#and i do like the dragon lord!! he feels rushed in places but he is LEAGUES better than the twins from bl3

[sleepy-crypt1d]

as glad as i am that they stopped beating jack's corpse for tiny tina's wonderland it does feel like something's Missing after him being around for so long, like i adore the game and wouldn't want to shoe horn him in (especially since i DO think that the dragonlord is a good successor) but it does make me want to replay BL2

[fabled-fiction]

Cregan Stark x Targaryen daughter of Rhaenyra

I don’t have a deep plot but I do have an idea. What if reader takes the place of Jace and flies to encourage Cregan like in the recent episode and he’s mesmerized by her beauty? 👀 Something along those lines — feel free to add or change it! ☺️ Thanks!

Snowflakes, Stolen Looks, and Beating Hearts

(Cregan Stark x Strong!Reader)

Summary: When you are sent with your brother Jacaerys to meet up with the Lord in the North, Cregan Stark, some feeling being to make the both of you light headed and forget just exactly what duty calls from the both of you. 

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: MAYBE POSSIBLE SPOILER ISH FOR EP 1. Yearning, possible OOC for Cregan (love does things to a man can you blame him??), Use of (Y/N)

A/N: This took…too long to write. I wanted to make this a yearning lovesick-y fic of Cregan that I have been DYING for and kept mulling over all the details. BUT ALAS it is here, I hope it filled your request and you all enjoy!!

You never thought that you would see snow.

You always wished to see it, having heard of its beauty. Ice falling from the sky in beautifully small flakes that seemed to be sewn together by the gods.

Looking at the palm of your hand, you smiled as you studied the pattern of the snowflake. Its exquisite beauty only lasting mere seconds as it began to melt into the valleys of your skin. A small frown made its way in place of your smile as you temporarily mourned the flake, before you wiped your hand on your cloak.

To think this place was blanketed in such beauty for the entire year.

Just ahead, Jace took a glance over his shoulder as he stared at the spectacle that was you. You stood next to your dragon, still as ever letting the snow collect on your hair and shoulders. You looked statue-esque as you continued to catch snowflakes, admiring them before they met their inevitable fate. Lost in your own world as you took a moment to forget about everything that had been plaguing you for the past few months.

He wished he could do the same, even for just a moment. Arriving at Winterfell, had him feeling on edge. For his whole life Jacaerys had protected you, feeling it was his duty to make sure nothing ever hurt you. The both of you, him being the first son of Queen Rhaenyra and you the first and only daughter, had grown up to know the true meaning of duty. This alone had bonded the two of you practically to the hip, it did not matter that you were older than him.

Looking back at you, he smiled as he saw how much snow had collected on your hair…people could mistake you for a “true” Targaryen…

That alone reminded him of the reason they were there.

“(Y/N)...c’mon we mustn't be even more late than we already are to meet with Lord Stark. Nightfall will be upon us yet…”

He watched as you finally looked up from the palm of your hand and sighed. Shaking the snow off of your head and shoulders, you rushed to meet his pace.

“I must say, I quite like this cold. It's much better than the humidity we face on Dragonstone.”

This earned a chuckle from Jacaerys. “Is that what you think of now? Not what to say to Lord Stark? What words to sew together to ensure he is our ally?”

“I do not need to take such action. Diplomacy comes easy to me. Besides, the Starks are known to be loyal to a fault.”

That much was true. Jace wasn’t entirely sure why he felt such anxiety with this meeting. It could have been that the simple act of ensuring allyship meant that war was truly upon your house. Or perhaps it could have simply just been that he did not wish to look a fool aside you as you expertly made your way through conversation with Lord Stark despite this being your first meeting. Since the both of you were small you had a knack for persuading people with your words. The Silver Tongued Dragon, you had been known as not long after this talent was found out.

Yes, he had nothing to fear. This would all go smoothly.

“Lord Stark, Prince Jacaeyrs Velaryon and Princess (Y/N) Velaryon of House Velaryon have arrived.”

Cregan nodded to the squire, straightening his cloak as he strapped Ice to his back.

This meeting in particular was one he was not too entirely worried about. House Stark had bent the knee to King Visery’s when he named his daughter as heir to the iron throne. This matter had been in the back of Cregan’s mind, with many more pressing matters being his top priority. He supposed that is why he often did not make the best first impressions, as his priorities were not that of the common list that many found themselves concerned with. He did not take an immediate interest in the pursuit of heirs or of ensuring that the house had a formidable reputation. Duty was his priority.

This meeting was a matter of formality to him. To ensure that he would stand behind Queen Rhanerya and support her in whatever way he could, without crippling the defenses on the Wall.

His hands reached back to tie his hair halfway up, his eyes focusing on the black ice of the steps. As his fingers struggled to snap the band around, he finally looked up to meet the faces of the two young dragons.

When his eyes met yours, everything seemed to stop.

It was as if the snows knew to freeze this moment over, so he could have the chance to meet your eye.

Cregan Stark had heard of the beauty of the old Valyria. He listened to the stories men shared of the silver haired house that brought out the darkest of temptations of man. How their men and women held a grace about them that had wives and husbands lust for just the touch of their hand on theirs.

As he looked at you, he felt that those stories were watered down backswill of a drunkard. There was not a word within the all known language of the Seven Kingdoms that could describe what he felt in this moment as he had the fortune to lay his eye upon you. He felt his grip on the banister tighten as he took in the sight of you. You, who looked up at him with the most mesmerizing beautiful eyes that only looked at him. 

It wasn't until he saw the rise and fall of your own chest did he remember to breathe.

“Lord Stark, It's an honor to make your acquaintance.”

Looking over at your brother, Cregan cleared his throat as he made his way down the stairs to properly shake his hand.

“The honor is all mine, to host the both of you here. My apologies for the weather, but it is the North.”

His accent stuck out to you. On Dragonstone and even throughout the Keep, when you had stayed there once upon a time, people often shrouded themselves in uppity falsehoods. Either to seem as if they were meant to truly walk amongst you, or to be someone entirely different from whence they came. It was part of the reason why you were so glad to have fled to Dragonstone, there were not as many falsehoods there.

So to see Cregan Stark have no fear in brandishing his weaponry, and speak to you in the laced tongue of the North was refreshing. You were drawn to the way he felt as if the niceties of royalty were second thought. As if the both of you could afford to toss aside pleasantries. It made you smile.

There was something else to be said about the Northerner. Just the way he stood before the both of you alone was enough action to intrigue you.

“Lady Velaryon, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

When his hand enveloped yours, you felt your breath catch in your throat. His eyes did not leave yours, as he lifted your knuckles to his lips.

“I wish it under other circumstances, Lord Stark.”

Giving him a small smile, the two of you stood there eye in eye. He had yet to let go of your hand as the two of you held each other there. When you stood this close to him you were able to get a better look at the man they had named Wolf of the North. Cregan Stark stood before you, dressed in fur and leather, bowing as he held your hand. You couldn’t help but feel your heart flutter as he held your eye. A flurry of grey and blue looked at you, purely you, and you couldn't help but feel as if that's all he wanted to do. Just as you stood there now, feeling consumed by the eye of the storm and wanting nothing more but to throw yourself to the whims of the winds.

“Lord Stark, Is there somewhere more private we could discuss?”

Feeling the hot stare of Jacaerys gaze on you, you regrettably took your hand from Cregan’s grasp. The imprint of his warmth on your skin remained, even through the leather, making you bring your hand to your chest as you bowed your head to him quickly.

Clearing his throat, Cregan looked at Jacaerys with a nod before motioning to the large metal lift.

“ ‘Course, let us talk atop the Wall.”

Jacaery’s held your eye for a moment as the both of you followed the Wolf. His eyes held a question within them as the two of you silently spoke. He had watched that whole scene unfold, having been a bystander to the tension that grew with every second that Cregan held your gaze. You simply rolled your eyes as you shoved him before following the Northerner into the metal cage.

Closing your eyes, you froze for a moment to feel the northern winds run through your hair and cloak. Snowflakes found themselves resting on you again, drawn to the warmth that ran through your Targaryen blood. As the lift brought you higher and higher into the sky, level with where you flew your dragon, it almost felt as if the air in your lungs crystallized.

“So tell me Lord Stark, What is this that falls from the sky and shivers my bones? Is it not still summer throughout the isles of the Seven Kingdoms?”

Cregan was so lost in his jealousy of the snowflakes that rested upon your skin that he almost didn't hear you speak. It wasn't until you had opened your eyes and looked at him through your lashes did he realize you had addressed him.

“This is only a late summer snow, my princess. In the true winter it will cover all you see, any memories you hold of warmth will be forgotten.”

“Sounds..hauntingly beautiful. Whilst this is my first time seeing snow it is my understanding that this is not the first time our ancestors have met here to treat? If I am correct it was the…Conqueror and the King in the North?” 

Jacaerys felt a relief fall over his shoulders as he heard you expertly laced the matter at hand into conversation. His eyes landed on Cregan as he watched the man hang onto every word you spoke. Not once had he looked at Jacaerys after the three of you stepped into the lift. His eyes never left you even before you spoke. He would like to think that it was because of the presence and attention you demanded. He had seen it many a time before, people could not look away from you whenever you entered a room, and their fates were often sealed after you had started to speak.

But, something else lay within his gaze. Jacaerys had seen that look before. The look of total awe and devotion to the other.

It was the same exact look he gave Baela.

“Surely the great Torrhen Stark would have sooner died than bent the knee. Unless of course he believed the Conqueror could bring unity to the Seven Kingdoms?” 

Cregan looked over to Jacaerys with a sigh. This meeting was meant for diplomacy, he had to remind himself of this as he looked to the Prince. He felt a crease grow within his brow as the three of you walked throughout the icy walkways of the top of the wall.

When your hand reached to hold his arm, he felt a fire light in his chest at your touch alone. It was as if you took all his pain and worry, forbidding it from plaguing him. When he took the opportunity to look over at you, he felt the ice in his veins thaw. 

“What my brother is getting at, Lord Stark, is that there is a threat upon the unity to the Seven Kingdoms. One that would tear the realm apart if the men and women who swore an oath to our grandfather do not remember who the rightful heir is. You understand our concerns do you not?”

“Starks do not forget their oaths, my princess…”

Looking at your hand placed on the crook of his elbow, he swallowed as he rested his hand atop yours.

“Can we depend on your men if the time comes that the Hightowers declare war upon our mother’s claim to the throne?”

Looking at Jacaerys, Cregan swallowed. He should not have felt torn, but he did. He needed his men here, to defend the wall from that which dared to plague Westeros. There were forces that lay in wait, that threatened the sanctity of not only the North but the South as well. He did not wish for his duty to falter in this dire time of need. But he had seen the worry in your eye. He knew that you were dependent on the power of the North if your mother’s throne, if you family was meant to remain the next in line. Another part of him wanted to promise whatever he could, whatever you needed just at the drop of the word.

“You must understand my hesitation, my Prince. Whilst I wish for nothing more than to offer you the whole of which the North has to offer, I must keep my army here to defend the Wall. Do you think my ancestors built a seven hundred foot wall to keep out snow and savages?”

As the three of you approached a divet within the wall, all of a sudden a very overwhelming dread filled your stomach. Looking over the edge, you saw nothing but a vast forest, covered in snow. But for some reason, the dragon within you faltered. Every sense you had was screaming at you to back away from the ledge that you took further steps towards. 

“What does it keep out?” Jace asked, as he felt his heart fall in his chest at the sight of you taking a closer step to the edge of the Wall.

“Death.”

You took a moment to look over your shoulder at Cregan once hearing the declaration. You had heard stories about the meeting place that took place here. How when King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne stood in your very spot, their dragons refused to cross the threshold. It made your stomach drop just at the idea of there being something more beyond the wall. That was a thought for another time however.

Both Jace and Cregan watched as you stood still as a statue once more, looking over the land of the North.

“I understand your hesitation to pull your men from the Wall, Lord Stark. It is quite the responsibility you have here,” Taking a step back, you swallowed as you smoothed your hair back. Jace offered you a hand to steady yourself as you took a few steps back from the edge.

“All we ask is that you provide whatever you can when the time comes. In return I personally can promise you’ll have mine when needed.”

Cregan sighed as he looked between the Wall and you. That alone had just sealed his fate, that he truely would give you whatever you needed, especially now knowing that you felt a duty to protect what was his as well. He could see it in your eyes when you looked over that edge. You believe his tales of things that lurked in the dark, just as he believed you when it came to the vile words of treachery.

The both of you would need the other soon enough yet.

“I can offer you thousands of greybeards. They have seen far too many winters, having grown a distaste for the cold. Their skills are well honed, and they can be ready to fight at a moment's notice. They will fight hard for you, like Northerners.”

There was a visible tension that dropped from the both of your and Jace’s shoulders after his words. Your brother rested his hand on your shoulder as you clasped your hands together in front of you. Jace then reached forward to shake Cregan’s hand with both of his.

“Thank you Lord Stark. Your promises will not be forgotten.”

Finding your way beside the both of them, you clapped your hand on both their shoulders with a beaming smile.

“Lets celebrate shall we?”

-

He couldn't take his eyes off you.

You sat across the table, the warmth of the candle light that lit up the meeting hall suiting itself well on your cheeks. You had settled in well at the opposite head of the table, chatting with other Northern women. You were content, from as well as he could tell.

His eyes hadn’t left you since the minute you found yourself in his halls, drinking his wine and eating his food. There was something that stirred in the pits of his stomach as he…provided for you. In the ways of war and also in the niceties of comfort. You had taken well to both, and he planned to bathe in your presence for as long as he could before you took your inevitable departure.

After that he wasn’t sure he would see you again ever.

While he should have been fine with that, as he had told himself a multitude of times that courting and the ways of society were well beyond his interests, something made him sick at the idea of letting you just slip away because of some silly notions he had been telling himself. You had bewitched him at first glance, and as he had taken in more of your presence throughout the day he could rightfully say that you had taken up a space in his mind if not in its entirety. 

His hand gripped his chin tighter at these thoughts alone.

“Lord Stark…” 

Shaking his head, he looked over to see your brother standing beside him.

“My prince, to what do I owe the pleasure?”

Jace motioned to the chair besides Cregan, sitting down as the Lord motioned him. Taking one last look at you, as you laughed aloud at whatever the person holding your attention had said, he figured he could spare a moment of his attention being somewhere else.

“I just wanted to come by and thank you once again for pledging your support. I know it was not your responsibility to ease my anxieties but you did anyway, and I am grateful for it.”

He gave a curt smile to the prince, turning his body to face him to ensure that he was indeed involved in whatever conversation Jacaerys had meant to begin. However that could not be further from the truth as his mind began to wander.

“A Stark never forgets their oath. I would not be the man I am today had I intended to ever break it. “

“I figured as much. My sister said quite the same thing when we arrived, she being the more faithful one.”

Cregan smiled at the comment, taking another look over to you. You were alone in thought now, whoever you were speaking with having taken your attention for granted no doubt and departing to enjoy the festivities that were about. You were looking out the window, taking in the snow of the North like you had been earlier that day.

“She the smarter of the two of you hmm?” He quipped, smirking as he watched Jace chuckle to himself.

“She is the smartest out of all my siblings I would say. (Y/N) has always been a good judge of character, I don’t think I have ever seen her put her trust into someone who didn’t deserve it.”

His heart jumped at the words Jace bestowed upon him. Somehow knowing that you trusted him, that he was one of the few that could claim to have earned your admiration even within just a few words made him feel stronger in a sense. Is this what men talked about, when they said that the affection of a woman made them feel as if they could move the hills? If this is how he felt just at the mention of your trusting him, he couldn’t help but ponder on how he would feel from being the object of your affections.

“I think that might be one of the main reasons why she hasn’t been courted.”

Cregan froze, feeling himself look over at you once again. For some reason the thought did not run through his mind that your hand could have already been called for. It stirred something in him, knowing that your name was still Velaryon.

Your seat was empty when Cregan looked over again. He saw your silhouette turn the corner quickly, vanishing in a flurry of red and black.

“Enjoy the rest of the meal my prince.” Cregan laid his hand on Jace’s shoulder before making his exit in the same direction that you had.

Jace smiled to himself as he watched the man quickly follow your footsteps with haste, his cloak making a rather dramatic arch at the turn.

There you stood, looking into the sky. You looked as if you were infatuated by the moon herself, lit up only by her beam as snowflakes flitted around you. If it was possible for you to look anymore ethereal Cregan would become devote. You were cast in a halo of moonlight, so entranced that it almost made him guilty for interrupting such an intimate moment.

Looking over your shoulder, he swallowed whatever nerves he was feeling so he could actually have the opportunity to talk with you. But then you smiled at him, and he felt himself grow weak. Part of him wanted to fight against this foreign feeling, the other wanted to bask in it.

“Lord Stark, I hope my leaving didn’t come off as rude. I wanted to enjoy the cold for just a little longer.”

“Not at all. I’m glad you have taken such an interest in what others would consider harsh.”

This got a small hum from you as you held your gloved hand out. “How one could consider this harsh is beyond me.”

Cregan chuckled to himself as he came to stand next to you, watching as you studied the snowflake in your palm.

“Winter is not often kind. The cold and ice have a tendency to turn those away, since it takes so much and gives so little.”

“Fire does the same, yet people hold it in such a high regard. People should do the same with snow.”

Cregan hung onto every word you said, taking this private moment deep within. Hearing you speak so poetically, especially when the topic was anything other than the purpose of which you came. To get a glimpse into who you were, to know the person that was you made him think of a million other questions to ask just to fill out every step it took to understanding you.

He watched you closely as you brought your hand down, and held your arms when you looked up. The cloak you had dawned earlier was nowhere in sight, and if he could recall it had been left behind on your chair in the haste of leaving the room. Cregan was quick to remove his own fur lined cloak, and drape it across your shoulders. It swallowed you, enveloping you in the lingering warmth that was him.

“Thank you, you did not have to.”

“What type of a host would I be if I let you freeze?”

You laughed at his comment, a full laugh, and placed your hand on his bicep. It was still cold, from catching snowflakes, but it warmed him none the less.

“Plus, it looks better on you. The North suits you.”

A flash of blush rested on your cheeks at the comment, and made you tighten the grip on his cloak.

“Thank you, Lord Stark. I do have to say of all the places I’ve been I think I have enjoyed my time here the most.”

With a nod, he clasped his hands behind his back before leaning a little closer to whisper to you.

“Well I hope then that the next time you are here I can show you all that Winterfell has to offer..that is if there is a next time?”

You both had turned to face each other now, your hand still holding his arm as you looked up and only him now. He looked at you the same way the moon did, and you basked in the warmth of him in the same way.

Reaching forward, his hand came to hold a bit of your bang before wiping the snow from it and tucking it behind your ear. His hand came to rest on your cheek, holding the side of your face as the both of you were able to finally really look at each other without the wandering eye of anyone else.

He took his time committing your face to memory, just in case this was truly the last time he would see you. Cregan wanted to make sure his dreams were able to replicate the image of you.

You stood there, doing the same. You were surrounded by him entirely, in scent and sight. This entire afternoon when he wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him. You could feel this back and forth game of cat and mouse that had played out, but there was a nagging reminder of everything that lead to this meeting and everything that waited after it.

Perhaps you could take this night to bask in something that wasn’t duty.

“I could entertain the thought, only if you could make the trip worthwhile.”

This earned a laugh from the northerner as he looked at you, and his thumb ran under your eye. The feeling off his touch had you feeling drunk off his attention. Oh you were absolutely certain if anyone had seen the two of you in this exact moment there would be many an accusation.

“Oh? And how exactly would I do that my princess?” He mused, looking at you tenderly

Reaching to hold the wrist of the hand that held you, you stroked his wrist and hummed.

“Give me a reason to come back, Cregan Stark. A reason that isn't just snow, or the cold. Something that is more than the North. More than duty.”

He stood there, just staring back into your eyes as he thought of the declaration. To give you a true and proper reason to ride all the way back here, where he was nothing but duty and sacrifice. To give you a part of him that was something else completely. You asked this of him as if it was the easiest thing he could sacrifice in order to see you again.

It should have been a hard request to fill. A question that should have left him tormented when giving the answer.

But somehow his answer was sealed the minute you stepped into view.

“Me…Come back for me.”

In the silent moment between the two of you, all that could be heard was the howl of the wind and the beating of your hearts as they became forever joined with just a touch.

[written-in-flowers]

The Places Between Us: The Naga King (OT8 X Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Park Seonghwa x Fem!Reader | Side pairings: Hongjoong x Reader, Ateez x Reader

Word Count: 9k

Genre: Smut, angst, slight fluff | AU: fantasy!au

Summary: After her boat crashes, YN lands on the Naga inhabited Caper Islands. She's immediately taken to The King who is more than interested in Lord Kim's "special gift".

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Overall Tags: dub-con, mind control, enslavement, kidnapping, forced breeding, monster fucking, sex work, mentions/implications of abuse, mentions/implications of SA, public sex, exhibitionism, humiliation, degradation, breeding kink, bigdick!Seonghwa, bigdick!Yunho, undead sex, sex w/ undead, belly bulge, anal sex, anal fingering, vaginal sex, multiple positions, multiple orgasms, squirting/vaginal ejaculation, slight size kink (height wise), overstimulation, facials, cum swallowing, choking, dom!ateez, sub!reader, tit fucking, sex toys, bondage, multiple partners, threesome, orc!jongho, naga!seonghwa, demon!hongjoong, dragon!yunho, undead!mingi, goblin!yeosang, lycan!san, lycan!wooyoung.

Disclaimer: These works are completely fictitious and for entertainment purposes only. They are not meant to reflect or label the members of ATEEZ in any way. The events within never took place. Thank you.

Prologue: The Curse < | > Part 2: The Dragon Prince

****

“-How did it get here?”

“Must’ve crashed. Wonwoo said he and the others found a shipwreck not too far down the beach. There’d been another one, but it was already dead.”

“What do we do with this one then? Kill it?”

“No, this one’s female. Tie it up and take it to His Majesty. Maybe he'll like it and give us whatever we want.” 

Every muscle in your body ached. Your throat itched and burned in each swallow, and your head pounded. Everything felt heavy: your head, your body, and your clothes. They’d been soaked through, and hardly dried even in the blaring sun. Four hands grabbed your wrists and ankles, wrapping thin rope around them before lifting you from the rough sand. The stick they hung you from made your body curve, hurting your already burning back. It was in this position that sticky, hot bile rushed through your throat and onto the floor. The salty water that had filled your lungs came out in harsh coughs that hurt your esophagus more. 

“Ugh, ew!” The higher of the two voices groaned, “Chan, it’s vomiting!”

“It’s just sea water, Innie,” the one up front replied in a bored voice, “It probably swallowed it when the boat went over. Just keep walking.” 

You didn’t hear footsteps. Instead, you heard the sound of something being dragged through the sand. You finished coughing up the sea water, which left you with a painful thirst. The salt dried up your tongue and mouth, so now it hung open in each breath. Unfortunately, some of it dripped onto your necklace which somehow survived the wreck. Then, a panicked thought hit you. The runestone. Lord Kim’s gift. In the chaos of the night, you’d forgotten to grab it. It’s likely at the bottom of the ocean by now. How would you convince The Dark Lord to help you now?

“It’s pretty,” “Innie” said conversationally. “Do you think he’ll keep it?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Can we keep it if he doesn’t?”

“No.”

“Chan, please!”

“I said ‘no’. You’re not responsible enough yet.”

“Yes, I am! I’ll take good care of it, I promise!”

“That’s what you said about the last one I bought you, and look what happened. The thing died after you stopped feeding it.”

“I won’t do that this time. I learned from my mistakes-”

The faint memory of your dream came back to you. It featured Hongjoong. You knew this because of the warm feeling in your chest. His head between your thighs, he’d said something. You wished you remembered. It might bring comfort to you now. 

You tuned out the conversation and tried looking at your surroundings. The trunks of palm trees, low, dense shrubbery and white sand gave you a sense of where you’d landed. You lifted your head forward to see a long blue tail dragging across the ground in front of you. It reminded you of a snake in how it moved from side to side, the fanned membrane sharp and thin in a neon-blue color. The suggestion of a dagger attached to the waist came into view, and you saw the shimmering scales going up the back into fair-skinned flesh. A Naga. 

Hongjoong once told you about the Naga of the Caper Islands. A small cluster of white, sandy islands, they were located in the far south of the kingdom where the sun always shined. He said the Naga people were quite primitive, but very skillful with magic. You recalled the gorgeous scaled skirt he’d bought from their market. It was magenta with a light pink and white gradient. You’d worn it with a gold top that made him drool. He’d promised he’d bring you here one day when things were ‘safer’. 

“-Hey, Chan! Hey, Jeongin!” A deep voice said in the distance, “Whatcha got there?”

“A human,” Chan answered. “We’ve brought it for His Majesty.” 

“Let me get a look.”

A lime-green and red tail slithered over, and you felt a pair of eyes surveying you. You wriggled when a hand started gripping your calves and arms. 

“Hm, it’s in good condition,” the third person deemed. “Where’d you find it?”

“On the beach near a shipwreck,” Chan answered. “We know King Seonghwa likes the females, and-you know-perfect opportunity to get in good with him.”

“Very,” he agreed. “He’s getting bored of that redheaded one. I think he might toss it soon.”

“He can give it to me!” Jeongin cried. “I don’t mind strays!”

“I already said ‘no’, Jeongin,” Chan replied sternly. “So, can we go in or what, Lixie?”

“You can go in,” he said. “He's hosting today, so he’s in a pretty good mood.” 

The creaking sound of doors opening came next, and the pair carried you past stone gates. The forest changed into a city of buildings made of stone and coral. Tails of different colors and lengths moved across the floor, and you got a better look at the “people”. Half human, half-snake, some of them stopped to watch you be carried through town. Their sharp teeth and claws intimidated you. You wished Hongjoong was with you. He wouldn’t be scared of them. 

“State your business,” a voice said ahead again. 

“We have a gift for His Majesty,” Chan answered. “A treasure from a nearby shipwreck.”

Once again, someone inspected you like livestock. They gave a soft grunt, and you were moved along. Chan and Jeongin carried you upstairs and into an open-roofed palace. Sunshine poured from in between the tall stone columns, burning the back of your neck and hair. As you drew closer to your destination, you heard music coming from behind a door. You knew a party when you heard one, and dread weighed you down further. The upbeat tempo of drums accompanied a female singer, who sang a high pitched foreign song. You could see flashes of color go by you as the two men took you through the party. The chattering crowd brought on visions of what could possibly happen to you. 

The thoughts were tantalizing. 

‘Oh, they certainly can be. Seonghwa might be a bit intimidating at first, but he’ll be gentle with you. Don’t fight it.’ 

You searched around for the speaker, but neither Chan or Jeongin had spoken. 

“What do you want? What is this?” A female voice said. 

“We have treasure for King Seonghwa,” Chan answered her. 

“Treasure, hm?” She studied you as the others had done. This time a hand squeezed your breast, and it sent shivers to your core. “Yes, very nice,” she hummed as her hand went down the curve of your back to your coat. She lifted it to reveal your ass. “Nice indeed. It's certainly nicer than the current one. I believe His Majesty will be pleased with your treasure. Wait here.”

As you waited, you noticed someone twirl by you. Out of the corner of your eye you saw a red haired woman dancing. She wore nothing but strings of pearls, golden cuffs and a pearl collar around her neck. When she spun around, you spotted a red brand in the shape of an octopus over a long trident. She was meant to be an erotic beauty that inspired desire. You knew because you'd been that yourself. You didn't think much of her until she bowed low in one move and met your eyes. The seductiveness she meant to exude vanished and was replaced by fear. 

“Myra tells me you've brought treasure?” His voice was smooth like butter, deep yet soft. 

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Chan said. “We brought it from the wreckage on the beach. We thought you may be interested in it.”

There was a pause, then he said, “Well? Aren't you going to untie it?”

“Ah yes! Yes, of-of course.”

Jeongin and Chan cut your bindings and you fell face first onto the ground. All the soreness from before amplified after being tied up, making your body stiff and heavy. When you did not get up right away, the two men scooped you up by the arms to keep you between them. Then you saw King Seonghwa. 

The figure in front of you certainly radiated the regal appearance of a king. He sat on a stone throne inlaid with gold, his white tail reaching down to the bottom landing. Short conch shells spiraled up from the golden crown on his head, rows of pearls and sapphires along the border; they matched his long necklaces and bracelets. It wasn’t until you got a better look that you noticed his arms. He had four of them. The pair on his shoulders kept his hands pressed together under his chin; the pair at his sides stayed on the arm rests of his throne. His appearance took you aback, and you found yourself drawn to him. 

“Hm,” The King observed you from afar, glowing aquamarine eyes staring down at you, “Interesting.” 

He stood up from his throne, and slithered over to you. He could easily overpower you with his size: two or three feet taller with longer limbs and broader shoulders. The image of him using this to his advantage flickered arousal. 

A large hand cupped your chin to lift your head. “This one is nice looking. It'll be an improvement over Talissa.”

He stared down at your body. You shuddered under his gaze, already sensing what ran through his mind. Long fingers trailed from your chin to your neck, then to your chest. He then stopped at your necklace. It’d fallen out of your shirt and coat, and now rested on your breast. His fingertip traced the moonstone, a small pang of panic hidden behind his eyes. 

“Where did you get this?” he asked. 

“It was a gift,” you replied. 

“From who?”

“A friend.”

Seonghwa seemed to know without knowing. He studied the crystal while his other two arms worked on you. They sailed down your sides where they gently gripped your hips. Goosebumps cover your skin at the light, delicate touches; the chills streamed down to your center where a specific heat radiated. The mark began burning slightly as he continued looking and touching. He’d find your mark with a few rips of your clothes. If you’re lucky, he has no idea what it means and thinks it’s a sort of slave brand. If you’re unlucky, he knows exactly what it is and takes advantage of it. 

Seonghwa took hold of your shirt, and with an easy rip, tore it open. Buttons popped off onto the floor, and your body became exposed to the crowd around you. He pulled at it until it turned into shreds on the floor, then his other hands did the same with your shorts. At home, you’d stood half-naked in front of crowds many times, but here it felt different. The men at home vied for your attention, throwing money and wanting a taste of you. Here, the creatures around you hissed and chuckled in amusement. Chan and Jeongin stared longingly at your body, but Seonghwa seemed unaffected. 

“Is it not to your liking, Your Majesty?” Chan asked, gulping thickly. 

No answer. Seonghwa moved slowly around you, and you gasped when he tugged off your bra. Your breasts out in the open, your clit throbbed as wind brushed the wet nipples. Jeongin stared with wide eyes and jaw agape, unable to look anywhere else. The guards on either side of the throne did very little to hide their interest. Their wandering eyes brought on both disgust and desire. You wanted to hide, but also tempt them. You wriggled around when two hands hooked on your underwear, roughly pulling them down your legs until they came off. Fully nude, your cheeks burned as the guests cackled and wolf-whistled. 

“Lovely,” a hand grasped your backside, massaging the flesh and giving it a smack. You suppress a moan. “Ah…what’s this?” His fingertip traced the hand-shaped mark on your lower back. It didn't burn like it's done before, but a sort of discomfort came with it. “The Sea God truly blessed me today.” Seonghwa, so much taller than you, bent down to your ear as he said, “What are the odds that one of Lord Kim’s slaves would wash up on my shore?” The question made the crowd around him chuckle. “I wonder if he’s sent you ahead as a gift. He knows how much I favor your kind.” He nuzzled your ear and said, Do you know what happens if you don’t soothe those delicious desires of yours?” 

“Yes…”

“What happens?”

“I lose my mind.”

“Yes, you would,” he said, gripping your breasts to hear you whimper. “You’d become a mindless sex slave…It’s all you will think about…It’s all you will want no matter the time or place,” he emphasized this by running his bottom arms to your hips. He brushed his lips to your neck, “Doesn’t that sound lovely?”

No, it did not. You’d lose all sense of yourself and your freedom. The image of you becoming a drooling, blank-faced zombie sent chills down your spine. His two other hands started grabbing your ass again, kneading and spreading it gently. His touch stoked the fire between your thighs. You clenched them together, humiliation burning in your cheeks. The creatures around you looked on as he touched you, smirking smugly as they watched their king seduce you. 

“You'll become Lord Kim's personal fuck slave,” he whispered in your ear, making sure nobody else heard him. “You'd bend to his will and fuck whoever he tells you to. He won't mind if I indulge myself a little.”

“Wait…I thought I just turned into a mindless zombie? What do you mean by that?”

“Well, angelfish, this is Lord Kim’s mark after all. It means you’re his slave. When your curse takes over, you’ll only obey him. I imagine that’s why he sent you to me,” he took a deep breath to steady himself. “Oh, I must thank him greatly when I see him again. You are perfect. Perhaps I can convince him to let me keep you.” 

“No way. I’m not going to be your slave.”

“Adorable,” he grinned, kissing your cheek. “Captain,” Seonghwa called to a creature in gold and white, “Take Talissa. I won’t be needing her anymore.” 

“Wha-Wait!” Talissa screamed as the Captain and two guards moved past you. “No, no, please! Wait! Don’t do this! Please!” 

You whimpered when a hand left your chest for your sex. Seonghwa carefully rubbed your smooth lips in light circles. He didn’t apply too much pressure or dip his fingers inside; he only idly touched. You couldn’t help wriggling in his arms. Behind you, the dragging sound of stone reached your ears, followed by the guests’ excited cheers. Talissa let out a horrified scream, pleading with the people holding her. Her chains rattled, no doubt restricting her movement. You imagined her heavy tears, the terror filling her insides as the guards led to her fate. Seonghwa did not hesitate to finally turn you to face the center of the room. 

“Talissa was beginning to bore me,” he said, still massaging various parts of you. “She’d lay there like a dead fish whenever I fucked her, barely reacting and weeping. I hate that. It’s like playing with a sick pet. It’s no fun,” he pressed his lips to your neck, licking the curve tenderly before saying, “I want to show you what happens to pets who bore me.”

The floor in the middle opened up to reveal a pool of crystal clear water. You didn’t see anything at first. You thought perhaps Talissa’s restraints might weigh her down and she’d drown. But, then the thing appeared. Through a hole in the bottom, the monstrous pink octopus swam to the top, its tentacles at least sixty feet and the thickness of tree trunks. Its eyes, pitch black and the size of boulders, stared at her angrily. Talissa, drained of color and squirming, screamed as the guards brought her to the pool’s edge. They threw her in without hesitation, watching in delight as she tried swimming from the long tentacles reaching for her. You could barely focus with Seonghwa still touching and kissing you. Talissa reached the side of the large pool, and tried climbing out before a guard thrusted her back inside. 

The octopus eventually grabbed Talissa, and you turned away. Yet, that seemed to only make it worse. The girl's high shrieks created brutal images in your mind: Limbs torn apart, innards spraying everywhere and blood staining the clear water as the beast devoured her. The crowd cheered in delight as the creature clearly won its meal. The smell of sea water and blood almost took you out of your desires, but Seonghwa easily brought them back. 

“Good pets get pretty jewels and treats,” he said, “Bad pets get thrown to Nessa. But,” he switched sides, sucking your lower neck until you arched against him, “I have a feeling I’ll never be bored with you. Come,” he pulled away, one hand taking yours, “Show me if you’re worth keeping around.” 

You thought he might take you to a private room, but nowhere in this palace appeared very private. Seonghwa brought you to his throne, where he put you on your knees. Glowing eyes lustfully stared down at you, petting your hair and tracing your lower jaw. Forced to straddle his tail, you naturally started grinding on the smooth scales bumping your throbbing cunt. His lower arms continued teasing your breasts, while the other two felt your back and shoulders. 

“Open up, pet,” he said. 

Lifting the fishnet covering his waist, he revealed a bump growing through a natural slit where a crotch might be. Seonghwa brought your face to it by the back of your head. The pressure forced your mouth to accept the velvety bulge rising from the hole. Salt touched your tongue, and rather than recoil, you greedily licked at it. The promise of sex fueled the burning arousal between your thighs. The feel of his tip pushing through to your lips becomes addicting. You lap at the curved head, swirling your tongue around it as The King softly groaned. His moans sent chills up your spine; the touch of his hands on your body tickled every nerve. You tenderly coaxed his dick out from its hiding place, wanting it however you could get it. When it came out halfway, you saw the pale blue shaft with its ridges and bumps. He was thick, unable to be held with one hand, and much longer than you anticipated. Tongue whirling around each bump and sliding along the horizontal lines, you knew Seonghwa enjoyed it by his low moans. 

“God, you're a natural,” he groaned, watching you. “I can’t imagine what you’ll be like when it fully takes hold. He won’t want you then. He’ll have to give you to me…” 

‘Keep dreaming, fish boy.’ The voice in your head said spitefully. 

Simply having him in your hands accelerated your need. Your hips rocked into the tail underneath you, producing mewls that vibrated against the soft skin. The burning mark You let the moans hum against the hard length, keeping the tip in your mouth as both hands worked the rest of him. It drove normal human men crazy, and it seemed to work on sea creatures too. 

“Look at it go!” Someone nearby laughed. “It's loving it, Your Majesty.”

“As it should,” he groaned. He shoved himself in your mouth another inch, smirking when you cried out. “It'll be my mindless little toy,” he grunted, pushing you further until he was halfway inside. He filled your mouth completely, making it difficult to breathe. “My dumb, pretty pet…”

“It will make a fantastic pet indeed, Your Majesty,” the person agreed. “It already takes you so well.”

“And aches for my touch,” he added, pushing in and out of your mouth. Your hands stayed on the rest of his shaft, remaining still to let him slide between them. “It rubs against me like a bitch in heat; that little hole desperate for friction. God, I love human girls,” his head tilted back as he picked up speed, using hands and mouth freely. “They have those little bodies; that extra hole for me to fuck; smooth mouths and throats…Why couldn’t Naga be made in such a way?”

“The Sea God made us in their image, sir.”

“Insufficient image,” he growled. “But, no matter,” his breathing became heavier, and you felt his tail swish against you, “It’s-It's perfect. It will be even more once her curse takes hold, and will pleasure you much more than your last pet.”

With his tail rubbing into you, you held onto his cock tighter when your orgasm slowly approached. Your moans, muffled by his length, became louder when he sensed this and started pinching your nipples again. You couldn't control yourself. You tried slowing down, but it became impossible once your arousal took over. All you thought about was his salty precum beginning to spill on your tongue. You wanted to swallow every drop. You wanted him deep inside your cunt, pounding you like nobody else had done before. Mouth milking his pulsing cock, tongue rubbing the underside, you trembled as it started twitching. You imagined that dick in your pussy, stretching you in a mind blowing way. The people around jeered when your body started trembling. 

‘Go on. Cum all over him for me.’ 

“Uh-oh, I think it's going to come!” someone nearby taunted. “It's shaking like a leaf.”

“Is the puny little human about to come for us?” another teased. 

“Go on, and do it. Show your master how pathetic you are.”

“Cum with me,” Seonghwa grunted, shivering in his seat as he pumped faster. “Cum all over-Yes, yes, like that.”

The guests laughed at your loud orgasm. You grinded for any sort of pressure on your sensitive sex. The bombardment of sensations tighten your muscles and you could only moan as Seonghwa held you to the base. Your pussy dragged along the thickest part of his tail, the constricting muscles sliding over your clitoris in each movement. It felt neverending. You kept shaking and moaning around him not wanting to stop. He gave no warning as his cock quivered and sprayed thick cum in your mouth. You wanted it. You eagerly pumped his shaft in time with his thrusting, squeezing hard to feel it throb in your hand. Every thick drop was swallowed greedily, even as it spilled from the sides of your mouth. 

“Haha, it's drooling,” someone said. 

“Clean it up,” Seonghwa breathed, pushing hair from your face. “Yes, just like that. Such an obedient pet…” 

You didn't hesitate to start licking him clean, catching the clear beads still leaking from the head. Gazing up at him, you saw he'd leaned back in his seat as he caught his breath. Even after having an orgasm, you couldn't stop grinding. You normally needed a few minutes before restarting, but not now. Even with your climax, and sensitivity, you felt ready. He knew this, and continued waving it for you. When you finished, you stared up at him with pleading eyes. 

“Now my tail,” he instructed, “You dirtied it. You clean it.”

Sliding down to where you'd been grinding, you lapped up the mixture of salt and your juices from the scaled skin. This amused the group watching. It didn't help when one tip of his fanned tail swatted at your sex and bottom. Your cheeks turned hot realizing what you'd done in front of everyone. Their taunting stirred your shame. 

“Lick it clean, slave,” a woman next to the throne sneered. “If you do well, your master may fuck you now.”

“That’s all it wants,” her companion, another female, said in a low rumble. “Do you think he will let us have a taste? Its cunt looks delicious. He let us have the last one.” 

“No,” Seonghwa said, not looking at them as you finished licking, “This one is mine. Take whichever you want, but not this one. On my lap, pet.”

You hoped he might enter you now, but instead he turned you to face the room. Four hands went back to caressing your body: two stayed on your breasts while the other pair opened your wet sex for everyone to see. It was then you realized to whom he referred. Talissa appeared to not be Seonghwa’s only ‘pet’. Around the room, other slaves stood naked and wearing gold chains and pearl collars. Some sat on the laps of other royals, while others walked around carrying trays of wine and seafood. Their misery was clear, but their masters did not seem to care. 

“See the benefits of a human pet?” He said to the group. “Two tight holes that leak so much when I touch them?” He started rapidly rubbing your swollen clitoris as you cried out and writhed in his grasp. “How could I not want this?” 

Two hands held your thighs apart while the other pair caressed your sex. While he circled your clit, he easily slipped two fingers into you. The people closest to the throne got a good view of his long fingers probing your entrance, stretching you in various angles. You noticed the men’s growing bumps under their loin cloths, while the women looked on with lustful eyes. You wished they looked away. 

“Stay still for me,” he said in your ear. He pushed his fingers deeper, and you grabbed onto his arms to steady yourself. “You’re doing so well for your first time. I cannot wait to see how you are once the curse takes over. I’ll have to ask your master if I can have more of you, if I cannot keep you.” 

“No…please…” you tried pushing his hands from your groin to at least get some relief from the pinching nerves, but to no avail. 

“But isn’t my cock pleasurable?” He pushed his shaft to your sex, “Aren’t I at least more preferable than the decrepit old Naga who slither around my island? It’s quite beneficial to be The King’s favorite.” He moved them into your sideways, “You’d be draped in jewels and fed the best food. You’d be praised and adored.”

“I’d be your slave,” you said through gritted teeth, wriggling around to try escaping his touch. 

“Only for a short time,” he corrected. “When your curse is complete, I’m sure Lord Kim will collect you and whisk you to the mountains, keeping you from the sunshine and my eyes. But, you’ll be well taken care of for now. Hmph, you should see how some of these lowborns treat their pets. I don’t think you’ve noticed them until now, but they appear quite sad.” 

“I don’t want to be your slave.”

“I didn’t realize you had a choice,” he then began pumping his fingers faster, pushing and curling them to the special spot inside you. He chuckled when you arched and quivered at his touch. “Besides,” his opposite hand started rubbing your clit again, “You’ll be so brainless that you won’t even realize it.” 

Once his fingers worked you long enough, you began trembling as a second climax approached. The people nearby cheered for your release, eager to see how the king’s new pet came. Your eyes squeezed shut and all senses became overpowered by your blinding orgasm. Seonghwa kept going as you coated his hands in your juices. Even when you finished, panting for breath, he didn’t stop. 

“Stop,” you pleaded, “It’s too sensitive.”

“We’re done when I say we’re done,” he said. “Get me hard again,” he pushed his shaft to your sex, “Use that hole to get me hard and show my court how lucky I am.”

They laughed as you obeyed his command. You wanted to stop but something kept you going. This thickness pushed your lips apart, and the ridges brushed over your sensitive clit. You whimpered, bucking wildly. You tried not looking at the people watching, far too embarrassed to see them. 

“No,” Seonghwa grabbed your chin to make you face them, “You have to get used to this. Pets don't get privacy. Everyone is going to see you like this all the time. How else will they know how you pleasure their king?”

“Please,” you whined, forced to meet eyes with certain people. You saw their delight at your humiliation. “Not like this…”

“Get used to it,” he sighed, kissing your neck as you slid over his hardening cock. “I can do worse things in private.” 

“Twenty doubloons she can't take it all,” a guard said within earshot of you. “Human pussy can't handle a dick like that.”

“You're on,” his companion nodded. 

“Thirty says she can,” a woman joined in, “But cries the whole time.” 

“Let's see if you can handle me,” Seonghwa said, grabbing the backs of your thighs. 

He lifted you from his lap and pressed himself to your entrance. Excitement and anxiety boiled together at the idea of penetration. You certainly could not take him, yet you suspected that he didn’t care. You braced yourself as he slowly impaled you on the first inch. His thick head pushed to your aching entrance, the hole clenching around the very tip for more. Your eyes rolled back as he added a second and third inch. The stretch burned through your entire body, causing a stinging at the source. 

‘It’s honestly the best feeling. I’ve been stretched by Hwa once or twice, and it was incredible. Just relax and let him take charge. He won’t hurt you too badly.’ 

You squeezed your eyes tightly when he went another inch, his groaning drowning out your strained whimpers and the guests’ chanting. 

“All the way! All the way!” they chanted, fists pumping the air to punctuate the words. 

You shook your head. You can't take the throbbing pain coming from his girth. You tried pushing away, but the pleasure he brought stayed your hands. 

“You can take it,” Seonghwa encouraged. 

“It hurts…”

“I know, but it'll feel good after a while. Make me happy and take my whole cock.”

He was not entirely merciless. Seonghwa went in a few inches before withdrawing to ease your pain. He did this multiple times, and even though it hurt, you still wished to have his full length in you. When he rubbed along your entrance, tapping it softly, you couldn't help wanting more of him. By the time he'd gone fully inside, you'd gone crazy from need. Even with the difficulty, you tried your best to bounce on him. He grabbed one of your hands to place on your lower stomach. As you plunged down onto him, you felt a slight bump hit that exact area. 

“Do you feel that?” He asked huskily. “That's me, pet,” he thrusted deep to make you feel him again, “That's how deep you're taking me right now.”

“It…It…I…Oh god,” you trembled, quaking in place as he continued lifting you up and down. “Oh god, it's so…”

You could hardly string a sentence together. Your mind focused on the dick pushing against your insides. People around you hissed or beamed when you finally started riding him, exchanging large gold coins. Seonghwa soon moved faster, holding you up as your body got used to him. The pain subsided into the pleasure, exploding and growing when one hand started teasing you again. His bottom hands let go of your thighs to let you freely ride him, and held onto your ass cheeks. He occasionally smacked them, adding to your pleasure, and pulled them apart to spit over the exposed hole. You held onto his tail to anchor yourself up, going faster despite the burning in your thighs and legs. Two thumbs started rolling over your ass hole, and you moaned louder. 

“You're so tight,” he groaned, taking a few gradual pumps, “And little. I love it so much.”

Compared to him, you thought, anybody would be small. Soon, you shook in his arms again. Seonghwa felt you tightening around him, and pumped faster, the bulge in your stomach becoming more apparent. He slipped a thumb past the tight ring, pulling in and out in time with his cock. Your eyes rolled back at this new feeling; you took one of his top hands to your breast, which he grabbed right away. 

“Are you starting to enjoy my cock, pet?” Seonghwa asked breathily, in awe of you on his lap. “Hm? Is your curse so potent that you don’t care anymore?”

“It’s…I…I…”

He laughed at your incoherent babble. Your third orgasm hit harder than the last two. It shot out of you and all over Seonghwa’s length, the trails leaking onto his heavy ball sack. You didn’t want to stop. He felt too good. When he pulled out of you, he placed you back on the floor where you opened your mouth. More salty strings flew up your stomach and breasts, reaching your outstretched tongue. You waited until he’d filled your mouth before swallowing it all. Like before, you started sucking and licking whatever remnants came out of him. 

“More…” you breathed against the head, lapping the slit where more beads fell. “Please…” 

“Keep going then,” Seonghwa breathed, tapping his cock on your tongue. “I’ll give you as much as you can ta-”

“-Um, Your Majesty?” It was the Captain who’d spoken, stiff and stern as he faced his king. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt you but…” he glanced at you, then back to Seonghwa, “The delegation of Dragonites have arrived.”

“What is it?”

Seonghwa growled, fangs bared in annoyance. “Show them to their quarters and I will be with them soon,” he cupped your face and pushed his tip back into your mouth, “Can’t you see I am busy?” 

“I’m afraid it’s a bit late for that, Seonghwa.” 

The revelry from moments ago dissipated at the sight of the speaker. A young man, as tall as Seonghwa, stood amongst a group of men in coal-black armor, carrying long silver swords. His tall, black wings stood out in the back of his armor, and he wore an obsidian and onyx crown. Long legs carried him over towards the throne. His sleeveless tunic revealed the expanse of black and red scales that went from shoulders to wrists. Dark hooded eyes stared at Seonghwa coldly before they followed his body down to you. You turned away in shame, but you still felt him staring at you. 

“Prince Yunho,” Seonghwa said, pushing black curls from his face, “How very like you to appear when you aren’t summoned.” 

“I am only here at Lord Kim’s request,” Yunho replied. “I wish for us to do this business as quickly as possible. Your island stinks of fish and sea water.” 

This made the rest of the naga hiss at him, which was returned by harsh growls from the winged soldiers around Yunho. 

“Better than the sulfur and brimstone of your region,” Seonghwa shot back. “As I told my captain, I am quite occupied at the moment. You may go to your quarters to settle in and we will conduct our business later.” 

Yunho looked back at you, his eyes scanning your nude body. “A new pet?” he inquired, wings batting as he reached you at Seonghwa’s tail. He gazed further down to see your mark, which you tried hiding by twisting your body. “Seonghwa, are you so cruel that you’d resort to putting demon curses upon your pets to keep them compliant?” 

“Don’t act like a fool, Yunho. You know whose mark that is.”

The pair shared a knowing glance, “It is you who is being foolish if you’re indulging without permission.”

“His Kraken threw her onto my shores. A gift. It’s as clear as day. It isn’t my fault he favors me over you.” 

Yunho scoffed. “More likely he wanted to soften you up for this deal. I’d be the first to tell him it wouldn’t work.” 

“I don’t need softening.” 

“I wager you’ve already given her a ridiculous pet name,” Yunho said, lifting your chin and wiping cum from your bottom lip. “What is it? Coral? Hydra? Sea Mist?” 

“I haven’t decided yet, but thank you for the suggestions.”

“You’re quite lovely,” Yunho told you, studying your features. “I’ve only tasted humans once. We don’t get many of them in my kingdom. I wonder…” 

“You can have any slaves you like, Dragon Prince,” Seonghwa hissed, “But not this one. It’s mine.”

“No, she’s Lord Kim’s, and you know that. Your ownership is temporary.”

“These two can never be in the same room too long. There’s no way they’ll share you.” 

“What is your name, sweet one?” Yunho asked you. 

“YN.”

“A name as lovely as you,” he grinned, brown eyes rimmed with gold glinting with adoration. “You should come home with me. I’d take much better care of you than this fish-head over here.”

A gold blade ended up at Yunho’s throat when he moved closer, and Yunho snickered. “So quick to anger,” he said, “And they say dragon blood runs hot. Alright,” he pulled away from you, “I will wait until negotiations. Maybe I can find some real meat around here and not shrimp.” 

“Good idea,” Seonghwa said, sheathing his sword. “Kim might have set up this meeting, but make no mistake, Yunho, I won’t hesitate. I won’t.”

“Neither would I, Your Majesty,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “Farewell, sweetling. I’ll be seeing you soon.” 

The group of dragons flew out of the room in a V-formation, not intimidated by the Naga baring their fangs at them. Once he’d left, Seonghwa turned to the Captain, “Have the men keep an eye on him. If he even tries to double cross or disobey Lord Kim’s orders, cut him and his men down.”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“And take Pet to my chambers. See it’s properly cleaned and chained. I’m sure Lord Kim wouldn’t want his precious slave running away from us before his arrival.” 

“As you wish.”

On wobbly legs, you went with the captain further into the palace. Yunho’s appearance seemed to have distracted the nobles. They didn’t pay you any mind as the Captain marched you past them to the doors. You caught snippets of conversation.

“Can you believe they were invited here? What is Seonghwa thinking?” one man said to his companion. 

“The King mentioned Lord Kim. This must’ve been his idea. Only a man as mad as him would suggest the Naga and The Dragonites meeting under one roof.”

“Hush now, you shouldn’t speak that way! He might hear you!”

Lord Kim? Did they mean the demon who’d created your curse? The thought of him possibly being in the palace lifted your spirits. Yet, as you followed Captain to the bedchamber, your spirits weighed back down. The runestone Namjoon had given you was gone. You’d have nothing to trade in exchange for your freedom. However, Seonghwa mentioned you wouldn’t be just a zombie at the end; you’d be Lord Kim’s personal zombie slave. Namjoon must not have known that bit of information if he hadn’t said it. Something told you that the runestone would’ve made no difference to him. The image of your fate came back, but the stinging gradually pushed it out.  

It flared in each step, and you treaded carefully through the large palace. You felt yourself coming down by the time you reached a large room on the other side. A stone bed carved into a rocky wall was behind long fishnet curtains, an octopus etched into the head and footboards. Tall windows gave The King a perfect view of the beaches beyond the palace walls, where he could see the deep blue ocean he ruled over. You spotted a cushioned bed, food and water bowl inside a large gold cage. Yes, that’s where he intended to keep you. You wouldn’t stay there. You aren’t a slave. You’d get out of here. 

The Captain brought you into an adjacent room where you saw a large wall fountain spouting water into a large marble pool. Judging by the various bottles and cloths, this is meant to be some kind of wash room. 

“Clean up quickly,” The Captain said in his rough voice, “And return to the bedroom where I’ll clamp your chains.” 

“I’m not wearing chains.”

“Yes, you are.” 

He said nothing else and left the room. You grabbed one of the small cotton cloths and began wiping your tenderest areas. The coolness sapped out some of the burning, though the stinging indicated tears. This would happen again before nightfall. You knew that without needing to really think about it. You thought of Prince Yunho, who’d shown an interest that rivaled Seonghwa; perhaps they’d come to an agreement which involved you being a ‘gift’ for him. Your stomach knotted at the thought. 

You replayed what you'd done in your head, and couldn't believe it. Yes, you'd done many partners before, but that had been in private. Seonghwa forced you to do it in front of his entire court, allowing them to jeer and taunt you. You felt disgusted with yourself. Even when you'd scrubbed yourself clean of him, you still felt him inside you. That emptiness sparked a hint of arousal that you buried deep down. You'd fight this damn curse as long as you could. 

Leaving the bathroom, you found the suite empty. The Captain must’ve gone to get your chains and collar. You needed some kind of escape. If you stayed here too long, you would end up with no choice or free will. You'd become a slave to your desires. You refused to let that happen. Looking out the windows, you saw the dense tropical forest occasionally broken by ruins and clearings. The ocean went around the small island, intimidating as you realized how far you'd come from the mainland. Chan mentioned them finding a dead body by your shipwreck; your heart weighed down thinking of Jin, who'd been so kind to you. You searched for signs of the broken boat on the beach, but saw nothing except white sand. 

Looking down, guards remained at their posts in a square courtyard. It was too far down for you to climb or drop down into. You’d break your leg or worse. You’re sure there will be guards outside the bedroom at night, and more moving about the palace. Any chance of escape might not come for a while. You’d been considering simply jumping and seeing what happened when the Captain returned. He held thin gold chains attached to the bright cuffs in one hand, and a pearl collar in the other. Slowly, you inched away from him. 

You reached for a silver letter opener on the desk and held it out. “Stay away from me,” you warned. 

“It’s time to collar you,” he said, unconcerned by the sharp object in your hand. “Don’t make this difficult, slave. I have more important things to attend to.”

Slashing the small weapon at him, you growled when he easily grabbed your arm and twisted it. You spun around, grunting in pain as he kept you to his chest. Feeling the cold cuff on one wrist, you tried pulling away as he clapped the other half to your ankle; then repeating the process on the other side. The chains were long enough to make walking easy, but not so long that you could really reach for anything. It took several tries, lots of struggling and slaps in the face before Captain managed to get the collar around your neck. 

“You vicious little bitch,” Captain spat, grabbing you by the hair. “Let’s see how tough you are when your master punishes you,” he clasped a long leash to your collar then tugged on it roughly. “I’d spank the crap out of you myself if you were my pet; then I’d give you to my men to teach you your place.”

“Screw you, fish boy,” you hissed at him, spitting at his back. 

“Haha, that’s my girl.” 

A backhand went across your cheek when he turned around, stinging it and drawing a trickle of blood in your mouth.

“He’ll pay for that.”

He continued pulling you along back towards the throne room when somebody got in his way. 

“So, this is how Seonghwa lets his men treat his special pets?” Yunho asked with mock curiosity, coming out of a nearby bedchamber with another soldier. “He lets you man handle and hit them?”

“It was acting out of order, Your Grace,” said the Captain. “I am in charge of the pets’ discipline, and I was merely reminding this one of its place here.” 

Yunho moved around him and over to you. A clawed hand lifted your chin, his thumb tenderly touching your swelling cheek. “But, she isn’t Seonghwa’s, is she? Lord Kim is her master. Last time I checked, he doesn’t like people damaging his property. Seonghwa must not care too much about keeping his head on his shoulders.” Another hand suddenly went to your sex, where you winced from the pressure. “Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

“Poor girl,” he cooed, frowning at your discomfort. “Here,” he snapped his fingers at the soldier who felt around in his pouch. He retrieved a small black tub, and handed it to Yunho. “This will ease your pain,” he dipped two fingers into the translucent paste and tenderly spread it over your bare sex. A cool, tingling sensation blossomed at once, and the burning disappeared. “Better?”

“Yes.”

Yunho didn’t stop his touching. He stared down at you lustfully, watching you try resisting his fingers over your pussy. “Too bad Captain Sea Brain is near us,” he said, his hand sliding over your slit, “I’d finger fuck you here if he wasn’t. I bet your orgasms sound sweet.”

The dirty talk alone nearly ignited your curse again. Yunho saw this and smiled, “Does hearing about what I want to do to you arouse you? I have plenty more fantasies to describe to you.”

“Your Grace, please, I cannot dawdle,” Captain said. “His Majesty expects his pet back in the throne room.”

He reached around to your ass, grabbing it gently. He grinned when you shifted in his hand, “You’re already getting wet again-”

“-Your Grace-”

“-Would you like to come into my chambers? I can give you a little preview of what you’ll be having later tonight-”

“-My Prince,” one of Yunho’s soldiers said, “I know you are in the midst of your pleasures, but I’ve received word that Lord Kim is on his way.”

Yunho immediately whipped around. “He’s coming?” He asked, voice a bit unsteady. “He never said he’d be joining negotiations.”

“I suppose he wishes to see everything go smoothly.” 

“Or to make sure they don’t rip you apart fighting over you.”

The Dragonite huffed irritably, then turned back to you. “I suppose this will wait until later, sweetling.” 

He placed a soft kiss on your wounded cheek, then glided away from you with his men. Captain stared at him with distaste, though said nothing as he pulled on your leash and kept walking. Yunho’s salve did erase the pain, but his touches had brought stickiness to your thighs. You feared what Seonghwa might think if he saw it. 

“Your Majesty,” Captain called to Seonghwa, who still sat on his throne, “I’ve brought your pet back.”

“I’m afraid it will have to wait until later,” Seonghwa said in disappointment. “His Lordship has turned up, and I must greet him. You can put Pet by the throne until I retu-What happened to its face?” Seonghwa came to examine your cheek, and he looked at Captain. “What did it do?”

“It resisted,” he answered. 

He nodded, “The curse will take a while to fully form. I suppose it’ll be defiant until the very end, but no matter, I can fix that.” 

He smiled wickedly at you, then proceeded to leave the room. Captain pulled your leash towards a cushion next to the throne. It was more like a luxurious dog bed than an actual seat. He threw you onto it, then chained your leash to the throne’s armrest. You huffed as you settled into the plush, golden bed. 

The demon possibly responsible for your predicament was in the palace, and you had no chance of ever meeting him. If what Seonghwa says is true, then you won’t need to worry about that. However, you guessed Lord Kim won’t do anything to relieve your curse. He’ll let it consume you. You’d been lamenting over this when the flapping of wings caught your attention. 

“Hey, buddy,” you said to the black crow who sat on the arm. “What’re you doing here? Crows aren’t tropical birds…I don’t think.” 

It flew from the throne to the food at your feet. It began pecking at the shrimp side of the platter, “I can’t believe I’m here,” you said, watching it eat. “I’m supposed to be halfway to the northern port by now, but instead I’m stranded on this island. I don’t know how far I am from the mainland either. I could be days away, and by the time I get there, I’d be a zombie. They say Jin’s boat got wrecked, but maybe there might be a way to fix it and I can get out of here.” You looked at its glossy wings and said, “I wish I had wings like you. Then I could fly away.” 

You’d get your wish in a way…

****

The sky already turned mixes of russet red and faded gold by the time Seonghwa reappeared. His guests had dispersed, leaving the throne room empty and quiet. His eyes lingered over your naked body before he unchained you from his throne. 

“How’s my little pet been?” he asked, nuzzling your nose with his. “Did you eat?” He looked to see the half-touched plate near you. Your crow friend ate most of it, but you’d nibbled on the fruit. “That’s hardly enough to sustain you,” he said, wrapping your leash around his hand and guiding you to your feet. “You need your energy and strength for tonight.”

“Tonight.”

“My last night with you. It appears Lord Kim plans to take you now rather than let me enjoy you further. He’s allowed one more night since I managed to not rip off that filthy dragon’s head.” 

“Sorry, babe. I had to do it, but it’ll just be this one time, then we’ll fix this.”

Come,” he turned and tugged on your leash, “To bed. I’m exhausted.” 

You followed him to the doors, turning to see your bird friend flying to the ceiling. You wished it went along with you. Its presence brought stability and comfort in this crazy situation. Strangely, it mimicked the comfort Hongjoong always brought. The bird can’t do anything for you, but you wished it’d stayed. It also distracted you from the strange voice constantly speaking in your head. 

“Garnet is my best friend. Trust him.”

“Shut it,” you whispered, shaking your head. 

Seonghwa led you into his bedchamber, where you feared what he might do to you now that you were alone. While Yunho’s medicine did heal you, you knew Seonghwa could easily tear you open again. 

Seonghwa gazed down at your body once he shut the door. “You really are beautiful,” he said, admiring you in the light pouring into the room. “That witch must’ve been terribly jealous to place such a curse on you,” he moved over to you, cupping your injured cheek. “Even with this injury, you are the most beautiful human I’ve ever laid eyes on.” 

Four arms wrapped around you as he pulled you to his chest. His kiss started light and sweet before deepening into something more passionate. The taste of his lips stirred your arousal again, the curse boiling and fueling it. 

“If only I could keep you,” he groaned, lifting you to keep you at eye-level. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist so you didn’t slip off him. “I’ll admit I knew you had some connection to him,” he kissed down your neck, hands grasping your ass again and crotch grinding into you, “But not so strong. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so attached to a Cursed before.” He chuckled into your skin, teeth grazing it, “He would’ve killed me if he didn’t need me.”

His words caught you off guard. “Wait, what are you talking about?”

“He said I can enjoy you tonight,” he grabbed your ass, kneading it gently to stoke fires within, “But he’ll take you tomorrow. Let’s make it count, hm?” 

“Who are you talking about? The Dark Lord? Is he still here? Can I see him now?” 

“He’s busy, and I’m going to get what I want tonight.” 

“Please,” you whimpered, fighting off your desires, “Not again. It…It still hurts…”

“I won’t use your pussy this time,” he promised, top hands cupping your tits. “You have two other holes I can enjoy in the meantime.”

“No,” you gasped, “That would hurt more.”

“Only for a while. I’ll be much gentler, especially with your ass,” he rubbed you up and down on his hole. “I had thought of a name for you,” he whispered as he brought you to the bed nearby. “Would you like to know what it was?”

“What was it?”

“Mariella,” he answered. “A name worthy of such a pretty face,” he tucked hair behind your ear and pecked your lips. “My beautiful Mariella. Oh, how divine you would’ve looked next to me…” he lamented, kissing you again. 

“You won’t now,” you said defiantly. 

“No, I won’t,” he said, pinning you to the bed. His tail pushed your legs apart, and you gasped at the small bump already sliding against you. “But, just for tonight, your body is mine. I will call you by the name you’d have, and pretend you’re completely mine.” 

“I won’t be yours,” you whined, trying to escape his grasp even as your body slowly started giving into him. “Never.”

He laughed, “Fiery. I get why he’s so in love with you.” He knelt up, his bottom arms lifting your legs to your stomach, “Let’s see how far I can stretch this ass of yours.”

It was a pleasure you’d experienced a few times. Seonghwa spent a good amount of time fingering and licking both ends. He said he liked your sensitivity and how easily you came for him. Seeing you shaking and clawing his sheets entertained him. Once he deemed you prepared enough, he pushed his throbbing length into your ass. It burned, as expected, and your eyes opened wide when he fully sheathed himself inside. You felt full. Your body stayed paralyzed in place as he smoothly went in and out of you. The two hands toying with your breasts and cunt only added more pleasure that made you see stars in every climax. His own orgasms came just as easily. 

“You feel so good,” he groaned, pulling you on top of him in reverse. “I can’t stop. God, I can’t stop fucking you. I don’t ever want to stop.”

“Do-don’t,” you moaned, too enthralled by the curse’s effects to realize what you were saying. “Don’t st-stop fu-fuck-fucking me…”

The sky was pitch black by the time he did stop. Sweaty, naked and exhausted, you laid on your front with your face buried in his pillows. Everything in your body ached as the Hand of Lust finally subsided, and you came to your senses again. You hated the damn mark. You hated this Naga king and how easily he broke down your defenses. His lips trailed soft kisses up and down your spine as he tended to your aching parts. The same soothing paste Yunho had given you was slathered between your cheeks, and he ordered a servant to bring food and water. 

“I am not so cruel as to not care for you after,” he told you, wiping strings of cum from your chest and stomach. “He’d probably kill me if he thinks I left you like this. Sleep now, my lady,” he kissed your forehead, “I’ll wake you when the food arrives.” 

‘My lady’? You didn’t get a chance to think on it before you passed out against the soft sheets.

“Did you enjoy my gift, Your Majesty?”

He sat in the window ledge, idly rolling a stone between his fingers. Hongjoong knew Seonghwa liked coming to his private tower after sex. He said the sea air made him feel refreshed, and he could see the stars clearly. Hongjoong felt guilty letting this Naga put his hands all over you, but it was better than witnessing you fall into madness. 

“Greatly,” Seonghwa breathed, moving to the window next to Hongjoong and enjoying the fresh breeze. “I understand why you favor her so much. I would too if she were wearing my brand.” He stretched all four arms as he said, “Though, I will admit I was surprised when a woman showed up. You’d told me it’d be a priest.”

“It was supposed to be.” 

Hongjoong glowered as he thought back to Haeyoung’s blunder. He knew he should’ve sent someone more stable minded to capture the vile priest. When Hongjoong learned of Moon’s hands in the abuse of fairy boys and girls, and the terrible experiments he subjected them to, Hongjoong had to stop him. He’d sent Haeyoung to place the curse on him, so then Hongjoong could send him on a tour of the north. The old priest would be put through the same torture he inflicted on others. However, it seemed he’d chosen the wrong person for the job. 

“Though, I appreciate your gift nevertheless, old friend,” Seonghwa said. “She was marvelous.”

He decided he’d let you sleep for now. Tomorrow, he will lift your curse and everything will be back to normal. He’ll go back to Gold Rush, curse Moon, and then go back on the road. You’d be safe in your small town, untouched by the outside world looking to infect it. It’s why he hadn’t brought you home yet. With the war looming over the north once more, he couldn’t risk the new king finding out about you. 

“And I appreciate you not chopping off Yunho’s head,” he replied. 

“Trust me, it required a lot of restraint,” he snorted. “Where will you take your pet now?”

“Home. Well, her home. She’s safer there.” 

“Very well. You know you always have a home here in the islands…If you wish for her to be truly guarded, the Naga are skilled warriors. I’d make sure no harm came to her while she was here.”

“Nice try, Hwa.” 

“Fine, keep the beauty to yourself. I have dozens more just like her.”

“No. No, you don’t.” 

****

A firm, long-clawed hand clasped around your mouth. You had no time to take anything in before the figure hoisted you from the bed and out into the cool ocean air. 

“Let go of me!” you struggled in your captor’s arms, your voice breaking through their hand. 

“Hush, human,” the Dragonite soldier said, “And stop squirming. You’ll fall to your death and Prince Yunho will blame me.” 

You stopped moving the moment you saw the ground growing farther and farther from your feet. The dampness and coldness of the high clouds made you squeeze your eyes shut. You should have known this would happen. 

So much for having wings….

****

A/N: Damn, talk about plans going tits up, huh? Looks like instead of island paradise, YN's getting a volcanic vacation.

Also, if you guys want to be tagged for the different parts, just put a reply below. It'll help me keep track of everyone haha

[hanafubukki]

Happy Birthday Malleus Draconia 💚💕

Summary: You kidnap Malleus Draconia.

Sebek knew it would be a tiring day when he saw a letter placed on his wardrobe table.

It had decorative little crocodiles and squirrels all over with his name written in your writing.

He could already feel a headache incoming.

He’ll wonder how you snuck into his room to place said letter later, he was more interested in the message you had to say.

“Dear Knight,

Your Lord has been kidnapped. He is mine for the day.

Mwah~

YN”

Sebek rushed out of his room, running to the Diasomnia waiting room where his lord would sit and enjoy tea at this time.

…only to be met with a giggling Lilia and a napping Silver.

“YN!”

“Did you have to tease Sebek?”

“It’s all in good fun Tsunotaro.”

“I see.”

While Malleus ponders your answer, you plopped down right next to him on the couch.

“What does this…kidnapping entail?”

You could tell Malleus was humoring you. He found this whole situation funny and yet intriguing.

“For you? Just sit there look pretty and enjoy all the snacks, games, and movies I have.”

Malleus laughed lowly, “YN, I do have duties to fulfill. I can’t just sit here.”

You shrugged, “One day without work won’t bring down your dorm. Besides, all work and no play make dragons go cranky.”

Malleus laughed freely and you joined him this time, “Is that so? Then I shall join in this activity with you.”

You laid the nearby comforter over you and Malleus before starting your T.V.

It would be a good day; you would make sure of it.

“This warrior does not speak?”

“Kind of. He talks he’s just not voice acted, but he does make sounds when you attack with him.”

“Interesting. A silent and courageous warrior who will save his kingdom and the princess.”

“Reminds you of someone?”

“This Link reminds me of Silver. They share many similar qualities.”

You joked, “Are you the princess then?”

“I am a prince, am I not?” Malleus replied, before softly continuing, “and Silver has saved me, from myself.”

You bumped your shoulder with his, “That’s love for you.”

“Yes, it is.”

“That crocodile and that pirate…”

“Funny, isn’t it?”

“Yes, especially as Kingscholar dressed as one during Halloween.”

“Does the crocodile remind you of Sebek?”

The glint in Malleus' eyes answered your question.

You can only imagine Sebek's reaction if he knew, “Well with the way Sebek is always barking at Leona, I can't blame you for thinking it.”

Ah, you were going to hold this over Sebek's head forever.

“Those fairies should have never been given the child.”

“Yeah…”

“They haven’t properly fed her, even Lilia knew to feed a baby!”

“Yeah.”

“She almost fell off the cliff!”

“I know. They suck.”

You tugged at Malleus’ hair, “At least she had someone to take care of her, two of them in fact.”

Malleus calmed down knowing exactly to whom you referred, “Yes, those days were filled with laughter and warmth even amidst the chaos. How…nostalgic.”

Malleus leaned towards you; a mischievous glint in his eyes, it reminded you of a certain pink-streaked fae, “Want to hear an embarrassing story grandmother told me about Lilia?”

“Yes! I’m all ears!”

You watched as Tsunotaro enjoyed Toothless and Hiccup's adventures.

You knew he would like this series.

You wondered how Sam had the trilogy.

…you would question him thoroughly later.

You were content to watch Tsunotaro be happy.

His family is never far from his thoughts as he is never far from theirs.

You felt happy to be part of his family.

“YN, is there a reason to why we are making cupcakes this late at night?”

He didn’t know.

You hid your smile as you put the tray of goodies into the oven.

Malleus must have enjoyed his day if he forgot why tonight would be special.

“Anytime is a good time for cupcakes, just like how you can have ice cream even during winter.”

“I thought it was easier for human’s teeth to decay due to late night sugary treats?”

“We’ll be fine! Just make sure to brush your teeth and don’t tell Trey -senpai.”

You went over to the nearby drawer. The confetti poppers were there as planned, just a few more minutes before the time came, so you snuck them into your pocket discreetly.

“Let’s go play more Zelda.”

You and Malleus moved towards the lounge; you eyed the hallway clock on the way.

Less than a minute.

You took out the poppers from your pocket.

“Malleus?”

“Yes?”

You pulled the poppers out just as he entered the ramshackle lounge.

3…2…1

“Happy Birthday (Lord) Malleus!”

Malleus was shocked as confetti rained on him from all sides.

Lilia, Silver, Sebek, and you surrounded him as the day turned over.

His surprised face broke into a wide smile before an unrestrained joyous laughter filled the lounge.

What a beautiful start to today.

The day Malleus Draconia was born.

A day filled with endless love.

Happy Birthday Malleus.

Resounded affectionately in all the hearts of everyone present.

May you always be filled with happiness and love.

Bonus:

Silver came to you as you watch Lilia bear hug Malleus. It was funny how someone so petite wrapped all four limbs on someone so tall.

Silver hesitated.

You knew.

“He baked a cake, didn’t he?”

Silver sighed, “Yes. We tried to stop him.”

You laughed and shook your head.

“It’s okay. Toxic waste it might be, but it is something Lilia made with him in mind. Malleus will love it nonetheless.”

You bumped shoulders with Silver, whispering, “We made cupcakes.”

Silver’s grateful smile had you hugging him.

No one will get food poisoning today, not on your watch.

You hoped.

☺️🌺🌸💚

[cherryheairt]

Dragon Dreamer pt. III

tags: @beebeechaos

Daenys avoiding her problems per usual

all feedback appreciated <3, I'm unsure how I want to write this longterm, bc the two will have to separate after the wall scene and idk if people would want chapters with just Daenys and no cregan lol

also appearently cregan's actor tom taylor has heterochromia and i think green/blue eyes but for the life of my i cannot find a clear pic of it </3

Daenys woke from her distant dreams only after the sun had risen. While still snowing and freezing outside, Morningstar had done well to warm the pair under her protective wing.

Cregan sat vigil all throughout the night, no complaints coming from the young lord as he did. Protecting the princess was simply a part of his many duties, he mused to himself sometime in the night while she whispered.

She blinked a few times, eyes heavy and body nearly numb. Though warm, she was still only clothed in house slippers and her night dress. A weight around her caught her attention, knowing that Morningstar couldn't wrap herself around Daenys like that.

"You awake, Princess?" A soft voice asked beside her.

Tilting her head up and squinting, "Cregan?" She whispered, voice horse from speaking all night.

"Good morrow, my lady," was all he said, that secret smile of his plastered on his face. She didn't know how to feel. A million things rushed to her mind; shame, humilation, frustration-

He interrupted her thoughts, shuffling to a crouch from his sitting position. Cregan offered her a hand, which she took without thinking. Leading them both out from under Morningstar, Cregan bowed his head respectfully to the she-dragon.

"She allowed you to come near us?" Daenys asked, in awe.

"Aye, I don't know why, exactly. I'm grateful for it, so I will not question a blessing." He told Daenys, reaching down to grab his sword that had been sitting on the snowbank for hours and shouldering it.

"Shall we break our fast, or would you like to sleep?" He turned to her, attentive grey eyes finding her violet ones.

Biting her cheek, she waited for the other shoe to drop. When would he demand answers from their night? Banish her from his house forever and ridding himself of the Velaryon girl.

"You should sleep, Lord Stark. I have kept you from it all night." She decided, looking at the tired expression pulling at his handsome face.

"Sleep often evades me with my duties, this is only another one. I would never sleep again if my Princess asked it of me." He told her, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "The day is new. Will you break fast with me?"

Daenys followed the lord into the dining hall. It was more active than the previous night, bustling with the activity of the Keep's servants. It only took a minute of sitting before their breakfast was in front of them, some light bread and oatmeal. Daenys greedily drank the cold water provided for her, the relief for her throat that had been burning the whole way to the Keep.

Cregan watched the display for a moment, smiling to himself before politely focusing on his food, not watching her pick at her breakfast like the previous night. "Do you want anything else? If you don't like the food, just tell me. No one will take offense, as long as you're fed."

"This is good." Daenys answered shortly. She took small bites of the oatmeal, pulling parts of the bread to slowly chew. She felt like her body was going through the motions completely on its own, her brain firing in a million different directions yet going nowhere at all.

"..Princess?" Cregan asked again, stirring her.

He had been talking for a while, she thought. Daenys hummed, gesturing for him to continue. His meal was done already, how much time had passed?

"I said I would like to take you to Castle Black, if you would allow me."

"The Wall?" Daenys furrowed her brow, placing her spoon into the half-full bowl.

"It would be a two week trip on horseback, and you can see what your predecessors witnessed all those years ago. A reminder of what the North protects the realm from."

In simple terms, he wanted to convince her to take the least amount of men to arms as possible. She was not dull. Perhaps he thought she was, just like the court men. He was talking like a Southerner, now. All hidden meanings and pretty half-truths. Disappointing, truly, Daenys liked the straightforward Stark better.

"I would not oppose a trip to see the Wall. It would be much faster on Morningstar, but I'm sure your council would oppose their lord doing such a thing." She said wryly. Daenys didn't want to become curt with the kind lord, but her displeasure with his words made itself clear in her tone

He grimaced slightly before straightening up, bowing his head politely. "I have some matters to attend to before we depart. I will have some things packed for you. For now, get some rest, we'll leave in the afternoon." He left quickly, and it was then that she noticed his fur coat was missing. She could make out his body shape now, no longer hidden and cloaked by the massive fur. When had he left them?

The weight on her own shoulders as she stood solved that question for her. The familiar brown furs surrounded her like a blanket, warm yet drowning. Was it bear? Or even wolf? Daenys wasn't sure, but her heart beated harder knowing that he had sat with her all night, keeping her safe and warm despite knowing her dragon was perfectly capable.

Daenys settled into her chambers, forgoing slipping under the furs already on her bed in exchange for the fur Cregan had provided her. It smelled like him, a deep wood and iron scent that might have been too strong and unfitting on anyone but the Warden himself. The comfort soothed her to sleep quicker than she had in many moons.

🗡

Strong hands guided Daenys through the courtyard of the Red Keep. Ser Harwin Strong, her mother's sworn protector, had become more of a protector for herself these past few moons.

When the nightmares started, the Red Keep was put ill at ease with the little girl, avoiding her like the plague. While most took after Queen Alicent, avoiding her and gossiping about how the girl must be a witch, condemning people to horrible fates with her predictions, the bolder ones like her uncle Aegon had done the opposite.

Harassments, taunts, planting some of Helena's bugs into her bed, even getting physical when no one was looking. Who would believe the mad girl besides her own mother? The prince, of course, never received any reprimanding or punishment. He always got away with everything, per usual. He had the Queen herself in his corner, who defended his vile behavior even when multiple servant girls came sobbing to the Queen's chambers.

Rhaenyra couldn't bare to watch her only daughter be so tormented, especially by her own family. She instructed Harwin to keep a close eye on her, as her escort and guardian around the keep. He had no qualms with this, of course. The girl was beloved by him and Rhaenyra deeply, though this coddling did not go unnoticed by the royal family.

Daenys' one credit as a child was her silver hair and purple hues, an image of her mother. Her brothers after her were not so lucky, born brown-eyed and brown-haired. Ser Harwin was said to be the sire of Rhaenyra's army of dragon-riding bastards, to the obliviousness of Daenys.

When she grew older, she realized that Alicent was right in that one thing. Harwin Strong undoubtedly fathered the boys. She was unclear about her own father, but Harwin's affections for her never differed from her brothers.

She found herself not minding. Ser Laenor claimed the children as his own and loved her mother as a dear companion. But Harwin's love for Rhaenyra was different than Laenor's. She saw the look in his eyes as he gazed upon the heir, filled with devotion and love unmatched by any other wed couple in the keep. Daenys had only seen such a love displayed by them. Even long after Harwin's death, when Rhaenyra remarried her uncle Daemon, Daenys never saw that look in another man's eyes.

Daemon's love was passionate but possessive. It scared Daenys slightly, but she was happy so long as her mother was safe.

This day, Daenys wished to watch her uncles and brothers training in the yard. Ser Criston Cole usually overlooked the boys' training, leaving much to be desired in terms of favoritism. Much like his Queen, Criston despised the bastard boys. Though the four trained together, Rhaenyra's sons usually only watched as Aegon and Aemond practiced with their wooden swords.

Harwin left Daenys at the steps after a gentle ruffle of her loose hair, where she quietly sat and observed. Glancing at a bench overseeing the yard, Daenys spotted King Viserys also overlooking the morning training.

Harwin spoke a few words to Ser Criston for a moment, inaudible to Daenys but clearly pissing the Dornish knight off. Cole intructed that the eldest boys be placed against each other, though it was unfair.

Harwin's protests were thus ignored by the kingsguard, Daenys perking in her seat to watch Aegon and Jace spar. Quite a poor match, seeing their age and skill difference.

Aegon easily beat Jace, knocking the sword from his hand but not giving his opponent any mercy, still stepping forward to attack the young boy.

Harwin grabbed Aegon in a firm hold, tossing him away from Jacaerys. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" Aegon screeched like a banshee, never being put in his place like that before. Spoiled brat.

Harwin scolded Cole, ignoring the eldest prince intentionally. After lifting Jace from the floor, Harwin glanced over the boy.

"Are you alright?"

Embarrassed, Jace only nodded with flushed cheeks and dusted himself off. "Thank you, Ser." He mumbled.

But Cole did not leave the matter, baiting the older knight. "You forget yourself, that is the prince." He said, a smirk on his tanned face.

"Is that what you teach, Cole? Cruelty." Harwin spat back, picking up the wooden swords from the dirt.

"Your interest in the princeling's training is quite unusual. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin. Or a brother." He smiled brighter, "or a son."

Without skipping a beat, Harwin strong turned and swung at Cole's smug face. Again, and again until the man was on the floor and not fighting back.

Daenys stood and gasped, calling out towards her protector. "Ser Harwin!" she rushed forward, being stopped only by Jace and Luke, who could also only watch.

Harwin was dragged off of Cole, still spitting insults at the younger whilst the blood-covered man laughed as if he had won.

Aegon laughed loudly, now the loudest sound in the yard as both knights were escorted inside.

"Seems like the Strong bastards won't be so protected anymore." He snickered with Aemond at his side, loud enough for only the three to hear. Viserys took his leave, too, most likely to go settle the fight.

"We're not bastards!" Jacaerys yelled at him. Daenys and Lucerys were quiet behind him. Jace, though a year younger than Daenys, had taken the mantle of the protective one of the siblinge ever since Daenys had started getting shunned.

She was grateful for it, despite the nagging guilt she had for never defending herself or her little brothers.

"Just look at yourself, Lord Strong. Brown hair...pale skin..brown eyes. Perhaps Rhaenyra isn't your mother, either." Aegon said, earning a half-hearted laugh from Aemond beside him.

Ever the quiet of the two, Aemond faced his own bullying from Aegon and Daenys' brothers for being the only one of them to not claim a dragon. Typically, this made him stay out of any spats between Rhaenyra's children and Aegon, out of fear that he would be the next target.

Surprisingly, he even left Daenys alone. He spent much time with Helena, just as she did. They happened to spend a lot of time together in their youth because of their mutual bond, but they never gained a bond between themselves.

"You take that back!" Jace demanded, stepping foward and shoving at Aegon's chest. Being so much taller than Jacaerys, Aegon barely stepped back, only growing more amused.

"Jace.." Daenys urged behind him, tugging at his armor. "Let's go inside, I want to check on Ser Harwin."

Aegon turned to her now, "Its a mystery who your father might be. Ser Strong, Prince Daemon, Ser Laenor. I've even heard rumor of Rhaenyra having a tryst with Criston Cole at one time. Perhaps the cunt herself doesn't even know who your-" Aegon was abruptly cut off with a punch to his face so hard that he was sent to the floor. Shocked, he looked up expecting Jacaerys to have been the offender, but instead met the furious face of Daenys Velaryon. She didn't give him time to get up, punching and scratching at his pink face.

The other three stood stunned for a few moments, unsure if they wanted to let her continue or pry her off. Even Aemond stifled a laugh with a hand, turning away so Aegon couldn't notice.

Eventually Aegon grew out of his shock, easily throwing the younger girl off of him by her shoulders. Wiping his face, he stood and snarled down at Daenys, lifting a foot to kick at her while she was down, but was stopped and tackled by her two brothers. Now, Aemond choose to defend his older brother against the boys, albeit slightly reluctantly. The Pink Dread prank still heavily weighed on his mind every day.

Guards noticed at this point that the squabble of princes and the princess was no mere play fight, punches and kicks being thrown this way and that. The four of them seperated by forceful hands, given no time to walk themselves as they were dragged inside.

"Keep my mothers name out of your dirty mouth, līve!" She screamed behind her shoulder at the boy, who seemed shocked at the insult coming from her mouth. Jace and Luke, not versed in High Valyrion yet, didn't react, although she heard a snicker from Aemond as he was taken to Viserys with Aegon.

The other three were taken directly to Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra, quietly resting on her settee with little Joffrey coddled up in her arms, was surprised to see all three of her eldest children in such a state. She stood immediately, "what happened?" She asked the guards, handing Joff to the wet nurse and gingerly cradling her children's bruised faces.

"The princess and princes got into an altercation in the yard. Ser Harwin and Cole have also been sent to the King for their actions." One said, before being dismissed by Rhaenyra.

"I want the truth of it, now." She sternly told them, stress furrowing her brows.

"Ser Harwin beat up Cole." Luke said first, giving no context.

"Because Cole called us bastards." Jace continued, clearing it.

Rhaenyra sighed, putting a hand over her stomach, which Daenys noticed became a habit during her pregnancies as a way to calm herself.

"If Harwin is the one who fought Cole, why are you three all bruised up?"

Daenys avoided her eyes, earning a lifted brow from her mother. Jace stepped in to help, "Aegon started it! He called you.." He seemed to pause now too, not wanting to shame his mother with Aegon's vileness.

The three shared glanced between themselves, not guilty for fighting Aegon but guilty for not defending their mother's honor better. "He called you a cunt. And implied dishonorable actions." Daenys told her, biting her cheek hard after. Her face hurt.

Rhaenyra only sighed, bringing her children to her side to embrace them all. She breathed in to start a surely long speech, but Harwin entering the room disrupted that plan. Daenys was grateful for it.

He closed the chamber doors behind himself, gold Lord Commander's cloak was no longer wrapped over his shoulders. His armor was also off, as if he was taking a leisure day.

"Harwin?" Rhaenyra spoke, confused as to why he was visiting in such a state.

"I am being assigned back to Harrenhall with my father. The King has let me go from my time as Lord Commander." Was his answer. Pretty words for 'fired' from his duty. Just for defending the princes and their mother.

Rhaenyra gasped, hand bringing itself once again to hover over her stomach. "For what offence?" She demanded. Her eyes were glossy with tears, but she could not let herself cry. Princesses do not cry over losing their guards.

Daenys knew then, that they were not merely protector and princess. They were husband and wife, in all but name. Harwin looked down at Rhaenyra with all the softness in the realm. "It is my own fault, I lost my temper." The two stood to the side for a minute, whispering amonst themselves. Daenys respectfully looked away, finding Jace staring them down intensely.

Harwin held Rhaenyra's face for only a moment, tender and bittersweet as they couldn't do anything more to say their goodbyes.

He turned to the children, "Luke, Jace. Keep up with your training, do not let Cole or the princes bully you out from improving. You will be fine knights." He smiled at them proudly, petting each of their heads and turning to Daenys.

Tears welled in her eyes, falling down her cheeks freely. She was not as strong as her mother, unable to control her feelings. "Ser.." She sobbed, barreling into his chest and burying her face into the tunic's material. Gently he held her, soothing her hair down from the mess it had became in the yard. "Don't fret, my dear girl. I will not be gone forever."

The smell of fire invaded her senses as he said that, a suffocating feeling enveloping her as she continued to cry. "I don't want you to leave at all." She told him.

"He must, we cannot change the will of the king." Rhaenyra said from behind her, rubbing her back soothingly. Harwin and Rhaenyra shared another heavy look, both knowing how much Daenys relied on Harwin.

Harwin had to break the princess off of him eventually, pressing a tender kiss to her temple as he did. "I will be a stranger when we meet again.' He told Rhaenyra, who only nodded and smiled solemnly at him.

Harwin Strong took his leave from the Red Keep that day, and never returned to his family.

Jace watched the man walk away, down the hall. "Is Harwin Strong my father?" He asked Rhaenyra stiffly. "Are we bastards?"

Rhaenyra swiftly looked around for any onlookers, relieved to find none. "You are Targaryens. That's what matters," she whispered firmly.

Daenys only stared at the space Harwin had once been, wishing things could stay the same forever.

"I am going to bed," she told her mother.

She wished she had not.

🗡

"My Lady?" The maid from yesterday evening woke Daenys from her deep sleep. Groggily she sat up, stretching out her stiff muscles. The cold affected her more than she thought. "Lord Stark is ready to depart. We have packed all the things you will need for the trip, I just need to get you ready."

Daenys was too tired to talk, only nodding along and allowing the older maid to dress her and do her hair. Pulled in a simple half-up braid, Daenys groaned at the thought of having to do her own braids while in the wilderness. The dress she was put in was a light blue, lined with white fur, softer than any she had felt before.

"All done, princess. He's waiting in the hall for you." She patted Daenys' shoulder in a motherly way, sending the girl off to the dining hall.

Daenys grabbed his fur coat before leaving, finding him standing in front of the hearth silently. He perked up when he spotted her, smiling almost instinctively. "Princess," he nodded. "Ready to leave?"

It was only then that she noticed a giant wolf at his feet, staring at her with bright blue eyes, contasting its brown fur. A direwolf, it must be. Tamed by the Stark? Their sigil seemed to ring true, just like the Targaryen's.

"As I'll ever be." She answered evenly, slightly looking forward to the trip. She'd never been on such a journey, only ever riding horseback for short distances and never once staying outside for more than a night. It would be interesting. "And who's this?"

"Dusk. He mostly stays outside, but I figured we could use his protection on our travels." Cregan gestured to the wolf. He seemed wild in most ways, Daenys would guess that he was when he was on his own, but Cregan being bonded to him and accustoming the animal to human domestication. Quite like the Targaryens and their dragons.

"I'm happy to have him, as long as he can get along with Morningstar." She smiled.

Hopefully she can find common ground with Lord Stark, gaining more men for the Queen.

Cregan offers Daenys his arm, which she takes as he guides her to their readied horses. "I picked out this one for you. He's a young stud, but he reminded me of Morningstar." Daenys felt her heart skip a beat when he said that, the thoughtfulness of the aftion making her smile brightly. She released his arm to pet the horse's snow-white face, greeting it.

"Thank you, my lord. He's beautiful." She said.

"Of course, princess." He kept his eyes on her a moment longer, before offering his hand again to help her mount. After adjusting herself on the saddle, Cregan mounted his own horse, a pretty chestnut mare.

Winterfell gave the two a cheerful goodbye parting, Daenys had to resist rolling her eyes. The same commonfolk who had gossiped about her yesterday were eagerly waving hankerchiefs at her and wishing their beloved princess well.

Cregan seemed amused by her stiff jaw as they walked past the gates. "Do you know what the folk call you?" He asked.

"I could think of a hundred names I've been called. None of them pleasent." She replied, eyeing him.

Above them, Morningstar glided gleefully, happy to be traveling again although she didn't know the destination.

Chuckling, he shook his head. "The Dragon Dreamer."

Stunned, she turns to look straight at him, finding his attention fully on her still.

"I..don't see why." She blushed. Never before had her visions been painted in a positive light of any kind.

"Northerners aren't so out of tune with the magic of this realm, as other kingdoms are. Have you ever heard of wargs?"

"A few times, in fairytales." She sniffed.

He nodded, "do you not believe in them?"

"Anything could be true. In a world where I ride a dragon, who am I to deny other types of magic?" She offered.

"Aye. My ancestors have dealt with magic since the first men. Stuff you wouldn't believe, out beyond the wall."

"What's beyond the wall?"

"Death."

🗡

alicent hightower you ARE the father

Līve - whore

[myladysapphire]

The Dragon and the Wolf (III)

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

word count: 2,291

CW: MDI, 18+, smut, p in v, depression, mentions of miscarriages, stillbriths, love confessions, family reunion, marital difficulties, angst, not proofread!

Cregan Strak x Veleryon(strong)!reader

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

dividers by @zaldritzosrose

authors note: the timeline does not follow the book so don't come for me for changing things. sorry if this seemed rush honesltyi dont like it but i think it works well and makes a good chapter to lead into the epilouge.

In the year of 134AC, 3 years after the end of the dance of dragons, and three moons into your marriage with Cregan stark you finally made your way to kings landing after years apart from your beloved brothers.

Viserys and Aegon were no men almost grown, with Viserys a wife and child on the way and Aegon, now married to Daenaera Velaryon, though their marriage remained unconsummated.

The reunion had been a sad one, with many tears shed as you finally saw your brothers after years apart.

“Aegon! Viserys” you cried out as you ran out of the carriage to greet your brothers, your arms wrapping tightly around them, scared to let them go. Tears filled your eyes as you kissed their cheeks.

“I have missed you so dearly” you said to Aegon before looking over at Viserys, your mouth stuttering as you tried to find the right words “Vizzy, I have…oh gods-“ you cried out pulling him in for a hug once more “your all grown up!” you said, “a man grown” shaking your head as you hugged him closer.

He cried on your shoulder as you did, his arms never leaving you even as you introduced him to Cregan.

“This is Cregan…my husband, and the new lord hand.”  

“An honour to see you again” Aegon greeted, moving away from slightly from you to shake Cregan’s hand.

“As it is for me, my king” Cregan replied to Aegon head bowed.

And though Kings Landing had changed much, filled with new faces and on the rare occasions a familiar one, you still hated it.

You had thought seeing your brothers here, your sisters, it would feel like a home again,

But no.

You despised the viper pit.

There was more scheming and ploys than before and you were now at the centre of it.

with Cregan as hand and the death of your grandsire as regent, new faces took the role of councillors you had only just grown to trust.

Many of your mothers’ own advisers, advisers you had made Aegon promise to keep on his council had died in the winter fever the year before.

And perhaps that was why you hated Kingslanding, though a fifth of their population was taken, and 90% of that being the smallfolk, so many you had known, trusted and cared for had died and you never even knew.

The halls seemed more haunted now.

Not just haunted of by the faces of your family, of your uncles and brothers.

Of your mother.

But of them also.

You regretted coming with Cregan, and you hated yourself for it.

You had though and thought to stay here, arguing with him before the wedding for just this, to stay.

You know whished to take Silverwing and ride her to Winterfell and never return.

It was only the love you had for your brothers and Cregan that made you stay.

The memory of when first admitted your love for each other playing over and over again, as if it would somehow make you love this place once more.

“Cregan” you had sighed, now alone in your shred tent after a hard long day of ridding, the bath water doing little too sooth your joints.

He sighed your name in return, turning to face you as he undressed for bed.

“Do you love me?” you asked, trying to keep a casual tone to your voice, though you couldn’t hide the hope in your voice.

He smiled softly, moving towards you, taking your hand in his, “I have loved you since I first met you, and I do not think I ever will”.

You smiled, kissing his lips softly, “I love you, I have for so long, even when I hid behind my grief.”

“Really? I did not think you liked me much, after the war.”

“I did! And I hated it, I wanted to through myself into my grief and yet a part of me felt pained that I loved you and you did not know. I hated ignoring you, there always seemed to be a tether tying me to you.” You said shyly. “I hated that you were the reason I was pulled from my grief, I didn’t want my happiness to depend on you, but now…I am glad it is”.

She was glad to have him, he filled the whole left by her family’s deaths, though it was a different kind of love and wholeness she was glad for it.

But it did nought, not as you became and aunt, you fell back into the slow misery you felt before.

Feeling lost and haunted. Surrounded by ghosts talking to you day after day, ghosts you could not hear but faces haunted your dreams.

You didn’t tell anyone though.

Your family was happy, despite the death of Corlys or Baleas husband.

They all seemed happy here, laughing and enjoying the feasts.

The only person who could see your misery was Aegon, but even then, he didn’t understand.

It was clear he was haunted by your mother, of her death. But his was misery was he could push aside, and when with his family all he had was joy.

And yet you still felt that death followed you even more.

More as you felt the death of your child, spending hours, days on the birthing bed only to be greeted with a still born child.

More so as you felt the blood trickle down your legs time after time as you tried and tried to carry another pregnancy to term.

Your heart continued to break and Cregan could see your misery and so he insisted on you retuning to Winterfell, and you agreed.

Being back in Winterfell made you lose the feelings you had in Kingslanding, made you feel safer.

Made you feel at home.

And you felt lighter here.

Then Cregan was called back to Kings Landing and the emptiness found you again.

But you forced it to the side, hoping if you ignored it long enough it would go away.

And gods were you wrong.

You had plunged yourself into work, trying to help the north recover, from its weakened state following the famine caused during the winter fever.

 A year passed, now 136AC, a year away from your husband, from your brothers.

You became a ghost once more; all healing had vanished and the person you said you would become if Cregan sent you here alone had come.

 “Without you I will…I will only find that hollowness I felt for moons, the sadness will return without you to…to comfort me, to hold me and cherish me. I cannot be alone, I may rely on you a little too much, but I cannot bear to…”

And it had, you were hollow, and you were sad. But instead of letting it spill out of you as it had before, you kept it hidden.

Putting on a strong front, you wanted to be the fierce lady of Winterfell no matter how much you were breaking inside, no matter how much you wished for Cregan to see through your flowered words on paper and to come back to you.

And though he did come back to you, it was not because of you, but of Sylas the Grim.

A wilding chieftain who led a large force of 3,000 south of the wall and was plundering the lands of the gift.

Cregan arrived soon after you sent news of Sylas attacks. You yourself had tried to scare them off, using Silverwing to burn their trail. But they continued their plundering.

And so Cregan led the rallied forces of the north and attacked the wildings, leading yet another victory.

You had watched from the sidelines, sat atop Silverwing awaiting Cregan’s signal. But he never gave it, never looked over to where you waited. Only greeting you as you made your way into the festivity’s hours later. Having taken Silverwing over the wall and burning down all trees beyond the wall, within a 100-mile radius.

He had been surprised but grateful for your actions. But his gratefulness was soon overlooked as the drunken men of the north started to sing.

And you once again sat in your seat and let the hollowness within you start to show.

Later that night, after going to bed hours before Cregan, you and him finally spoke.

“Cregan?” you muttered, lifting your head from the pillow as he tumbled into the room.

“Wife!” he replied, his tone joyful, “I have missed you” he sang, “you’re going to come back with me to kings landing!” he spoke, looking at you expectantly, as if expecting you to dance in joy.

“no” you said, sitting up.

“No?” he said, suddenly sobering up. “Why not? Do you not miss your brother? Or me?”

“Every second of everyday”

“Then come to kings landing”.

“no”

“Why not?” he said, his tone almost aggravated.

“It is haunted” you spoke, your voice in hushed whispers as if the ghosts would somehow appear in your chambers.

“Everywhere haunted, even Winterfell” he said, looking at you, truly looking at you.

He took note of your sunken eyes, your dead eyes.

You looked just as you had those first few years here, and he hated how what you had said would happen had come true.

“no” he muttered, moving towards you “no…my love my sweet wife…what has happened?”

You broke down in tears, telling him what you felt, a years’ worth of emotions spilling out of you and the tears never stopped.

You must have spent the night crying in his arms, begging him to stay and never leave you again.

“please” you begged, “I can’t…I can’t go back there, and I can’t be without you”.

“okay” he said, thinking hard, “I will give up my place as hand”.

“I can’t ask that of you- “

“You can, and I must” he shook his head, cradling you in his arms “I have neglected you for too long and I am so sorry, I love you, I hope you know that” he said, hand caressing your cheek.

“you’ll stay”.

“Yes…always”

Giving up the position of hand of the king had been like a wight had lifted of his shoulders.

But seeing the state of his with had placed a heavier weight on him.

Feeling his heart break and his own betrayal fill him as you cried in his arms he felt he was a disappointment.

He had seen your loss, her grief and in his own he had pushed you away.

And though he had recovered, he should have known that you couldn’t, not by yourself, not when you still had so much grief left from the war still.

you had always been soft and gentle, always so Intune with your emotions that they overwhelmed you, and he had somehow overlooked that fact and sent you away.

And unlike last time he didn’t have the wedding or retuning to kings landing to look forward to. There was nothing really to look forward too, other than the one thing the gods had deprived you off.

A babe.

You had tried and tried, but three miscarriages and one still birth had wrecked you.

In truth had he not had the lords breathing down his neck once more for an heir then he would never have made you try in the first place and yet it was what you craved, despite the duty you wanted a babe.

And now as his cock filled you and hit all the right spots, this moment were their was no grief, no death no duty to fulfil, just you and Cregan.

“Cregan” you moaned, your face falling into the pillows as he pounded into you “please” you begged into the pillow, you felt your peak approaching as he entered you out, hitting your sweet spot again and again.

He held onto your hips, his cock focusing on that spot as his finger moved down to your clit, bringing you to your second peak of the night, as he filled you with his seed.

You collapsed on the bed, as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tight.

You relaxed into a comfortable silence, a silence you both often found yourself in.

‘I love you” he whispered, kissing your forehead.

And for the first time in a year you said it back, “I love you, too”

You fell into your roles as lord and lady of Winterfell easily. Finding you rather enjoyed your duties even more when they were not used as a distraction.

And even though there was some tension between you and Cregan still, you found the love you felt for one another made everything easier, especially when you had spent nights crying in grief and regret at refusing your brothers request to return to Kingslanding even if only for a few days.

You hated saying no, but they seemed to understand. Your duty was to Winterfell now, and they understood.

Egg had understood your need to leave before, himself feeling the same as he told you he considered moving to Dragonstone but fearing hell find more hurt in those halls than that of the red keep.

And now with news of Aegon’s tour around Westeros you were excited to see him once more, too show him your home.

A home you did not regret him having no place in, and as the years passed with a few visits here and there form your brothers you found you rather liked the distance.

Finding that perhaps your grief weas in the guilt of only them and you surviving and not Jace, Luke or Joffrey. The boys who were truly your brothers before they were ever kings or princes.

authors note: next part is the epilouge!

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[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐧

Pairings: Cregan Stark x reader, Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings: Swearing, incest

1.08

“Aemond.”

Like a fool, you chase your husband through the castle and into the courtyard where he was getting ready to mount his horse. Vhegar was too large to enter the dragon pit, so she usually rests outside the castle walls.

“Aemond!”

You were on the verge of tears; not once had Aemond looked back at you even though he knew you were there. And even now he still stands with his back to you.

Finally you break; voice cracking, you say, “A child was struck down in place of you.”

“If you intend to let your emotions get the better of you like Alicent, you should stay here instead of dragon riding.”

His patronising tone is beyond irritating; you weren’t a child or a fool who thought this would be okay. “Any chance of peace died when Lucerys did.”

Scoffing, he shakes his head. The stable boys who take care of the royal horses lower their heads, as do any handmaids going across the yard. None of them dared look at Aemond; everyone was scared of him.

“Why are you avoiding Maitland?”

Slowly Aemond turns to face you; with the weather changing so suddenly, it would be easy to mistake his tears for spits of rain. “Because he almost died because of me! I should have been protecting him, but instead I was with my whore!”

“I’ve always known where you were that night, but it means little now.”

“And here I thought that’s why you welcomed another into your bed to punish me.”

“Friend or foe, I’m still your wife,” you say quietly. “I’ve no desire to hurt you, Aemond; I just wanted to remember what it felt like to be loved.”

Aemond looks void of emotion as he stares right through you. He swallows back the harsh comment that’s on the tip of his tongue, “You should put on your riding jacket before the rain thickens.”

—

Finding Lord Stark’s men was more difficult than you anticipated; they were at least three or four days march away from reaching the bridge at the twins. The Northerners had taken cover underneath the trees so that they were harder to spot from above. Smart. If it wasn’t for the sun starting to rise and rainfall becoming less intense, you may never have spotted them.

You could hear the faint cries of ‘dragon’ the closer Vermithor got to the ground. Silverwing wasn’t far away; she was flying overhead. The two dragons communicate by making sounds similar to light squeals and humming combined. It's known that dragons have a psychic connection with their riders, and you've always theorised that Vermithor and Silverwing first mated because they shared such a deep connection with King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne that they ended up mirroring their relationship.

Unlike Vermithor, who was as fierce as a dragon could be, Silverwing was relatively docile and friendly to strangers, as was Maitland.

“Princess.”

Vermithor, who was now nestling underneath thick trees, bares his teeth, causing the northern lord to stop.

A knot forms in your stomach; you keep seeing Cregan in your dreams, and now the time has come to see him in person again. It almost feels too much. But you couldn’t let him see how unnerved this was making you feel. You clear your throat. “My lord, it’s not wise to sneak up on a dragon.”

“I—” He goes to take a step forward, but Vermithor cranes his neck around you protectively.

You stroke his scales and sing to your dragon in High Valyrian until he settles. The ongoing war within House Targaryen was scaring the dragons. Taking a deep breath, you finally make eye contact with Cregan. He was drenched, his hair stuck to his face as water dripped from his furs.

“Cregan.”

“I’d like to think this is a coincidence, but I believe you being here is to do with the two thousand greybeards carrying the flags of Queen Rhaenyra.”

There was an uncomfortable space between; screw it. You rush to him and practically bounce into his arms. Your voice is muffled into his shoulder, “I want you to go. If my brothers find you, they will burn all of you.”

“You know I cannot do that.”

“I know,” you move your head back to glance at him, and the moment you do, his dry lips smash against your own. Swallowing thickly, you pull back, and Cregan’s eyes are full of a sadness you haven’t seen before. “I would rather face a hundred sand vipers alone than stand before the she-dragon. I’m scared for you.”

Vermithor raises his head and sniffs the air, then lets out a terrifying roar. A thunderous sound echoes in the distance; your heart sinks. Aemond lied; he didn’t go to the Riverlands; he had followed you. You feel sick; not once have you looked back long enough to notice him.

Cregan holds onto your hand tightly, and although your riding gloves are still on, you can still feel the coldness from his skin. “Another storm is brewing.”

“It’s not thunder, it’s Vhegar. I need to go.” You slip from his grip, and you’re struck with a sudden feeling of loss. “I’ve heard there are caves deep within the forest; it would be a good place for your men to take shelter. I will try my best to lure him away, just—just forgive me.”

—

Even from a distance, Cregan is in disbelief at how monstrous Vhegar is.

When he was alerted to the screams of his men saying a dragon was coming towards them, he feared the worst, but his fears were temporarily settled when a man described it as large and bronzed. He knew it was his princess.

Vermithor met the larger dragon in the sky before its rider was close enough to notice the camp below. Cregan barks orders for all fires to be put out immediately and for his men to retreat further into the forest. He trusted the princess would try to stop any deaths, but he didn’t trust her brother-husband.

The rumour spreading across the realm was that the kinslayer was thirsty for blood.

He pours water onto a small fire that was intended for cooking the meat of the deer he hunted earlier that day. The further south they marched, the easier it was to track and hunt their next meal; the animals in the south didn’t seem to fear men the same way they did in the north.

Mayhap even the harts, boars, and snow bears were born with the same toughness the northern people were.

While mounting his horse, Cregan pinches the bridge of his nose when he feels a sudden blinding pain in his head; the pain was fleeting, but his confusion wasn’t. He could have sworn he heard the princess, who he’s grown to care for so much, yell dracarys, but that was impossible; she was too far away for the Lord to hear her voice.

But there it was again.

Dracarys, dracarys, dracarys.

[tacobacoyeet]

knight in shining armor | benedict bridgerton x reader

a/n: my first bridgerton fic! and my first fic in quite a while- i'm sorry! i fear i have fallen in love with yet another fictional character. and his brothers. and his sisters. anyway... enjoy!

warnings: implied sexual harassment (first two paragraphs), benedict bridgerton being the man of my dreams

the gardens are a sanctuary from the noise and intensity of the ball, a place where you can catch your breath and gather your thoughts. the evening had started so beautifully, with chandeliers glittering like a thousand stars and the music swirling around you like a warm embrace. but then that lord—lord berbrooke—had cornered you, his breath reeking of brandy, his words slurred and inappropriate. his hands had roamed where they had no right to go, and his whispered suggestions had made your skin crawl. you managed to escape, but your heart is still pounding, and you can feel the prickling of tears threatening to spill over.

as you take deep breaths, trying to steady yourself, you hear the familiar sound of footsteps on the gravel path. you look up to see benedict bridgerton, your childhood best friend, approaching with a concerned expression on his face. his presence is a balm to your frayed nerves, and you feel a rush of relief.

“y/n,” he says softly, stopping a few feet away from you. “are you alright? i saw you run out and... i was worried.”

you nod, trying to muster a smile, but it wavers. “i am fine, benedict. i ust needed some air.”

he steps closer, his eyes scanning your face. “you do not look fine. what happened?”

you hesitate, not wanting to burden him with your troubles, but the earnest concern in his eyes breaks down your resolve. “it was lord berbrooke. he... he wouldn’t leave me alone.”

benedict’s expression darkens, his jaw tightening. “that bastard. my fist shall have a word with him.”

“no,” you say quickly, placing a hand on his arm. “please, do not. i just want to forget about it.”

his gaze softens, and he covers your hand with his own. “if that what you truly wish. but know that i am here for you. always.”

you feel a blush creeping up your cheeks at his touch, his words. benedict has always had that effect on you, ever since you were children. he’s always been your protector, your confidant. but recently, your feelings for him have grown more complex, more intense. you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same.

“thank you, benedict,” you say quietly. “you’re a good friend.”

he smiles, but there’s something in his eyes, something that makes your heart skip a beat. “i’d do anything for you, y/n. you know that.”

you look away, unable to hold his gaze, and he lets out a soft chuckle. “come, let’s walk. the gardens are beautiful tonight.”

he offers his arm, and you take it, feeling the warmth of his body through his coat. as you stroll through the moonlit paths, the tension in your chest begins to ease. benedict keeps up a steady stream of light-hearted conversation, his wit and charm never failing to make you smile.

eventually, you find yourselves at a secluded bench surrounded by fragrant roses. benedict guides you to sit down, and he takes a seat beside you, his knee brushing against yours. the proximity sends a shiver down your spine, and you wonder if he can hear the rapid beating of your heart.

“do you remember,” he begins, his voice soft and nostalgic, “when we used to play in these gardens as children? we’d pretend we were explorers in some far-off land.”

you laugh, the memory bringing a genuine smile to your face. “and you would always insist on being the brave knight, while i had to be the damsel in distress.”

he grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “well, i couldn’t let you face those imaginary dragons alone, could i?”

“no, you couldn’t,” you agree, feeling a warmth spread through you at the thought. “you’ve always been my protector, benedict.”

he looks at you then, really looks at you, and you feel like he’s seeing right into your soul. 

your heart skips a beat. “benedict…? are you alright?”

benedict moves closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. “you are so beautiful… an absolute masterpiece,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper.

your breath catches,cheeks turning a deep pink, and your heart feels like it might burst. “benedict, i...”

he looks to your lips, his face impossibly close, and then meets your eyes once again. you nod, ever so slighty… and without another word, he closes the distance between you, his lips capturing yours in a tender, passionate kiss. it’s everything you’ve ever dreamed of and more, his kiss conveying all the emotions you’ve both kept hidden for so long. it feels as if all of the flowers bloom, his kiss warming you to your very core. 

you lose yourself in the moment, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hands hold you close. the world around you fades away, leaving only the two of you, connected in a way that feels utterly perfect.

the spell is broken by the sound of an angry shout nearby. “benedict!”

you pull back, your cheeks flushed, and turn to see anthony bridgerton standing a few feet away, his expression a mix of shock and disapproval.

“benedict, y/n,” anthony says, his voice stern. “what are you doing out here?”

benedict stands, pulling you up with him, his hand still holding yours. “anthony, we...”

you chime in nervously. “it is not what it looks like!” 

anthony’s eyes narrow. “i do not care what it looks like. you know the rules, benedict. you know what this means.”

benedict takes a deep breath, his grip on your hand tightening. “what if i have wished to marry her all along?”

the words hang in the air, and you feel your breath catch in your throat. did he just say what you think he said?

anthony’s eyes widen, and he looks between the two of you. “you... you wish to marry her?”

benedict turns to you, his eyes soft and filled with a tenderness that makes your heart ache. “yes, anthony. i do. i’ve loved y/n for as long as i can remember.”

tears spring to your eyes, and you squeeze his hand. “benedict, i... i love you too.”

anthony looks at the two of you, his expression a mix of surprise and something else—something like approval. he sighs, running a hand through his hair. “well, i suppose there is nothing more to be said, then. if you both love each other, then you have my blessing.”

relief floods through you, and you throw your arms around benedict, feeling his arms wrap around you in return. “thank you, anthony,” you say, your voice choked with emotion.

benedict pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your cheek. “y/n, i have loved you since we were children, and i shall love you until my very last breath.”

“i love you forever, my dearest knight,” you reply, your heart bursting.

as you share another tender kiss, you know that this is just the beginning of a beautiful new chapter in your lives. the future may hold challenges, but with benedict by your side, you know you can face anything.

[cateyesinlove]

Threads of Black and Threads of Green

Jace Velaryon/ targaryen x Helaena Targaryen

TW: none

Masterlist

AO3

Chapter one; Dance of The Dragons I

Helaena’s mornings had begun the same way every day since her sister had taken her rightful place on the Iron throne. She would wake up, break her fast alone then visit her mother, spend her afternoon in the garden, reading or having tea with her sister until it was time for her supper. Now that she no longer was Queen she was allowed so many more things like sleeping longer, more freedom to have a say in matters regarding herself, and finally, she was able to take the reigns of her life, while Helaena had been Queen she had wilded no real power given that her mother made certain that everything was done how she wanted not how Helaena wished for it.

Helaena enjoyed doing things by herself, she had always enjoyed it, from brushing her hair to choosing her clothes. When she was younger she had been able to pick her dresses, after the crowning of Aegon, her mother instructed the maids to select Helaenas cloths, something regal that made her look the part of Queen she was to play. Helaena often felt like her mother was intentionally putting her in the dresses that would overwhelm her the most making her skin crawl, the feeling of needles prickling her, the sensation of hundreds of small ants running around her body, now just the thoughts of those dresses brought her to tears

The first time she had spent an afternoon with her sister after the coronation, the first time she had truly interacted with Rhaenyra since the retaking of Kingslanding since Helaena of course had not been allowed to attend the coronation for her safety, her sister had asked how Helaena was, how she felt and if there had been anything she could do for her. 

“Anything that I can do to help, sister?” the Queen had asked her one afternoon as they drank tea.  

“I wish for the maids to not touch me!.” she blurted out, part of her felt ashamed that she had spoken so bluntly to the Queen but Rhaenyra had just smiled at her and instructed every single person of Helaenas staff to not lay a finger on her sister if she did not desire it. Later that night as Helaena brushed her hair, she was reminiscing about how she hadn’t even thought for a second to ask about her mother and to plead for her.

She finished preparing for the day by herself and proceeded to break her fast while reading a book. Days in the Keep were slow but gentle to her. She would usually be left alone until she visited her mother in the cells, and some days after the visits, she would ask her sister for tea. 

She felt queasy and quickly rushed towards her chamber pot, vomiting everything she had eaten. Oh the joys of pregnancy, she thought bitterly, after feeling better she quickly proceeded to do her business in it to try and hide the vomit.

Once she was done she came back to her couch, placed a hand on her belly, and wondered what her sister would do if her child turned out to be a boy. Naturally, he would be an heir for Aegon that is if her husband still lived, worse some lord would rally behind her child to dethrone Rhaenyra and place him on the throne, however, if the baby was a girl, she would be another bargaining chip for the Greens to marry away in exchange for armies and alliances; Helaena feared for her babe, why could her children not been fathered by another man, a good man or the man she loved and longed for. Would Rhaenyra allow her babe to live? Helaena knew that it was a risk for Rhaenyras's position to let her child live but could she be capable of killing her or her child? 

Unable to move from the panic and overwhelming feelings she spent all day there, never moving from her seat ignoring as maids came and went, wondering, planning, and praying to whatever God would listen, asking for guidance on how to coax her sister to let her babe live when she had realized the sun was setting, she had skipped visiting her mother and by now it was too late to request an audience with her sister. 

The door opened unpromptedly later that afternoon, “Lady Helaena, Lady Mysaria is here to see you.” Ser Lyonel informed her as he allowed the woman to enter her room. 

A new development in her life was that most nobles had begun calling her Lady Helaena rather than Princess unless her sister was present. She had passed from Princess to only Lady Helaena. 

“Thank you Ser,” she thanked him and proceeded to stand up, Ser Lyonel bowed and retired to guard her door again. 

“No need, to stand up princess.” Mysaria informed her with a gentle smile, “Especially in your condition.” she said to her.

“My apologies Lady Mysaria, I am not certain I understand what you mean” she immediately replied, her hands began shaking so she held them tight making sure never to bring them near her belly, she clasped them together on her lap as she sat down, no longer being able to stay standing up.” I am feeling rather well.”

Mysaria made her way to her table and sat down, “No need to lie princess.” She informed Helaena. “I know everything and so does the Queen.” 

Helaena felt the ground be swept off under her as she grew weak. “Th- the Queen knows?” 

Mysaria nodded serving herself some tea her maids had brought earlier in case she got hungry and picking it up,” Of course, after you reached that conclusion, so did I and immediately informed her.” 

“Ho-how did you find out?” she asked, eyes full of tears. 

“The same way you did,” Mysaria answered after drinking from her cup. “No bleeding, the maids informed me of your morning sickness and your strange appetite.”

“What does my sister think of this?” she asked frightened. 

Mysaria sighed setting her cup down, “The queen has a gentle heart and feels for you, I feel for you Princess Helaena but that babe,” she pointed to Helaenas belly, “is Aegon’s baby and the babe will present nothing but a challenge to the Queen, you must know that Princess.” 

“ I know, I am aware but my sister must know the babe is innocent! ” She pleads hands cradling her womb, “Wh-what if I say the babe is a bastard? I can claim I had a lover in front of the entire court! I will do whatever is necessary for my baby, please lady Mysaria, please help me keep my baby!” she cries, running to sit down at the table reaching for the woman's hand desperate for an answer.

Mysaria settles her left hand on top of Helaena’s, “The Queen and I will do what we can Princess but I can't promise you everything will be fine, this are dark times and I will not put the Queen's reign in jeopardy,” She says to Helena, thumb caressing her hand.

“I understand,” Helaena answered as tears ran down her face. 

“I will advise you Princess Helaena,” Lady Mysaria said while retracting her hands from Helaenas. “If you could betray Aegon by informing us of where he is, it would be in your best interest and maybe the small council could help you.” she offered the advice.

“Bu- but I do not know where Aegon went! I wasn't aware he had even planned to leave.” she pleads. 

“Then it would be in your best interest to find that information.” Mysaria tells her with a serious tone, almost a warning, “Talk to the one who would know,” 

Lady Mysaria had departed soon after her conversation with Helaena bidding her a good afternoon and retiring. 

After that Ser Lyonel informed her of the time, It was visit hours with her mother if she wished to see her.

Her mother, Lady Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra had officially stripped her mother of her dowager Queen title, she was nothing more than a lady like her. 

She made her way down to the dungeons with Ser Lyonel behind her, following her of course not to protect her but to keep an eye on her. No one in this place ever cared for her, not when she was Queen, and less now that she was merely a Lady.

“Helaena! My dear!” Helaena could hear her mother before she saw her.

“Mother,” she answered as she approached the cell. She could see her mother through the small window with bars at the door of her cell. The first thing she saw was her mother's hands and then her face as she pressed herself as close as she could. 

“Oh thank the mother!” She praised grabbing Helaenas cheeks and caressing her face, “You are safe,” She sighed in relief. 

“I came to see you the day before,” Helanea reminded her. 

“Yes of course but every day I fear they will execute you for breathing the incorrect way,” she exclaims worried sick and tears gathering her eyes.

“Mother,” she sighs, uncomfortable with her mother's behavior, with her tears.

“What! Why are you acting like the only reason they aren't killing us is to prevent an uproar!” She yells angrily at Helaena and bangs the bars of the cell. 

She remembers now why she is only allowed to visit her mother in this cell, days ago her mother had gotten mad at Helaena and grabbed her through the bars of the cell, scratching her and accidentally banging Helaena against the cell. Her sister yelled at her mother and forbade her from seeing Helaena in a cell that allowed her to touch her. 

“You can not say things like that mother!” she says hardly panicking in the inside, she looks back at Sir Lyonel and the guards, they dont move nor look at them but she knows they heard her mother. 

“WHY? Because if precious rhaenyra would hear me say things like that she would what, KILL ME? She cant! I am the queen! I am the QUEEN MOTHER!” she screams in anguish, fury taking overtaking her, she drops onto her knees covering her face with her hands and then she cried like all the other times before. Helaena took a moment to observe her mother, she had on a grey tunic and her auburn hair was down, her curls going everywhere and her hands, her fingers were read and some of them bandaged after so much pinching and scratching around her nails, her one flaw she would call it. 

“We had everything, I had everything, I was a perfect queen and lady, I never meant for any of this to happened!” she sobbed. 

Helaena opted for leaving her mom, once her crying spells started it took her a couple hours to compose herself again, leaving without saying anything she felt the tears gathering in her own eyes. Helaena rarely felt resentment towards her mother, she tried not to but there occasions like this when she had no will powe to stop the morions and feeling rushing through her, how could her mother still act like the victim when she had deliberatelly put them in this position, seh had aegon and raised him since a child to be king, to steal Rhaenyras throne, then she married to him and made her have kids with him, she planned and scheamed and when things didnt go her way she gave up and now blames everyone else. 

As she made her way to her room quickly Ser Lyonel was fast behind her she dried the tears away from her eyes. How horrid it had turned, she had to deal with Lady Mysaria's cryptid advice to see her mother and deal with the insanity… No.. madness, the madness that emanates from her trapped in that cell where all she does is plead with the gods and relive memory after memory of her life. Every mistake. Every error and every painful moment.

“Lady Helaena!” Sir Lyonel called her but as Helaena turned to look at him she crashed with something, someone. 

King consort Daemon Targaryen, her uncle and her son's murderer. 

“Your grace!” Ser Lyonel exclaimed as he grabbed Helaena by the shoulders, parting her from him. Helaena shuddered at the touch and quickly shook herself from his grip, “My apologies Lady Helaena was careless with her footing.” He excuses her before bowing before Daemon. 

Helaena was no one's fool, she might have not been as sane as everyone else, plagued and marked by the things she had seen throughout her life but she was somewhat aware of how things worked, how the games were played, and what her uncle thought of her. 

Daemon smirked, looking down at Helaena. Through his eyes, she could feel his disdain and almost disgust. “ Of course, “ he mockingly says, “ I am sure Lady Helaena forgot she is in the ground rather than in the clouds, as always.” He snorts and keeps walking. Looking at him, she sees him dressed in dragon-riding attire, and she catches a smell. It fills her with dread, and she realizes what it is. 

He stank of death. The same smell that plagued her little boy that day.

———————————————————————-

Tag list ( open) :

@ella-error505

[intoxicated-chan]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ༻ 𝐓𝐚𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐬 𝐇𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐖𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞-𝐄𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐁𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞

(A/n) ➳ I have written this over three times as an attempt to get Daemon’s personality correct and I butchered his character... P.S, I used a High Valyrain translator. I’m not sure how correct it is but you can find it HERE.

Word Count ➳ 1.8k

Content Warnings ➳ 3rd P.O.V, alcohol use, theft, threats of violence, mentions of murder, mentions of death, mentions of war...

AWOIAF Masterlist

Daemon stepped into the Prancing Pony, slipping off his waterlogged hood to reveal his platinum blonde hair and violet eyes. It was a candlelit inn, a seemingly calm one for the night. He observed the inn a couple of hours before entering, he wanted to make sure few eyes were on him.  

But his observation of the inn did him nothing, everyone stared at him, gaining all kinds of attention. Good or bad. He kept his arm rested on his sword, making his weapon known so no one would dare.  

He approached the bar, setting his pouch of coin he stole off a drunk bystander. “A pint of strong ale.”   

The bartender eyed him before pouring his drink. Daemon handed the man the coin, taking the wooden mug in return.   

His nose scrunched at the heavy and bitter taste of the ale. Daemon could certainly hold his own when it came to drinking but this was different. He took the mug as he left the bar and made himself comfortable in a corner with a man.  

It was his contact from the last lead that led him to the Prancing Pony. “I was right to say you are not from these parts.” The man started. “You are causing trouble, drawing eyes from people you do not want to start a war with.”   

Daemon scoffed, laughing to himself. “These people are the least of my worries. I only care of the dragon people speak of.”  

But the man started to laugh, too loud for Daemon’s taste. “The dragon they only hear of is Smaug.” Yet his eyes became wide with a mixture of fascination and fear. “I’ve seen another, not as big but just as fearsome.” He murmured.  

Daemon breathed deeply, his jaw clenched as his grip tightened around his mug. “And you dare hold the information from me?”  

The man rolled his eyes. He sat back in his chair, throwing his leg over the table. “Go East of the Misty Mountains, you will find Mirkwood.” The man ignored his questions and pointed at his hair. “You will find its rider, a woman with strands of hair that match yours.” 

“Now you give me this information? At no cost?”   

“You cannot scare me, Daemon Targaryen. There are many things worse than dragon fire.”  

Daemon rushed out of the inn feeling frustrated, he was played like a fool. Another reason to despise this place.  

He pulled his hood over his head as the rain poured heavily down on him.   

He always knew his older brother was obsessed with omens and prophecies, but Daemon was able to believe in one of Visery’s dreams. a Targaryen had found their own path to safety, escaping the calamity that took their home.  

“The Targaryen dynasty will rule beyond Westeros.”  

He was stuck in his mind for hours, keeping himself busy until he found Caraxes still deep in his slumber. Daemon took a breath before he spoke softly in High Valyrian, running his hand over his long and slender neck.   

“Vēzot, Caraxes.”    

Daemon flew to the East of the Misty Mountains, it was a trip of two days, three before he found Mirkwood. A kingdom surrounded by woods, isolated from the rest of the world.   

Caraxes landed just feet away from the narrow bridge, but his neck was long enough to reach the gates where two guards stood.  

They remained still as they felt Caraxes’s hot breath and saw him bare his teeth.  

Daemon sat up tall in his saddle, he relaxed one wrist over the other. “I demand an audience with your lord!” He exclaimed. “Step aside and you shall live to go home to your families.”   

Caraxes grumbled when the guards did not move or say a word. Daemon clicked his tongue after another minute of silence. He wanted to take his brother’s words into consideration. How he must learn to control his anger, how this world was unlike Westeros. 

Talking was getting Daemon nowhere since he was met with silence. “It is a simple request that I am sure you can fulfill, I have no need to burn your kingdom but turn me away and I will.”   

But it was a failure.   

Yes, they reacted, drawing their bows, and shouting in their tongues. It was not the reaction he was hoping for...  

“You have chosen your own fates.” Caraxes pulled back and opened his jaws. “Drac-”  

Suddenly, the gates creaked open, another Legolas stood at the entrance, walking forward with his bow in hand.  

“You seek and audience with our King.” Legolas stated, looking up at Daemon with a stern expression. “But first, you must hand over your weapons. I shall not let you approach the King armed.”  

Daemon's eyes narrowed, his hand itching to draw Dark Sister and so he declared.   

“We must obey by their rules, it’s their land but it won’t be for long.”    

Dameon gave a curt nod and huffed. He dismounted Caraxes to stand before Legolas. He drew his sword along with its scabbard.  

Legolas shouted orders the guards to come forward, his eyes glued on Daemon. They came forward, taking everything out of his hands, Dark Sister, and his cloak.  

It was a bitter pill to swallow, but he knew it gained him access to Mirkwood.  

Legolas was sure there were no more weapons on him. “The King awaits.” He turned his back, walking back into the kingdom with Daemon behind him.   

He took one final glance, watching Caraxes whistle again until the gates shut.  

Daemon did not hide his amazement at the inside of Mirkwood, he made his expressions clear and kept his composure but remained carefree. He was surrounded by guards, but he walked like he owned the place as his head stayed high.    

Then, it was just Legolas walking with him, and it was not long before he was brought in front of the king.  

Thranduil sat on his throne, one leg over the other. His finger tapped the arm rest as he looked at Daemon with a lack of concern. 

“My Lord.” Daemon addressed. “It seems you’ve been expecting me.”   

Legolas took his place by Tauriel’s side. She whispered in his ear, something making him huff in anger and shaking his head.  

Thranduil stood from his throne, his hands clasped together. “Of course I have, you made yourself quite known.” He stepped down the steps. “I received word from an acquaintance, he said your dragon was like a serpent. I wondered what they called your dragon back in Westeros.”  

“You’re aware?” 

“I’m quite aware.” Thranduil responded. “You’re home called Valyria, dragons that you ride, and you Targaryens... I’m only aware of the name after her relative stepped foot on Middle-Earth with a clutch of eggs and managed to sire many offsprings.”   

“Where are they?”    

“All of them killed each other, it’s difficult to say what happened but (Y/n) appeared with said egg hatched.” Thranduil slowly circled Daemon. “I cannot speak to what happened to the rest of the clutch but now she’s here and you’re here for her.”   

“I intend to bring her home.”   

Thranduil stopped at his left side, shaking his head. “You will not take her home. She knows no other home than here, Mirkwood.”   

Daemon wanted to punch him, stab him, have him burned to death. But he knew better than to do anything disorderly. “She does not belong here. She belongs with her family, with the rest of the Targaryens.”   

Thranduil’s eyes flashed with anger as he got in his face. “I have raised her since she was a babe, she is my ward, my own. I will not allow you to disturb her home and peace.” He took a couple steps back before waving Daemon away.   

Tauriel attempted to grab his arm, but Daemon shrugged her off. “She has no place here!” He shouted. “Where is she?!”   

Thranduil walked back up to his throne, sneering at Daemon. “You have no right to demand anything for me.” He gestured for Tauriel to proceed, ignoring the threats and curses coming from Daemon, it clearly had no effect on him.   

Tauriel summoned the guards. “Hold him.” She readied her bow.    

Daemon kicked the elf in the chest, pushing him back. He twisted the other’s arm, grabbing his dagger only for Tauriel to shoot it out of his hands.   

“If you wish to keep your hands, you will come.” She held no room for argument. “īlon līs ȳzaldrīzes mērī.”  He nearly froze in place and Tauriel could see her words confusing him. But the guards grabbed hold of his arms and Tauriel pushed him to walk.   

“We must talk alone.”   

Caraxes awoke, he was curled up near the entrance, grumbling when he caught sight of Daemon surrounded. He shoved their hands off him. “My effects?” Tauriel took them from one and handed them to him.   

Tauriel nodded at the guards, dismissing them. “How did you get here?” She questioned, eyeing his armor and then his dragon.    

His dragon had a saddle too, but it was wrapped around his chest with a three headed dragon.   

“I’d care to explain but I do not.” Daemon threw on his cloak. “Yet I only care to learn where did you hear those words.”    

“There is a Targaryen here.” She confirmed in a hushed voice. “And I fear that darker things may be her future.”  

Daemon's brow furrowed. “Yet why help me?” He questioned, staring down at her.  

Tauriel’s expression softened, sadness forming on her face. “I care for (Y/n), deeply.” She confessed, her voice barely audible. “But I fear the path she is on will lead to tragedy. If there is a chance to changer her fate, I must take it.”  

“Where is she?” 

“I cannot tell you exactly where she is.” She explained. “I received word that she had left the kingdom once again without the King’s permission. But there is a nest, past the Enchanted River. (Y/n) is known to frequent that area.”  

Without another moment’s hesitation, he mounted Caraxes and took to the skies. Tauriel watched as Caraxes flew for a couple moments then descended.  

“The King will not be pleased if he learned you gave out (Y/n)’s location.” Legolas appeared, looking disappointed. “He could kill her.” 

“He will not.”  Tauriel sharply retorted. 

“How can you be so sure?” 

“I would rather (Y/n) perish happily than see her and her dragon fall on the battlefield.” 

(Y/n) drew her sword as Caraxes landed in front of her. Aegar’s upper body hovered over her as he growled at the sight of the two, stretching his wings, ready to defend her. 

Daemon dismounted Caraxes, approaching (Y/n) but stayed at a safe distance. “Nyke emagon daor māzigon naejot vīlībagon.” He said.  

“I have not come to fight.” 

Her breath hitched as her heart quickened. She continued to look back and forth, between Daemon and Caraxes. She kept a tight grip on her sword. “Who are you and why have you come?” She ordered loudly. 

“I am Daemon Targaryen.” Daemon replied. “And I have come to take you home.”  

© Intoxicated-Chan 2024, I do not allow my work to be copied, translated, modified, adapted, or put on any other platform without my permission. 

Taglist ➳ @mrsdurin , @marsmallow433 , @oneiratxxia10 , @sassybutclassy96 ,  

[kckt88]

Scorched Hearts IV

Summary:

'We loved with a love that was more than love - Edgar Allen Poe'

Viserys has passed and the Greens have usurped the Iron Throne. Rhaenyra's grief causes her to suffer a devestating loss and Valaena resolves to see Aemond despite the risk.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Language, Secret Relationship, Child Loss, Grief, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Oral Sex, P in V, & Blood.

AEMOND x O.C Niece

Word Count: 5540

A.N - Going over old ground but it needs to be done.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Valaena stood on the balcony attached to her chambers, gazing out at the turbulent sea beyond Dragonstone. Her thoughts were far away, lost in the memory of Aemond.

She absentmindedly touched her stomach, her fingers brushing lightly against the fabric of her dress, when a distant sound pulled her back to the present—the roar of an approaching dragon.

She looked to the sky, catching sight of Meleys, circling above Dragonstone. The dragon dipped lower and disappeared into the cliffside entrance beneath the castle.

Rushing from her room, Valaena made her way through the winding corridors until she found her mother and Daemon standing by the painted table in the Great Hall.

Just as she arrived, a guard, Ser Laurent, entered, his face grave.

"Princess Rhaenys has just arrived and requests an urgent word," he announced.

Rhaenyra nodded, her expression growing tense as she beckoned Valaena to stand beside her. Valaena quickly took her place, her heart beating faster with each passing second.

Moments later, Princess Rhaenys entered the room, her face solemn.

Rhaenyra was the first to speak, her voice steady. “Princess Rhaenys, might we hope for news of Lord Corlys’ recovery?”

Rhaenys took a deep breath, gathering herself before delivering the devastating news. “Viserys is dead. I grieve this loss with you, Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father, possessed a kind heart.”

Valaena’s eyes widened in shock, her body going still as the words sank in.

Viserys is dead.

She instinctively reached for her mother, placing a comforting hand on her arm as Rhaenyra’s composure crumbled.

A heavy silence followed. Rhaenyra’s hand moved to her rounded stomach as tears spilled from her eyes, rolling down her pale cheeks.

Valaena could feel her own throat tighten as the weight of her grandsire's death settled deep within her.

“There is more,” Rhaenys continued, her tone grave. “Aegon has been crowned as his successor.”

The words hit like a storm. Valaena gasped, her voice trembling. “What?”

“T-They crowned him?” Rhaenyra whispered, her voice broken, as if she couldn’t believe what she had just heard.

Daemon, standing beside Rhaenyra, was quiet for a moment, his face tight with restrained fury. “How did Viserys die?” he asked quietly.

“I could not say,” replied Rhaenys, her voice laced with sorrow.

“How long ago?” Daemon pressed.

“A day passed, perhaps two. I was made a prisoner in my quarters while the Queen made her preparations—” said Rhaenys.

Valaena was already reeling from the revelation.

Aegon, crowned King? Viserys dead?

Daemon, ever the warrior, gripped the edge of the painted table, his knuckles white. “Viserys has been slain.”

“Alicent demanded that you declare for Aegon,” Rhaenyra said bitterly, tears still streaming down her face.

“She did,” Rhaenys confirmed, her expression hardening. “I refused her.”

“Yet you are alive,” Daemon snapped, suspicion creeping into his voice.

“The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit. I witnessed it myself just before I fled on Meleys,” Rhaenys explained. “T-They crowned him before the masses, so that the people would see him as their rightful king.”

Daemon’s fury exploded, his voice filled with venom. “That whore of a queen murdered my brother and stole his throne, and you could have burned them all for it!”

Rhaenys, her face set, replied firmly. “A war will be fought over this treachery, to be sure, but that is not my war to begin.”

Valaena, trying to process the enormity of the situation, turned to her mother, concern etched on her face. "Mother are you alright?"

Before Rhaenyra could respond, she grimaced in pain, clutching her stomach as a fresh wave of anguish coursed through her.

“D-Daemon-” she gasped, her hand pressing to her belly, her face pale.

Rhaenys, alarmed, stepped forward. “I brought you this news out of loyalty to my house. You should leave Dragonstone at once. The greens will come for you, Rhaenyra, and your children,” she urged, her voice strained with urgency.

But Rhaenyra barely heard anything she said, her eyes widening in alarm as she suddenly doubled over, gasping in pain. She quickly gathered up her dress, her hand flying between her legs.

“The babe-the babe is coming,” Rhaenyra gasped, staring at her blood-soaked hand.

Valaena stood nervously at the edge of the room, her heart pounding in her chest as she watched Maester Gerardys speaking in hushed tones to the older midwives gathered around her mother.

"Her term is far from complete," Gerardys muttered, his brow furrowed with concern. "This should not be happening."

Rhaenyra, hunched over in pain, snapped at him. "It is fucking happening."

One of the older midwives, a woman who had been through countless births, stepped forward, her voice calm despite the chaos. "Keep your head about you, Princess. Come, let us help."

Elinda, tried to reassure Rhaenyra. "We’ve done this five times before, Princess. Keep your spirit, and the sixth will be no different."

But Rhaenyra, overwhelmed by the pain and fear, pushed them away, her voice trembling. "Get off, get off, get off, get off!"

"Mother, please," Valaena begged, her voice filled with worry as she moved to her mother's side. "Let them help you."

Rhaenyra didn’t listen. Tears streamed down her face as another wave of pain overtook her. "Ow, ow, ow," she cried, hunching over, her whole body trembling.

Valaena reached for her mother’s hand, holding it tightly, desperate to offer some comfort.

Just then, Jace and Luke entered the room, their young faces filled with concern as they stood by Maester Gerardys.

Rhaenyra, still struggling through her labour, looked at her sons, her voice thick with emotion.

"Your grandsire, King Viserys, has passed."

Luke gasped in disbelief. "V-Viserys?"

Rhaenyra nodded, her tears mixing with her pain. "The Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne. Aegon has been crowned king."

Jacaerys, always the bold one, stepped forward, his voice tense. "What is to be done about it?"

Rhaenyra, barely able to catch her breath through the agony of her labour, snapped, "Nothing yet."

Jace frowned, his brow furrowed. "And where is Daemon?"

Rhaenyra shook her head, frustration and anguish mingling on her face. "I don’t know. Gone to madness. Gone to plot his war."

Jace, brimming with determination, turned to leave. "Leave Daemon with me."

"Jace!" Rhaenyra called out, trying to stop him, but her son ignored her, too consumed by the news of war.

"Jacaerys!" shouted Valaena, trying to catch her brother’s attention.

Rhaenyra, her face pale, looked to her son. "Whatever claim remains to me, Valaena is now its heir. Naught is to be done but by my command."

Jace, hearing his mother’s words, paused for a moment before nodding. He left the room, Luke trailing behind him, both of them grim-faced and determined.

Rhaenyra’s labour worsened, her cries filling the room. She screamed for Daemon, but he did not come.

Her pain seemed unbearable as she collapsed to the floor, and Valaena, her heart breaking, knelt beside her mother.

"Mother, please," Valaena pleaded, her own tears spilling over. "Let them help you."

Elinda, stepped forward again. "You should not do this alone," she urged, but Rhaenyra, too far gone in her agony, ignored them all.

With a final, anguished scream, Rhaenyra began to push. "Get out, get out!" she wailed, her body trembling violently. Valaena stayed by her mother’s side, holding her hand tightly, her own face streaked with tears.

Rhaenyra, gasping for breath, turned to her daughter, her eyes wild with desperation. "Valaena- help me-it’s coming."

With shaking hands, Valaena moved forward, positioning herself to catch the babe as it came. Her heart raced, fear and sorrow overwhelming her as her mother pushed again.

The babe slipped into her hands with a wet squelch, followed by a rush of blood and fluid. But as Valaena looked down, she froze.

The babe was still, unmoving. And more than that—it was not like any babe she had ever seen. Its skin was covered in scales, and it had tiny, malformed horns on its head. It looked like a half-breed between a human and a dragon.

Valaena’s hands trembled as she held the lifeless form, staring down at the twisted body of her baby sister.

"It’s a girl," she whispered, her voice cracking. Tears filled her eyes as she gently cradled the babe, her heart shattering.

Rhaenyra, despite her exhaustion and pain, reached out her arms. "Give her to me," she whispered, her voice soft and broken.

Valaena hesitated for only a moment before carefully placing the stillborn child into her mother’s arms.

Rhaenyra held the babe to her chest, rocking back and forth as tears poured down her face. She began to hum a lullaby, the sound fragile and filled with immeasurable sorrow.

Valaena knelt beside her mother, her hands stained with blood, her mind numb from the shock and grief. She barely noticed when the door opened, and Daemon entered the room.

His face, usually so composed, was stricken with grief as he crossed the room and knelt beside Rhaenyra.

He wrapped his arm around her, resting his head on her shoulder as they mourned together in silence.

Valaena stood up slowly, retreating to give them space, her heart heavy with the weight of all they had lost.

Valaena rushed from the room, her breath hitching as she fought back the sobs rising in her chest.

Her vision blurred with tears as she stumbled down the stone corridors of Dragonstone, barely aware of her surroundings.

When she reached her chambers, she slammed the door shut behind her and leaned heavily against it, her body shaking with grief.

She looked down at her hands, still covered in blood—the blood of her mother and stillborn sister. The sight made her stomach turn.

Desperate to rid herself of the reminder, she rushed to the basin near her bed, frantically scrubbing at her hands until her skin turned red from the effort.

But no matter how hard she scrubbed, she still felt the weight of the loss, the blood on her hands like a stain she couldn't erase.

Her strength faltered, and she collapsed onto her bed, burying her face into the pillow. The sobs she had been holding back finally broke free, wracking her body with each breath.

Her heart felt like it was being torn in two—the death of her grandsire, still fresh in her mind, and now the loss of her baby sister.

Minutes passed, or perhaps hours—time lost meaning in the storm of her emotions. Eventually, the tears slowed, leaving her with nothing but an aching emptiness.

Valaena lay still for a while, staring at nothing, her body heavy with exhaustion. But even as the pain lingered, a single thought pushed through the haze: she needed to see him.

She knew she shouldn’t—she knew it wasn’t wise—but she couldn’t face this grief alone.

She needed Aemond.

Wiping the last of her tears, Valaena stood up and moved to her desk. Her hand trembled slightly as she pulled out a scrap of parchment.

She stared at the blank page for a moment, then quickly scribbled Īlva dīnagon (Our place).

Her heart beat faster as she readied herself, quickly changing out of her blood-stained gown and into her riding leathers.

The familiar weight of the leather against her skin brought her a measure of focus, though the pain still gnawed at her insides.

Once she was dressed, she folded the parchment and slipped it into her hand before leaving her chambers, her steps urgent.

She made her way through the winding halls of Dragonstone to the rookery, her mind spinning with thoughts of him.

The grief, the anger, the pain—they all swirled together, but through it all, she knew Aemond was the only one who could give her comfort. He had to.

At the rookery, she handed the message to the maester on duty, her voice tight. “Send this at once-and tell no one of its destination”

Without waiting for a reply, she turned and hurried away, making her way down the winding stairs that led deep into the caverns below the castle.

Her destination was Silverwing's lair, where her dragon waited for her. As she descended further into the depths of the caverns, the familiar hum of her bond with Silverwing pulsed faintly in the back of her mind, a connection she desperately needed now more than ever.

Valaena reached the lair, her breath catching as she caught sight of Silverwing, the great silvery dragon resting in the shadows.

Valaena ran her fingers along Silverwing’s smooth scales before the dragon lowered her shoulder, allowing her to climb into the saddle.

Taking a deep breath, Valaena took hold of the reins and leaned forward “Sōvēs” (Fly).

Silverwing rumbled in response, her massive form shifting as she began to move, her claws scraping against the stone floor of the cavern as she lumbered forward.

The ground trembled beneath the dragon’s weight as she made her way to the cave’s entrance.

Once outside, the cool night air hit Valaena’s face, but the brisk wind did little to clear the storm of emotions brewing inside her.

With a powerful beat of her wings, Silverwing leapt into the air, sending dust and loose rocks scattering in all directions.

The dragon soared upward, her vast wings slicing through the night sky. Valaena gripped the reins tightly, the wind whipping through her hair as they ascended higher and higher.

Valaena knew that reaching out to Aemond could be a mistake. The Greens had usurped the throne, and with her mother now the rightful queen, the chasm between their families had widened beyond repair.

War loomed on the horizon, and bloodshed seemed inevitable.

But still, Valaena couldn’t stop herself. She needed to see him, to feel his presence one last time. Maybe it was foolish—maybe it would change nothing—but she had to face him.

Even if it was only to say goodbye.

Valaena landed softly on the ground as she slid down Silverwing's wing membrane, her boots sinking slightly into the soft earth with a muted thud.

She ran a hand along the dragon's shimmering scales, her touch gentle as she pressed her forehead to Silverwing’s side.

"Gaomagon urnēbagon riña," she whispered (Keep watch, girl).

Silverwing gave a low, rumbling chirp, her large eyes blinking slowly as she settled in for her vigil.

Taking a breath, Valaena moved towards the cabin. The small, secluded hideaway held a bittersweet familiarity.

She took the key that she always kept hidden in one of the  saddlebags and slid it into the lock with a soft click.

The door creaked as she pushed it open, the scent of the forest mixed with old wood greeting her.

Inside, the cabin was quiet and dim. The hearth was cold, but a small stack of leftover logs sat by the fire pit.

Valaena knelt and carefully piled the wood into the hearth, her movements slow and deliberate as she picked up the flint.

The familiar scrape of stone against metal filled the room, followed by the sudden spark that caught the dry kindling.

Slowly, the flames took hold, flickering to life and bathing the cabin in a warm, soft glow.

Valaena stood and shrugged off the top layer of her riding leathers, her body aching with exhaustion and sorrow.

She moved toward the bed, her hand trailing along the rough-hewn wooden furniture before climbing beneath the thick fur blanket. The warmth wrapped around her, but it did little to ease the chill in her heart.

She couldn’t help but wonder if Aemond would come.

Would he heed it? Or had he realized the truth—that their love, whatever it had been, was now doomed?

The Greens had taken everything from her family, stolen her birthright, and shattered any hope of peace.

The fire crackled softly as she leaned back into the furs, pulling the blanket tighter around her shoulders. Her mind raced with thoughts of Aemond. What could they possibly be to one another now? The chasm between their families, was now too vast to bridge.

She closed her eyes, her breath shaky as she whispered a silent prayer to the gods, hoping Aemond would come.

Valaena was startled awake by the deafening roar of Silverwing outside the cabin, her heart racing as the sound of her dragon’s distress reached her ears.

She threw off the fur blanket, jumping out of bed, and rushed outside into the cold night air. Her eyes went immediately to the sky, and her heart skipped a beat when she saw the massive, form of Vhagar circling overhead, her deep, resonant roar shaking the very ground beneath Valaena’s feet.

Silverwing reared up, her wings flaring in response, the gentlest of dragons ready to defend her rider if necessary.

Valaena raised her hand, her voice steady but urgent. "Umbās! Silverwing, Lykirī!" (Wait, be calm).

Her loyal dragon obeyed but moved protectively forward, her keen eyes locked onto Vhagar as the massive dragon descended.

When Vhagar landed nearby, the earth trembled beneath her immense weight, and the air seemed to vibrate with the presence of the ancient dragon.

"Sȳz riña," Valaena murmured softly to Silverwing, praising her dragon for staying calm despite the threat of Vhagar's arrival (Good girl).

She cast one last glance at the sky to make sure no other dragons were approaching before she retreated into the cabin.

Valaena tried to prepare herself for the conversation she had imagined in her head, rehearsing the words she would say.

But when she heard the door open behind her and Aemond's familiar voice calling her name, all those carefully crafted words dissolved like mist.

Without thinking, Valaena turned and ran straight into his arms, her sobs breaking free as Aemond held her tightly, his strong hands soothing as he hushed her gently.

"She's gone," Valaena choked out between her sobs.

Aemond pulled back slightly, his brow furrowed with confusion. "Who?" he asked softly.

"Visenya," Valaena whispered, her voice trembling. "The babe-my mother’s babe was stillborn."

Aemond’s expression softened with understanding, and he sighed, his grip on her tightening. "I’m sorry for your loss," he said, his voice heavy with sincerity.

Valaena looked up at him, her hand rising to caress his face—but in a sudden surge of emotion, she slapped him.

The sound of the blow echoed in the small cabin, and Aemond staggered back, his eye wide with shock as he shoved her away from him.

"What was that for?" he demanded, anger flashing in his voice.

"For usurping the throne," Valaena spat, her eyes blazing.

Aemond’s face darkened, his lips curling into a scowl. "Aegon is the firstborn son. The crown belongs to him," he retorted sharply.

Valaena scoffed, her anger bubbling to the surface. "Just because he's a male? Do you honestly believe having a cock is a true qualifying factor?" she snapped.

"That is the world we live in," Aemond shot back, his voice tight with frustration. "A son inherits over a daughter."

"And what about me?" Valaena demanded, her voice shaking with fury. "I’m my mother’s heir over my brother. Is that meaningless too?"

"That was your mother’s choice," Aemond replied coolly.

"Yes, and my grandsire chose my mother to succeed him—not that drunken whore Aegon," she fired back, her eyes narrowing.

"He changed his mind," Aemond insisted, his voice growing more defensive.

"According to who?" Valaena demanded, stepping closer to him.

"My mother-she attended him in his final moments” Aemond said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Valaena shook her head, her eyes filling with tears once more. "My grandsire steadfastly upheld my mother’s claim for over twenty years. He dragged himself from his sickbed to defend her just days ago, and now you expect me to believe that he suddenly changed his mind. Do me a favour, Aemond."

"It’s irrelevant now," Aemond muttered, turning away from her. "Aegon is king."

"Hardly," Valaena scoffed. "Crowning him in the Dragonpit does not make him a king."

"In the eyes of gods and men, it does," Aemond said with cold finality.

"There you go again—men, men, men! I’m sick of hearing about them!" Valaena cried, her voice cracking with emotion. "Pathetic creatures who think they’re entitled to everything when, in fact, they are entitled to nothing."

Aemond’s eye narrowed, his voice low and hurt. "So, is that what you really think of me?"

Valaena paused, her fury draining away as she met his gaze. "No," she whispered, her voice softer now. "You were everything to me."

"And what am I now?" Aemond asked, his tone a mix of pain and desperation.

Valaena shook her head, unable to answer. "I don’t know," she whispered. "What do you want to be?"

Aemond stepped closer to her, his voice low and pleading. "I want to be with you. Like before."

Valaena’s heart clenched, her eyes filling with tears. "We can never be like we were before," she said sadly.

"I don’t want to lose you," Aemond whispered, his hand reaching for hers.

Valaena pulled away, her voice trembling. "What choice do we have?”

“Otto wants me to fly to Storm’s End,” said Aemond, his voice rough with frustration. “To offer my hand in marriage to one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters”

Valaena felt her heart lurch in her chest, her throat tightening with emotion. She blinked back tears, her hands trembling as she whispered, “There is something I need to tell you.”

Aemond’s gaze sharpened, the faintest hint of alarm creeping into his features. “What is it?” he asked, stepping closer.

Valaena swallowed hard, her eyes downcast as the words spilled from her in a choked rush. “I’m carrying your child.”

The silence that followed her confession was deafening. Aemond stood frozen, his breath catching in his throat. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Valaena nodded, tears spilling over as she spoke. “Maester Gerardys confirmed it, before we travelled to King’s Landing.”

Aemond’s expression softened as he slowly reached out, his hand trembling as he pressed it against her stomach.

“You knew then” he said, his voice thick with disbelief, “and you never told me?”

Tears welled in Valaena’s eyes as she shook her head. “How could I, Aemond? What difference would it have made?”

Aemond’s jaw clenched, his frustration returning. “I could have beseeched Viserys. Told him of our relationship, of our child. He could have ordered our marriage!”

Valaena wiped at her tears, her voice laced with a bitter sorrow. “It wouldn’t have mattered. He would still die, and any plans he made for us would have been undone”

“Valaena-” muttered Aemond.

 “What am I to do, Aemond?” Valaena asked, her voice breaking. “Rid myself of our babe, and you go on to marry your chosen Baratheon bitch while my hand is offered to Cregan Stark or Dalton Greyjoy for an alliance? Are we to forget what we had until we inevitably face one another on dragon back, and fight to the death?”

Aemond’s eyes darkened, and he shook his head fiercely. “No,” he said, his voice low with intensity. “I will not let this happen.”

Valaena turned away from him, her heart breaking. "Just promise me one thing. I-If I am to die, I-I would rather it be by your hand, I-I wish for your face to be the last thing I gaze upon-"

Aemond roughly grabbed her shoulders and turned her to face him, his eye blazing with emotion. "Don’t say that. Don’t ever say that again-" he growled.

"What are we to do?" Valaena whispered, tears streaming down her face. "We can’t be together, and yet, I can’t bear the thought of you with someone else."

Aemond’s hands cupped her face, his voice fierce with determination. "I will not take another. I want you, only you, forever."

Before Valaena could respond, Aemond’s lips crashed into hers in a passionate, desperate kiss.

Aemond pressed his forehead against Valaena's, their breath mingling. “Marry me,” he whispered, his voice hoarse with urgency.

Valaena gasped, eyes wide with disbelief. “What?”

“Marry me,” Aemond repeated, the intensity in his gaze unwavering. “Tonight. Right here. Right Now”

“But how?” Valaena asked, her heart pounding in her chest.

Without a word, Aemond reached for the shard of dragon glass that hung from the necklace Valaena always wore, his fingers gently brushing her collarbone as he grasped it.

“In the tradition of our house,” he murmured, holding the sharp, black stone between them. “We need nothing else.”

Valaena hesitated. “But it won’t be recognized by the Faith,” she said, though her resolve was weakening, her heart already leaning toward him.

Aemond shook his head, his hand cupping her cheek. “I don’t care. I want you.” He dropped his hand to rest against her stomach. “I wish to show my commitment to you, to our child.”

“But what about—” Valaena began to protest, the weight of everything outside the cabin crashing in.

Aemond cut her off with a fierce kiss. His lips stole the breath from her, leaving her momentarily dazed.

When he pulled away, his voice was firm but gentle. “I do not wish to discuss anything else at this moment. Right now, I want to make you, my wife. Everything else can wait.”

Valaena’s heart ached, torn between her mind’s logic and her heart’s desire.

But she found herself nodding, the truth of what she wanted burning brighter than the uncertainties.

Aemond’s lips curved into a smile. He brushed a thumb across her cheek before whispering, “Remove your clothes.”

Valaena raised a brow. “I’m pretty sure that’s not part of the ceremony.”

“It is now,” Aemond grinned mischievously, already pulling off his own clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor beside the fire.

Valaena shook her head but couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped her as she began to shed her own layers, feeling the warmth of the fire wash over her bare skin.

Once they were both bare, Aemond had her sit in front of the fireplace, the glow of the flames casting a soft light over them.

Aemond rummaged through one of the drawers, and with a triumphant noise, he pulled out a goblet, wiping the rim quickly before sitting down across from her.

“Are we really doing this?” Valaena asked, still amazed by the moment they found themselves in.

“Yes,” Aemond said, his voice low and steady. “We are.” He handed her the shard of dragon glass. “Do you know the words?”

Valaena nodded, her pulse quickening as she accepted the glass. She took her turn in cutting Aemond’s lip with the shard.

They exchanged looks, never breaking eye contact as Aemond cut her lip in return. Together, they marked each other’s foreheads with the sacred symbols of their house—fire and blood.

Aemond unflinchingly drew the shard across his palm, his blood flowing freely. He offered the shard to Valaena, and without hesitation, she did the same.

They joined hands, allowing their blood to mix, their fates sealed together.

Aemond’s voice was steady as he recited the ancient words of their house. “Hen lanoti ānogar, Va sȳndroti vaedroma, Mēro perzot gīhoti, Elēdroma āirza sīr, Izulī amapā perzi.” (Blood of two, joined as one, Ghostly flame and song of shadows, Two hearts as embers).

Valaena’s voice trembled slightly, but she held Aemond’s gaze as she answered, “Prumī lanti sēteksi, Hen jenȳ māzīlarion, Qēlossa ozundesi, Syndroro ono jēdo, Rȳ kīvia mazvestraksi.” (Forged in fourteen fires, A future promised in glass, The stars stand witness, The vow spoken through time, Of darkness and light).

Their mingled blood dripped into the goblet. Aemond drank first, his lips stained with the red liquid, and then he offered the goblet to Valaena.

Without hesitation, she drank, the taste of their shared blood a potent reminder that they were now bound, forever entwined by fire, by blood, by love.

The vows complete, they sealed their bond with a kiss, their blood mixing once more as their lips met, their fate sealed in that timeless tradition.

Aemond pulled away only slightly, his forehead resting against hers, his breath mingling with hers.

“Now,” he whispered, his voice husky, “-we shall consummate this marriage.”

He kissed her deeply, their shared passion igniting once more as he gently laid her back onto the soft fur rug in front of the fire.

He covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Valaena moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

“I love you-I love you so much” breathed Aemond as he trailed a hand slowly down her body.

Valaena audibly gasped when she felt Aemond’s fingers rubbing her folds.

“O-Oh Aemond” exclaimed Valaena as her husband slipped a finger inside her, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Always so warm-so wet for me” muttered Aemond as he added another finger, making sure to use his thumb, sweeping it against her pearl.

“I don’t want to wait-please husband take me” whispered Valaena, as she wrapped her legs around Aemond’s waist, holding him as close as she could.

Aemond took his cock in hand, running the head along his wife’s warm wet folds, before he pressed inside her, inching forward slowly.

As his hips finally met hers, he rested for a moment, savouring the feeling of her wrapped around him.

“Issa gevie ābrazȳrys” whispered Aemond (My beautiful wife).

“P-Please Aemond” whimpered Valaena.

Aemond began to move with a slow, deep grinding. His movements deliberate and calculated.

“Gods be good,” panted Valaena.

“Fuck. You were made for me, my wife. You were made to fit my cock in this sweet cunt of yours.” breathed Aemond as he increased the pace of this thrusts.

“A-Aemond. Please.” exclaimed Valaena as she brings her hands up to his shoulders, clinging to him as his thrusts shift her up and down, her back rubbing awkwardly against the rug.

Aemond makes a strangled sort of sound and lowers himself onto Valaena even more, kissing her passionately.

His rolling against hers, his cock is still thrusting in and out.

Valaena kisses him back, now threading her fingers through his long silky hair, her nails scraping against his scalp, just the way he likes it.

“ñuhon” muttered Aemond (Mine).

Valaena can feel herself clenching around him as his cock keeps hitting the same spot inside her.

“Ooo Aemond-f-faster. P-please”

Aemond lets out a loud groan as he begins to move faster pounding into her, the sound of their skin slapping together echoing around the cabin.

“Aemond-Aemond-”

“You’re so fucking perfect-” growls Aemond.

“Y-Yes. P-please” moaned Valaena squirming, the heat shooting across her abdomen as her pleasure peaks, and she explodes, her cunt tightening around Aemond.

Aemond lets out a long low groan, his movements becoming erratic. His cock throbbing as he spills his seed inside her.

Aemond’s hips finally stagger and stop. He buries his face in the crook of her neck, not wanting to move away from her.

A lone tear trickled from his eye, his cock having gone soft inside of her, but he had no desire to pull out.

He just wanted to stay, like this. Just for a little while longer, the feel of her heartbeat and the warmth of her breath was soothing to him.

Aemond lay on his side behind Valaena, propped up on one elbow, his hand resting protectively on her stomach.

The flickering light of the fire bathed their bare skin in a soft glow, casting long shadows that danced across the cabin walls.

Valaena stared into the flames, her mind racing, her heart conflicted. "What's going to happen now?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aemond, with a slight smirk, shifted his hand slightly over her belly. “I don’t suppose you fancy coming to King's Landing and declaring for Aegon?” he teased.

Valaena immediately scowled, turning her head slightly to glare at him. “Betray my mother? And be used as leverage to force her into submission? No thanks.”

Aemond chuckled lightly, his smirk widening. "Was worth a try."

Valaena huffed, rolling her eyes but unable to suppress a small smile at his dry humour. “Why don’t you declare for my mother then?”

Aemond laughed, though there was a trace of bitterness in his voice. “Same reasons apply.”

 “How are we ever going to be together?” whispered Valaena, her voice breaking slightly as the reality of their circumstances weighed heavily on her heart.

Aemond pressed a tender kiss to her shoulder, lingering there as he thought. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, filling the long silence between them.

He remained quiet for a while, his mind working through the gravity of the only option left to them.

Eventually, he spoke, his voice low and measured. “There is but one way for us to be together now.”

Valaena tensed slightly “How?” she asked, her breath catching, fear and hope warring within her.

Aemond’s fingers traced soft circles over her skin, his gaze steady as he met hers. “Do you trust me?”

“I trust you,” she whispered, her hand moving to rest atop his, their fingers entwining over her stomach.

TBC

[evvyyypeters-fics]

Dragon Prince! Evan Peters Headcanons + ( x gn!reader)

Warnings! Mentions of violence, fluff, little angst, lots of rambling and dragon lore stuff, not rlly proofread

Disclaimer! This is obviously not an accurate representation of Evan Peters as a person. This is a characterized/ fictionalized idea/ concept. Do not take this as fact. It is entirely fiction and based on my own opinions, thoughts and conception.

Good lord this photo does things to me. Eye contact with Evan has me melting

Requested by @jazz-berry (as usual) and inspired by @lemoniiiiiii

Y/N is definitely a self made boss, bounty hunter/ hunter/ pirate/ archer, etc. and Evan is extremely protective over them, it’s in his nature, but he knows how they feel about him being overbearing or getting in the way of them having their independence. So he kind of steps to the side, while keeping a big eye on Y/N. And if they’re ever in immediate danger and he’s around, you know he’s going to be the one to come save their ass instantly. He’ll be dramatic about it too, he has a stoic face where he acts like he isn’t super worried, but he’ll pick Y/N up even if they aren’t injured bridal style and carry them to a log or some sort of chair, bench or bed to sit down and heal.

“Y/N” He shouts, his voice louder than anything you had heard before, it was passionate and almost frantic. And yet, it almost sounded like a roar with the anger that was built up inside.

He rushed towards the dragon that had trapped me at the edge of a forest, its leaves barbed by rows of thorn bushes. To enter them would not only seal my fate, but also be a painful journey. And Evan was allowing neither. His cape bellowed, flickering before my eyes before I could clear the blood dripping from my head and traveling down my eye, his stance confident before the tall beast. He drew his long sword, sheathing it and wielding the heavy weapon between both hands.

I knew that Evan was the ‘dragon prince’ (even though I truly didn’t fully understand what that meant yet), but it still amazed me each time that just the mere look inside of his eyes and the gleam of his large sword made the firey creature cower, picking up its heavy wings, floating above the large scape of land. The grass shuddering beneath each audible flap, Evan’s gaze following the dragon as it rose in the air and turned away, disappearing behind the icy capped mountains in the distant lands. Evan instantly pivoted on his heels towards me, sheathing his sword back into its halter. I could hear the jingle of the chainmail on his armor and the buckle of his boots as he hurried towards me, lowering himself to my wounded position in the grass. He places a leathery, comforting hand on my cheek as he eyes the wound that to his relief, quickly crusted.

“Come on, let's get you out of here.” He says in that same cold tone he always uses. But there’s something oddly sweet with the way he scoops me up from under my knees, forcing my arms to flail around his shoulders, holding him tight as he carries me back to the kingdom like his bride.

“Is this truly necessary?” I ask, flustered. He only hums in response, not letting go. In fact, I swear I could feel his grip get tighter for a moment, adjusting me more comfortably in his arms. My eyes focused on his stubbly chin, his cape flickering behind him in the corner of my eye.

Headcanons:

(lore)

- He’s a dragon prince, so I think he would actually have some sort of DNA connection with the dragons/ spiritual one. His main defense mechanism against them being his ability to communicate with them, more in a telepathic sense. His eyes may glow yellow or have a more “dragon-like” appearance when he uses that part of himself

- He has a sword specifically made to pierce the tough scales of a dragon and is derived from special materials that are toxic to dragons

- Anyone can train a dragon in this world, but he has an easier time due to his communication ability, being able to tame them easier. He has lots of dragons who he is allied with who help me slay the other territories.

- There are multiple kingdoms made of dragons, and they go to war with each other, and humans can get crossed in this mix which is where he comes into the picture

- He’s sort of a hybrid mitigator for dragon-human wars, and even helps the dragon allies with their own turf wars

- His main duty is as a guard/ knight for the kingdom, he keeps watch for dragon attacks as well as humans. He used often as a weapon against dragons by the kingdom

- The royal family of the kingdom doesn’t recognize being a “dragon prince” as a real royal standing, so while he’s technically royalty and is part of a rare bloodline, he is not considered so by many. The highest ranking he has is being close to a commander/ knight, but only in the ordeal of dealing with dragons during war/ an attack

- He has his limits when it comes to slaying dragons. He will only slay dragons that are an active threat to the kingdom or someone he loves. He will never slay a dragon without a valid reason, and will negotiate with them before making any attacks

- He’s part of a royal bloodline, mixed between dragon and human, they’ve existed for thousands of years but were feared by many and slowly died out/ got colonized/ executed. He was abandoned/ his family was massacred when he was young and was found by a blacksmith of the kingdom when he was young. So he didn’t know he was part of the rare bloodline until he came in contact with a dragon when he was 13 and learned of his ability. His father then told him the truth of his origins and he began training as a knight to become a guard in the kingdom, thanks to the help of his adoptive father.

- He sometimes gets visions of the future, of course pertaining to things that involve dragons, but also premonitions of things that could lead to the end of the world. Dragons and humans are interlinked from ancient history, so certain clashes have almost led to the destruction of the world. There were a few ice ages and purges of life, but they eventually came back. Evan can get dreams/ spontaneous visions of these events due to his connection to both human and dragon and it’s essentially his job to keep order.

- There are others like him in the world, but because the bloodline has died out so much, they are rare to come by and most that are aware of what they are have hidden away in fear of being sought after and murdered for their powers.

- The kingdom where Evan lives needs his powers to survive in the kingdom because they live right on the edge of a mountain range where on the other side all the other dragon kingdoms reside, so they are more likely to get attacked or hit in a crossfire. Evan living there gets automatic protection, so he hasn’t left and is given fairly decent hospitality. He also has lived there his entire life and hasn’t put much thought into the outside world. Too focused on the job he has in his home to consider exploring or finding others

(relationship to Y/N)

- Y/N and Evan have known each other since they were kids. Around 6-7. They didn’t always get along, having a more frenemies relationship where they would pick on each other.

- As they got older they both became closer and better friends, relating on the fact that the other teens and children of the kingdom found them weird and they were both slowly isolating to each other

- They spent a lot of time together by the creek/ river, playing in the woods and skipping rocks

- They would both stay out together as long as they could, avoiding their own homes because not only did they not want the fun to end, but they both didn’t want to go back to their homes where their lives didn’t feel perfect or less lonely

- They found solace in their friendship together

- They each had their own separate dreams, Y/N wanted to explore the world outside the kingdom whereas Evan wanted to stay in the kingdom forever and become a knight. This caused them to start fighting again occasionally when the topic was brought up, and as they got even older, they began to distance themselves

- Y/N was the first to know about Evan’s connection to the dragons, having been there when they were playing by the edge of the woods and a dragon came and landed in front of them. Evan, being naturally protective, got in front of Y/N and found he could speak with the dragon and have an understanding. But Y/N, not having any such power just saw the two standing before each other for a few tense minutes before the dragon flew away

- They were both freaked by the incident at the time, and as they talked more about, became slightly excited. Evan already knew he wanted to use his talent to protect the kingdom, but Y/N believed he could do more with it. Like bringing peace between the humans and dragons for millenium.

- Eventually they both turned 18, and Y/N fled the kingdom and began traveling while Evan stayed and became a knight

- They spent at least a decade apart until Y/N came back to the kingdom with a group of thieves, helping them steal money from the townsfolk and hoping to steal the riches from the kingdom. They had their own reasons for doing so, mainly just trying to keep themselves alive and look out for themselves.

- Evan hears about the group of thieves that have entered the kingdom and is tasked with keeping them out of the castle. He catches one of them during a small ambush, realizing it’s Y/N he is confused, angry and distraught. They explain their reasoning for being a part of the group and the pair are still on rocky terms

- In return for not sending Y/N to jail, they come to an agreement/ deal that they will help him track down the rest of the thieves and imprison them

- They slowly reunite and warm back up to each other, remembering the old days as they spend time together getting into fights across the kingdom to find the thieves and catch them before they get to the castle, rekindling their once broken friendship

- They bond over their individual memories, Y/N telling Evan stories of the outside world and what they were doing, and Evan talking about his adventures as a knight and mitigating for the dragons and the kingdom

“You know, when we were kids, I had a huge crush on you.” I laughed as my stomach tickled, feeling the warm flames of the fire flickering, licking and trying to reach me from its cage of rocks and sticks, only getting a small tickle of warmth through the cold night air.

The stars were heavy above, twinkling like the ripples of water from the ocean. I could see Evan’s stoic face, outlined sharply by the yellow flames dancing across it. His cape draped over the back of the thick log he was perched upon. Despite the blank expression on his face, I swear I saw a twinkle in his eyes of surprise and that’s when I felt the air around us get thickly uncomfortable. The silence becomes stale and quieter, practically deafening if it weren't for the chirp of the crickets–which I call the birds of the night. It’s almost as if he can sense that his reaction has made things more awkward, because he lowers his gaze to the fire and says something I truly didn’t expect.

“Yeah, so did I.” His voice is soft, almost romantic in a way. I feel as if the wind has been knocked from my lungs. All this time, the boy–the man, who had been in the back of my mind all of these years. The one who got away, the one who I had never thought in a million years would ever love someone like me. He just admitted he had a crush on me? I could hardly fathom it, let alone hear it. I almost believed I was dreaming.

“Is it that surprising?” He asks curiously, as if I gave him an offended look, realizing that my eyes were probably blown into saucers after what he said because I feel him practically snap me out of a daze with those words, forcing my face to relax. I can almost see a smile stretch at the corner of his mouth after my expression softens, his gaze finally lifted back to me fully and searching my eyes.

“N-No I uh, I mean I just–I didn’t expect that. Really.” I said, my words tripping over themselves. There was that silence again, the loud ambience of the night filling my ears back up like cotton balls.

“You know…” I said slowly, breaking the silence, my eyes flickering around. Trying not to land my gaze back into his eyes as I feel my heartbeat begin to quicken, squeezing inside of my chest. “I still think you’re kind of handsome…” I almost hoped he hadn’t heard me, too flustered by the admittance. My feelings hadn’t changed for Evan since the day I left him, if anything they had gotten worse the moment I saw that it was him who had caught me that day. The way he was so strong, perfectly groomed, the chubby look on his face I had always pictured of him was gone and in return left with the most perfect frame. His light curls thick and fluffy against his head, the length I had remembered that always covered his eyes having been cut to a charming length revealing the deep black pits that were his irises. A color that could only be matched to the obsidian with the way it shimmered and yet there was no light inside of them, as if it was soaked up inside of them.

I gain the courage to look at him again and I’m shocked to see that a rosy tint has spread across the apples of his cheeks and spread to the tips of his ears. His eyes wide, the obsidian black irises stark against his sclera, like a pebble. I cover my lips as I catch an escaped giggle at his expression and he quickly softens it, realizing how stupid his reaction must have been. Now he’s the one who can barely look me in the eye.

There was something different about the rest of that night, in the way that we looked at one another. More attentive, more passionate, something lingering in the distance. Words unspoken and yet so many told. I don’t think I would have traded it for anything.

May do a part two if this is popular. You can request a fic about this concept if you want ♡

Taglist (you can be added or removed at any time):

@fear-is-truth @xkaisxjazzxsingerx @lemoniiiiiii @jazz-berry @marchsfreakshow @colinzabelswife @dearlizzies @am3ricanh0rrorwh0re

[ink-flavored]

#OCKiss2025 Day 3: Stolen

Part of the @ockissweek event from Feb. 10-16th, featuring Asim & Cahaya <- Day 2 - Day 4 -> Contains: classism, this stolen kiss is not welcomed by the recipient Tips are appreciated!

Asim had several dozen books, three journals of notes, an empty inkwell, a quarter of the spell components he started with, and a headache. No matter how long he studied—hours, days, weeks—he gained absolutely no insights on the damnable artifact on the center of the table. It sat there, surrounded by his mountainous pile of effort, like the stupid slab of rock it was. The mysterious rune carved in the center glittered quietly. Mocking him.

He dug his palms into his eyes to avoid having to look at it any longer. If not even the court mages had any idea what these things were, how was he supposed to figure it out? Asim was a nobody—a Speaker from a village in the northern swamps, a place so remote that nobody in the capital had ever heard of it. He didn’t have their education or abilities or experience. Why was he here?

Asim rubbed his eyes harder when they stung hot with tears. He wanted to go home. He missed his people. He missed Mira. He missed feeling like he had a purpose. But he couldn’t. Not if the royal family had anything to say about it.

The scratch of claws on stone drew near. Something heavy landed on the table and something else crashed to the floor. Asim uncovered his face. Eko, the king’s pet dragon, perched on top of a tower of books. Her silver, feathered tail whipped back and forth, wings folded innocently at her sides.

“Come to help, have you?” Asim asked.

She squawked, tilting her head.

“Get to it, then.” He gestured at the mess. “These things aren’t going to read themselves.”

Eko leapt off the stack—kicking several books over in the process—and pranced her way over to the artifact. Her big golden eyes glittered the same way as the rune, swimming with magic and impossibility. With a small rumble, she bent down to sniff it. Asim tensed.

The rune pulsed, a wave of power rushing through the air and into his bones. She hissed and reeled back, teeth bared. Asim jumped out of his chair and snatched her away before it could—

Eko sneezed. A little spark burst from her mouth. The artifact went dormant.

“Of course,” he sighed. He set her down on the table again, away from his research subject. She raced to the edge of the table again to screech mournfully. Asim scratched her behind the horns on her jaw. “What do you want, little lizard? I can’t play right now.”

“Of course you can!”

Asim nearly leapt out of their skin at the sudden intrusion. They whipped around and saw Cahaya flinging the half-open door wide, waltzing in like he owned the place—and as crown prince, he did, to an extent. Eko dashed across the table in delight and leapt onto his shoulders. He stumbled under her weight, but laughed brightly as he always did. Asim wasn’t sure what to do.

“What a surprise, Lord Prince,” they greeted, pasting a smile on their face. “Is there something I can do for you?”

Cahaya looked a bit silly, hunched over with a juvenile dragon crawling over the back of his neck, but still managed to roll his eyes. “Firstly, stop calling me that.” Eko jumped off to dance around his feet instead. He straightened up and carefully stepped over her to meet Asim at the table. “We’re all cousins under the eyes of Our Family, are we not? No need for titles—not in private, at least. Secondly!” He clapped Asim on the shoulder, hard. “I’m here to do something for you.”

“For me?” they asked, worry pricking his gut.

“Come now, you’ve been cooped up in this study for days. With all…” Cahaya waved a hand over the catastrophic state of the desk. “This.”

“It’s why His Majesty permits me to stay here.”

“Nonsense!” He clapped Asim on the shoulder again, and they really wished he would stop doing that. “You’re here as a student of magic, not a prisoner to it.” He lowered his voice to a knowing murmur, as if to save him from embarrassment. “At least leave this room for a change. Surely the books can’t be that pleasant for company?”

Asim couldn’t help but chuckle. “You sound like my sister.”

“And she sounds like a woman of charming character.”

Divine Family protect him, Asim knew that Cahaya and Mira would get along excellently, and the thought was terrifying. “I do leave the study, you know. I have meals.”

Cahaya raised a brow. “That’s it?”

“Do I need to leave for anything else?”

“Of course! I don’t think I’ve ever met a mage so determined to read themself to death.” He started to pace down the length of the table, and Asim wondered if he wasn’t mostly talking to himself. “Honestly, I think it would do you well to schedule in some mandatory breaks. There’s so much to do in the palace—not to mention around the city itself! You’ve said so before, you’ve hardly left your hometown, so why not take the opportunity?” Before Asim could answer, he snapped his fingers. “I’ve decided. You’re a guest of the palace, and I’ll see to it that you’re treated like one.”

The prick of worry grew into a heavy stone. “I appreciate the gesture, Lor—Cahaya, but I’m afraid I am meant to study this artifact as much as I possibly can. On the Royal Mage’s orders.”

His confidence didn’t waver, and he dropped his voice low again. “I have it on good authority that my dearest uncle is away on business for the rest of today. He won’t be pestering you until at least tomorrow afternoon.”

“Oh.” It was somewhat of a relief. “Nobody mentioned that to me.”

“Of course not. To ensure you felt trapped here, if I had to guess.” Cahaya jerked his head out the door. “But there’s nothing stopping you now, hm?”

Asim glanced warily out the door. His studies were wearing him thin, he’d made no meaningful progress, and all he wanted a few mere minutes ago was to stop studying. But it wasn’t just royal orders keeping them locked in the study. The palace was so big. He still hadn’t learned all the different rooms and halls, and everyone looked at him strangely if he went anywhere other than the guest apartments. It was acutely apparent that Asim didn’t belong here. Everyone recognized it—except Cahaya, apparently.

Was that a good thing? Maybe. Asim still wasn’t sure what to make of his straightforward, and often overbearing, friendliness. But at least someone was kind to him. Or tried to be.

“Did you,” Asim said, cautiously, “have something in mind?”

“The palace gardens, of course!” Cahaya slung an arm around his shoulders and dragged him out of study without waiting for an answer. Eko followed close behind, the happy clatter of her claws chasing them down the palace halls.

Asim was quite positive he’d never even seen most of the locations on route to the gardens, but Cahaya navigated the maze of his home with ease. On the way, he listed a dozen more activities he planned to forcibly squeeze into Asim’s schedule somehow—sightseeing in the city, a performance from the palace musicians, yet another trip to the tailors’, it went on for a while. He surely couldn’t have been coming up with them all on the spot, which meant he thought about taking Asim places. Quite a lot.

And the question they refused to ask aloud was why? No matter how friendly Cahaya was, this had to be a breach of some sort. It was as if he was ignorant of their respective stations, as if the vast gulf in their social order could be ignored when it pleased him. Asim had no idea how to approach the issue—was it even an issue? It wouldn’t be better if Cahaya treated him like a strange animal that happened to wander in, but they had no idea what to do with unflinching camaraderie. What would offend, what wouldn’t? How was he supposed to feel about being treated like an equal in a place where he barely felt like a person?

Cahaya ran out of ideas—or stopped listing them—right as the gardens approached. Asim expected them to be outside, but instead gazed in awe at a gigantic room made entirely of glass. The midday sun streamed through the endless windows, rays peeking between hundreds of hanging vines. There were grasses, herbs, flowers, and shrubs for rows upon rows, organized into dazzling mosaics in their beds. As they took their first steps from the hall into the gardens, the air thickened and warmed, nearly as humid as the swamps. Magic thrummed from the tiled footpath and glass walls, the room full to bursting with so many enchantments Asim couldn’t focus on any one of them. It was unlike anything they had ever seen.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Cahaya said, noticing his awe. Eko dashed ahead of them both, shoving her snout at everything worth sniffing.

“It’s incredible,” they agreed, reaching out to brush one of the creeping vines they passed. “How do you maintain this?”

“I have no idea.”

“You live here.”

“I’m not a gardener—ask them if you like.”

The ground shifted under Asim before they could reply, and he was once again dumbfounded. A river snaked through the place, a thin path of trickling water, each bank guarded by a frame of pebbles. The stream was thin enough to step right over, which is what Cahaya did, walking right past Asim as they gawked at the floor.

“Have you never seen a creek before?” he asked, wry smile turning his lips.

“Not indoors,” Asim said. “This may be another question for the gardeners, but why keep a garden this elaborate in the palace, instead of outside?”

“I do happen to know the answer to that, because I saw it happen with my own eyes.” Cahaya gestured for him to follow, just as Eko raced back down the path to see what was taking them so long. Asim crossed the tiny river, and only then did he continue. “When I was a boy, this garden was outdoors. Every single year, the summer floods washed everything into the river.”

“Everything?”

“Enough of it that Father decided not to bother replanting it season after season and built this. Besides, this wing of the palace was such a bore before.”

Eko squawked, as if in agreement, and fluttered onto the edge of a raised bed. Asim smiled at her, then did a double take.

“Are those Astreo Stalks?” he gasped, rushing over to the plants.

“Astreo… what?”

Asim was almost afraid to breathe this close to them, but risked crouching down for a better look. “Yes, I knew it!”

The narrow stems were unmistakable, each lined with an array of tiny green bulbs, and topped with a crown of leaves. Each stalk only grew one hand high, easily lost in tall grasses, but they had a bed all to themselves in the palace gardens. Dozens, maybe hundreds of Astreo Stalks—more than Asim had ever seen in one place in their life.

“What’s so special about them?” Cahaya asked. He stood at Eko’s side, stroking down her back while she purred.

“They’re so rare in the swamps,” they explained. “They need such a precise amount of water and drown so easily. I’ve never been able to cultivate them myself, I always have to trade for it.”

“But why?”

“They’re medicine—it numbs the skin, it soothes a sore throat, it’s an essential component of nearly every healing spell. I always have to use what I have sparingly…”

Asim trailed off before he could finish the thought. He used every Astreo Stalk he had the privilege to keep preserved in his stores with the knowledge he might not see another for weeks. During the seasonal coughs, children and the elderly came first. If he ran out, people were left suffering. Some were dead before he could trade for more. And the palace gardens had an entire bed of them.

“I had no idea,” Cahaya said, unaffected. “I did always think they were rather charming.”

Something snapped in Asim then. They stood up and dared look the crown prince in the eye. “Why are you so intent on spending time with me?”

Confusion tinged his easygoing smile. “As I said before, you’re a guest of my family. I’ll not have you stored away like a casket of wine.”

“Why me, Cahaya?” Saying his name felt so much like an accusation. “You can’t be short of other guests to entertain. I’m here to study magic, which you seem to have no interest in.”

He put a hand to his breast, apparently taking offense. “Of course I’m interested! And my own entertainment aside, I’m doing this for you. Talking about plants must be more interesting than listening to my uncle prattle on about enchanted rocks all day, no?”

“And the reason you hold my entertainment in such high significance is—?”

More confusion, but this time he seemed amused at the question. As if Asim should know the answer already. But he didn’t speak.

Cahaya cupped both sides of their face and kissed them lightly. A chaste and delicate thing, a warm invitation. And Asim felt ice climb through their veins.

“I told you the first day we met,” Cahaya said, still holding his face, still smiling. “The twin brothers of Fate and Love brought us together, I truly believe that. And I’ll not disregard a blessing such as you.”

“You were serious?” Asim blurted, the first coherent words to make it past his tongue.

He laughed, dismissive. “Why would I say such a thing if I didn’t intend it?”

“Because you didn’t know me—you don’t know me.” They brushed his hands away, stumbling back onto the garden path.

“Are you alright?”

Asim wanted to shout at him—how could they possibly be alright?—but Cahaya looked worried. Stunned, even, that his affection wasn’t returned. He took a step forward. Asim took one back.

“I’m—I’m going,” they forced out, and raced out of the gardens. Cahaya called for him, Eko made a worried screech, but he didn’t stop or turn to look or even slow down.

Never had Asim wanted more badly to be back in the swamps, in his hut, with his sister.

--

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[saphronethaleph]

Seller's Market

“All right, I have a question for you,” Cersei said, sounding dangerous. “What exactly is going on with the city?”

“The city, my lady?” Pycelle asked.

“King’s Landing, Pycelle,” Cersei replied. “There was another riotous demonstration, this week. What is going on?”

“I confess myself unsure,” Pycelle admitted. “Varys?”

“My birds… have mentioned unrest,” Varys conceded. “That there is a feeling in the city that the new regime is… causing problems.”

“What kind of problems?” Cersei said. “Lord Stark, you are the Lord Hand – it falls to you to solve this issue!”

“I am new to the city, Queen Regent,” Ned Stark admitted. “I do not understand why it is that these problems are coming about – I do not have enough understanding of how Kings Landing normally is. It is quite different in White Harbour and Wintertown, since they are so much smaller.”

“Smaller,” Littlefinger chuckled. “That’s one way to put it.”

Tyrion coughed, drawing all eyes in the room to him.

“I… may have an answer for you,” he said, and put a ledger down on the table with a thump and a cloud of dust.

“What are you doing here?” Cersei asked.

“I was researching the same problem you have mentioned, dear sister,” Tyrion replied, with a smile. “Isn’t that helpful of me?”

“Don’t you start,” Cersei muttered.

“I would be grateful for your advice, of course,” Ned decided. “Please – enlighten us.”

“Very well,” Tyrion said. “So I was looking at the records of the last few decades, to see how the same sort of problem was handled under prior kings – under, for example, the Targaryens – and to see whether there was something I was missing.”

He looked around at them, and Littlefinger snorted.

“You appear to be making a performance,” he said. “Please, Master of Entertainments – enlighten us. What exactly is going on?”

“The key issue here is the census figures for the year of two hundred and eighty, After Conquest,” Tyrion told them. “In that year, the population of Kings Landing was estimated at one hundred and eighty-five thousand – obviously the number is approximate.”

Ned blinked.

“...the city’s a damn sight bigger than that,” he muttered. “Begging your pardon, Queen Regent.”

“Lord Stark is right,” Cersei admitted. “What happened? Why is it so wrong?”

“That’s the thing – it’s not,” Tyrion said. “The city’s more than doubled in size in the last eighteen years… in two hundred and eighty, the grain prices in the city were elevated, but… manageable… and that drew in food from the Crownlands, and also from the Riverlands with ships passing Crackclaw Point. It was worth the while of merchants to ship in food.”

“So what changed?” Pycelle asked. “You’re making it sound like everything was fine, then.”

“It was,” Tyrion agreed. “And then Robert Baratheon took the throne, and began spending an enormous amount of money – the great majority of it right here, in Kings Landing. Millions of gold dragons were being spent, so people moved here to try and get some of the money, and because so much money was available – the price of grain went up, because there were more trying to buy it. And so more grain came in. It’s been worth the while of merchants to bring food by cart from the far reaches of the Crownlands, and even from the Reach – shipping food up to the headwaters of the Mander and crossing to the Blackwater Rush, for example. It’s staggeringly expensive to supply, there’s several relays of wagons pulled by grain-fed horses carrying the grain across the gap between the rivers, but it can be done… with enough money at the far end that they make a profit.”

He thumped the ledger with his hand. “And so the price of grain rose, but because so much money was being spent by the Crown in Kings Landing, it could work… for the smallfolk. They didn’t become as rich as they’d hoped, because so much of the money they spent went on foodstuffs, but they came to King’s Landing because they heard that it was a place to make a fortune. And so it has seemed, for fifteen years or so… which is why the city now holds four hundred and thirty thousand people if it holds a man, and that’s the lowest number I’ve seen.”

Then Tyrion looked up, with the grim expression of someone delivering news that nobody wanted to hear. “And that means the only way – the only way – the city can be supplied with food is if there’s enough money being spent by the crown in King’s Landing that it can pay for those elevated food prices.”

“And winter is coming,” Ned said.

Cersei rolled her eyes.

“Hear Me Roar,” she countered. “Perhaps we can bring in the King, and he can remind you that Ours Is The Fury?”

“No, I don’t mean the house words,” Stark replied. “I mean winter. If the prices are that high now, during the longest summer anyone’s known, what’s going to happen in winter?”

“I don’t think winter is the problem we have right now,” Littlefinger said, by now looking distinctly green. “We have to get through next week first. If you’re right, Tyrion, then… the only option we have is to continue spending money on that scale simply to prevent the population running out of money, and food. Money that the Crown simply does not have – unless, of course, the Queen Regent’s family would care to make up the shortfall?”

“Hear. Me. Roar,” Cersei reiterated. “What do we care about the smallfolk? A lion does not concern itself with sheep.”

“Would a lion concern itself with the opinions of ten thousand hungry, armed sheep, wondering if they could eat lion?” Tyrion asked. “My dear sister, proverbs are all well and good, but a serious food riot in a city the size of Kings Landing is liable to kill everyone.”

He slammed the ledger on the table. “Everyone,” he reiterated, fiercely. “You, me – everyone in this room, everyone in the Red Keep, everyone within the walls of the city as the chaos leads those with food to steer clear. And when the fighting has burned itself out, it will define our family for centuries to come – your son’s house words might as well be Hear Me Starve and Ours Is The Famine!”

The shout rang in the air for several seconds, then slowly subsided.

“This takes priority,” Ned said. “Over everything else, and I mean – everything. What do we need to do?”

“The city’s population needs to shrink,” Tyrion advised. “High prices will do some of that, so long as they’re not causing dearth, but we need a way to push people out of the city as well. It won’t be popular, but it’s better than our heads on pikes…”

(inspired in concept by the ACOUP blog, especially this post: https://acoup.blog/2019/06/12/new-acquisitions-how-it-wasnt-game-of-thrones-and-the-middle-ages-part-iii/ )

[flowerandblood]

The Impossible Choice (46)

[ Aemond • Targaryen x Baratheon! • female ]

[ warnings: kissing, anxiety, angst, war victims, trauma ]

[description: Aemond comes to Storm’s End to choose his future consort. However, Lord Borros Baratheon presents him with only four of his five daughters. Being attached to his youngest child, he does not want to marry her. The prince, however, thwarts his and her plans with his decision. This is slow burn, with a lot of dark angst and sexual tension. (Anon Request)]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

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When she woke up in the morning she felt that she was alone. She looked around, completely naked and covered herself with the furs lying next to her, sighing heavily. She rose to sit up and pressed her lips together, feeling her moisture and her husband's spend slowly flowing out of her onto the bedding. She blushed at the memory of what he had whispered in her ear moments before she fell asleep.

I love you.

He said it.

He said it even though he didn't have to.

Even though she hadn't asked him to.

She felt happy and hopeful. Daeron's arrival with his reinforcements gave her the feeling that perhaps they were not in such a hopeless situation, that perhaps with her father's help this war could be won. With this thought, she stood up, calling her servant to help her take a bath and get dressed.

As the girl finished tying her buff, open sleeves to her gown her father walked into the tent, startling her completely. She pressed her lips together at the memory of what she had learned the day before from her brother and swallowed loudly, asking the servant to leave them alone. The girl bowed and left, an awkward silence ensued between her and her father.

Should she tell him that she knew?

She felt a squeeze in her heart at the thought that his illegitimate child was in Harrenhal.

She couldn't look him in the eye.

Her father grunted, clearly as stressed and concerned as she was.

"Did he tell you?" He asked lowly, uncertainly, his tubular voice trembling slightly. She looked at him in pain, tightening her lips.

"Not him, but Royce. I know my husband threatened you, Father. However, I already know, and you, if you wish, do what you want with your army." She said in a shaking voice, trying to remain calm, looking down at her trembling fingers, which she involuntarily played with.

She wanted to cry.

She felt hurt at the thought that her father was not as perfect as she had thought. She believed that other lords had mistresses, but not him.

That other lords had bastards, but not him.

She was naïve.

"Your husband has decided that we will move on the Eyrie." He said calmly, and she threw him a quick, shocked, horrified look, her heart beating harder in her chest. "And I supported that decision. We are leaving tonight."

She looked at him feeling her lower lip tremble, her eyes filled with tears, her whole body quivering.

Her husband, her father and her brother were going off to war, perhaps never to return from it.

"Why the rush…after all…." She mumbled, but her father interrupted her.

"Daemon is trying to find individuals born of dragon seed who have the potential to tame the dragons. They want to make them dragon riders. To have an advantage in the sky. If we let that happen, their fire will wipe us out. We need to surprise them. I agree with his decision." He said firmly, like a commander rather than a father, and she sobbed loudly, catching her stomach, his words cutting through her like sharp daggers.

She heard him draw in a loud breath, her reaction making him unsure how to act. He approached her, and after a moment she felt his large, familiar, rough hands on her head and then the cold steel of his armour against her cheek, his bearded face placed a kiss on her hair.

"– my sweet child –" He said in a breaking voice, and she wept in his arms, embracing him, feeling that what he had done, what he had hurt her with, no longer mattered.

"– Father –" She mumbled out loud as if crying out to him for help, as if begging him for something, though she didn't know what for herself.

Her father, who had always supported her, who had always been proud of her, who she could always count on, was now standing in front of her and offering her his comfort, his safe arms in which she sheltered herself when, on cold nights, she could not sleep, terrified by the darkness of her great chamber and the ghosts that might lurk beneath her bed.

"– forgive me, Father –" She whispered and heard him draw in a breath, swallowing loudly – she had the feeling that his voice had trapped in his throat as if he was about to cry himself.

His hand tightened on her head as if he wanted to give her reassurance that he would always be there for her, that she would never lose his support.

"It is I who should ask your forgiveness −" He said in a trembling voice she had rarely heard from him, the kind she had heard when he had sat beside her mother's bed and watched her life slowly leave her. "− I sold you − I −"

"– I love him, Father –" She said in a breaking voice, trying to calm her breathing, her heart pounding hard in terror. "– I'm happy to be his wife –"

Her father swallowed loudly and let out a quiet sigh, trying to calm down and pull himself together. He patted her on the back as if he wanted to pour a little reassurance into her so they would both stop crying.

"Good. Very good. I'm happy. You'll see, in just a few months I'll be holding my grandson in my arms and then…" He paused hearing someone walk into the tent.

She saw her husband's surprised face, pale and shaken, his pupil dilated wide, looking at her with fear.

Her father kissed her hair once more and let her go, heading for the entrance, and she looked at him with a misty gaze, as if she didn't quite believe herself what was happening. She looked at her husband's face, tears involuntarily running down her cheeks, her breathing uneven and accelerated.

She swallowed quietly as she saw him approach her slowly, his figure rigid and upright. He looked down at her, his lips tightened as if he was thinking intensely about what he wanted to say to her.

"If I don't come back, you will do whatever Rheanyra wants. You will bend the knee. Do you understand?" He asked coldly and she looked at him with dull eyes and shook her head.

If I don't come back.

Why did he say that?

"Daemon has a weakness for you, moreover you are with child. You will say that I forced you to do this and according to his will you tried to convince me to change my mind. If your father and brother survive, also let them submit to the will of him and my sister. I will not consider this a betrayal against me." He whispered, cupping her face in his hands, and she sobbed quietly at his words, terrified and distraught, unable to calm her breathing.

"− don't leave me −" She whispered, feeling as if he was saying goodbye to her, as if he felt that this time the will of heaven would not protect him. "− you promised me that after Harrenhal you would never leave me again − take me with you − I want to be by your side − I −"

She didn't finish as his lips pressed aggressively and violently to hers, his tongue invading her throat letting out a stifled, desperate moan. She clenched her hands in his hair pressing into his lips, seeking rescue in his closeness. He pulled away from her and pressed his forehead to hers, breathing hard, his gaze dark and troubled.

"I want to spend the next few hours with you and our child."

And so they did. At first they wanted to just make love to each other, but they stopped, too distraught at the prospect of sudden separation, and just snuggled into each other, his swollen manhood pulsing deep inside her.

She tried to remember the feeling, the feel of his arms around her, his scent, his face, his gaze.

She was terrified of losing him, and her body was trembling at that thought.

"Promise me you'll come back to me." She whispered and heard him swallow loudly and twist, all tense, his heart pounding like mad in his chest.

"I promise."

She watched helplessly as the servant put on his armour thinking that this wasn't really happening – she felt as if her heart was about to burst out of her chest, a cold sweat on her back. When he was in full equipage again he walked over to her and knelt down grasping her face in his hands, his soft lips placed a warm kiss on her forehead.

"Remember what I told you."

He stood up and disappeared a moment later and she was left alone, with a pounding heart and tears running down her cheeks.

Never before had she felt so scared, so alone, so abandoned.

She curled up, surrounding herself with furs, and just lay on the bedding. After a while, the noises around her quieted and there was an ominous silence, broken only by the footsteps of the guards passing by her tent and the wounded who had not gone off to battle.

Night fell, and she squeezed her eyes shut and began to pray.

Warrior, give them strength.

Father, guide them, do not let them harm your sons.

Mother, have mercy on them.

Stranger, do not take them away.

She repeated these four sentences over and over again, crying, rising quickly every time she heard any louder sound. She dressed in her nightgown and put a robe over it, poking her head out of the tent, but saw nothing.

She felt like she was losing her mind.

The hours seemed to lengthen like days to her. She lit a candle and tried to read, however she felt her body trembling all the time, glanced nervously at the entrance and wondered what was just happening.

She had never been so scared before in her life.

She felt helpless.

The first loud sounds and screams reached her ears in the morning. She roused herself from her restless half-sleep and ran out of the tent on her bare feet, looking ahead.

Their army was returning.

She covered her mouth and cried out loudly when she saw the silhouette of Vhagar and the other dragon in the distance, feeling relief flow through her body.

He had made it.

He had returned.

She saw the dragons land in the distance, and she ran between the cheering men towards the flying deer banners, searching her eyes for Royce and her father. Her heart beat harder when she spotted him, his face pale and smeared with blood, he looked as if he could barely see out of sight.

He only woke up when he saw her running up to his horse. She put her hand on his knee breathing unevenly, feeling uneasy.

"Where is our father?" She panted, smiling, thinking that perhaps their father was injured and being carried somewhere behind.

Royce stared down at her and answered nothing. She stroked his knee as if to comfort and reassure him, seeing how tense he was.

"Brother?" She asked quietly, her voice trembling slightly, but a hopeful smile was still painted on her face.

Only after a moment did she glance sideways and see a horse pulling a cart, with a body on top of it covered in the cloth of the Baratheon banner.

She felt her heart stop and ran over there on shaking legs despite Royce's shouts for her to stop. Her brother jumped off his horse and ran after her, grabbing her around the waist and preventing her from pulling off the material she wanted to grab.

"Who's there? I want to see him." She mumbled, breathing heavily, feeling like the world around her was spinning.

"Don't look, please. His body burned." Her brother mumbled weakly, and she drew in air with a quiet, mournful whine, clenching her fingers painfully tightly on his hands, trying to pull away from him.

"− let me go, Royce −" She said menacingly, struggling against him, the soldiers around them looking at the scene with sympathy and embarrassment.

"− stop −" He said helplessly, his grip strong as steel, both of them panting heavily. "− please, stop −"

"− LET ME GO TO HIM −" She cried out loudly, reaching out towards the cloth, slipping to her knees. Royce leaned over her, kissing her hair, his cold armour almost scorching her heated flesh.

"− he doesn't look like you remember him anymore − please −" He said pleadingly, and she fell down on the grass.

She clamped her fingers over her mouth, a loud, high-pitched, squeaky, almost inhuman scream came from her lungs, so terrifyingly pathetic that the men around her averted their gazes.

Scream after scream ripped from her throat as if someone were skinning her, as if someone were ripping her heart out alive, with sobs in between taking her breath away.

It felt like she knelt like that for hours, unable to calm down, Royce knelt next to her, his shaky voice not reaching her mind, not understanding what he was saying to her.

Her father was dead.

Her beloved father, her support, her companion.

He was dead.

He would never see her child.

She cried out louder at that thought and tucked her head between her knees wanting to disappear, to melt into the ground, to die.

"Prince Daeron is dead." Royce said indifferently, and she felt her heart stop. She swallowed loudly, wiping her nose and face.

So who was the other dragon rider she had seen?

"King Aegon joined the battle at the last moment." He said, and she froze, staring blankly ahead.

Aemond.

She looked around as if for a moment she didn't know where she was, the men watching her outburst of despair averted their eyes and dispersed. She rose on shaky legs.

"Where are you going? Wait! I…" Royce called out, grabbing her arm, but she pulled away from him.

She moved back through the camp hearing everything as if underwater, the joy of the men around her and their shouts seemed to her unnatural, strange, out of this world.

What was making them so happy?

What were they rejoicing about?

With difficulty she reached their shared tent, and as she walked inside she froze, seeing him before her.

His eye pierced her deeply. He was sitting in a chair facing her, his hands spread out on the armrests, his chin lifted slightly, his gaze cold and blank.

Like when he had arrived in Storm's End.

She wanted to shout that it was his fault, that she hated him, that it was all because of him and his brother.

She wanted to shout out how much she was suffering now.

But she couldn't.

They stared at each other in silence for a long moment. After a while, as if some impulse flowed through her she twitched, and her body moved forward.

One step, a second, a third.

As if she were a small child learning to walk.

She looked down at him, his healthy eye didn't even blink, watching her intensely.

She heard him swallow loudly, surprised, as she climbed onto his lap and snuggled into him, hugging her face to his chest, tucking her legs under her chin, trying to press her body into his. She felt him tremble, felt his heart beating hard against her face.

He had come back to her.

He had promised her and he had returned.

After a moment, she felt his trembling arms rise and embrace her tightly, his familiar, warm hands on her womb and in her hair. She burst out into a silent sob feeling it.

"Your father killed Daemon." He said and she felt her heart stop.

"He hit him with a crossbow when he tried to jump off Caraxes and pierce me with his Dark Sister. That's why Baela…" He said, and his voice stuck in his throat. She felt her heart beat harder, her lips parted in accelerated breath.

Your father killed Daemon.

He hit him with a crossbow when he tried to jump off Caraxes and pierce me with his Dark Sister.

Nothing mattered, nothing her father had done in the past could change the pride and love she felt for him.

Her father saved her husband.

"And Daeron…" It came out of his throat like a painful cry.

She stroked his shoulder feeling the pain in her heart, suddenly remembering cruelly clearly that he too had lost someone that night.

"– I tried to help him –"

"– shhh –" She whispered, lifting herself up. She embraced his terrified, pale face and cuddled his head into her breasts, offering him the shelter of her body, even though she was going through grief herself.

She could have crushed him, destroyed him, told him it was his fault, that he deserved this suffering.

But then he would sink back into his darkness.

She could see that he stood at the edge of the precipice over which he stood when she met him.

She could have pulled him back or pushed him forward to fall.

"− it's my fault − he was only a child − he was afraid, and I −" He mumbled out, her heart pounding like mad.

"− help me −" He muttered helplessly, and she felt her breath caught in her lungs. "− help me −"

She saw him with the eyes of her imagination, saw him in the void, in the blackness, in the emptiness, her husband, her god, her Stranger.

Help me.

She grasped his face in her hands, his healthy eye red, wide open, terrified.

He looked at her as he had never looked at her before.

He was utterly vulnerable, open to any hurt from her, ready to finally fall, to hear who he was.

She kissed him greedily, clasping her hands around his neck and hair, putting all the rage and love she felt for him into his lips. He moaned loudly into her mouth reciprocating her caress, his fingers on her cheeks and in her hair drawing her close.

She shuddered and pulled away from him with a quiet click when she heard a servant stepped into their tent to announce that the King was expecting him.

Her husband refused to go without her. He waited patiently for her servant to help her comb her hair and dress her in her gown.

Brown and gold.

The colours of the Baratheons.

As she walkend into the tent with her husband, Aegon's eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost.

He didn't know where to look, so he looked away.

She stood next to Royce, trying to hide the trembling of her hands. Her husband did not stand beside his brother-king, but beside her. Aegon held out his hand towards him.

"Lords, behold my brother, destroyer of Caraxes, slayer of our…"

Aemond did not let him finish, his voice expressing fatigue and impatience.

"Lord Borros Baratheon fired a crossbow towards my uncle as he leapt from Caraxes and sought to stab me with his Dark Sister. The arrow pierced his neck. He died in the fire of Moondancer." He explained coolly and she swallowed loudly, lowering her gaze.

She tried not to think about it, she couldn't get over it, her mind repressed it.

Her father's burnt body lay somewhere on some cart covered with cloth, surely already rotting in the sun.

A spasm went through her body at the thought, but she only swallowed loudly and clenched her eyes shut, trying to calm herself down.

Aegon grunted at his brother's words and nodded, his gaze shifting to Royce.

"Lord Baratheon. In accordance with your family's tradition, you will now become the ruler of Storm's End. As I understand it, I can count on your devotion and loyalty, just as I could count on the same from your heroic father?" He asked feigning lightheartedness, as if Royce's answer was obvious, but she knew it wasn't and looked at her brother horrified.

Royce pressed his lips together and glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, shifting from foot to foot. She put her hand on his shoulder, looking at him pleadingly.

Don't do this to me Royce, she thought.

He'll kill you if you don't bend the knee.

Her brother swallowed loudly, the words leaving his throat with difficulty.

"I am faithful to you, my King." He choked out and she breathed a quiet sigh of relief. "I wish to take my father's body to Storm's End and bury him in our home fortress. Then I will return with my army, and…"

"My Lord, you and your army will go where I command." He was interrupted by Aegon, and she looked at him wrinkling her brows, furious at his tone of voice, at the fact that he had flown in when everything was a foregone conclusion, that he had lost nothing.

The King, however, caught her gaze and swallowed quietly, embarrassed, his voice softening a tad.

"However, I understand the need for a quick burial, and I offer him the royal burial by fire that awaits my brother as well." He said, as if he was doing them a favour, but Royce laughed at his words in disbelief.

A royal burial by fire might have seemed like an act of grace to him, but not to them.

"You want to burn my father?" Her brother hissed, and she tightened her hand on his arm, feeling the fury rising within him. Aegon shrugged his shoulders at his words.

"Lord Lannister and my uncle will remain in the Eyrie together with the rest of the army. Lord Stark has retreated to Winterfell and is trapped, surrounded on all sides. Without Daemon they will be in disarray. The usurper may, in a fit of madness, try to attack King's Landing and that is where our main forces must now be. Inform your sisters to come to the Red Keep and take your father's body or ashes to Storm's End." He said lightly. Ser Criston grunted loudly, a long scar on his face from someone's cut.

"Shouldn't at least one dragon stay here?" He asked uncertainly, and Aegon sighed heavily.

"And guard what? The ruins? Our armies will create a wall that will cut off the North from supplies from the South. If they wish to starve to death for the Usurper, so be it." He snorted impatiently. After a moment, another commander, a vassal of House Hightower spoke up.

"What shall we do with Lord Greyjoy? He does not yet know that Prince Daeron is dead. What about the agreement? Without his fleet, we have no chance at sea." He said uncertainly, and silence sounded around them. Aegon swallowed loudly, looking at him terrified and grunted.

"Well… the Lord of Storm's End cannot be left without an heir." He said lightly, and she felt a cold sweat on her back – she cast a quick glance at her brother. Royce was red with rage, his lips tightened into a thin line.

He had lost his father to this fool, and now he wanted to put his conditions on him.

"No." He hissed, looking at him with hatred. "You will not force me to marry."

She was frightened by his directness and what Aegon might do with his words, so she decided to quickly interject and defuse the situation.

"Lord Greyjoy wanted a Prince as a husband for his granddaughter, not a Lord, my King." She said quickly, but felt discomfort when Aegon laughed at her words.

"Then perhaps I should command my brother, and your husband, to take a second wife like Aegon the Conqueror and close the whole discussion. What do you think, my Lords?" He asked loudly, and she felt a sting of humiliation ripple through her body at his words.

Perhaps I should command your husband to take a second wife.

She felt like crying at the very thought, her brother standing beside her was on the verge of bursting with anger.

"Careful, brother." Her husband hissed suddenly in such a tone that she looked at him shocked, his eye wide open.

For a moment they measured glances.

"− King." His brother corrected him, and she saw his husband's face stretch in a dangerous, dark grin not reaching his eye that she knew so intimately, that she had seen when he looked at Luke.

When he wanted to kill someone.

Aegon grunted, pretending not to see it, and turned to the Lords again.

"So it is settled. Send a letter to Lord Greyjoy informing him of my brother's death, the changes in the agreement recognising that the new Lord Baratheon will marry his granddaughter. Inform him also of the death of Daemon Targaryen and the heir to the throne of that usurping whore."

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[cassyclassyfancy]

Let me drop my monthly post, May.

Not Zhongli, Morax.

.Warnings: Angst? Yandere!Morax, mentions of erosion, fake all!]~ Not beta read, we die like Guizhong. Rushed.

Counting the stars with him, laying in the fields— Guizhong, you and her were both long-friends of Morax. After her unfortunate death you decided to pay a visit to a mystic place a newfound glaze lily flield located to what was now remembered as Qince Village. It was an was once a unaffected peaceful village you both would come often, she cherishes it. Mostly for the glaze lilies.

After the Archon War raged on, your relationship with Morax decreased badly, how you wish you could ask what was wrong. As you were deep in thoughts a familiar voice called out your name

You felt the dread coming as he walked towards you then he sat by your side, Morax noticed your uncomfortable expression— his hands went to your leg— to your discomfort.

“Is there something bothering you? This Lord apologizes for neglecting your need–”

“No- no, it's not that. Is it really okay to dump my worries to you?” You asked hoping he'd say no.

“Say it and I shall listen.” His facade was good. You wished he'd parish. You hate how he smiles at you— appearing to your hiding spots at a suspiciously right timing. You will never forget how he let her die— that cruel death no one deserved, why—

“Go on.” Morax persuaded, his deep and masculine voice replying in your head, mostly all you can hear was Guizhong's pleads to spare you she had sacrificed herself.

“May I ask why your hands are golden?” It's a trick question. You're meaning to this question was to figure if he was eroding already. There wasn't exactly any symptoms of this or something like that. Likely it was severely damaged hands.

Off the bat, his pupils transformed into slits, one trait from his real dragon form. Morax raised a brow in confusion, he'd never heard you mention that until now.

He didn't respond just looking straight at the sky in a trace, that sky he created, that sky of his domain— it all came back to you now. You finished connecting the dots. He imprisoned you inside his domain. The tricky part probably was how you intended to leave this fantasy paradise to reality. It all looked real, even the glaze lilies.

“You can never leave. I am the seal!” He suddenly pounced onto you, his large frame hovering over to you, his long brown locks falls on your cheeks, tears formed on his eye as he blinked then it falls on your cheeks like raindrops, as tears kept coming so did the rain of his domain. He didn't let go until you both were soaking wet in the rain.

“How could you do this to us?! How could you let her...” You were caught off as he growls intensely

“Enough! I sealed us both off the outside world, so that we could live what I always dreamt of... Besides, I'm eroding sweetie..I must take a sacrifice to keep me sane before it happen already.” his lovesick orbs stared directly at yours as he pressed a obsessed kiss to your lips.

You two in the rain at the fields.

Okay so I have this theory on why his hands are golden, perhaps due to erosion or he's just filthy rich like that lmaoo. I also have a good idea for part two but I'm feeling lazy :(