough.”

Your Aunt Aemma was glowing when you saw her in her solar but the feeling came back with a vengeance as she winced, lowering herself onto her settee.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

Something was wrong.

You had to be all but shoved out of your chambers by your mother in the coming days, introducing you to Princess Rhaenys and Lord Corlys Velaryon and their beautiful children, and then telling you to enjoy your time with Alicent and Rhaenyra at the tourney. And you tried your best, you did, and cheered beside them, even if they were cheering for Daemon as he rose through the ranks. Rhaenyra also seemed interested in the common born Dornishman. Cole, you think his name was.

Your eye was drawn to a different figure. Tall, broad, with curling brown hair peeking beneath his helm.

“And who has you looking like a doe?” Rhaenyra mused beside you.

“No one.”

“Has someone caught her attention?” Alicent asked from Rhaenyra’s side.

“No!” You groused, wanting your seat to open up and swallow you whole. This was not attention you liked. Now, you were not new to thinking a person attractive. There was a knight at the Eyrie who often had heat inching its way up your throat whenever he looked at you. But acting on it or your attentions being noticed were beyond your experience. Your companions might have plied you with stories of love and courtship, and your mother used to tell you the long, beautiful story of how your father earned her love and devotion, but this was frightening to you.

Undeterred, Rhaenyra turned and tried to follow your line of sight and you knew she found her mark when her smirk widened. “Ah, I believe I know who has captured our little shadow’s heart.”

“Who? Point him out to me!” Alicent leaned closer to Rhaenyra and you pondered getting up and leaving as Rhaenyra did actually point out the burly man who just removed his helm and your poor heart shot up into your throat as you got a clear look at his handsome face. “Oh, that’s Ser Harwin Strong.” Alicent looked around Rhaenyra to smile at you. “A fine choice.” “Enough,” you said, pouting.

The pair eventually relented and watched the rest of the tourney. You noticed Alicent had not ceased her habit of picking at the edges of her nail bed but the moment Rhaenyra placed her hand over hers, she stopped. The simple moment had you smiling. Their bond was special. Sometimes you felt like you were intruding on them, interrupting something you should not be privy to, gentle and warm. But it was not your place to question it. You simply wanted them to be happy.

“Ah! My nieces!”

You scowled at the sound of Daemon’s voice as he approached your box and the fact that he called you a niece—you were not his niece. His presence was still irksome and annoying. Listening to him was a chore so you found a spot across the tourney grounds—and no it was not Ser Harwin—to focus on so you could not listen to him wax poetic about his own prowess. It was only when both Rhaenyra and Alicent stood and you watched Alicent grant him his favor did you start to pay attention again. You could not stop the roll of your eyes—he was not subtle in his distaste for Otto and you knew that his mostly-harmless flirting with Alicent was a ploy. You also found his strange obsession with Rhaenyra uncomfortable. You hoped her attentions toward him would wane eventually.

“He’s going to lose,” you said as they retook their seats.

Rhaenyra nudged you with her elbow. “You are incorrigible. What has Uncle Daemon done to gain your ire?”

“He exists. But to be true, he is the least vexing of the men here.”

“I am sure you would not find Ser Harwin vexing.”

“Alicent!”

The pair giggled at your embarrassment but it soon ended when, indeed, Prince Daemon lost to Cole. But the smile you let press at your mouth withered as that creeping feeling once again started to bite at the back of your mind.

It would not be until you three arrived back at the Red Keep did you understand why that feeling had come so swiftly.

Your mother sat on her knees in the hall outside Aemma’s chambers. Her hands had been beaten raw, like she’d been beating at the door for hours. “She’s gone,” she whispered. “She’s gone.”

You learned that the Kingsguard had kept your mother from being at Aemma’s side during the birth, no matter how hard she fought. You would never forget how your mother raged at Viserys when you saw him next. In perfect High Valyrian, she cursed him as tears rolled down her cheeks. “You killed her! You did this! You kept me from her and her blood is on your hands—on your soul! You will feel it on you with every breath you take until you breathe your last! I could have saved her and you cut her open like a brute! Did you think I could not hear her calling for me? Did you think I did not hear her begging for you to not cut her? I will never forgive you!”

The funeral for both Aemma and little Baelon was a blurred memory for you. You remembered the warmth of the dragon’s flame as Syrax’s fire lit the pyre. You remembered how Rhaenyra shuddered with sobs in your hold. You remembered how your mother offered her a place at the Eyrie if she ever would want it. And you remembered the cold, calculating look in Otto’s eyes.

The moment the carriage door closed behind you, you wanted to open it again and run to Rhaenyra’s side, to comfort her, to hold her. But the most you could do was hope she would take your mother up on her offer of visiting the Eyrie. Every night on the way back to the Vale, you dreamt of your Aunt Aemma. She was always quiet and she would always press her hand to your face with a sad smile. When you woke, you would you feel the warmth of her touch against your skin. And every morning, your mother would hold your face the exact same way. It almost felt like Aemma was comforting you both.

And by the time you reached the Vale, you understood why.

Your grandsire was dead. He had taken his final breaths the night before you arrived. Your tears from the loss of your aunt turned to rage at the loss of your grandsire. Then the tears came again while the anger waited in the shadows of your heart. The only outlet you had was your mace and you took your rage out on the dark, spindly trees of the Eyrie’s garden, leaving them broken and shattered. Large chunks were missing from the bigger trunks, a testament to your wrath and ruin. But even as your energy waned, you sobbed in the shadows. Most left you alone, only your mother braved your presence while in the garden. She sat in silence upon a stone bench, listening to your destruction as she tilted her head up to feel the sunlight on her skin. It was like she was breathing through your wrath with you. She often cried at night, when she probably thought you could not hear her—or perhaps that was when she could no longer bear to hold her tears back. Either way, you often crept into her chambers and snuggled against her side beneath her warm blankets as you held each other until sleep took you both.

The grip your mother had on you as your grandsire was interred in the Arryn crypts was only mirrored by your grip on her. Tight and unwavering. You had each other. That would have to be enough.

Your mother became the Lady of the Eyrie and you were at her side when the assorted lords and ladies of the Vale swore their allegiance and she took her place atop the weirwood throne, Talon drawn over her lap. Things had changed. Your rage simmered but never truly dissipated. Your tears still stung but slowly ebbed. Your mother settled into her duties and something settled behind your bones as you watched her hold court—she made sure you were at her side whenever possible, learning everything you could and listening to your admittedly unlearned ideas and slowly turning them toward something more suitable or palatable.

Your mother and her court were once again called to King’s Landing to swear fealty to Rhaenyra when she was named heir to the Iron Throne, and you found a bit of respite in your continued companionship with Alicent and the new Crown Princess. Watching Alicent ready Rhaenyra for her investiture had something stirring in your chest, the gentle touches, the unspoken looks between them. You did not know the words for it, but you knew they found comfort within each other. But soon you were called back to the Vale, your time cut short by your and your mother’s duties.

The moons came and went and your ravens to and from King’s Landing persisted, too. It was a balm to you to have Rhaenyra and Alicent’s friendship in your pocket, but even through their writings, you knew something had become…undone between them. Terrible understanding dawned on you when the raven from the capital arrived, inviting you and your mother to the wedding of Alicent and Viserys.

“This is an outrage!” Yorbert Royce exclaimed, his anger pooling in red splotches across his nose. “Queen Aemma has not yet been in her grave a year!”

Your mother raised a hand from her perch on her weirwood throne to quiet his outburst before tossing the missive away. It flittered down lazily before being scooped up by one of her handmaidens and quickly set alight. “It warms my heart to know that you feel the loss of my sister Aemma as I do, Lord Royce.” She kept her voice even but you could feel the hurt in each syllable. “I, too, view this as a grave strike against House Arryn and the Vale itself. While I will not begrudge any houses that wish to attend the festivities, my daughter and I will not be in attendance.”

And that was that. You would not speak out against your mother. In truth, you did not understand why Alicent, of all people, had been taken to wife by the king.

Your mother came into your chambers that night and explained it to you as your handmaidens readied you for bed. They had come with you from Lys, and you knew you and your mother could speak freely (in the Lysene dialect of Valyrian) in their presence.

“Did she not have care for Rhaenyra’s feelings?” You asked as lavender oil was rubbed into your skin. “Or of ours?”

Your mother hummed and leaned forward in her chair, steepling her fingers in her lap. “Do not blame Alicent, my little shrike. I have no doubt she had little choice in this matter. You know her father, that snake Otto, has high aspirations for himself and his bloodline. I would not be surprised if this was all his doing. Lady Alicent has always been nothing more than a pawn in his game. It is a cruel thing, a fate many girls are relegated to because they were not born boys.” She reached out and traced a finger down your nose. “I would, in my heart of hearts, not believe that Alicent wanted this. But I am sure Rhaenyra feels differently.” When you were finally ready for bed, she lifted the blankets of your featherbed around your shoulders, trying to press into your mind the politics of marriages between the highborn families of Westeros. She finished with, “We mustn’t judge them, either of them. It is better to be allied with them both.” She spoke a little longer of how both Alicent and Rhaenyra were in fragile positions of power but were more than likely more isolated than they ever had been before. She wished you good night, suggesting you write to both of them at first light, and strode toward the door.

“Will I be made to marry someone for advantage?” You asked, half dreading the answer.

Your mother paused, the light behind her making her look like a goddess cloaked in shadow. “We are the ladies of the Vale, my shrike. Our place in this kingdom is powerful but precarious. And I…” Her words trailed off. “Your future is clouded from me.” That simple, strange sentence struck at your marrow. How could she not know? Your mother knew everything, did she not? “But I promise you, I will do all I can to protect you and your heart. I’ll not have you moved about the board without your consent.”

The years slipped by. You kept your correspondence with both Rhaenyra and Alicent, still finding friendship with both of them, despite seeing their own relationship grow more and more strained from leagues away, piecing together its crumbling from anecdotes they slipped into their missives. You wished you could mend it, have them come back together. There was love there. You knew it now. And there could be again.

Your time was filled with learning at your mother’s side. While she had history within the Vale and had shadowed your grandfather when he still ruled, she had also played the great game while in Lys. She knew how to play the part of conciliator and of peacemaker while also not allowing certain concessions of her own power or boundaries. She did send men to aid in Lord Corlys’ war against the triarchy, but only those who volunteered; most came from the islands of the Three Sisters, eager and willing for a naval battle. This allowed her to retain a mostly neutral stance with the Crown while also encouraging close ties with House Velaryon (and Daemon, but that was beside the point).

Your mother’s personal sigil, of a falcon with dragon wings was probably her one acknowledgement of your nicknames: the Dragons of the Vale. At least they were not referring to your Lysene heritage as an insult anymore. You learnt much and more. How to be hard but forgiving. Soft yet unforgetting. “Never forget a slight, my shrike, but forgive those who genuinely ask for it.” But she also knew when to strike when she knew her perceived enemy felt safe and at a point she knew it would hurt the most. On the second anniversary of your aunt’s death, your mother told Viserys that she had set aside Daemon’s marriage to Lady Rhea Royce. My sister would not have her childhood home and allies left wanting with unfulfilled marriages. I’m sure she would help you understand if she were still with us. The raven with the crown’s approval arrived less than a fortnight later. You hoped you would one day be as respected as she was—but would happily wait years for that to come to pass.

Lady Rhea was more than pleased with the arrangement and you knew her and her bannermen were thankful to not have Daemon darken their doorstep again. You attended the wedding between Lady Rhea and a handsome second son from House Redfort as your mother’s envoy as she was preoccupied with dealing with the Mountain Clans attack on the High Road. You did not mind acting as the envoy for House Arryn. It was your duty, after all. But it could be lonely, at times. It was not uncommon for you to hear whispers about your mother’s reputation and ‘what she kept in her shadows’ and the wagers about if you were as so inclined as she. But you smiled prettily, danced with most everyone who asked, and mediated disputes when you thought it appropriate, trying to remember how your mother would speak to her bannermen. These would be your people to lead one day. Your secrets were your own, as were your mother’s.

And you were getting stronger by the day.

“Do you think it is true that they bathe in blood to retain their beauty?” Someone asked, the question only slightly muted to your ears over the wedding festivities. You did not deign it of high enough import to turn and see who was speaking—you’d heard all this before. “Do not be ridiculous!” Another hissed their reply.

“No, tis an honest question. They are more dragon than falcon anyway–at least the little one is.”

There was an answering grumble. “I have seen the little one go to the sept every morning to pray.” Of course someone spotted you going into the sept to pray; you made sure to go when the more pious amongst your group would also be in attendance. It was an easy ploy your mother suggested. “It would be best if you left your tall tales to the fool, no? Our ladies have been kind and fair to those who deserve it. They have been fine successors to Old Lord Rodrick.”

There was a pause before, “House Upcliff is eager for an audience with them.”

“Everyone is eager for an audience!”

Ridiculous.

It was also not surprising that several houses used opportunities like this to present their sons as possible matches to you. It felt more than a little underhanded when it happened without your mother around, but your handmaidens and sworn shield, Ser Oswin Melcolm, did help to make you feel secure enough to politely refuse to make a decision on your own. You would not overstep your mother’s authority.

It was a reprieve when you finally stepped back into the cold shadows of the Eyrie a moon later, home at last. You needed a scalding bath and a hug from your mother. It felt like you could breathe again when you smelt her spiced perfume and she giggled with you as the moon rose high in the sky, both of you recounting your assorted adventures.

The next morn, a raven was waiting for you, stamped with the seal of House Targaryen, just as your mother had one waiting for her, stamped with the seal of House Velaryon–it was probably from Princess Rhaenys, they had kept a correspondence since the tourney. You read yours as you broke your fast.

“Who has written to you, my shrike?” Your mother asked, plucking a plum from the assortment of fruit in front of you.

“Rhaenyra is going on a tour to find a husband, by order of the king,” you said, handing the missive to her with a sigh.

Your mother’s mauve eyes quickly skimmed the princess’ words and she hummed as she handed it back to you. “You should accompany her.”

You choked on the next bite of porridge. “I-what?”

She patted your back with a knowing smile. “Your cousin feels alone, and despite your best efforts at hiding it, I know you miss her. She needs you just as you need her. Perhaps you can help her through this new trial.”

So far, the entire tour had been a farce. A near-permanent scowl was slapped across Rhaenyra’s face since you and your miniscule traveling party met her and her entourage on the King’s Road on the way to the Reach. By the time you had finished (and failed) through the Riverlands, you finally found the courage to speak to Rhaenyra about what your mother had said.

It did not go well and you spent the morning trying to get her to speak to you at all with little success. But you needed to help her see Alicent’s impossible choice and the whole of the situation in how it related to her; both the lucky and the unfortunate. So, you tried again.

The carriage rocked and you slid on the seat with a huff. “I am only trying to say that you are in a unique situation, Rhaenyra. So few women have the opportunity you have been given. To pick your husband—to make your own decision—it is a victory for you. Your father could have chosen the old Lord Fossoway or, Seven forbid, Dalton Greyjoy and marched you into the sept kicking and screaming and said it was for the good of the Realm.”

“Am I still supposed to be happy about this?” She bit out, crossing her arms over her chest and turning away from you. “No one is demanding you marry.”

“But they will. My mother and I know our grasp on the Vale is tenuous. If there was a way for us to solidify it, I would have to accept. I do not have a dragon. I cannot hold my position by myself. I am not a Targaryen-”

“You are!”

“-so I am resigned to whatever Valeman has the best suit.” You sighed and eyed your cousin carefully. “In this world, in this kingdom, women have so few freedoms. My mother gained the ire of King Jaehaerys by marrying for love. I am to be her only child, the maesters confirmed it and that is a solace to me because I know the love and loss of my father cracked at something deep inside her that cannot be healed. If she were able to bear more children, she would undoubtedly be forced to marry and have more children and that would harm her in a way that I…” the words trailed off for a moment and you tried to collect yourself. “I do not wish to think of it. But now you have the freedom of choice, of finding your own love, with your king and father’s blessing. Do not squander it, Rhaenyra. Do you think Alicent truly wanted to marry your father?”

Rhaenyra’s head snapped to the side quickly, eyes narrowed and angry. “She is the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms! I should have seen her ploy-”

You tried to resist the roll of your eyes as you should have seen this argument waiting. “Her ploy? Or her father’s? You know Alicent. Despite the anger you feel now, you know in your heart of hearts that your friend would not betray you like this without some outside machinations forcing her hand. Was it not you both who would read me tales of dashing knights and maidens? Stories about love?”

“We were children.”

“She was barely a woman grown when she married your father. Is that who you would have given her? A man with power, true. But a man old enough to be her father? Who does only wish for more heirs?”

The princess was quiet for a moment before turning to stare out the window again. “That matters little now,” she grumbled. “She has her crown and my father has a son.”

The conversation fizzled out after that and you knew not to press it again today. You were thankful she seemed content to speak with you about anything else and she was happy to hear about your adventures in the Vale.

It was not until you were ripped from sleep later that night did you realize that Rhaenyra was not finished with the conversation as you had thought.

“What if you did have a dragon?” Rhaenyra asked, standing in the doorway of your room at the inn. Ser Oswin caught your eye over her shoulder and winced, apologetic.

Your face scrunched in confusion, still half-asleep. “What?”

“What if you did have a dragon? Would you still think you had to marry someone your Valemen picked for you?” Rhaenyra strode over to your bed and held both of your hands between hers as you sat up atop the featherbed. “I…I don’t want that for you. I want you happy, not trapped. If you feel a dragon will give you that freedom, I will give it to you.”

You searched her face, eyes still blurry with your interrupted sleep. Determination, bordering on desperation, was pinching at the corners of her beautiful face. You had not seen her like this before and it was more than enough to wake you up completely. You sat straighter and moved your hands just enough to lace your fingers with hers, holding her hands as she used to do when you were a child. This felt different. Not like when she comforted you as you longed for Lys and your father years ago. This was something fracturing beneath the surface. Or starting to roar with life. You needed to tread carefully. “Your offer is more than generous, Rhaenyra, and I’ll never be able to thank you for extending it to me. But, I am not a Targaryen.”

The Crown Princess shook her head. “You are. You are the Blood of the Old Valyria and you could forge your own path; be the dragon of the Vale! Do not let the whims of men dictate the rest of your life.”

Her grip tightened until it was near painful but you did not pull away, could not. Her violet eyes said more, pleading and searching. It took you only a moment to realize that she was speaking about herself as much as she was to you. She needed freedom and comfort and power and security. A dichotomy atop dichotomy. This was a turning point for her. For you. Something settled around your shoulders then as you looked into her eyes again. “This will brand me as overly ambitious and you as-”

“I am the heir to the Iron Throne. I shall do as I please. I am to make allies, am I not? You are of my mother’s kin, my blood.” She tilted her chin up, just so, and she was every inch a Valyrian Princess in that moment. You almost giggled. Her mind was made up.

And so was yours. “Then allies you should make. Find eggs for your half-siblings. They are your kin as well.” Rhaenyra nearly pulled away from you but you held her firmly in your grasp. “They will be used against you if you do not welcome them; you and I both know this. The House of the Dragon must remain as one. Be smart, Rhaenyra. Give them reasons to love you. They are children.”

“They-”

“Did not ask to be born. But you have the power now. Be open handed with it. Otto will surely try to have Aegon be named heir but Alicent, despite what you think of her, has advocated for you. Not her son. You.”

“How do you know this?”

“She has told me herself and Ser Harrold has confirmed it,” you said, mentioning the knight of the Kingsguard whom Rhaenyra trusted. You had spoken with him just that morning. “He has heard them speaking of it frequently.”

Her hands shook in yours. The purple of her eyes was clouded with something—almost like relief, almost like heartache. “Oh.”

When she took her seat upon the throne of Storm's End, you held your breath as the first suitor came forward, half expecting Rhaenyra to be as disinterested as she had been before. But something changed when Willem Blackwood stepped forward. Of course, one could make the argument that the princess’ mind changed when Willem drew his sword after being insulted by the Bracken suitor.

“He’s bold,” Rhaenyra said, looking over her shoulder as Ser Criston pulled her away from the clash.

While he was decidedly the smaller of the two, Willem bested the Bracken, leaving him bloody and clutching his nearly severed arm within a few moments. That boldness led to Rhaenyra walking with him through the fortress’ godswood on an unusually sunny day as you and Ser Criston chaperoned them from a few paces back. Rhaenyra was happy. And Willem was smitten.

“What do you think love feels like?” Rhaenyra asked as she slithered under the blankets of your bed that night.

You hummed, fiddling with the end of her braid. “Mother said that her love with Father was quiet. Calm.” She had told you countless times about her long courtship with him, scandalous as it might have been seen by Westerosi highborn or not. She was always happy when she spoke of him. Her smile might have been tinged with bittersweetness, but the love remained. “He felt like a long night’s rest, is what she used to tell me.”

Rhaenyra was quiet for a moment. “I used to think that love had to be loud or fiery.” She paused again. If you were as willfully ignorant as Viserys, you would have no inkling that she was thinking of Daemon at that moment, but her face shuttered and she inched closer to you. “I want to be happy.”

Turning to fully face her, you linked your fingers with hers beneath the blankets. The thrumming you felt beneath your skin had your next breath stalling in your throat. You had not yet learned how to discern people’s future’s clearly, as your mother had. But you still knew that Rhaenyra was at a crossroads. “You deserve to be happy,” you whispered the words to her, hoping she knew what you meant.

This was an incredibly stupid idea. It was probably some of the most fun you had ever had. But that did not mean it was not stupid.

Rhaenyra’s grip on your hand was tight as she led you down into the caverns around the Dragonmont. How you’d convinced Ser Criston and Ser Oswin to accompany you to Dragonstone you’d never know but the princess was convincing despite the continuing conflict with the Crabfeeder in the Stepstones just a few leagues away. Her tentative betrothed, Lord Willem, had been sent back to Raventree Hall to ready for his and his family’s travels to the capital to meet with Viserys. “If you do not feel compelled by any of the eggs here, we shall try again at the pit when we return to the capital.” She said it so breezily that you had to laugh. Claiming a dragon like this felt like treason. It probably was treason but you were not going to tell Rhaenyra no. At least not outwardly.

And what if you did claim a dragon? Could you really be seen as strong enough to evade an unwanted betrothal? Would you become strong enough to truly solidify your and your mother’s place as the Ladies of the Eyrie? A warm rush filled your chest and continued to grow with each step you took. You could not refuse her. Or yourself. But you knew this was an impossibility. You could not have a dragon. You were a falcon, an Arryn.

And, anyway, with each small clutch you looked over, warm and glittering, you did not feel a pull as Rhaenyra said you should. However, you helped Rhaenyra pick four eggs out for her siblings.

“You only have two right now.”

She shrugged and held up a blue egg, flecked with bronze, toward one of the torches bolted to the mountain’s cavernous wall. She turned it one way and then another before handing it to the keeper who had accompanied you down with a pleased nod. “I have come to realize that my father believes he must be as fruitful as Jaehaerys. My mother paid the price for it.”

The casual way she said it felt almost like a slap. But you could not stop the smile from pushing at your mouth anyway. The topic of her father had been carefully avoided by you and your mother, knowing Rhaenyra loved him, but her realizing his faults on her own was an entirely different matter. But still, you said nothing, and held up a yellow and crimson colored egg which she scowled at. You held onto it anyway.

Three more eggs later, you were still without one of your own and that was almost a relief. There was an attempt on your part to go and indulge Rhaenyra’s attempt at helping you. That was all you could do. Your small party turned to leave the cavern and you made it all but three steps before the Keeper thrust out his arm, keeping you and Rhaenyra behind him.

“Princess, my lady, do not move.”

Of course, both you and Rhaenyra did anyway and your heart leapt into your throat the moment you set your gaze on what had frightened the Keeper so. The dragon was massive and the color of a starless sky, aside from the mottled grey of the deep scars stretching across his snout and down its wiry neck. Two large horns curled back from above his brow and a mess of smaller spikes and spines littered their way down his back. Eyes the color of emeralds set above a roaring fire were anchored firmly on your group.

“The Cannibal,” Rhaenyra whispered, awestruck or terrified.

You could not truly hear her anyway. Your blood had turned molten in your veins as your heart thudded a heavy beat against your ribs.

This was your dragon.

A/N: Please let me know what you think! Thanks for reading!

[ariadnes-red-thread]

Promise Me

Summary: When Rex made that promise to Jesse, he didn’t think that he would ever have to keep it.

Pairing: Jesse x AFAB!Reader, Rex x AFAB!Reader

Warnings/Tags: 18+, MINORS DNI!; Smut, PiV, AFAB Reader, Fingering, Oral (male and female receiving), Armor kink, soft dom Jesse, Canon-typical violence, Canon death, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Order 66, Happy Ending

Word Count: 8692

A/N: My first finished fic! I tried to publish another Jesse WIP last month but it needed more time and I got distracted by this idea. Not sure if anyone will read this but I’m glad it’s done and I’m just going to put in out there into the tumblr void. Any feedback is welcome!

It was his first day as an ARC trooper. You knew he hadn’t slept at all the night before, tossing and turning beside you. You had tried your best to soothe him after he woke you up for the second time. You wrapped your arms around his waist and tugged him into you. He turned so he could hold you back and, when he pulled you into his chest, he clutched onto you like a man lost at sea.

“You’re going to be great.” You whispered into the solid darkness of the night, an indication that it was late enough that the moons had already set.

“Fives was great.” He whispered back, his voice choked.

“And you will be too.”

He didn’t argue with you, even though you knew he wanted to say something else. Instead, he held his tongue and tucked his head into your neck, breathing heavy against your skin. He didn’t fall asleep but at least he could rest.

...

Now, you waited. You chewed your lip and threw all your nervous energy into dinner as you waited for him to come home. Two bantha steaks and a taba leaf salad practically assembled themselves while you fussed over ingredients, unsure of what your hands were even doing. You knew he would make a great ARC. You and Jesse had dated for almost three years now and you saw all of the amazing things that he never liked to give himself credit for, like the way he looked after his brothers, the way his leaders asked for his advice on their plans, and the way he could always come up with a creative solution with a smile on his face, whether it was on the battlefield or for a problem you were having. But you also knew the GAR was unforgiving and that Jesse had been through a lot lately. Losing Tup and Fives had taken a toll on the quick-witted and joyful man. His jokes came a little slower and his smile didn’t always meet his eyes anymore. You just wanted him to have something good, something for him to look forward to again.

You requested the day off ages ago, knowing that you could make it a nice evening for him. You cleaned the small apartment that you shared. Technically, it was yours since you lived there before you even met Jesse. There was also the unspoken fact that his name couldn’t be on the lease, but he lived there as much as you did. You put on a nice sundress that you knew he would like and bought flowers for the small dining table that sat in the corner of your kitchen. Anything you thought would make him smile.

So waiting was all that there was left to do. You were nervously rearranging silverware on the dinner table when your ears pricked up at the sound of fingers tapping on the keypad outside your door. You held your breath as he punched in the numbers.

The door slid open with its usual groan and Jesse burst through. A grin stretched from ear to ear. Warm wrinkles fanned out from the corners of glinting, golden eyes and your riduur whooped as he stepped through the doorway. Relief rushed through your body, making your knees wobble just the slightest bit.

Jesse crossed from the doorway to the kitchen in just three strides. He wrapped his arms around you and lifted you up by the waist. He carried you a step back into the middle of the room, away from any furniture. Holding you out, he spun you around, his kama lifting up with your legs. You let out a yelp as he laughed.

“Jesse!” You looked wildly around as he lowered your feet to the ground, stunned to find that he had miraculously avoided knocking anything over.

“That’s ARC Trooper spatial awareness.” He smirked, still holding you in his arms.

“You’re still the same man who broke the cleaning droid last week.“ You tapped an accusatory finger on his armored chest.

“That was on the droid.” Jesse rolled his eyes. “Stupid pile of bolts.”

You shook your head but didn’t care enough to tease him any more. Instead, you took a step back to look over the man before you. He saw your inspection and put another step between you to show off his new armor with pride. His hand went to his hip, just above his kama. He tilted them, sending the panels swaying. Your eyes traveled up to his shoulders, finding the new dark blue and silver pauldrons that your arms had just been wrapped around. Jesse always looked handsome. His sharp jawline, amber eyes, and bright smile could still send your head spinning if you stared at him too long, even after all these years. There was something about this armor though. Maybe it was the way the new pieces accentuated his broad shoulders or the command that he suddenly carried himself with, but a heat started to grow between your legs as you admired him.

“So?” His grin widened and he shifted under your lingering gaze.

“You look good.” You smiled devilishly as your eyes grazed up and down the man before you.

“Come here.” Jesse pulled you back into his arms, matching the look in your eye.

His lips landed on you and as he begged entrance into your mouth, he picked you up again. Tongues danced as he guided your legs around his hips. His fingers dug into the fine skin along your thighs as your dress rode up to your waist. Without untangling his tongue from yours, he began to carry you in the direction of the bedroom.

“Jesse, dinner?” You asked, breaking the kiss with regret. You didn’t really care about the food but you did worry that he was starving from a long day.

“It looks lovely but it can wait.” He nipped at the soft skin along your neck as he fumbled with the bedroom door behind you. “The chef looks more delicious.”

His attention never left your neck as he carried you through the doorway and made his way to your bed. It wasn’t the first time he’d found his way blindly through your bedroom and he proved his skill by sucking a small purple mark onto your pulse point while he guided you gently to your bed.

He sat you down on the edge of the mattress. His attention immediately turned to your clothing as he grasped the hem of the sundress that had bunched around your waist. He whisked it over your head. Jesse groaned as he realized you weren’t wearing a binder. His fingers trailed back down your arms, restraining himself just for a moment as he admired your breasts. He brought one thumb to your left tit and ran the rough pad of his glove along the sensitive skin just below your nipple. Jesse bit his lip as he watched the skin pearl. Then, as if he couldn’t hold himself back any longer, he unleashed himself on you. He began to pinch and tweak the nipple he had been gently teasing and he swooped down to take your other nipple in his mouth. His tongue danced circles around it as his teeth gently grazed you. You let out a soft breath of release as his ministrations sent ripples of desire to your core. At the sound, he raised his head and captured you in a kiss again.

Tenderly, he pushed you back on the mattress and chased you until you were resting just against the headboard. Knowing how you got annoyed when his armor would end up on the bed, Jesse turned his attention to the magnetic latches to rid himself of it. You frowned at the movement. As much as you enjoyed admiring Jesse’s god-like, naked form and even though the blaster smoke and dirt that were caked on the armor would usually bothered you, you weren’t ready to see it go away. In fact, you had other ideas.

“Leave it on.” You grinned at him as you laid your hand on his, stopping his movements.

“What?” He turned back to you, eyes wide.

“I like seeing you in your new armor.” You let your hand fall to the kama on his hip and, with a single finger, you began to trace your way along his groin.

“Oh, is that it?” His lust-blown eyes narrowed as he stilled above you, “You want this ARC Trooper to fuck you in his new gear?”

You nodded as he kneeled between your legs. He dropped the hand that had been working on the latches of his armor to your last piece of clothing. Jesse let out a groan as he saw the mess you had already made of the fabric. He pressed small circles against your clothed clit, making you moan and squirm before him. Then he took a single finger and pushed your soaking panties aside.

“Is my good little slut gonna make a mess of my shiny new kama?” He cooed as he ran the finger along the lips of your aching opening.

“Mhmm.” You bit your lip as you took a leg and began to lift it over your soldier's shoulder. “I bet I can think of a use for this pauldron too.”

“Fuck.” Jesse’s eyes blew out as he brought his lips to the inside of the knee that now rested over him. “You’re a fucking dream. You know that?”

You moaned as he sunk a wide finger into you. It was only then that you realized he hadn’t taken off his gloves. The friction of the fabric was a new sensation and it felt absolutely filthy. You sunk down in the pillow behind you and lifted your leg higher around his pauldron, looking for more. He chuckled at your quiet desperation.

“Patience.” Jesse ordered as he added a second finger to your desperate slit. “I’ll take care of you, cyare.”

He pulled himself completely onto the bed and then lowered himself to his elbows, between your legs. With the hand that wasn’t fucking you, he gripped your free leg and slung it over his silver pauldron.

“Couldn’t think of a better use.” His voice was husky as he winked at you.

You started to smile at his cheek but Jesse’s tongue found your clit and he began to draw small circles around it that made you throw your head back.

“Eyes on me, mesh’la.” He abandoned your sweetest spot to nip your inner leg again.

You turned your gaze to meet his amber eyes. He fell back to your core, lapping at your clit and building the pressure he knew you loved as he slowly fucked you with his two fingers.

As your sounds of pleasure grew and you began to rock against his hand, he added a third finger, stretching you. He thrust harder into you, finding that sweet, spongy spot he knew so well, as he began to suck on your mound. The pressure that had been building in your stomach began to come in waves and you started to beg.

“Please, please Jesse.”

You didn’t know why you were begging. He always made you cum. But you needed to feel it, to feel him. He knew it too and with one motion of his fingers, he sent you over the edge. The pressure snapped and you stiffened as you brought a hand to his head and called out his name.

He kept his lips pressed to you as you rode out your orgasm on his fingers. As you came down from your high, he slowly and almost regretfully pulled his fingers from you. Licking one last line along your lower lips, Jesse drank up your taste. He pulled himself to his knees, a wild grin across his face.

“At least one of these has to go.” He pulled his codpiece from his body without taking his eyes off of you.

His chest heaved as you lifted yourself to him, your head coming up to the level of his cuirass. You palmed his newly released hard length through his body glove. He groaned and brought his hands to yours, gently pushing them aside so he could retrieve his cock. He pulled out his thick member and pumped it a few times, smearing leaking pre-cum down his shaft. Jesse’s cock never ceased to amaze you and, suddenly, you wanted to taste him. You made a mental note to give him a blowjob in his new kama. Right now though, your empty cunt clenched around nothing as you admired him and you ached to feel him inside you.

“Jesse, I need you.” You begged again.

“Anything for you, cyare.” He softly pressed you back to the bed.

He propped himself up on one arm as he leaned over you. His broad form always made you feel small in his arms but right now, with his armor on, he towered, trapping you in the most thrilling way against your mattress. With his other hand, he guided his cock to your opening. He ran his wide tip along you, circling your clit for a moment and making you mewl at the sensation. Then he pressed his head between your folds. As he brought his other arm up to cage you into the pillow, he slid home.

“Jesse.” You murmured, pressing your head into his neck. “Feels so good.”

“I know, cyare.” He gave you a moment to adjust to his size.

It didn’t matter how many times he fucked you, you always needed a second to adjust to the stretch of his cock. Soon though, you began to wiggle your hips against him, cool plastoid pushing back on you as you lifted up to meet him. He understood your meaning and began to move, thrusting in and out to meet your hips. He slid an arm into the small of your back, angling you up so he could reach your deepest, most sensitive spots. You let out a cry as his cock pressed against your walls. At the sound, Jesse captured your lips in his and a mess of tongues tangled together for just a moment. In the next moment, he sat up, pulling your hips into his lap so he could reach even deeper, bottoming out with a groan. His thumb found your clit as he pulled you into him again and again. His fingers threatened to leave bruises on your hips and the angles of the armor pressed against you but the sharp sensations only heightened the feelings of pleasure.

Soon you were at the precipice again. Your legs shook and you clamped down on him as you grew closer and closer. Jesse gritted his teeth as pulling out became harder and began to thrust without mercy, his attention on your clit never letting up.

“Look at that, mesh’la.” He growled.

You followed his eyes as best you could in your dazed and cockdumb state. He was staring at where you came together. His body glove was soaked with your slick and it had spread to the edges of his brand new kama. The fresh gear now glistened from what he was doing to you and the pool grew with every plunge of his cock.

With that image, the coil in your stomach snapped and you came again. Jesse swore as you clamped down on him and let out your own cry. As you came down from your orgasm, your walls still spasmed around him. Euphoria wrapped around your body in a warm hug and you grasped his pauldrons, pulling him down so you could be closer to your love. You felt his thrusts begin to become uneven.

“Jess,” You murmured as your hands fell to his hips to stop him.

His eyes shot to yours in stunned protest but you pushed him over so you lay on top of him, letting him slide out of you. Before he could mutiny, you lifted yourself to your knees and crawled down his body. You gripped the edges of his kama as you licked a long stripe down his aching cock.

“Mesh’la.” He choked on the word.

“Use me, Jesse,” You smiled up at him before you took him in your mouth.

As your lips sunk down on his cock, he groaned. He lifted one hand to your hair and carefully gathered it in his hand. His eyes never left yours as he gently pumped your head up and down his cock. His hips started to lift as he slowly let himself loose control and began to fuck your face. You let your jaw relax and drool gather along his member, taking him down your throat with every thrust. You looked up at the man, loving the wild look on his face and the wonder in his blown-out eyes as he watched you.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” He slurred the words, “I love you so fucking much.”

His hips began to stutter, his mouth formed an ‘O’, and his string of praises became a guttural groan as, with one final thrust upward, he came, spurting salty ropes of cum down your throat.

You quickly swallowed his mess before you gently let his softening, sensitive cock drop from your mouth. He scrambled to pull you up into his arms, laying you out on his chest and pressing sweet, small kisses all over your face. You pressed yourself against the solid plastoid, smiling at the marks and trails you had left on it. But the angles of the armor no longer offered a strange pleasure and you wanted to feel him now.

“Off.” You tapped on the armor.

“Make up your mind,” He teased as he drew circles in your arm. “What would the chef say to a shower and then dinner?”

“Dinner can wait a little longer.” You smiled.

In one move, Jesse sat up in bed and swept you up into his arms. You let out a yelp as you threw your arms around his pauldron. He kissed your forehead as he carried you to the shower.

...

Later that night, as you lay in bed, you finally got to hear about his day. Soft moon light spilled through the window across the room as you pressed your naked form to his. Jesse lay on his back, one arm around your shoulder as you curled into his side. You lay your head on his chest, your favorite spot to be.

“You should have heard Kix.” He shook his head. “That sheb made a scene. You would have thought he was a shiny meeting his first ARC.”

“That’s cute. Reminds me of you after he got his promotion to CMO”

“Yeah, yeah.”

You smirked at your riduur’s dismissal. You knew he loved Kix and that his excitement meant the world. There was only one other reaction besides yours and Kix’s that Jesse would have cared about.

“What did Rex say?” You asked as your finger danced across his broad, strong chest, tracing along the spaces between the scattered grey and purple scars.

“You know Rex.” Jesse rolled his eyes. “He didn’t say anything but he was happy. I could tell.”

“No doubt he was proud.”

“Yeah,” He stared up at the ceiling with a soft and satisfied smile. “I know he was.”

...

You watched your ARC trooper as you worked on the hull of a malfunctioning gunship. It was an overheated engine that had shorted out an electrical circuit, a repair job you could do in your sleep at this point, and that gave you some room to let your thoughts wander. Currently, they were wandering across the hangar to a certain set of pauldrons that you could still imagine your legs being slung over. While a shiver ran down your spine thinking of the night before, Jesse, on the other hand, was entirely focused and oblivious to your attention. He had his helmet tucked under his arm as he stood over a holotable, pointing out strategic waypoints to the squad under his charge. You grinned a little wider as you watched him give commands. It gave you ideas.

“You ogling my men again?” The voice over your shoulder was stern but the elbow that landed in your side was playful.

Yours and Jesse’s relationship was an open secret among the 501st. Technically, it was against the rules but you weren’t the only mechanic or civilian employee of the GAR to get caught up in a romance with one of the handsome soldiers of the Republic. Most hid it from their superior officers out of an abundance of caution but Captain Rex was different. He was the first clone you had ever met and he had actually introduced you to Jesse on that first day you had been assigned to their legion. There was no point in hiding it from him. The moment you and Jesse had laid eyes on each other, you were both in love and Rex could see it. He always joked that he knew he had lost his new mechanic as soon as Jesse had gotten his grubby hands on her. Still, you were respectful of the fact that he was guarding your secret and both you and Jesse tried your hardest to never put the Captain in a bad position. You never snuck off into closets during work hours and always waited a block away from the hangar to walk home together. Although, occasionally, you would eat lunch with the Torrent boys and, even though it felt harmless enough to sit next to Jesse in the mess, you would catch Rex’s eyes lingering on the two of you. In those moments, you would wonder at the pressure he was under to keep your secret and feel a little extra grateful for him.

“Can’t help it.” You giggled as you glanced up to find Rex beside you, bucket by his side, before you turned your gaze back to Jesse. “He looks good, doesn’t he?”

“He’s a natural.” Rex smiled, following your eyes to the ARC trooper. “Honestly, he should have done it years ago but I didn’t want to give up my Lieutenant.”

“Who knew you were a softie, Rex?” You quirked an eyebrow at the clone Captain.

“Keep it between us, yeah?” He grinned back at you.

“It’ll be our secret.” You winked before your attention drifted to the damaged ship before you.

You immediately began to fuss with wires again, back at work too quickly to see the hitch in Rex’s breathing or the way his eyes fell on your lips at the words our secret. By the time you turned to him to speak again, he was gone, high-stepping halfway across the durasteel hanger. You frowned after him for a moment, wondering what had pulled him away so quickly, but you began to drift in your carelessness. Two wires that shouldn’t have crossed started to spark in your hands. You cursed and pulled them apart, all other thoughts chased from your mind.

...

It was only a few months later that you were hiding with the Lawquanes. Word had reached you quickly of the Republic’s fall and their house was always the plan.

“If anything ever happens, if I can make it out, I’ll meet you on Saleucami.” Jesse always swore to you on late nights before particularly dangerous missions. He would make you repeat the plan over and over again until you had memorized the time and designation number of every flight between the two planets. It always felt excessive to you but he was insistent.

So when news came over the comms that the Jedi had fallen and the Republic was gone, you knew what to do. While the rest of the planet reeled in the chaos of sudden peace, you were on the first transport off of Coruscant that evening and knocking on the familiar farm door by the next morning. To their everlasting credit, Cut and Suu weren’t surprised to see you and they never hesitated to welcome you in. You spent three nights with Suu and Cut as they hushed your fears and assured you that Jesse would be walking through the front door at any moment. Rex showed up instead.

He didn’t arrive by the front door. Instead, he waited until Cut went out to collect his herd. Ever cautious, he had to make sure Cut wasn’t compromised. It took hours for Cut to convince him and, even though the deserter insisted the house was safe, Rex still came in through the back entrance, hand ready at his waist. He caught you and Suu off guard as you stood around the dim kitchen assembling dinner. His golden eyes found you immediately and then, just as quickly, he couldn’t look at you.

“Rex,” The knife you held clattered to the floor.

You rushed across the kitchen, your hands reaching him out for him to be sure that he wasn’t a ghost.

“Rex,” You pleaded as you clutched his arms. Your fingernails dug into him around his armor harder than you intended, but he never flinched. “Rex, where is he?”

You peered behind him at the wide open door. A single silhouette, clearly recognizable as Cut, stood in the gaping hole.

“Rex?” You turned back to the man who still couldn’t look at you.

“Rex.” You whispered one last time.

Only then did you sink to your knees.

You heard wailing and you wondered at the noise for a moment. It was hard to breathe with how loud it was in the room. Then you realized the wailing was you.

“I'm sorry,” Rex’s voice whispered softly in your ears.

You realized then that he was kneeling beside you on the ground and his arms were around you. He held you pressed to his chest, trying his best to comfort you, though your body still shook as you wept. You hung on to him if only to keep yourself from completely crumpling. A teardrop hit your arm that you realized wasn’t yours. You looked up to see silent tears pouring down Rex’s face. Any hidden hope left you in that moment and your heart, which had shattered at Rex’s solitary appearance, evaporated completely from your chest. You knew beyond a doubt. Your riduur was gone. Jesse was dead.

“I’m so sorry. I… I couldn’t save him.” His voice broke before he repeated the words. “I couldn’t save him.”

...

The wind whipped and tugged at your clothing as you stood before the graves. Tears came in single, silent trails down your face. You had sobbed for hours and hours in between Rex’s arrival and this journey. The tears still came but you had nothing else left to give.

Jesse’s helmet stood out among the orange and blue, his cog staring at you like a single, unseeing eye. You had fallen to your knees before it and brought your hands to clutch the sides, as you had often clutched it as it rested on his head. You pulled yourself up to your highest kneeling height and pressed your forehead against its cold plastoid.

“Ner ka’ra, ner kar’am, ner kar’ta, ner riduur.” You whispered as you focused on the helmet in your hands and conjured up the many, sweet memories of the man who wore it. “Urcye mhi.”

After what felt like just a moment, you stood. Your knees suddenly screamed at the abuse of the stiff ground and you realized you might have been there with Jesse’s helmet for longer than you thought. Behind you, Rex gave you space but you could still feel his presence. He hadn’t said much after he had told you what had happened to Jesse. As you sat stunned at his story of chips and brain-washing, you asked him if he could take you to the moon. He nodded and, although you later realized that he could have thought of a million reasons for why it was a bad idea to come back, he brought you straight here. You turned to him now. His eyes were glazed over as he looked at the helmets and you knew he was seeing the face of every man that he had buried here.

“Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la.” You spoke the words softly as you joined him at his side, pausing for one last look at the memorial.

“I never told him how proud I was of him.” Rex stared with empty eyes at the one helmet that seemed to keep pulling you both back to it.

You swallowed the last of your tears. You turned to the Captain, taking in the man as he stood before the last of his legion. You took his hand in yours. He clutched you without even thinking about it.

“I promise you that you did, Rex. He knew you well enough that you did in so many ways.”

...

Rex didn’t speak again until you were both sitting in the cockpit, preparing the ship to leave the moon before anyone detected your presence.

“What’s next for you?” The words were quiet and serious

“What do you mean?” You asked, genuinely confused as you looked up from the datapad's flight checklist.

“Where do you want to go? I’ll take you anywhere.” He swivled the pilot’s chair towards you. “You have family or friends somewhere that can keep you safe? Maybe an outer rim planet?”

“Rex, I’m not leaving you.” You slowly put down the datapad and crossed your arms.

“I don’t know where I’m going.”

“We can figure it out together.”

“That’s not an option. The Empire thinks I’m dead now but there’s still a war going on and I’ve got enough life in me to put up a good fight.” His jaw set as he spoke, “It won’t be safe for you.”

“Who said I wanted to be safe? I want to fight too.” Your heart began to pound and your voice started to raise as panic at the idea of suddenly being all alone set in. You knew you could make it, if it came to that. You were alone for a long time before you got hired on with the 501st and met Jesse. Right now though, you wanted to stay with Rex.

“I don’t know what this fight is going to look like. I can’t take you with me. It's not safe.” His own tone met yours and he was coming dangerously close to yelling as he repeated his protest.

“I can either go with you or I can go out on my own.” You leaned back in your chair, your mind made up. “It’s up to you.”

Promise me, Rex heard a voice whisper. He sighed as he raised a hand to his forehead to massage his temples. He knew better than to test your determination. He had served with many civilians in the GAR but he’d never met one as stubborn or as gutsy as you. It was something that both he and Jesse had fallen in love with.

“Alright, we’ll stick together.” He mumbled, turning back to the ship’s preparations.

“Thank you,” You reached over and clasped a hand over his as it rested on the joystick.

He felt his heart skip a beat as your soft hand held his rough, calloused one. Aruetii, he silently cursed himself. Traitor in so many ways. Your hand released him, taking up the datapad again, and he let himself exhale.

“Besides,” You gave the clone a small smile, prompting muscle movement you hadn’t felt in days. “I’ve been around you long enough to know that you need a good mechanic.”

A ghost of his own smile drifted over Rex’s lips as he gave you a small roll of his eyes. He quickly busied himself with the ship's gears but the smile lingered on his face.

...

You and Rex had been on the run for almost two years now. You helped Rex free many clones and you’d found a small network of other fighters to join in a fight against this new Empire. The Martez sisters, Ahsoka, the Bad Batch, and Gregor all crossed your path from time to time and it was always good to see them.

Most of the time though, it was just you and Rex. You never discussed your partnership. It had become an unspoken agreement. And Rex certainly never made mention of any promise but he thought of it every night as he sat up during his shift on watch. It became his mission and his mantra. He had failed his men but he could protect you, he told himself as you slept, his eyes frequently wandering over to your quiet form. He didn’t know that you were watching him too, in your own way. He didn’t know that you saw the way he always made sure that there was caf on the ship, even if rations were low, because he knew that you liked to start your day with it or that he always took second watch just so he could make your morning cup. You saw the way he had traded his datapad to make sure you had a blaster and you saw the quiet patience that he gave day after day to train you with it. You saw the way his pulse quickened when you were pressed into alleyways together, hiding from enemies in pursuit. You even saw some of the things you had missed before, like the way he had always looked at you wasn’t the way friends look at each other. It wasn’t long after the two year mark when you realized you were looking at him in the same way. You thought maybe you should hate yourself for that. He was Jesse’s brother, after all. So you tucked that feeling away into corners of your heart that you didn’t go to any more.

A few months later, you sat with Rex at the small holo table you occasionally ate at, when time allowed you enough rest to sit down for a meal. This was one of those times. You had finished dinner about an hour ago. It had been a simple meal of protein bars, but you had scored some Corellian whiskey during your last ration run so now the two of you sipped on the sweet liquor from mismatched, plastoid glasses. Rex had brought out cards with the whiskey and you were trying your hardest to stumble through a game of sabacc. You felt like you were doing better than normal. At least, the pile of bolts that you used to place bets was bigger than usual but Rex’s face betrayed nothing.

You had fallen into a comfortable silence. The only sounds were the clatter of the dice and the quiet announcements of your moves. You stared over the top of your cards at Rex and smiled softly at the way he chewed his lip as he considered his hand. He had stripped his armor off from the top down, clad only in his black body glove above the waist. It was a warm night. You had on a bandeau top wrap around your chest and long, wide leg pants that floated around your ankles when you walked. Your gaze drifted from your companion to the small durasteel ship surrounding the both of you, the one that had become home. Behind Rex, the starlit night sky of this quiet and distant moon peered at the two of you through the viewport. It was bright enough that you didn’t need any other light (and leaving lights on was a bad idea anyways, you learned a long time ago). Your eyes fell back on the man across from you and you felt your heart swell. Dangerous thoughts began to rumble in your mind. Pushing them away, you settled on the feeling of gratitude. You let it overwhelm you. Putting your cards down with a sigh, you lifted your glass to your lips.

“You know, I never said thank you.” You finally spoke after the whiskey burned its way down your throat.

“For what?” Rex’s eyes snapped from his cards to you, a deep curiosity suddenly written across his furrowed brow.

“For letting me tag along.” You murmured as you swirled the liquid in your glass, letting it catch the starlight through the clear plastoid. “You could have refused. After everything you went through, you could have told me to go to hell.”

“No…” His voice trailed off as his eyes slid out of focus, still affixed to your face but staring somewhere far away. He placed his cards facedown on the table.

“I mean it, Rex. You had bigger problems than some sad mechanic but you let me stick around. You could have left me.” You shrugged as you set the glass down and turned your attention back to the man across from you.

“No, I couldn’t have.” He shook his head, “I promised.”

“What?”

Then he told you about the promise.

...

“Rex, promise me.”

“Jesse, I'm not making you a promise like that.” He bit back at his brother.

His stomach churned at the idea. They sat on Jesse’s bunk in their barracks on Mandalore. They were waiting on Ahsoka’s next orders after her debrief with General Kenobi. Rex was fully dressed in his armor, his helmet ready at his side. Jesse was still only clad from the waist down. He had puked as soon as he had made it back to the barracks, first emptying his stomach and then dry-heaving in a trashcan for 30 minutes. Some of it lingered around his collar. Jesse didn’t seem to care. Rex had seen this look in men before. He had just never expected to see it in Jesse and he didn’t like it.

“Please.” Jesse’s wide eyes bore into him.

“You’re going to be fine.” He didn’t say anything about the other part of the promise, the one he would make in a heartbeat but couldn’t bring himself to consider because it would mean that Jesse was gone and that he was… was what? A replacement? A poor substitute? Was he just supposed to follow her around like a sad puppy dog, a reminder of what she would have lost and he could never have? It would be unbearable for both of them.

“Rex, I need to hear it. When I was down there in those sewers, all I could think was what would happen to her if I died? I need to know someone is going to look after her and I want it to be you.” His vod begged him.

“Jesse…”

“Promise me.”

“Alright!” Rex snapped as he surrendered to Jesse’s pleas. “I promise that, if anything happens to you - which it’s not going to - I’ll look after her.”

“And you swear you’ll go to Saleucami to get her?”

“I swear.”

“Thank you.”

The ARC Trooper’s shoulders visibly sank as tension fled them and he let out a sigh at his Captain’s promise. His attention suddenly landed on his soiled top and he frowned in disgust. He quickly stripped the body glove from his top half and turned to his trunk to pull out a replacement. Rex let out his own sigh, relieved at the change in his vod. He patted him on the shoulder as he stood.

“Just relax, Jesse. You and her are going to live long and happy lives together when this is all done.”

...

You felt tears well in your eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me that before?” Jesse’s worry for you was both a pang in your chest and a warm blanket that embraced you. You simultaneously felt both his absence and his presence.

“I didn’t want you to think I was sticking around just because of a promise. I would have anyways, in the end. I think Jesse knew that.”

“He knew you well.” You paused. “Why then?”

“Why what?”

“Why else would you stick with me?”

Silence.

“Rex?”

“You don’t know yet?” His eyes pleaded with you as you pressed him to reveal his last, most closely guarded secret.

You reached forward and placed your hand on his. You knew what you were asking him but you needed to know you weren’t crazy. You needed him to say it.

“Please, I want to hear it, Rex.” You whispered.

He sighed and stared at the holotable. His hand limp was under yours, as if he were afraid to move it because he didn’t know what it might do.

“I love you. I have since the moment we met. But I saw how happy you and Jesse made each other and I would have died rather than get in the way of that.” Rex took a shaky breath before he continued. “When I promised him I’d take care of you, I thought he was just upset after Maul took him. I never actually thought I’d have to go to Saleucami to find you. Never thought we could be on the run together.”

“But why didn’t you leave me?”

“If it had been up to me, I would have found you somewhere safe and hid you far away from this mess. Maybe that would have been better. But nowhere felt safe and I know you well enough to know that you meant it when you said you weren’t going to stay out of it. The only way I could keep you safe, the only way I could keep my promise, was to keep you near me.”

“You have no idea…” He stopped himself, turning away from you before he could keep speaking. “I hoped my feelings would go away, that maybe closeness would erase the shine of it. But, mesh’la, I’ve fallen more in love with you every day. So, yes, I would have looked after you anyways but I kept you with me because of that promise. It gave me purpose after losing all of my men. And I keep that promise to honor him. I keep it even though I am in love with you and all I can think when you look at me is that you must see the man you love and that must be so kriffing awful for you.”

You realized you were squeezing his hand in a grip that was sure to leave marks. Jesse knew, was all you could think. He knew that, if something happened, we would need each other. For the first time in a long time, you looked at Rex without guilt.

“Do you want to know what I see when I look at you, Rex?”

He didn’t move. He didn’t even turn his eyes to you.

“I see the man that has saved so many of his brothers from an evil regime. I see a man so earnestly dedicated to freedom that it inspires a whole army of rebels. I see a man whose passion for justice is going to bring this empire to its knees. I see blonde hair that’s a little uneven but you keep letting me shave it anyways. I see stubble on the cheeks of a man who misses a lot of things about the GAR but enjoys not feeling like he has to shave every day. I see the light in your eyes when you teach me the rules to sabacc and the patience it takes for you to teach me how to shoot.”

You tugged on his hand. His amber eyes turned to you, starlight dancing on golden flecks.

“Yes, I see your brother but I see all of your brothers and how tirelessly you love them. Rex, when I look at you, I do see the man I love but the only man I see is you. I love you.”

Rex suddenly stood up, jolted by your words. Before you could even register his movement, he was in front of you, dropping to his knees with a clatter of plastoid armor hitting durasteel floor. Slowly, his hands rose to your face. His calloused palms pressed themselves to your cheeks and fell along your jawline as he held you before him.

“Say that again.” He stilled entirely as he waited for your words.

“I love you, Rex.”

He stood once more, this time taking you with him. As you both rose, he pressed his warm, full lips to yours. You melted into the kiss. One hand stayed pressed to your cheek while the other fell to your waist, pulling you flush to him. You needed more of the man who you had ached for for so long. You let your tongue swipe across his bottom lip and beg for entrance. He let you in with a small moan. For all the suddenness of Rex’s movements, the kiss was slow and passionate. His tongue found yours like it was seeking a home. You felt his other hand come back to your face and he gently pulled away from you.

He stared at you with soft eyes and kiss-bruised lips. His gaze traveled over your face as you peered up at him, starry-eyed and waiting. He brushed hair from your face and swept it behind your ear.

“Mesh’la.” Rex whispered as he leaned in to press his forehead to yours. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.” You reached up to caress his cheek, his skin soft beneath the stubble. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” He agreed, his head falling back so he could look into your eyes one more time.

With that, his lips found yours again. They were hungry this time, as if certainty brought a fierceness with it. Greedy tongues tangled together. He let his hands fall to your waist so he could pull you tight against him. Though his fingertips pressed into your skin, his hands didn’t move any further and you realized he was still holding back. You lowered your own hands to find the edges of his compression top. You ran your hand along them, letting them ride up above his waist and giving you access to his warm skin. You dragged your fingertips along his muscled core. He keened into your mouth at the ministrations. Feeling more bold, you began to tug at his shirt, rolling it up so you could slide it over his head. You broke your kiss for just a moment. Rex quickly discarded the shirt over his shoulder before devouring you again.

Spurred by your actions, Rex began to run his hands along your curves. He traced your silhouette with wide, resolute fingers. His touch sent heat pooling between your legs and it was time to move away from the holotable. You tugged him backward towards the small sleeping area that you shared, though your lips never left his. He spun you while you walked as one so he could slowly lead you down to the lower bunk of the beds you had shared for years. It had been his bunk but it didn't feel that way anymore.

Before he let you sink all the way to the thin mattress, he sat you on the edge of the bed, breaking your kiss. His hands came to your top and his eyes met yours in an unspoken question. You raised your hands to the fabric in answer. Rex’s hands quickly joined yours as he helped you unwrap your chest from the bandeau. He let out a curse as you came tumbling out from the quickly dismissed fabric.

Gently, he guided you back onto the bed, laying you out on the soft, worn sheets. Rex joined you, taking your seat on the edge of the bunk. He turned his attention to the armor he was still wearing. With lightning efficiency, he snapped each piece off and piled it on the floor. Just as quickly, his focus was back on you. He let his hands fall to your breasts, palming them and toying with your nipples before he continued tracing a path further south. He ran his fingers along the soft curve of your waist and down to your hips until he reached the seam of your pants. Dragging his hands across your skin until they sat at the top of the curve of your butt, he then hooked around the elastic and yanked your pants and underwear to your knees. He stripped them from you with his next move.

Rex let out a sigh as his eyes traveled back up your body, taking in your naked form. You reached up to tug at his lower bodysuit. He gave you a small smile at your impatience but he pulled them off his body and climbed into bed next to you.

You pressed yourself to him, drinking in the sensation of his bare skin on yours. Your lips met again. He pulled away from you, placing kisses along the delicate skin of your neck. His kisses trailed their way down your body as he traced each rib with warm breath and parted lips. Finally his head was between your legs. He teased the soft skin of your thighs, nipping at them. As you began to grind your hips, looking for more friction, he pressed a wide hand to your stomach, holding you in place. Then he drew a long stripe up your core with his tongue. You moaned at the sensation.

He devoured you, drinking up all you could give him. He found your sensitive nub and sucked until your legs shook. His tongue plunged in and out of you. As you writhed beneath him, he brought his other hand to your sex and dragged one finger across your labia before he sunk it into your soaking center. He quickly added a second finger but you still needed more.

“Fuck me, Rex. Please.” You brought your hand to the face between your legs and dragged your thumb across his cheek.

With one last kiss pressed to your thigh, Rex sighed and nodded. He pulled himself up so he could lay on one elbow above you. His eyes were lust-blown but the sweet, watery look of love persisted. He leaned down to capture your lips in one more tender kiss.

Then, he slowly sank into you. His dark eyes never left your face, drinking in your every move and moan of pleasure. In spite of his preparation, the intrusion of his hard length still took your breath away. He stopped for a moment, letting you adjust to his size. As the stretch turned from uncomfortable to intoxicating, you nodded to him to let him know you were okay.

He deliberately pulled almost all the way out of you before sinking home again. Rex found a rocking pace and he pulled waves of bliss from you with his rhythm. You could feel every ridge of his member as he discovered new depths with every plunge. His head fell to your neck and he mumbled praises into your skin as his thrusts became deeper and faster. You rose to meet him, your peak quickly approaching. He could feel it too.

“Cum with me, mesh’la.” Rex commanded, his eyes narrowing as he fought against his own climax to find yours.

“Rex,” You cried out as you threw your arms around him.

“Cum.” He ordered as he buried himself in you with one last thrust.

There was a blinding light and a moment of rapture. Your walls spasmed around him as you came, shaking and crying out. He stuttered as he erupted, painting your insides white with ropes of his spend. He collapsed next to you, taking you with him and pulling you close. His cock softened inside of you. A hand came to your face.

“Mesh’la."

“Rex.” You leaned into his palm.

...

After your breathing stilled and he finally felt absolutely sure that this wouldn’t all evaporate into a dream if he stood up, Rex rose from the bed and shuffled to the fresher. You barely registered as he brought back a towel and cleaned you up. Just as quickly, he was back in bed by your side, pulling you into him.

In the early hours of that morning, as he played with the hair cascading down your back and watched the small rhythmic rise and fall of your chest, he thought of his vod and he was grateful for his promise.

.

.

.

.

.

Mando’a

Ner ka’ra, ner kar’am, ner kar’ta, ner riduur: My stars, my breath, my heart, my partner

Urcye mhi: We'll meet again

Aruetii: Traitor

Nu kyr'adyc, shi taab'echaaj'la: Not gone, merely marching far away

[dholwrites]

Gift Giving

Request: Gift giving? How would they act if the WoL made them/bought them a gift? Like a cooked meal, or an accessory/weapon. Bonus, it's in celebration of their first time meeting or courting and possibly the guys forgot or they had been so busy and it slipped their mind? - From the Anon named Riss on A03

Aymeric

He doesn’t forget important things like courting events even if he’s busy. The poor elezen does stretch himself thin just to make sure that everything is prepared for you. A bouquet of your favorite flowers, the table set for a romantic dinner for two, and even a new outfit that he’s certain that you would enjoy. But he is a simple man, and he will eventually get swamped with the sheer amount of paperwork sitting at his desk.

He comes stumbling back to his estate to find you waiting with a warm meal. It didn’t take long for him to pepper you with kisses before settling into the food. The servants have already gone to bed and the last thing he wants to do is to wake them up for the late supper. He promises to make it up to you, with fine food and wine. Perhaps he should learn to cook too, just to see the look on your face when you bite into a piece of your favorite food. 

Estinien

Estinien was quite used to turning to someone to mend his armor and lance while he was the Azure Dragoon. It was always available for him at all times in Ishgard while he was training to take up the title, and even more so when he took up the mantle from his second father. When you offered to mend and clean his gear for him for free, he didn’t think much before taking you up on it. 

You ended up making improvements to almost everything and even went out of your way to make a fresh set of clothes by hand. The dragoon is taken aback by the amount of work you put into it, not realizing that all of them are his anniversary gifts. The elezen wouldn’t even realize that the date has come and passed if you didn’t mention it to him, thinking it was any other day. He doesn’t realize his grave mistake until after G’raha and Alphinaud ask about what he got you for the milestone. When the realization dawned upon him, Estinien couldn’t help but mutter ‘shit’ in front of the two before he rushed off to find you a gift too.

Thancred

Part of his charm is that he remembers all the important dates; your first date, your anniversary, even the day you first meet. Thancred has presents stashed away for every special occasion for the next summer plus some extras. With all this planning, however, he sometimes forgets that these are things you celebrate together. It’s just not about giving.

The gift you got him was a book. Thancred looked almost perplexed when you handed it over. The curiosity gave way to genuine surprise as he opened the cover. His golden eyes dart back and forth between you and the book, his mouth gaping like a fish. It was a picture album, though half-finished. The first page was a handwritten message from Ryne. She wishes him a happy birthday and reminds him how much she misses him. Tears well up in his eyes as he slowly flips through every page. He finds himself stopping to trace along the edge and immerse himself in the sweet memory it brings. Once he reaches the end, he would set it aside to pull you into a tight embrace and bury his head into your shoulder. In the comforting silence, you could hear him whispering his thanks.

G’raha Tia

The only way he could forget such an important date is if he was too distracted to notice that time is ticking. It could be Alisaie dragging him off to use him as an aether battery, Alphinaud pulling him in the other direction to show off his new healing techniques, or Krile quizzing him on what kind of new books he’s gotten his hands on recently. As if everyone decided that they would prank him all at once to confuse him. 

After all his running is done, you would find him draped onto a seat trying to catch his breath. His ears flip up the second he picks up on your footsteps, hurrying to push himself upright to see your face. He cradles the gift you gave him as if you’ve just handed him your firstborn child. The first thing that hits him is the sweet smell of cream when he opens up the box. The heart-shaped cake is covered in white frosting with the image of the Crystal Tower made with colored glaze and chocolate drizzle. The icing on the top, both literally and figuratively, is the letters that spell out ‘Happy Anniversary’. A smile breaks out on his face, only to drop as he falls into deep consideration seconds later. After a few moments of silence, he slowly looks up at you while a shy blush spreads across his face. 

“What should I do if I want to keep it forever?”

Cid

It’s the one date that he has specifically marked in his calendar; even Jessie knows that she can’t nag him then. Cid would have a gift of his own ready well before the date and every year you would give him an extra special home cooked meal; a good helping of beef stroganoff on potatoes and several stuffed blini on the side for dessert.

No matter how much he tries, Cid can’t keep the spring from his step. Everyone can tell it’s a good day. It doesn’t help when everyone can smell the delicious food coming from his usual spot. He has to shoo everyone out of his office before they can even consider taking a bite. Just the scent alone brings back memories of Garlemald, of home, and especially of you. The warmth spreads to his entire body as he digs into the food, settling like a blanket on a freezing night. 

Alphinaud

A personalized, bound sketchbook sits on his desk in the Rising Stones. He gently peels back the cover as if unearthing an ancient tome instead of something that you had put together. He doesn’t look too different from a five-year-old setting upon a candy stall. He shows it off to everyone that crosses his path; Alisaie, Krile, and even Tataru. The three ladies would take the chance to tease him for being such a big softie, even if they knew well before he did the amount of time and work you put into the gift.

Alphinaud took no time to fill it with sketches of you and the things you like, sometimes even writing a sappy love poem next to them. He would never read them out loud even if you asked. Over time he would discover the intrinsic secrets you have added. The wind crystals that would help dry the parchment, the carbuncle's ears on top of bookmarks, and the small messages of encouragement left on some pages. Every piece is a reminder of your love for him, a love that he returns twentyfold. All he needs to do is rack his brain and figure out how to show it. 

Haurchefant

Haurchefant would have a thoughtful gift in mind for every event; from the first day you met, to when you start courting, and especially when you accept his proposal for marriage… He uses every milestone as a reason to celebrate. The only way to take him by surprise is to simply pick a random day to give him a gift. The present you picked out is something that he had mentioned in the past, a pair of ear cuffs that match the color of your eyes. You didn’t quite trust yourself to get the color right and went to someone else to get them made. Even then you weren’t quite sure until you finally handed them over. 

The soft smile that came to his face washes away any doubt or fear you had. Haurchefant takes off the pair he is wearing with one hand, while the other pulls you close beside him. After you affix the brand new cuffs to his ear, you catch the soft look in his blue eyes as if you had proposed to him. The same look that accompanies his sweet compliments. 

It didn’t take him long to develop a habit of thumbing and rubbing the earring while he is thinking about you. Sometimes people would come across him touching his ear in the midst of a stack of paperwork or gazing out the window late at night. He needs to find something for you in return. 

Hien

The gift took him by surprise, he didn’t realize that you celebrate these things too! Hien admits that if he knew ahead of time, he would have prepared something in return. If you wanted an entire day to be dedicated to the first day of your relationship, he would have roped in the entire Enclave to show how much he cares about you. The places you frequent would have been decorated with flowers you enjoy, or  a spread of your favorite food made for your every meal. 

The katana guard you hand him is far from simple. The black metal weighed about the same as the piece attached to his sword, a careful consideration given that this sword is essentially an extension of his arm. Any change in weight meant he would need to adjust his swing. The details of the golden sun and silver moon sit on opposite sides of the guard, their rays covered by clouds that are stained a tint of blue. On one side it looks almost as if the moon is rising, yet flipped over and it seems like the sun is the one crossing the sky. There is no denying the amount of work you must have put in to make sure it fit him. Seeing it, feeling it warms his heart knowing that every moment you worked on the guard, you were thinking of him. 

[countrymusiclover]

3 - Who Wears The Key?

Part 4

A God Worthy Soulmate

@queenieala thank you for helping me write this

Ken's POV

I need to meet that girl. There's something that draws me to her. And I don't know why. It must be that she's strong like me or some sort of light…the only thing I know is I must have her as mine.

I made my way through my daughter's worship and stared at the sarcophagus that held my other children. Jen was munching down on her second burger when she noticed her father beginning to look around her workshop.

"Where's the key? "  I demanded, turning to stare at my daughter.

"Give me one good reason I should give you the key." She scoffed, making me growl at her question.

"Give me the key now or perhaps you would like to find yourself in a torture chamber " I threatened.

My daughter slumped her shoulders walking over to a secret compartment opening it and pulling out the key. She holds it in front of me where I reach for it but as soon as I touch it. The key suddenly disappeared in the air.

"What is the meaning of this, if this is another trick of yours dear daughter you better pray to another god for I will not put up with any more of your foolishness" I growled.

"Dad, I swear I had nothing to do with this… the key just vanished " Jen defended

"Enough with your lie daughter, where is the key " I demanded.

"I don't know " Jen yelled out throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

"Watch your tone " I warned.

She throws her hands up walking away from me. "If you're so powerful, find it yourself. But I didn't do anything!" Running a hand through my hair I needed to find that key before someone else found it.

Clarisse's POV

Running through the school I saw my best friend talking with Hope where I looked down at the necklace hanging around my neck. Lizzie sneaks out the back while I waited behind one of the pillars seeing a guy wearing golden armor. He's wearing a flower crown on his head made of gold. Sucking in a breath I felt my heart skip a beat cheeks turning red. He looks exactly like the picture I drew and saw in my dreams. Meaning Lizzie was right that he is in fact Ken the God. Hope slowly walked forward carrying a sword in her right hand. "My father stood for family above everything. This school is my family, so if you want to hurt them, you're gonna have to go through me." Her tribrid eyes glow gold.

"They sent a little girl to challenge a god? I'm almost insulted." He replied in a taunting manner his eyes turned gold for a second too.

She raised her freehand creating a ball of fire throwing it at him. "Maybe you'll feel better once you see what I can do."

"Magic doesn't work on a god." He spoke not affected by it at all.

Hope pointed out with a slight smirk. "No, but it can be very distracting." Lizzie appears behind Ken her hands turning red as she grabs the sides of his head. In an attempt to siphon his god magic from his body to weakon him. But the wind blew throwing her backwards alongside Hope.

"Be careful what you wish for, child. It took me a lifetime to control all of my power." Ken slowly walked forward choking her by the neck holding her off the ground. He then threw her where she gets impaired with a metal fence pole but thankfully it didn't hit her heart.

Hope and I both cried in unison. "Lizzie!"

She got to her feet swinging her sword but he raises his hand throwing her backwards into the dirt again. Rushing forward I quickly transformed into my werewolf form having a light brown fur coat. Growling up at Ken I stand in front of Hope who lays on the ground behind me. He slowly walks up a smirk on his face. "Now you are impressive. What's your name, girl?"

I growled at him annoyed and started to run towards him. Leaping off my back legs I managed to knock him flat on his back. I began to claw at him, He grabbed me shoving me off where I rolled getting some bruises so I transformed back into my human form. "What are you going to do - kill me to show how powerful you are, dickhead!"

He walked over toward me and bent down in front of me, his eyes began to glaze up and down at my naked body in lust and hunger…I soon delivered a slap across his face and pushed him away from me. "You'll pay for that child -" He cut himself short eyes locking onto the necklace around my neck. "You have the key!"

"Key, what are you talking about?" I spat watching him remove his cap throwing it over me. He picked me up waving his right hand knocking me out into his arms before I could fight against him.

Comments really appreciated ❤️

[dragon-communion]

Okay, the anthropology degree is clawing at the inside of my bones. I haven’t seen anyone study the Blasphemous Serpent to a satisfying degree and I might just teach myself how editing works explicitly to explain at length why it’s fascinating as hell.

Like. Basic recap:

Mentions we have of living gods include Marika/Radagon as emissaries of the Greater Will; the Twinbird, mother of the Deathbirds; the Scorpion God sealed under the Lake of Rot, succeeded by Malenia; and potentially Shabriri. I would also argue that Godwyn’s corpse counts, at least as a figure of worship and the main vessel of Death Blight.

The Blasphemous Serpent isn’t as abstract as the Greater Will, the Scarlet Rot, or even the Moon- people enact the theoretical will of these things, but we never see them except through representations. You could argue that all Rot is the Rot god, for example. But the Serpent is a singular entity with agency, plans, and perhaps even actual emotions to some degree. You can find its skin in Mt. Gelmir. When we face the lord of the manor, it’s a combination of Rykard and the Serpent. How much is left of Rykard is debatable, but considering we talk to his face in its throat rather than the snake itself, I feel like he’s definitely still present in some sort of partnership.

Then there’s the gladiators to consider, the Formless Serpents, and the Serpent God’s Curved Sword.

Most armor and weapons we have that directly reference the Serpent talk about Rykard, his devouring, and the reaction of his men. After that comes the man-serpents and their own innovations in magic and lava-forged weaponry. There isn’t a lot of content about before Rykard made his bargain, and the culture of Mt. Gelmir before a wayward son of Caria got it into his head to kill the gods by becoming one. Why he thought that was a good plan is its own topic.

But we have clear indications of Leyndell’s attitude towards the Serpent, what it might have been up to, and the behavior of the people loyal to it. Heck, it’s called the Blasphemous Serpent. If we assume the blasphemy is against the Golden Order, what does that look like? What does that mean?

Before I run away with that, let me show you why I’m so fixated on this.

I am haunted. I’m obsessed. The only other weapon I know of off the top of my head that’s blatantly stated to be used for sacrifices is the Sacrificial Axe, which depicts a Deathbird.

Both of them restore a bar- the Curved Sword restores HP, the Sacrificial Axe restores FP. I’m also very interested in comparing this sword to the Blasphemous Blade, which we get right out of the gullet of the Serpent itself, which is covered in the still-living remnants of previous sacrifices and also restores HP.

Some comparisons could be drawn between the idea of the Crucible and what the Serpent is doing- Rykard prattles on about the idea of joining together as family, bound together by blood, and through that union devouring the gods too. If devouring isn’t destruction, but unification, that matches up with what we hear from Shabriri and Hyetta about the Frenzied Flame wanting everything broken down into the great One again.

And the topic of blasphemy- particularly the gladiators and their armor. Like the heel in wrestling, it seems some prisoners might have been dressed in Serpent imagery and then sent into the arena for not just entertaining bloodletting, but perhaps particularly vengeful and politically-minded bloodletting showing the superiority of Leyndell’s might over the barbaric followers of the Serpent. There’s an interesting video on YouTube showing that the serpent armor might not just be superficial- it could be piercing into the flesh of the gladiators, or worse. I’ll have to study them again to see if any serpents come out of them.

That speaks of an old hate, targeted. Granted, it’s always nice to have a scapegoat to shake a fist at to distract the populace from your failing regime, but the inescapable Satan analog is almost too easy. What’s going on here? Who lived on Gelmir, what was compelling about the Serpent as opposed to the Erdtree, what was it like before Rykard, what exactly is the blasphemy being reviled here?

I’m going to do something about this at some point, just black out and wake up with a video essay on ancient serpent cults, and then I will finally have sweet release from my hyperfixation. Maybe.

There’s always the rune on the Moon and the ghost-banners around Leyndell after that.

[pascalpanic]

request please? lately i have been having a lot abandonment anxiety when it comes to friendships and i was wondering how you think javi or din might help someone with an anxious attachment style? thank you lovely 🥰

Irrational (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: above ^^

W/C: 2.8k

Warnings: language; talk of fighting and weapons, reader has a panic attack PLEASE be aware that it’s coming and somewhat descriptive.

A/N: I really really love this! I hope you guys do too :) as always, thanks to my beta reading babes!

Din Djarin has been abandoned before. Often on a mission, sometimes on a lone planet with no credits or ways out. He always survives, of course, and vengeance is taken. One thing he absolutely can’t fathom is abandoning someone he loves, or more specifically someone who loves him.

Abandonment isn’t an issue when you’ve never had someone to be attached to. Din spent many many years with absolutely no one. When his parents died, it felt like he was abandoned, sure, but it was clearly not their decision to leave him. When he was taken in by the Mandalorians, they kept him at an arm’s length. He was a foundling; they cared for him well, taught him The Way and The Creed, fed him well. But he was never adopted into a specific clan, rather passed around the covert like the communal task each family had an obligation to fulfill.

Then he became a bounty hunter. The life was solitary and lonely, cold and bleak. It was rare that Din would team up with other bounty hunters, really only when forced to. The Razor Crest became his baby, his only possession and love besides his blasters and beskar. The thing was a piece of bantha shit, but he kept it in good shape.

Then came the kid. Din knew it was wrong. Bounties are to be turned in and paid for, then you forget the job happened. But when that little green thing stared up at Din, the big brown eyes seeming to stare through the dark black of his visor, he knew he couldn’t. This was a child, a baby with no family and no way to protect itself. He certainly couldn’t turn it over to the hands of the ex-Imperials.

Din experienced his first real attachment with the child. He cares for that little thing more than he’s ever cared about anything. He’d cross galaxies, kill and maim and injure for the sake of the little green baby.

Oh Maker, then he met you.

Din had never seen anything like you. You were playing with the kids in the marketplace, laughing as they ran and played around you, before you squealed in delight at the sight of a little green toddler wandering up to you. He’d climbed in your lap, looked up at you with those big eyes, massive ears twitching. You’d stroked his head and cooed to him before you looked up to find his father; subsequently, you felt your heart fall into your stomach at the sight of the Mandalorian man.

“You’re good with kids.”

Well no shit. You nodded. “Yes. I love them. Is this your son?” you ask, looking back down at the three green fingers wrapped around your thumb.

He nods. “He is a foundling under my care.” He watched as the baby grabbed at the golden armband encircling your bicep. You’re absolutely gorgeous. The armband glows against your skin, your beautiful body evident even through the loose and flowing clothing you wear. “Do you take care of these children as a job?”

You shook your head. “No. We don’t have jobs here, necessarily. They just wanted me to play.” You scanned the man, searching for skin. You found none. “Are you green under there too?”

The Mandalorian did not answer. “I’m looking for a caretaker for the child while I hunt bounties. You’d stay in my ship and care for him. I pay well and you’d get to travel the galaxy.”

“You barely know me,” you laughed, removing the little green baby’s fingers from their tight grip on the gold band on your arm.

He gave a half shrug. “He likes you.”

And you’d agreed. And it’s been almost a full cycle now, a cycle of living in the beat-up ship and caring for the little green baby. You’ve seen the most beautiful and the ugliest of planets, experienced extreme heat and extreme cold. You’ve been to beautiful cities, unique jungles and forests and ice planets.

In that time, you got to know the Mandalorian too. It took quite some time to crack his beskar shell. He hardly talked to you in the first month. Then your persistence had loosened him a little, then a little more, then just enough. You know more of him than any other living being does. He’s told you his name: Din Djarin, a name that flows and stops and radiates the power of the bounty hunter. He told you the story of his childhood, of hunts gone wrong and hunts gone right.

You love listening as he tells you and the child the story of the child’s rescue from the ex-Imperials. The baby snuggles against your lap as his father regales the two of you with the epic battles, the fights Din went through for this little child. You both applaud at the end, and put the baby to bed with a kiss between those big brown eyes.

He’s a wonderful man. You’ve formed an easy friendship with him, one that has honestly progressed on your end. At night, you find yourself fantasizing about what he looks like beneath his armor, how the muscles of his broad shoulders move when he climbs the ladder to the cockpit or lifts the child. You like to think he may feel the same for you, but you don’t push it. You don’t want to push him away.

Din has been away for far too long. He always highballs the dates he gives you, saying that an assignment will take three days when he knows it will only take two or a week when it will only be five days. This is a pattern you’ve come to notice; Din is alway back “early”, but now he is late. Really late.

Before he left, Din had opened your bunk compartment, causing you to groan at the light filtering in. You’ve been sleeping since the Crest made a rocky landing on Nevarro a few hours earlier. “Cyare,” he’d murmured, a rare ungloved hand warm on your bare arm, contact broken by your metal armband. You don’t know what the word means. You hope it’s something good.

“What is it?” You groaned, rolling onto your back to look at him. “Leaving?”

He nodded, the silhouette of his helmet-covered head against the soft light of the hull. “Leaving. I’ll be back in four days at the most.”

You offered him a sleepy smile, one that he could see in the warm glow of the lights you’d installed in the ship to navigate easier at night. “Good luck. May the Force be with you,” you teased, making the normally stoic man chuckle a little.

“Go back to sleep. I’ll see you soon.”

You didn’t protest, rolling over and letting the heaviness of sleep drag you back under.

Now, you really wish you’d have talked with him more then. You’re almost certain you’ll never see him again.

You’re not exactly sure what it was in your brain that triggered the thought. Maybe Din just actually took the amount of time he’d said for once, you thought on the fourth day. But now it’s been eight days, double the amount that he’d told you he’d be gone, and you’re stressed.

He always makes good on his word. He should be back by now. He always does. Did he get injured or killed, maybe captured by the bounty he was stalking? You ponder your ideas aloud as you pace back and forth in the hull of the Razor Crest, the little green baby tucked in his soundproof pram to sleep.

There’s likely a rational explanation. You’re sure there is. Maybe the bounty jumped ship, completely threw Din off of his tracks. Maybe the bounty is more clever than anticipated and Din is working extra just to find them. There’s surely a reason, but a little nagging voice in your head says that something is wrong.

In the first few days following Din’s date to return, your primary worry is that he’s hurt or dead somewhere on this barren planet. There are many other bounty hunters here, in this haven for Guild workers. What if one of them discovered Din still has the baby? What if they were coming for you here next?

Maybe you should go look for him. Maybe he’s injured and needs your help. He could be held by another hunter, or by the ex-Imperials- you can’t even bear to think of them harming Din for taking their precious cargo back. The thought makes you squeeze the little green baby tighter to your chest, even after he gives a whine of annoyance at the pressure.

But Din would never forgive you if you put yourself in harm’s way for him. This planet is dangerous, full of bad people who will do what it takes to get their credits. Most importantly, you can’t leave this ship with the kid. Certainly people here are looking for him. Someone would spot him and you’d be in for disaster. The anxiety fills your days and even seeps into your dreams, making you sleep less and more fitfully. On the eighth day, perhaps the most terrifying idea strikes you: what if Din just... left you?

Of course, there are plenty of signs why he hasn’t. The ship is one of his rare material possessions. He’d never give up the machine that’s been a home to him for the last however many years. Weapons are part of his religion, and he only took a sparse amount with him for this hunt. His prized pulse rifle still hangs in his armory, with an abundance of whistling birds he didn’t take either.

Most importantly, you’re still here with the kid. The baby is practically Din’s son. He adores him… but what if it’s all too much? You’ve become like a little family. That may be too domestic for him. Maybe he’s sick of the responsibility, of caring for two beings when so much of his life has been solitary. Even worse, maybe he’s just sick of you.

There are plenty of rational explanations. You know it. The baby can sense your anxiety, can feel the tension running through the air surrounding you, and he feels it too. He’s fussy, requiring more snacks and more attention. He tugs far too much on your armband and it pinches now, his little claws getting too long. You don’t mind- it’s a distraction, really- but your mind is never fully on feeding the baby, rather hyper analyzing Din’s mind as you know it and hoping he’ll return.

The hours pass. Din doesn’t return. You become more and more certain that he’s abandoned you for good. He isn’t coming back, ever, because he hates you. He was nice to you as a courtesy, nothing more, only as a protector of his child. This type of family is too much for the lone-wolf style man. He can’t do it anymore. You’re on your own.

In your head, the thought of him abandoning you is too much. It weighs heavily on your self-esteem, convincing you that this is all your fault and you’ve done too much, or not enough, or something wrong in general that sent Din packing and gone. He did it because you’re annoying, because he’s sick of you.

Rational thoughts are pushed to the furthest corner of your mind. Your brain is occupied by self hatred, by terror, by a sickening buzzing feeling in your head and chest that feels like a parasite eating you from the inside out.

It’s too much. You fall to the floor, sliding your back down the metal wall. Your rear contacts the floor as the tears fall from your face, your emotions drowning out your senses. You can’t use any of your senses, just think and process the agony your brain is putting you through.

Burying your face in your hands, you finally allow the tears you’ve been holding in all week to flow. It’s a relief, the hot tears streaming down your equally hot face, blood rushing to the surface. The anxiety buzzing in your head has reached a breaking point; you’re sure the tension is boiling your brains, making it bubble and roil as the thoughts pull you down and down so far you feel you’ve fallen through the floor of the Crest and into the dry Nevarro dirt.

You nearly wail, wheezing in air only to expel it in harsh sobs as the fear wraps your body and constricts it. You’re enveloped by it, trapped in a coffin mixed with a tornado mixed with a firestorm and a hurricane.

Then it all stops. The heat is broken by something cold- beskar. You force your eyes to see and they finally perceive that Din is in front of you. Then you feel again, feel the chilled metal all over your skin as he wraps his arms around you. You smell him, his faded soap from whenever he bathed last, his sweat and the smell of the Nevarro dust. You can taste your salty tears. The last sense to come back puts you most at ease: his voice. “Talk to me, please,” Din asks of you.

You nod and try to speak, but you’re still gasping for air, your lungs unable to fill. When you slow down and make yourself breathe, you’re finally able to manage words. “Thought you were gone forever. Thought you left because of me.”

The beskar helmet tilts to the side, taking you in. You’re sure you’re a mess; eyes bloodshot, face tearstained, snot probably all over you as well. Din’s quiet for a moment. “Why would you think that?”

“You said four days. You always come back early, but you were gone for eight days.”

His chest rises and falls slowly beneath the beskar plate. “I know. I’m sorry. But why would you think I’d leave you?”

The tears return. “I don’t know, Din, I-”

“No, shh,” Din murmurs and wipes your face. “No more tears. I’m here.”

Din stands and takes you with him, his arms wrapped tight around your body to bring you to your feet. He walks you to the edge of the bunk and hands you a canteen of water to drink. You look at him and he looks back. There’s a silence and an unspoken battle between the two of you over who will break it.

Din breaks first. “I got the bounty easily. I was late because of… something else.”

Your face falls into a frown. “You took double the amount of time and didn’t tell me? Whatever this ‘something else’ is, it better be worth it.”

Din breathes in and out deeply before producing a soft fabric bag. “I didn’t leave you. I’m back. And… I got you something to show that I’ll never leave you.”

From the bag, his leather-covered hand produces something silver. Your eyes, blurry with tears, take a moment to perceive it: an armband of some silver material- oh, it’s beskar. It’s cold to the touch but you take it from him to admire it and find it is emblazoned with an insignia: a mudhorn. “The symbol of Clan Djarin,” he says gently, though he’s sure you know. It’s on his pauldron. It’s on the baby’s necklace. “We… are a family, aren’t we?”

You don’t respond; rather, you throw your arms around his neck and the tears return, but happily. “We are,” you whimper, your throat constricted by a sob. You cry into his neck, staining the fabric of his cowl and cape with your tears.

He understands they’re good tears, and so he lets them flow. His arms wrap around you and rest on your back, gently rubbing it as you cry into him. As the sobs calm, the tears end, you remain in his arms. Din holds you tight against his chest. “I’ve never made a better decision than hiring you. It was supposed to just be a babysitting job, but… I fell in love.”

Your heart stops and you pull back. “You’re in love? With me?”

Din nods. “I… yes. I am.”

A smile crosses your face, the joy emphasized by how wide your smile is in the presence of your tears. “I love you too,” you manage before your throat squeezes off your words, making you cry happily and hug him yet again.

With your face buried in his neck, you nuzzle your face in and are rewarded with a soft patch of stubbled skin beneath the tip of your nose. You can feel his throat vibrate when he speaks again. “We are a clan of three now. I promise you, I will never leave you. Don’t even entertain the thought again. Understand?”

You nod, not wanting to move your face and lose contact with this intimate spot of him, the first humanness you’ve been able to get beneath the beskar. You kiss the skin there softly. Din knows it’s your answer: understood. I love you.

-

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[jangofctts]

Mirrored Heart (captain rex x fem!reader)

rated: 18+ explicit 

word count: 5.6k

warnings: smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, creampies, fingering, blow jobs, clone space racism?  

a/n: ANYWAY HERE IT IS. ive had this draft saved since like a year ago and just now finished it. anyway kwjrkejh here YALL GO. also thank you @jango-fettish​ FOR LETTING ME BORROW SYRENA 

It's curious. 

Well, you, as a whole are curious—completely outside the realm of what Rex considers normal. As far as senators go, that is. 

You're grumpy for one—worse than Skywalker and far more snide than Kenobi—a near gargantuan task bordering impossible. Wit and cleverness come to you easier than breathing, but it's your unwavering kindness towards himself and his brothers that sticks out like a blaster burn against alabaster white walls.  

He passed it off as a joke—some sort of mockery. Rex’s existence has been full of them. The past year it’s been made glaringly clear as to what the clones are to the people of the republic—tools. Mindless war machines dressed with flesh and bone, heart and sinew instead of durasteel and a circuitboard. Humanity has been skimmed over with excuses and debates over the hollow argument that clones were created for the sole purpose of war—nothing more. Ignorance is bliss when you are not the one fighting tooth and nail for petty skirmishes and the survival of your family.        

Ithyea, your home monarchal planet, is a newer member of the Galatic Republic—one of the firsts to advocate for clone rights—cutting through each argument with the steel headed javelin of hope and determination. Controversial in the eyes of the galaxy but no less than true. Yet with controversy, comes chaos. 

Wedged between Takodana and the Cerean Reach hyperspace lane—it’s an essential key to accessing more neutral space sectors without stepping on any toes. While the planet does mirror the size of a larger than average moon, there’s nothing but grandeur with the cutting edge advances in space travel and military innovations. An arts district too, one that’s presented multiple times for the Senate apparently. Rex has yet to see it. It’s an easy guess as to why Ithyea has gone under pointed attacks from the Separatists—it’d be foolish not to try.     

And of course comes the intergalactic mess of politics. You are not Ithyea’s first senator. Or second…or third. Just in the last six months, three of your predecessors have been picked off—two disappearances and a suspicious poisoning sandwiched between them. Which sides these assassinations stem from is anybody’s guess—a mix of both perhaps—all to silence and stamp the voice of your people out.

Heavy are the shoulders that wear those abhorrent senatorial robes, and Maker did it take some convincing for another Ithyean to step to the chopping block. It’s just…no one thought  it’d be you. The infamous captain of King Arrian Felian’s elite guard—trained in combat levels high enough to contend some of those within the ranks of the Jedi Order. When your name comes up in conversation, it certainly doesn’t scream diplomacy.     

Rex is not surprised that you hold the current record of Ithyean senators for surviving the longest. Evading an astonishing two attempts on your life by the skin of your teeth. You were just downright lucky the third assassin missed their mark. Sure, the blade of Syrena Aster skimmed the right side of your cheek and left behind a nasty scar to remember her by, but kriff—even with your background and low levels of public presence, you’re a high priced target. Whoever placed an order with the Heretics, really wants to see you six feet under.     

Rex hasn’t been given the full report on exactly who the Heretics are—a rag tag bunch of untrained Force users and skilled assassins from what he’s gathered—but regardless, this attack is just the beginning. Until the Senate and the Jedi are able to retract the price on your head, you’re stuck under protective custody. Usually ushered away into the Jedi Temple or tagging along with General Kenobi and Skywalker. Despondently, no matter the circumstances of your protection, it can’t shield you from the dreadful invitations to senatorial luncheons.

 And yes, you tried to slip by for this one. 

You don't brush elbows with other senator’s like many of the members in the Jedi Order and your own cohort do. In fact, you actively avoid even speaking to them unless necessary, let alone stand in the same room with seven of them. Odd for an elected official of diplomacy such as yourself to be so cold shouldered—Rex would think senators wanted to mingle.    

It's curious because you're standing in plain sight and yet no one pays you any passing thought. General Kenobi and Skywalker hold the majority of their attentions, shoulders already taught with exasperation at keeping everyone from tearing out each other's throats for, kriffing five minutes. Yet you...you are completely at ease, leaning up against a stone pillar, observing the unfolding chaos from afar with a keen eye. 

Before Rex realizes he's stepping towards your position, you glance over and dip your chin in greeting. The ghost of a smirk pulls at your normally grim facade—his heart skips. "Captain."

"Senator," he mimics, posting himself to your right. There’s still a thin, healing scab from the assassin’s blade that extends from the swell of your cheek to your ear. Ouch. “Enjoying the evening?" 

You snort. "Hardly enjoying it, Rex."

Stars—you shouldn't be allowed to say his name. Your words are razor-sharp like a jagged vibroblade, meant to jab and pierce through armor—tear a person to pieces without having to lift a finger. Everything about you is rough, gritty, brutal, unbecoming of what a senator should be, but— 

You mouth his name, purring out the singular syllable with such tenderness that it's like a punch to the gut. 

It's hard to swallow and he needs to clear his throat—an embarrassing act on his part, but your attention has already returned back towards the meandering senators. "How d'you mean?"

"Well," you sigh, "let's just say smalltalk isn’t my strong suit." 

"Aren't you senators s'pposed to like diplomacy n' such?" 

Your thumb smoothes over your bottom lip in thought as you shrug. "Diplomacy? Sure. Politicians? Can’t say I like them. I just—"

You wave your hand around, gesturing vaguely to the crowd. "I just don't understand why they can't say what they mean. Telling someone to have a nice day shouldn't entail certain death, y'know?"

"Speaking from experience?" He teases, gently prying into that harder than beskar wall you've created for yourself. There's fissions in your foundation and he means to tear it down all for just a mere scrap of information. 

Your eyes flick over, your lips curling into a vulpine grin. “Perhaps...Though, it was partially my fault, I have to admit.” 

“You’ll have to tell me the story sometime, Senator.” 

You nod. “Yes, one day—when there aren’t so many political ears jumping at the chance of gossip.” 

A swell of laughter interrupts your chat, your attention gravitating to Obi-Wan—ever the charmer with the crowds. The end of your mouth pulls into a frown as you sigh and carefully scratch at your brow with the back of your thumb. Rex might be pulling at straws, but what he mistook as you being standoffish may just be your nerves. Socially awkward and flustered when speaking in such an intimate setting. 

Rex’s first instinct is to reach out and place a hand over your shoulder in comfort, but he’s not sure how you’ll respond to the touch. Flip him over your shoulder probably—

Instead he forces himself to jumpstart the conversation—something to distract from your anxieties. “I hope you don’t mind me asking—“ His heart beat kicks up into a flurry of wild beats as you turn you head. “What uh..wh—did you want to become a senator?”

He likes it when you smile—like you’re letting him on some sort of coy secret. You shift your weight and shrug. “The king asked me personally. I’m flattered he thinks I’m clever enough—insulted he sends me to these abysmal gatherings like some sort of show pony.”

Rex chuckles. “Yeah, can’t say I like ‘em either.” 

“Although…” Your thumb runs over your lip again, a sparkle of mischief igniting behind your eyes. “As a senator, I do get the occasional tidbit of gossip. Here, I’ll catch you up—“

The captain startles when you snatch his elbow and yank him closer. Maker he’s glad for his helmet because your lips brush against his earpiece as he leans down to reach your height. 

“Look." You whisper, nodding casually in the direction of a particularly young senator with a shock of white hair. She's swathed in a pool of royal blue silk, much too large for her tiny frame, and all but hanging off Skywalker's arm with glittered nails filed into points. "That is Senator Ceci Paare of Corellia. She looks innocent, no?"

She does. Wide, crystalline green eyes stare up at the Jedi Knight as a pretty giggle escapes past her ruby painted lips. Skywalker grimaces. 

"I quite like her," you continue with a sly grin. "Even if she does try to influence public opinion by an invitation to bed." 

There's no time to process as you focus in on an older man. His hazy blue skin, ash white lips and vermillion green eyes cut an almost nightmarish profile, accentuated by mountains of black robes. Rex can’t recall what planet the senator represents. The senator holds his head stiffer than rebar to keep the ornate golden circlet from slipping off, his white lips curling in distaste as Orn Free Taa of Ryloth places a meaty hand over his slender shoulder. 

"He is Lord Tal’en Sol Ra'ah. Cunning, but sympathetic to the pleasures of gambling."

It's a game to you—of perceptions and nuances only a trained eye can roll over. Rex expects nothing less. This sort of thing has been hammered into the very essence of your being since you were little—reading an enemy before they can strike. It works on politicians marvelously well. 

Truth be told Rex should be paying more attention—but the closeness of your face to his helmet is maddening. His heart twists and coils as your bare hand skims along his gloved one—kriff. He’s not gonna make it before he bursts into a thousand little pieces.  

Rex’s spell of lovesick yearning recedes as you swear under your breath. It was only a matter of time before someone approached your little corner.  

"Oh, Maker save me," you hiss under your breath as a young Mirialan saunters over, the swatches of rich red and brilliant gold accentuate his violet skin like a bloody bruise. "Pretend you're speaking with me." 

"I am speaking with you," Rex snorts. 

Your hand waves in dismissal as your brows stitch together, hands balling into fists. Your jaw clenches as the senator in question puts on a dazzling smile. You look downright panicked. Rex has witnessed you face down numerous senators older than dirt and close to blowing away in the wind with plucky fervor, assassination attempts, being held captive, and you're frightened…by this? 

This is too good. 

Rex has half a mind to help you, wheel you away from your little predicament, but his intrigue with seeing your oh-so-solid resolve crumble is much too valuable and entertaining to pass up. He's going to remember this for years.  

"Rex."

"Senator," he mimics, not at all frightened by your poisonous glare. "Some diplomacy might do you good."

You begin to snarl out a threat but are decidedly cut off by your object of horror planting himself before your hiding spot. You cower into the corner like a boxed in loth-cat. "Ah, my favorite Ithyean! I had begun to worry you would not make it, my dear friend."

"Senator Lin," you sigh. The smile you offer is tight and thin; a nervous one much in the same way one would be if presented with a box of toenails for a birthday gift. “How pleasant to see you."

Senator Lin’s deep violet lips part with an easy smile. He waves a hand in dismissal, his silver rings glinting in the warm lighting. "Please—call me Toluka. No need to bother with such formalities between companions." 

Rex suddenly understands your trepidation with the Mirialan—he’s slimy. And, not to mention, not at all ashamed with the lecherous looks as his eyes sweep down your body. Rex clenches his teeth and folds his arms behind his back. He’s regretting not heeding your warning now…  

Try as you might through brutal small talk and chilly answers, Senator Lin refuses to take the hint. A dark plume of venom green lashes through Rex’s chest as the Mirialan places a friendly hand over your shoulder. You grimace as Rex bristles and glares through the visor of his helmet.  

Senator Lin’s lips pull into a gaudy smile as he glances at Rex and then at you.“My dear, don’t you know? It’s not worth wasting your time with a clone. After all, they’re all the same person. How boorish—come join us at the table.”

Your teeth bite into your cheek as your temper, like the silver of blade through the darkness, cuts through your steely irises. With poised nonchalance, you lift your hand and pinch Senator’s Lin’s fingers between your own and pry them off your shoulder. “Is that so?”

“Your campaign, valuable as it may be,” Lin continues, “is a useless endeavor. They are not our equals and never will be--you must know that." 

Rex forces himself to remain calm—collected and certainly not imaging a thousand and one ways he’d like to see his fist breaking the fragile bones of the senator’s face.  

"Fine buttons stitched upon your shoulders do not compel your worth, Senator,” the harshness of your words is a blow straight to Lin’s ego. His well-groomed brows furrow drastically as his tongue struggles to play catch up and find words to repair his shattered pride. 

There’s no chance for Senator Lin to regain his footing as your snatch Rex’s wrist and sweep him out into the hall. Rex can feel your anger roll off of you in waves, frighting and holding the same caliber of roaring waves thundering against black, craggy rocks. It’s a miracle the night didn’t end with your hands wrapped around the senator’s throat or a blaster shot through the chest. 

When you reach the lower halls of the cruise ship is when you release Rex’s wrist. You pinch the bridge of your nose between your fingers and release a long, dramatic sigh.   

"You are worth far more than that pompous ass," you say with enough edge to slice through a droideka's shields. "He has no right to say those things to you." 

“It’s alright,” Rex soothes, placing a hand over your bristling shoulder. “I’ve heard worse.” 

Your features scrunch up into a wince. “That...that doesn’t mean you have to suffer through more of it, Rex.”

Sighing, you run a hand through your hair and loosen the heavy outer robes strung around your shoulders. You shrug out of them and fold the thick swaths of fabric over you arm—revealing the under layers of your uniform. You toss the bundle of fabric to the floor with a disgusted grimace and sit on the cargo crate closest to your left. 

“Really—it’s ok.” Rex assures again. “I—“

You hold up a hand and shake your head. His mouth snaps shut. “I won’t hear it. To me you are nothing short of perfect and I refuse to argue about it. Maker knows I already do that for a kriffing living.”

There’s a fragile lull in the hollow space—the distant chatter of voices and strange music collecting in the corners. You stand once again, toe to toe with the Captain and there it is again, that elated pitter patter of his heart thrumming through his veins. The nerves of being so close to you—you sweet face and not being able to touch you.  

“Let me see your face.”

His hands come up to the edges of his helmet without hesitation, a hiss of hair escaping the seal once he pries it off. You smile and take a step closer until the only thing separating you and him is his helmet. 

Rex’s eyes flutter shut, leaning into your hand you gingerly place over his jaw. “I wish the entire galaxy could see you through my eyes,” you whisper, the warmth of your soft palm radiating out and warming his entire body.  

It’s a matchstick to kerosene—his helmet clatters to the ground and there’s only a second to spare as both hands move to cup his cheeks, dragging him into a mouthwatering kiss. 

He hasn’t kissed many people—save for those rare times at 79’s, head swimming under the haze of one too many shots of Corellian fire whiskeys where he could barely distinguish his ass from his hand. Those drunken make-outs were nothing like this. 

No—this…this is what a kiss should be like.   

He dreams about you all the time—so constantly ravenous that all he can feel some days is pure ache. Every and all words that spin around his head starts with you and finishes with his pounding heart close to bursting free from his ribcage. Not in the same way a flood rips through an unsuspecting village—more like the brilliance of a thousand doves, marble white plumage thrashing free from their gilded cage. Your lips taste like the core of a newborn star—scorching and yet still so sweet upon the tongue the same way caramelized sugar sticks to the roof your mouth. You are his first and last everything. 

There’s a certain kind of tragedy hidden beneath your tongue, fragile promises and the eggshell thin shards of hope stapled to the roof of your mouth. Rex will take it—seize any threadbare strand and run with it—spool it into the palm of his hand until you’re wound so tightly together it’ll be impossible to untangle.     

Just when the dizziness sets in from elation and not enough air, you part and leave a sticky trail of warm kisses up his jaw. Rex groans and hugs you closer, you humid breath blooming across his skin. “Let me take care of you.”

The words on his tongue crumble to ash once he nods in agreement. Your kisses dip lower, not even stopping when the reach the edge of his chest plate. Stars, you’re…he never entertained the idea that your lips could look so divine in contrast to the battered plastoid. When you fold onto your knees his heart leaps to his mouth, a flare of arousal flashing through his groin. 

You rest your chin over his codpiece and smile. “Do you like seeing me on my knees, sir?”

Rex huffs and studies at the opposing wall—

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Your fingers find the claps over his codpiece. “Can I take this off?”

Rex jerks his head in a yes but grabs your wrist. Not a rough hold—a tentative one as hesitation swirls in his eyes. “Don’t—don’t have t’ do this for me—“

You quirk a brow. “I want to because I like you, Rexy.”

A rosy blush blooms over his sharp cheekbones. The captain nods again.

The codpiece clatters to the ground and immediately you move your hand to palm him through his blacks. He grunts and squeezes his eyes shut. There we go.      

Biting your lip, you pull down his blacks as far as the plastoid plating allows, greeted with the hard length of his cock, beautiful and flushed a rosy brown. Fuck—he’s thicker than you thought. You wrap your fingers around the base, delighted by Rex’s airy gasp as he throbs in your palm. A bead of liquid shines at the tip and just the sight of it makes your mouth water. 

Moons—you should’ve done this sooner.

With a stuttering inhale, Rex trails his forefinger along your cheek and tucks a stray hair behind your ear. The pads of his fingertips skim lower and lightly pinch your chin between his forefinger and thumb. Your eyes lift to meet his. “You—you sure?”

You answer with a kiss over the dip of his navel, the skin searing hot under your lips. Rex curses and rolls his head back onto his shoulders when your palm slides up the length of his cock and then back down. Your grip is firm and tight as Rex slumps onto the crate, goosebumps rushing up his exposed flesh. Stars, when’s the last time he’s gotten release like this? 

You lean forward and lick a languid line from the velvety skin of his balls all the way up to the tip. Rex’s hips jolt. You purse your lips and suckle at the head, dipping your tongue over the slit then down to trace the ridge of his frenulum all the while your hand rolls up and down his shaft. Rex tangles his fingers into your hair with a hiss. You open your jaw a bit wider and take him down a few inches into the wet heat of your mouth, feeling your lips stretch around his cock. You you drag the flat of your tongue along the underside of his shaft to make the thickness easier to swallow down, but he's still only halfway into your mouth when he hits the back of your throat.

“Fuck—" Rex moans as his hips strain to remain still. “S’good—such a good girl.”

You glance up, eyes devouring the attractive length of his clean shaven throat and the underside of his chin. Rex swallows and let’s out another little sound. You whine softly in return and slip a hand into your pants, pressing your fingertips against your throbbing clit as you start to carefully bob your head up and down. Yeah—your jaw already aches just from holding his cock in in your mouth but fuck it—it’s worth it.   

Rex's chest heaves with exertion as he mindfully rocks his hips up, pushing and rolling his cock deeper into your mouth until his shaft is nearly seated all the way in. Ditching your own pleasure entirely, you swallow around him, forcing down the urge to gag and simply hold him here. Allowing him a moment to just enjoy the soft warmth of your mouth before launching into the main event.  

Rex murmurs your name and strokes his thumb over your cheek. “You’re beautiful—so pretty like—like this..ah—” 

You pointedly hollow your cheeks and suck, his flattery warming your chest with pride. You swallow around him another time, squeeze his shaft, your fist following your mouth as you lift up then back down to the base. You grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you pull halfway up and let Rex rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans of your name. 

Soon enough he’s twitching in your mouth, his eyes fluttering shut as his head tips back onto his shoulders. The gloved hand sweetly cradling your cheek slips to the nape of your neck, tangling his fingers into you hair to anchor himself. He’s close—quiet gasps and broken curses tumbling out, hips unconsciously rocking into your mouth in search of release.

Rex whimpers your name, his leg jolting as you work your jaw wider and swallow him down, the dark curls tickling your nose once it brushes his groin. “Oh, fuck.” 

You hum around him, delighting in the mumbled praises. Almost there…That’s it. 

He’s dangling on the precipice—on tiny shove away from euphoria—

“Wait—“ Saliva dribbles down your chin when his cock pops out from your swollen lips, throbbing from the unintentional tease. “Maker—shit.” 

If not for the gloves covering his hands, you’re sure they’d be turning white from how tightly he grips the edge of the crate. His eyes are squeezed shut, slightly bent forward as he falls away from the edge of his release. Rex sucks in a steadying breath, amber eyes meeting your confused ones. 

“I don’t—can we—“ Rex’s eyes flit and focus on anything but you as he stutters and works up the courage to ask for what he wants. “Do we have time—“

You rolls your eyes and rest your cheek on his thigh. Silly man. “You wanna fuck me, Rexy?”

“Kriff, yes.”

You smile and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. “I don’t think they’ll miss us."

Rex doesn’t complain when you take his hands and yank him onto the grubby floor and over your senatorial robes. He props his back against the crate as you shuck off everything below the waste and clamber into his lap. His hands, warm even through the leather, land over the swell of your hips and wrench you closer until your front presses up against his chest plate. 

The rough prickle of his stubble is, in all sense of the word, addictive. He tilts his head to kiss you, the slick touch of his tongue on your bottom lip adding jet fuel to the fire low in your belly. Rex groans and cups your jaw, holding your mouth open to dance his tongue along the length of yours. You whine and shudder as he purses his lips and lightly sucks on your tongue before you both part. 

Rex drags his teeth over your bottom lip as you both pant for precious air. His dark lashes sweep up his cheeks when he looks at you. This close you bare witness to the dazzling color of his eyes—crystalized pearls of amber over the crackled bark of pine tree in the midmorning sun. Muted gold threaded through the brown like fine lace and the slow shimmer of the sun dappled through water. To think such a man like him is dredged through the bloodied mud of war is despicable.

You blink away the swell of tears prickling at your eyes and kiss him once more. Sighing, you whisper down, mouthing soft nibbles and teasing kisses over his jaw and down his neck. Rex squirms and rock his hips up, your cunt clenching around nothing. You need him.   

“Rex,” you groan. You slide your hand between your bodies and grab at his thick length. Rex gasps into your mouth, long fingers clamping onto your waist in a death grip. “I want you.”

“I’m yours.” 

Your nibble at his earlobe as you grind your hips against his length, the folds of your cunt teasingly out of reach. “Touch me, Captain.” 

Rex tears off his vambraces and gloves, hand wedging between your thighs, touching the very tips of his fingers to your throbbing clit. You whine and clench your jaw—the pleasure is raw—sizzling electricity that crackles with the deadly promises of your pleasure. It’s as if you’ve had the breath knocked out of your lungs the second he bears down a bit more on your clit, drawing tentative circles, each completion sending a shockwave of tightly spooled ecstasy through each and every nerve. You nearly sob as his fingers slip away. 

“So wet already,” Rex moans as you tip your head back when two of his fingers begin circle your dripping cunt. They’re thick and long and perfect. Your hips stutter as your cunt easily accepts his fingers, the heel of his palm slotting perfectly against your pussy to stimulate your clit. 

Maker you’re seeing stars as Rex rocks his hand into you—the bend of his fingers the perfect angle to catch all the right places that make you tremble. He kisses your cheek and moans your name into your ear, all low and gravelly— 

Your body seizes up tight as you soar, plummeting off the edge only to tumble so fast and so hard that tears prick the corner of your eyes. Rex peppers kisses over your cheeks and runs his free hand through your hair, purring praise and adoration as you shudder—your mouth parted in a silent cry as you cum and dissolve into his hands. 

When you suck in a steadying breath and open your eyes, Rex is gazing upon you with starstruck eyes—pure adoration that makes your cheeks flare hotter than the surface of two mini suns. Your teeth catch your bottom lip. You’re not sure you deserve to be looked at like this…

However, you’re impatient and running on stolen seconds. As much as you’d like to just simply stare at him—there’s not enough time. Rex wraps his fingers around the base of his cock and slides the tip of himself through your soaking folds. Each stroke against your still throbbing clit makes you buckle into yourself, but the angle that your knees are propped over his hips means you're stuck here. 

Rex pauses and cups your cheek. His thumb scrapes over your cheekbone. “You want this?”

You place your hand over his and turn your head to mouth a kiss over the lines of his palm. Oh, fuck yeah. Kind of him to ask as if hadn’t just cum over his fingers but—no. “I need you to fuck me, Rex. That’s an order.”

Rex huffs out a low chuckle and bumps the crown of his forehead against yours. “As you wish, Senator.” 

Rex runs the blunt head of his cock through your folds again, slicking himself up with your arousal. You mewl and dig your nails into the hard plastoid as the wide tip of him pushes into your entrance—he shudders as you clench and wiggle. It doesn’t hurt, but he’s in no small. You’ll feel him for days, you’re sure of it as your cunt swallows inch after inch. 

You both groan as he finally bottoms out. His jaw his clenched tight as sweat beads at his blonde hairline—Stars above, he’s a sight, struggling not to loose control the second he’s buried inside of you. Desire tickles up your spine, tugging at the fabrics of your being until all you can focus on his how Rex isn’t moving. You shift your hips in tiny, almost imperceptible motions, and squeeze around him. 

“Damn—“ A ragged moans slices through his words as your gentle rocking morphs into needy jolts. It’s easy to fuck yourself onto his cock like this, but the measly thrusts are meant to tempt him. “Fuck, cyare, you’re tight.” 

You smirk and grab at his sculpted shoulders—it’s the push he needs. Rex snarls your name, cups his hands under the globes of your ass and pulls you off his cock nearly all the way out only to slam back in. There’s no time to adjust before Rex sets a pace, fevered and rabid All pent up energy collecting over the weeks you’ve known each other. Each roll of his hips borders erratic, taking his pleasure without thought—intent on reaching his own end after being denied for what feels like ages. 

You squeal in surprise as Rex pushes you onto your back and hoists your legs around his hips. Rex buries his nose into the crook of your neck and moans your name like a sweet prayer wrapped in honeycomb. Rex shifts his weight, widening his knees to sink deeper into your cunt—his stubble tickling your throat as his staggered exhales burn hot over your skin. 

You choke out a groan and feel your arousal begin to drip down your thighs—hear the thrusts of his cock into your cunt become shamefully wetter. Electric heat sears down each vertebrae in your spine, scorching through each and every veins with the catastrophic brilliance of an imploding star. Shit—

“So good t’me—so perfect,” he huffs into your ear. Rex turns his head and steals a kiss. “Feel fuckin’ good stretched around my cock."

You clench around him hard as Rex’s hand sneaks between your bodies and rubs tight, little circles over you swollen clit. There’s barely any build up to your orgasm—just a blinding surge of devastating warmth that sweeps through your body, from your aching center down to your toes. It steals away all the air left in your lungs and leaves your clutching his arm and shuddering for a hold in your own reality—the steady warmth of his body that’s unburdened by armor a much needed anchor for the madness that threatens to drown you. 

His gentle, and pliant kisses morph into little pricks of his teeth over your neck and collar bone as his hips struggle to keep a definitive pattern. Rex’s curses string together and blur into nonsensical noises and loose tongue admittances that are comparable to moving inches from an imploding star.   

“Where can—can I?”

You grab at his head and whine his name. “Anywhere—in me—you can cum in me.”

With a loving caress over back of his neck and a sweet whisper of his name, he reaches release. Rex’s moan is airy as his eyes slam shut and captures your mouth in a sizzling kiss. He’s twitching in your arms as his hips erratically jerk, hot spurts of his release coating your insides and beginning to leak over your robes you lay over. Whatever. 

Rex nips at your skin as the last dregs of pleasure jolt up your spine. Neither of you say a word as Rex’s hips come to a slow. Time trickles through your fingers like sand through an hourglass half empty but instead of rushing to dress, you choose to lie on the ground—two halves of a mess someone’s been meaning to clean up for the better part of a long while. You feel at home here—content as your fingers run up and down the back of his head, a bit irked by the armor still covering his back. You’re terrified of the months to come—but at least you have each other. After all, gardens will bloom and flourish with fresh blooded love and wild mistakes sculpted from passion forever if you believe hard enough…wont they?