#and it IS better for dorne if she makes a good alliance or something

[taviamoth]

do you ever have a pair that you ship but don't think about too much because they might not end up getting together and their paths separating is a horrible thought

[queen-scribbles]

What motivated you to make Tel your canon outlander?

Oh, that's a fun story :D

Originally it was his big sister, Silver, smuggler extrodinaire and one of my OG launch day babies

(art from emedeme)

She's two years older than Tel and I've always(since making him, at least, bc he came along a year or two after she did) headcanoned they were going through the class story events at roughly the same pace. She was a little ahead for Act 1, he was in Act 2, then she was for Act 3 and the post-main story stuff. They keep in touch and are on good terms; catching up, goofing off, teasing each other mercilessly etc etc. So when Silver starts running Shadow of Revan, of course she taps in her little brother for help. There's no way Tel's a Revanite; he loves the Republic so much he left the family smuggling business to be a goody-two-shoes soldier.

Since this means they've both interacted with Marr and Satele, I had the thought it would be really funny if when Marr commed Silver about the Wild Space Expedition she snarked something about her war hero brother being a better fit for somethin' like that and gave him Tel's holofrequency before snuggling in against Corso and going tf back to sleep. (cue five years of Guilt™ when she thinks she got him killed >.>) And then I started actually thinking about it, and realized it was a) something she would do and b) very helpful for some Silver/Corso timeline things. With when I wanted them to have kids, she would have been 7 or 8 months pregnant in carbonite(yeesh) and Corso would have had an 18 month old to handle while she was MIA and while Silver is good she's not heroic, if that makes sense.

Tel is both. He's so Captain America his face claim is Chris Evans /cough And he's a really good fit for Alliance Commander(better than Silver, much as I love her, she does not do the Leading Large Forces thing). Sooo my joke thought turned into canon. Silver instead got that Dantooine farm Corso mentions in one of his romance letters, three kids, and occasionally goes on forays into Wild Space to look for her little brother bc part of her can't believe he's dead. (she finds him on one of them, and becomes an Alliance recruit. Yes, this messes up the whole Corso and Risha alliance alert, but you only get that as a smuggler, so it's fiiiiine. Risha can tag along. That way I get to reunite her with Vette and all is as it should be in the world.)

OH. Also, Elara Dorne is my favorite romance in the whole game, so I had to make her my canon one. :D

[shayrose5494]

So I’ve had this idea for a while but I’m not sure how to execute it. I’m hoping by sharing it with you all, I might get some inspiration/motivation for actually writing it: What if the Dance of the Dragons was Viserys’ dragon dream. So after Aemma dies (and in this AU Daemon doesn’t make the “heir for a day” comment or this happens before he gets the chance to say it) Viserys decided ‘fuck it, I’m the king, if I don’t want to take on a new wife I don’t have to.’ Plus, having seen his fate he doesn’t want to subject a woman to his condition. So he decides he’s going to change the game completely.

He betroths Rhaenyra and Daemon and names BOTH of them his heirs, to rule as equals. (Obviously this causes an uproar but he knows they can handle it if they all stay together as a family.) As a result, Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron are Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children.

Helaena is more assertive and more like a young Rhaenyra. They catch early on that she’s a dreamer and pay much more attention to the ‘nonsense’ she expresses while caring for her insects.

Aemond is more confident and is definitely not bullied for not having a dragon. He has all of the good qualities of Daemon and just like his dad is a skilled warrior. (Aegon plans for him to be his hand when he becomes king) And it is no surprise this time when the son of 2 of the fiercest Targaryens claims Vhagar, the largest dragon still remaining in the world.

Daeron takes more after his grandfather, Viserys. He is good natured and jovial, and just a treasure for everyone around him (since he didn’t appear in the show I don’t really know how to combine my ideal characterization for him with how he’s portrayed)

And finally, Aegon. I feel like he would be the perfect combination of Rhaenyra and Daemon. And because he would grow up in a more loving environment, without any pressure of stealing the crown from Rhaenyra, I feel like he wouldn’t feel the need to drown himself in booze and whores. He would be given the chance to enjoy his childhood while also properly preparing him for his eventual reign after his parents. He would still be a snarky little shit from time to time (hello Daemon’s son) but he would also have a firmer grasp on authority (have you meet his new mama?)

As for Alicent, I feel like Viserys would still have had a soft spot for her and wouldn’t want her to suffer a similar fate to his dream. So he arranges for a marriage between her and one of Lord Stark’s sons. This way a) he can get her away from Otto and his manipulation and b) Aegon the Conqueror’s dream said something was building in the North, what better way to strengthen the stronghold up there than to have the Queen’s best friend marry the overlord of that region?

In addition, Alicent ends up giving birth to a girl around Aegon’s age, leading to a betrothal between her and Aegon. I feel like said daughter would be a combination of regal noblewoman (see Sansa Stark) and fierce warrior (see Arya Stark). If Aegon is anything like his parents he’d meet this girl and his immediate reaction would just be:

Aemond would be betrothed to a soft, gentle noble lady from the Riverlands. Who brings along her best friend, caregiver/ (and secret love interest) Alys Rivers.  The three eventually begin a cute polyamorous relationship where Alys and Aemond are certified sunshine protectors and their darling is the sunshine. Aemond would later follow the Targaryen tradition of marrying Alys so the three can live their happy poly life.

Helaena becomes engaged to a Lord from the Iron Islands (I love me some Viking/pirate action). I feel like he would find her interest in bugs to be very enduring, and frequently encourages it, especially once he finds out it helps her do her divination. This would also secure a strong naval fleet for King’s Landing.

Finally, Daeron would be betrothed to a Dornish Princess. This way it would secure an alliance with Dorne that would eventually lead to bringing Dorne into the Seven Kingdoms. I feel like she would be very open-minded and gentle hearted. But this doesn’t make her defenseless. She rather enjoys gardening, and some say half of her garden is full of cooking herbs, the other half is poisons and sometimes, she cooks with both.

Now, what about Laena and Laenor? Laena I could see Viserys arranging a marriage for her with a house that has a strong army to help assist with the Stepstones (perhaps the Blackwoods?) She would probably end up suffering from the same fate however, dying during childbirth. However, since Rhaena and Baela’s relationship with Aemond would be vastly different in this universe, I feel like not only would they be ok with him claiming Vhagar, but maybe even encourage it if he asked for their blessing first.

As for Laenor, if I recall correctly there was a noble lady in the Vale around his time that had a “uniquely” close relationship with her best (female) friend (if you catch my drift). And boy do we love to see gay/lesbian alliances. And if she never bares a child, well some women are barren, right?

So what do you think? Too out there? 

[vaeycllas]

princess vaeyella targaryen had lived for a good nineteen years with little to vex her. her father , the mad dragon , had thrown the realm into strife , and @rhaegxr had as well in some people's opinion after the council at harrenhall and successfully dethroning the mad king aerys and naming himself king of the seven kingdoms , defender of the realm. vaeyella , while the dethroning and death of her father was a stressful time for the targaryen family , had found more joy in the time that her brother was king than in the last five years of her father's life.

while the realm still struggled to adjust , rhaegar had seemed to usher in an era of peace amongst the regions and even in king's landing. months had passed with this presumption staying steadfast in vaeyella's mind , but something had seemed to trouble her these past few days. rumors. now , vaeyella heeded the words of her mother , lady rhaella , well for most years , but she could not help but stop and think of this when she heard the ladies of the court speak of 'the most desirable suitors for the princess was that of the starks in the north.' while others said that king rhaegar would 'have better luck looking south to the princes of dorne , doran or oberyn'

"brother..." vaeyella would start as she entered one of the many libraries in the red keep. "may i ask you a question?" she would start , her shoes making soft clicks onto the stone floors. the little dragon did not wait for an answer from her king ( an almost prisonable offense for most others ) before she started up again , lilac eyes looking over the many books on one of the shelves. "why have i heard rumors that i am to be sent off to another region of the westeros for a marriage alliance?"

[hosts-of-valyria]

An epic clash: Yennefer and Jon in Casterly Rock, "Let me do the talking for now, honey", said Yennefer.

Yennefer of Vengerberg vs Tywin and Kevan Lannister; Yennefer instantly recognizes lies

Yennefer's wisdom and strength: Yennefer Stark-Vengerberg and Jon Stark-Vengerberg. Only Yennefer of Vengerberg can get the most out of Jon

"What Makes a Good King or Queen?"

Independence for the Kingdoms

"I am only human, Tywin. Be glad the Iron Throne is gone and the Lannisters are kings and queens in Casterly Rock", said Rhaegar.

"I'm sorry, Cersei, that Emhyr declared war on House Lannister. I run through worlds, screaming, crying alone only to see in the end that chaos awaited me. Only here in this world do I feel good", said Ciri.

Cersei smiled, "Cintra suffered because of Emhyr, Ciri. None of this is your fault. Myrcella, you and I are going to Cintra to unite the armies of Cintra and House Lannister. That would also be in the spirit of Pavetta and Calanthe."

"Everything I did was for the good of House Lannister. Yes i was hiding under Casterly Rock. What's bad about staying neutral that doesn't make me evil if I want to choose the winner.

It stinks of rebellions in the Kingdoms, the treacherous vassals are already mutinous. Gregor Clegane rebels against House Lannister, Addam Marbrand rebels. In the north, the Boltons are rebelling. Brienne of Tarth's father rebels against Robert Baratheon in Storm's End. Yronwoods rebel in Dorne. The hill tribes in the Vale of Arryn attack the knights in broad daylight.

We still need alliances. The Kingdoms of Westeros fought each other even before Aegon the Conquer. I have to break vassalage now or I'll lose Casterly Rock and it belongs to House Lannister. If Winterfell is rightfully owned by the Starks, or King's Landing is rightfully owned by the Targaryen, Casterly Rock is rightfully owned by the Lannisters. Then borders must now be drawn on the maps. I always wanted Cersei to be a queen, she's a queen in Casterly Rock. And Jaime is a knight in Storm's End", yelled Tywin.

Yennefer laughed aloud, "it took 5 minutes for the lies to start. What did I expect from a place held together by bullshit."

Yennefer looked at Jon, "listen carefully honey. We have a man here who believes what he says is wise. Do you know what Tywin is missing?"

Jon nodded, "I listen to you Yen'. Tywin lacks humanity."

Aegon, Sansa, Yennefer, Rhaegar, Lyanna and Elia laughed aloud, "yeah you know things, Jon."

Tywin growled, "then give Jaime back to me, Rhaegar. Then I'll make him a good king at Casterly Rock. Then I'll send Cersei to Cintra. Then Jaime should no longer be a knight in Storm's End for the fat Storm King. When I'm inhuman sometimes I want Jaime back in Casterly Rock. Then Gregor Clegane will stay away from now on, then I'll lock him away. Then I'll send Pycelle and Qyburn back to the Citadel in Oldtown."

Rhaegar nodded, "ok, fine I'll give Jaime back to you as your heir if you give him the chance to fall in love then he can get married."

Tywin nodded, "it's Okay."

Jon smiled, "I love this woman."

Yennefer laughed.

"It makes you evil when you want to shed a bloodbath at Westerosi, Tywin Lannister! Myrcella is a good girl, Tommen is a good boy and Joffrey makes every effort in life and wants to be a king. I think Rhaegar was still born in Westeros. Then dissolve vassalage, then you need a standing army in Casterly Rock. Rhaegar is a human like you! It makes you evil when you want to marry off your children against their will! The Lannisters spent all the gold at an exorbitant price!

You slaughtered House Reyne, Lord Tywin Lannister! You! You! You! You all alone! Yes, then vassalage must be dissolved immediately in all kingdoms. Then borders have to be set on the cards.

Do you want Jaime back as your heir? Then you have to give him the chance to fall in love. And do you think Cersei will be a good queen in Casterly Rock? What makes a good king or Queen, Tywin Lannister? Tell me, I want to know. Tell me and Jon how the procedure works."

Tywin growled like a lion, "I know the answer. Yes, I can't fight against Jon and you. Well done Jon. You found a wonderful woman there. I'm powerless against you, Jon."

Yennefer and Jon looked at each other and they both grinned, "very wise answer, Lord Tywin."

"Yennefer. This is Sansa and Rhaenys", said Daenerys, Lyanna and Elia.

"We heard so much from Yennefer of Vengerberg and wanted to see this wicked witch Jon sleeps with. Benjen, Will and Jeor Mormont cheered over Jon who brings resources from strange worlds to the wall. Jeor Mormont calls Jon a hero of the Night's Watch and gave him Longclaw when he saved his life from a revenant. We have seen cruel things in Westeros since we left our homes. We met Daenerys, a Witcher and a Child of Surprise on Dragonstone. These three spoke of a sorceress who travels with Jon to get support. When Ciri opened magical portals for us, we saw this new world. Robb, Aegon and we haven't seen Jon in years and suddenly it was said he was in another world. Yes, we should have taken care of him more often", said Sansa and Rhaenys.

Yennefer laughed out loud, "Yennefer Stark-Vengerberg. I'll show you two brats right away what this wicked witch is capable of.

You can be very proud of Jon. King Foltest of Temeria was the first monarch in my world to step down as king and make elections in Temeria possible, he is the first Warden to be elected by the peoples of my world. King Virfuril of Aedirn followed suit and was elected Warden of Aedirn by the people. Elections are already coming in my world. Nilfgaard breaks, the people choose their own leader and Emhyr var Emreis is powerless. The people in my world cheer Jon loudly. The jubilation extends from Nilfgaard to the northern kingdoms of my world. People cheer Lyanna Stark's son. They call him Savior of Worlds, empires bow their knees to Jon. Evil people are powerless against Jon. Wars stop across the board in two worlds. Jon brought justice and order, the races and nations choose their leaders and live in prosperity together.

Elves, gnomes, dwarves and humans cheer loudly to Jon, who unites them in times of peace and independence they say he knows what's right.

He told me that you two forgot him. Oh, Your Highnesses, is Robb Stark already ruining the north? Oh Jon is a married man we got married in Vengerberg six months ago. Ciri, Geralt, Daenerys, Rhaegar, Lyanna, Rhaella and Triss were also there. I've seen tyrants. I've seen terrible things in my life. I met Daenerys, Geralt and Ciri at Sodden Hill. I met Jon for the first time north of the wall, he was tired of fighting. I met Lyanna, Rhaegar, Elia for the first time, in Harrenhal with Jon. Sansa, Rhaenys, then you forgot about Jon. Foltest of Temeria is a friend of Jon, he gives him good steel for the Night's Watch. Ah, Rhaenys the whore queen in the north and Sansa the whore queen in King's Landing", said Yennefer.

Elia laughed out loud, "I envy Lyanna, I would like you to be my daughter-in-law too. Such a strong woman."

Three sisters: Rhaenys, Sansa and Yennefer

Sansa looked wide-eyed, "you, Rhaenys and I are similar, Yen. Like sisters. There are men and women who are capable of cruel deeds. This world just sucks like yours", said Rhaenys and Sansa.

Lyanna, Elia, Yennefer nodded, "you're right. There are people who enjoy the suffering of others."

Elia and Lyanna nodded, "What Yennefer is talking about is that damage comes up even in times of independence, that is vassalism and that vassal oath sucks."

Tywin nodded, "I'm just a feudal lord like Rickard or Jon Arryn, that's all I am. Boltons rebel on their own, too, and who comes next? Umbers? Karstarks? That runs like a red thread. Insurgent vassals are everywhere in Westeros. Yennefer is right about that, there are lying vassals in her world too. Wheels of power are also in her world."

Yennefer nodded, "that's what I'm talking about, how far does loyalty go to a feudal lord, Tywin is a feudal lord, Eddard and Rickard are. Damage comes up, Sansa, right before your eyes, tell me how far does loyalty go for a feudal lord or lady? This world and my world are still shitty where everyone wants power, including vassals. These are worlds where you can die if you do something wrong. Jon doesn't want to be king, he says it openly. He's not a bastard, Geralt is happy to have a companion in the fight against monsters, believe me, Geralt just wants friends he can join. You're wrong, Sansa, if you think Jon is power. You and I get into real trouble if you turn Jon into a game ball. And you don't want to mess with me, Sansa. Girl, I see that when you lie, I see that very clearly. I smell lies a thousand miles against the wind. You are a grown woman and you are queen, then you have to take sides too, Jon is afraid of Robert. You say openly that you like beautiful things because it gives you a feeling to be better than others, I am not saying that you are superficial, I am saying that you also want power, that can be seen very clearly. But now listen carefully to me, you are only human, you are not perfect, I am not perfect, I am mortal too. Don't pretend to be a goddess, miss! You can't turn the shit around as you want, at some point it has to be over. You may survive, but I would survive you. It really needs to be made clear now that Winterfell belongs to the Starks, or Casterly Rock to the Lannisters, or King's Landing to the Targaryen. That means vassals need work now and Winterfell needs a standing army of northerners, which smells very strongly of conscription in the north. Given the size of the north, I would estimate 30,000 northerners in Winterfell to intervene in famine and disease. Oh, Winterfell needs big army barracks, money for that can be shot north. Winterfell urgently needs a standing army, otherwise there will be a bang in the north. The vassals become sovereign rulers in their territories. You can't get the Dreadfort under control, if the Boltons in the north skin people alive they have to be captured, the Boltons are already rebelling of their own accord and a thirst for power. Other vassals could take the Dreadfort in a thirst for power and also rebel against the Starks. Then I would append the lands of the Boltons as a province. But if Roose Bolton legitimizes Ramsey and allows him to marry Miranda, they need work, then Robb gets it all bent so that the Boltons no longer rebel. Military service for a few years or for life is possible. Then you have to deal with a military, titles in an army, leaders, generals. Jon and Geralt have been doing military service with the Night's Watch for a number of years. The independence was given by Rhaegar, he did everything right when he burned the Iron Throne with the Wildfire and he removed Aerys as king. Life goes on, now work is waiting for each of us. Banks are already built from north to south, money is in circulation. You want to be better than others, Sansa. That is also a hunger for power."

"We just have the power to protect those we love", said Sansa and Rhaenys.

Yennefer laughed, "This automatically increases your power over others! You only want me as an advisor because I'm Jon's girlfriend and Daenery's, Jaskier's and Geralt's best friend, at the moment I only have power because of Jon. It will be expensive for you to buy me out of my neutrality. You two have no power over me, I will not love you as queens, I will accept you as queens. Jon has power over me, he gives me so much and I give him something back by now aging normally, you two have no power over Jon, Geralt, Ciri, Daenerys or me. Jon believes in Geralt, Ciri, Daenerys, and me. Jon says he wants Geralt to be his best friend. Geralt and Jon stay neutral. Jon already wields power, he too is already powerful, Geralt and Daenerys are powerful too. I am already powerful.

Sansa, Rhaenys, I'm not what I look like, I was powerful before I got this look. Either you want power or you don't want it. There is always a choice. You want to play a game with me? A choice was stolen from me, I am a sorceress but this was forced on me, I could have become a sorceress of my own accord. If Geralt is a warrior then he could have made his own choice instead he was forced to be a Witcher. Jon is a leader that he can learn without taking an oath. If I had become a bad mother, I would have realized that. I'm not a bad mother, if Geralt wants me to be a foster mother for Ciri then he just has to say that. He and I don't have to have an on / off relationship for that. If Geralt wants Daenerys to share her knowledge with Ciri, he just has to say it. Mine and this world are cruel. Daenerys openly says she wants a little girl and there is Ciri. Geralt conjured something up when he tied Ciri to himself, he already has Ciri. Daenerys and I can choose to be foster mothers for her. Geralt doesn't have to force this in a wish where he uses the wrong words. It's not about what he wanted, it's about what he didn't want. I said that I want a child and there is Ciri. I say I want to age normally because power is not everything in life. And now I age normally, Ciri says she wants to hear Jon's knowledge too. No Sansa, no Rhaenys, Jon and Geralt stay neutral, if you have something to discuss you can speak to Daenerys and me. Jon belongs in Winterfell too, Sansa. Geralt loves Dragonstone and Essos. I love Jon because he doesn't run after me, he tends to avoid me, but only I can make more of Jon. Geralt evades Daenerys sometimes, but he loves her and doesn't cheat on her. That is the difference. Jon sees Daenerys as human, that has to be enough. Why should Jon be submissive to the two of you, me, or Daenerys? He can learn anything, but only through me. You don't show enough empathy for Jon. And Daenerys makes Geralt great. When these worlds met, fate linked Ciri, Daenerys, Geralt, Jon and me.

If you Don't want power you still have to do something with your life. Oberyn is a good example, he doesn't want power, that's why he travels the world, Rhaenys. Your uncle Oberyn knows very well that he would be a terrible politician. And your uncle Brandon loves Ashara, Sansa, you can't blame him for that. He lives in Dorne.

And Oberyn takes care of his children, nothing more can be expected. There are no bastards. Lyanna is not power, Jon is not power, I am not power. Ciri is not power.

Sansa's and Rhaenys's uncles: Oberyn Martell and Brandon Stark. Brandon never loved Catelyn.

Jon, go outside for a moment, I have something to say to the two bitches. Jon is Jon Stark through Lyanna. Girls, think. Do you want to sit idle for a lifetime? Do you want to twiddle your thumbs and get fat? You can live another seventy years! What is your incentive in life? What do you want to achieve. Jon doesn't want to be king or inherit Winterfell, he says it openly, he works for money, he gets honors from others, he hunts monsters. You both have to take Jon as he is. Yeah, he doesn't want to be a king, he doesn't want to commit incest, and that's really cool, it makes Jon smarter than the two of you together. Either Jon is part of your family or not, if he's a part you must treat him sensibly. If he's not part of your family then Geralt goes to the wall with Jon, he won't swear the oath and you won't see him for years. You're the older one, Rhaenys. Where is your heart, where is your love? Should I call you a bad queen in the north? Do you want that? If you don't do anything with your life, you two are losers and spoiled brats. Come on, show me how smart and strong you are. Jon would love me too if I was still disfigured. Be careful, you two brats. I eat brats like you for breakfast. What Makes a Good King or Queen? What is wisdom? Come on, this is a test. Have you two ever been little birds or worms? Yes, the three of us are similar but you have to recognize that now. Show me the feminist heroine in you. Haha, yes Daenerys and I have a thing for white wolfes. Daenerys and I are the black wolves because Jon and Geralt are monster hunters. The more successful Jon is in life, the harder I want to fuck with him. Geralt says he wants Jon's friendship and he calls Jon his leader. Geralt says that Jon should share his knowledge with Ciri, Jon knows what is right but there is more, much more possible.

The more successful Geralt is, the harder Daenerys wants to feel him in her cunt. Do you know why? Daenerys and I are chaos, and only Geralt gets Daenerys tamed and only Jon gets me tamed. Geralt, Ciri and I can also teach Jon magical skills, mastering fire and ice. If he wants that, Jon can become anything. I find a magical gateway in Jon. He already has Ghost. Jon is also a white wolf. Do you want to rule fire and ice, Jon? Geralt can teach you sword skills from a Witcher. Jon can go hunting monsters with Geralt in my world too. Ciri wants to be like Jon, Geralt, Daenerys and me, and not like you two bitches! Come on, how big is your heart, Rhaenys Stark, Rhaenys Nymeros Martell, Rhaenys Targaryen! Do the names make you horny? Then Robb should ram his cock up your fat ass until you whimper for mercy! Do you think it's funny to deport someone? How do you think Jon feels you two bitches? Maybe you two bitches should go to the wall and swear the oath."

Rhaenys snorted.

Jon smiled, "Magic is cool."

Geralt patted his shoulder, "Sword training starts tomorrow."

"Daenerys and I suck", said Yennefer.

Daenerys laughed aloud, "we're just cunning."

Sansa nodded. "Yes Brandon never loved my mother Catelyn."

Rhaenys rubbed her head, "yes, Oberyn knows he would be a terrible politician. Sansa and I ran across Westeros and made more of our lives, traveling north to south helping others. I would never drop Sansa and she wouldn't drop me. Sansa runs away from Petyr Baelish. I ran away from Robert too. Sansa and I have been through a lot of shit. We often had nervous breakdowns and we gave each other strength.

I love her brother Robb, she loves my brother Aegon, and Jon is my brother too, I never treated him like a bastard, he rightly called himself Stark. And to Sansa, Jon is a brother too."

Rhaenys and Sansa groaned, "We are not spoiled brats. We are stronger than ever. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. We put a lot of effort into learning. We have earned our power, we wouldn't spend our entire lives in Sunspear or Winterfell. Aegon and Robb are strong kings. We never wanted to learn a Game of Thrones, but we wanted to make more of our lives. We've seen the shit and ugliness of the continent. I'm a good queen in the north and Sansa is a good queen in King's Landing. Sansa and I help women who are abused and raped by their husbands. Sansa sells her own knitted clothes in the capital and I design jewelry, we make money too. Sansa and I brought prosperity to the north and Dorne. I've earned the Crown of the North, I know all about the North and Dorne, and I love Winterfell, King's Landing, and Sunspear alike. Sansa made the capital a better city."

Rhaenys shook her head, "I'm not a bad sister, I never have been. Families are complicated. I give a shit about the name Stark, Martell or Targaryen when I know Jon is happy it's just names.

I'm happy that you two found each other. He is Jon Stark. Aegon and I love Jon. Robb loves Jon. Sansa loves Jon. We would never want him to suffer. Sansa and I would never want Jon to hate us, we're trying to do the best we can, we just want peace like you. Kings and queens are never safe, we have to end this. Robert chose Eddard to be his brother, what should I do Yen. Stannis and Renly protect Jon too. I wouldn't live in Sunspear all my life either, I love Robb. Aegon loves Sansa more than anything. I would never make Robb a king consort. Before that happens, I would resign as Queen. I don't give a fuck about the Realm, i'm human too. Robert called Elia an evil snake and threatens everyone. He hit Lyanna and Cersei. Ciri is so wonderful, we can change your world too, Yennefer. I've seen Kaer Morhen too, Robb and I have ridden through your world. You and Sansa are my sisters, I just want to be strong for Jon like you and Sansa. We need elections, Rhaegar was elected Warden of King's Landing by the people in the capital. We need new offices in the Kingdoms. As Tywin says, the name lasts for a thousand years, if there is a baby boom then the children don't automatically have to become kings and queens, we can create new jobs for heirs. Even if Jaime and Brienne have children together, the children don't automatically have to be kings. Robb and I hardly argue, Sansa and Aegon hardly argue. We do our best, we love Jon and he can always come to us. We are happy that Ciri calls Geralt, Jaskier and Jon father and Daenerys and you mother. Ciri is so wonderful."

Yennefer laughed aloud, "That wouldn't have been justified if you had treated Jon like a bastard! He's Jon Stark, this may or may not suit you two, bitches."

Sansa and Rhaenys huffed, "We are not bitches."

Tywin nodded. "That would be best when kings and queens end."

Yennefer smiled, "ah ok. But families can be great together. Robert is unfaithful, Rhaenys. Lyanna is Eddard's sister.

He just wants to bang Lyanna and the next day he would be gone, he was just fascinated by the idea of ​​marrying Lyanna. You see Robert's character, he hits women when something doesn't suit him. Either you have a decent relationship with no quarrels over small things, or you leave it if you are unable to have a relationship. Jon doesn't hate you. Come back inside Jon. It is very clear, Sansa, you either want Baelish in your service or you don't, he is breaking families apart in his greed for power. Give him politics in Riverrun and you're rid of him."

Sansa nodded, "I don't want Baelish."

Elia smiled, "Oberyn knows that he would be a cruel politician, Rhae. Lyanna, Rhaegar and I haven't had sex in ages."

Rhaenys and Sansa groaned, "Ok, we have to put up with that. Ok, right, we don't want to be inactive. That would make us losers in life."

Yennefer nodded, "Yes that would make you losers."

Lyanna, Elia, Kevan, Rhaegar, and Tywin nodded, "Yes, that smells like conscription. Military service for a few years or for life is possible."

Sansa and Rhaenys nodded, "we got it. Yes then we all have to dissolve the vassalage. House Stark is not going to hand over Winterfell."

Yennefer looked at them.

"An oath can mean doom. Rhaenys and you are the sisters I never had, Sansa. Yes we are similar. It's not difficult for me to fall in love with Jon either. The problem is, Jon must want more than just defeat the Night King. He knows things and he can learn anything and he already sees it. Elia and Lyanna are the mothers I never had when I was a kid. It's nice to see how happy Jon is in the fact that he got the name Stark from Lyanna and he's not a bastard, he never was. Aegon, Jon and Robb are brothers for Geralt, I'm all the more happy that he finally fell in love with Daenerys. Ciri is happy. Ciri can achieve something great in these two worlds, these worlds are very similar. Ciri loves Westeros and Essos. We can make this continent, Essos and my world so great, create a better future. Tywin is right, if you want my advice I'll give you that, but then you have to listen to me, rulers listen to their advisors Sansa. I give Rhaenys as queen in the North my advice, no problem, but not for free! I want money Sansa. That crown from King's Landing gives you no power, Sansa. That gives you no power over me. A crown can break. I will not love you as a queen, I will accept you as a queen. Each of us learns our whole life. If you live a quiet life as a queen, I will call you a bad queen, because then you are no better than Robert Baratheon, as a Storm King. Oh you want my advice. Then we look each other in the eye and we agree that we need to talk about money. I don't give advice for free. I've seen so many bad kings and queens who didn't care about my advice because they enjoyed the power that came with me. Who tells me you're not such a ruler too, Sansa? A feminist heroine has visions, tell me about your vision. Maybe I can relate to it. I've already stopped counting how many bad monarchs I've seen. True to the motto: Good advice is expensive, Sansa. I hold out my hand, if you want me as an advisor you have to pay me. Yes, one doesn't talk about money, but we have to do that briefly. Aegon is a good and strong king, and he loves you with all his heart. I love Jon more than anything. Oh it will be expensive for you two to bring me into your service and alliance. Sansa, Rhaenys listen carefully, Jon and Geralt remain neutral. I can also stay neutral, if you want me you have to offer me a lot. I will not love Rhaenys and you as queens, I will accept you both, Sansa. When I see that you start a project to change the continent I will support you. What are you offering me to give up my neutrality, Rhaenys, Sansa. What does Catelyn offer me to help her daughter as a counselor? I know my worth, what am I worth to you two? I don't give advice for free, I've seen so many bad monarchs. I think the currency was gold dragons, right? I do not give advice for under 500 gold dragons every month when I also pay taxes."

Tywin and Kevan smiled, "yes, because advice usually costs money, it is not for free. I don't want to talk my mouth lint and nobody listens to me. Yes, it is easy to become a bad king or queen. My brother Kevan and I pay you every month, Yennefer", said Kevan and Tywin.

Sansa and Rhaenys nodded, "We deduct the taxes. the taxes are used for schools, roads, the kingsroad has to be expanded. The capital is getting cleaner. Winterfell needs to get cleaner and healthier. 500 gold dragons every month for you. That's the currency. We all offer you a career. I like money too, Rhaenys likes it too. I'm better than Robert Baratheon. Rhaenys is better than Robert. Aegon, Rhaenys, Rhaegar, Tywin, Lyanna, Elia and I pay best in Westeros. Rhaenys and Robb give you rooms in Winterfell and Aegon and I give you money, work and rooms in the Red Keep. I'm building a political council with Lyanna and Elia, I could use you Yen. Your qualifications are great, I will pay you well. I pay you. Rhaegar, Aegon, Lyanna, Elia and I are making new laws. Politics as competition. We pay you every month, Yen. Jon and Geralt get money from Rhaegar, Rickard, Eddard, Robb and Aegon every month. Jaskier is in Highgarden. Olenna and Margaery are fascinated by him as a bard. Your jobs are in Casterly Rock, the Crownlands and the north, King's Landing and Winterfell."

Yennefer looked at with wide eyes, "ah a career, all right. Politics as a competition? That's cool, I'll join in, I'll join this council. Ok I can travel through magical portals, I come to the capital when Jon and Geralt go back north and Daenerys sails back to Essos. Then Ciri, Tissaia and I have to think about expanding the portals. A career, you made it up nicely, you two bitches. Have you studied my path in life?"

Rhaenys and Sansa laughed, "If it works."

Yennefer laughed out loud, "Attention." Daenerys laughed out loud, "Oh that was Geralt, Ciri and me, we told them about your path."

Yennefer groaned, "Ah ok. Well done Ciri. My parents abused me when I was a kid. I was disfigured when I was a kid. I didn't have anything when I was little, I was treated like a pig. Jon gave me back that choice that was stolen from me."

Lyanna and Elia looked at her, "then be happy that Ciri has such great opportunities now. Be happy that Geralt fell in love."

Dany barked at Sansa and Rhaenys, "Geralt and Jon remain neutral. Are you deaf in both of your ears or just stupid?"

Yennefer nodded, "I'm happy about that. I am happy that Ciri has a foster father in Jon and Geralt and a foster mother in Daenerys. Like Jon, Jaskier, Geralt, Daenerys, I want Ciri to be fine. Emhyr is a monster. Yes, I have to put up with the fact that I'm shit and be manipulative. But then you have to put up with the fact that you suck too, Daenerys."

Daenerys nodded, "he's a monster. Yeah, I'm a bitch sometimes, I admit it. But we love Ciri. Ciri doesn't want to experience chaos or on / off relationships, she wants to live a life."

Yennefer groaned, "I know."

Rhaenys smiled, "Oh you get money. It would be so nice if you, as Jon's great love, were mine and Sansa's advisors. I am ready to pay a lot of money for you."

Aegon smiled, "Jon, Robb and Geralt are my brothers."

Tywin nodded, "Yennefer is right. I can't turn Myrcella into a bastard, I can't. Yes, you must want something more than just defeating the undead, Jon. You have to kick yourself in the ass if you want to achieve more in life. Yes, when Myrcella isn't a bastard then neither are you, you're a Stark through Lyanna, you're Jon Stark. Yes, the continent has potential. We can change all this, this is possible. New titles, claims, elections can be created. The Lannister fleet and I join you on the expedition to Valyria. I'm looking for Brightroar. The Lannister fleet and Targaryen fleet sail together, Jon. We get valyrian steel. Expeditions to Valyria to get steel can be planned when we attack the undead together. We need more valyrian steel. Then we have to take care of safety if we should meet stone people, I will definitely not sleep on Valyria overnight. Southern armies can be mobilized for the cold, but I need time for that. It's okay with me if the Wildlings stay in the north as long as they don't start looting south of the wall. Then Wildlings should also be allowed to come to the capital, no problem for me, they should get food and supplies. They can come back south of the wall during long winters. Nobody wants to get sick because of winters or the cold. Then I want to hear from Ciri what Emhyr is capable of, then I want to hear about the cruelty of this tyrant. Myrcella, like you, works for honor and money. I support you on the expedition to Valyria to get valyrian steel to fight the revenants, I know the blacksmith in Essos."

Yennefer smiled, "I'm sending Ciri and Myrcella to you, Tywin. The wall does not fall Tywin. There is magic buried there to stop the Night King. Only dragons can destroy the wall. The sorceresses strengthen the protective magic of the wall. That's what Triss, Tissaia and I do. When we are stronger we hunt the Night King to the wall, all armies of Westeros against the undead. A great story. Yes, Lyanna and Elia are right, at first it doesn't matter whether there is fair rule, at some point royalty has to come to an end, Sansa. A name remains even if there are no longer kings and queens. Now we all take a deep breath, because we have enough to do for the future, we are now fundamentally changing something. We will ensure justice now, and then we have to change continents. I do not serve a queen who makes a quiet life. You and Aegon are political geniuses in King's Landing, fine, start making a change, rights for Lowborn, there's so much to do, Sansa. Lyanna, Rhaegar and Elia are already making new laws."

Aegon and Sansa nodded, "yes, we will change this continent colossally in the near future."

Tywin and Rhaegar nodded, "Yes the kingdoms are independent and the Iron Throne may be gone, but it's too easy to become a bad king or queen. You cannot rule with love, it is impossible that makes others jealous. This is still a shitty world where everyone wants power. That means there has to be an end to kings and queens at some point. Come on Rhaegar, let's get drunk", said Tywin and Kevan.

Rhaegar nodded, "That's a good idea. I can't stand Lyanna's, Cersei's and Elia's cackling any longer."

Tywin and Kevan laughed aloud. Cersei, Lyanna and Elia looked at him, "Be careful Rhaegar Targaryen!"

Sansa, Aegon, Rhaenys, Daenerys, Myrcella, Jon, Geralt, Ciri, Cersei, Yennefer laughed aloud, "we could get used to this atmosphere."

Aegon, Jon and Rhaegar nodded, "we have time, Tywin."

Yennefer smiled and kissed Jon, "just a cunning sorceress", said Jon.

She smiled, "oh yeah. I may be powerful, but in the end I'm just cunning, nothing more. I am not a queen or a princess. If Elia is Princess Elia and Lyanna is Lady Lyanna, I am Lady Yennefer, but nothing more. Yes be Queen Sansa, at some point there has to be an end to kings and queens, remember that. You're too tight-knit there Sansa, you have to widen your view of things. You're in your early twenties girl. I am an old woman, Sansa. I age normally now, live another seventy years and die with Jon. I've seen more than you can ever imagine. Aegon loves you. My head was in chaos and only Jon kept me in check. Even Geralt was hardly able to do that. You have no idea Sansa what Emhyr var Emreis is capable of, a tyrant who uses an ax and a whip to compel allegiance. This man is capable of anything, he would marry Ciri to control Cintra, he would marry his own child. When Emhyr var Emreis finds out that Ciri is in another world he will try everything to get a united continent and three dragons. And then Tywin is dead too. Emhyr var Emreis knows no mercy. He'll kill you too, Sansa. He kills everyone and dances on the bodies of his enemies. Emhyr var Emreis will have everyone from Robert Baratheon to Eddard Stark killed. He's going to kill Cersei, Myrcella, Starks, Martells, Arryns, he just has to let the armies emerge if we don't have any more strength. You wanted a crown, a handsome prince. You were never a little bird. You have already seen bad people. You know power games, a Game of Thrones, lies, you've worked for your crown, you've earned it, but history knows really evil people who dream of world domination. These people don't stop at you either, Sansa. These people don't stop in front of Robert Baratheon, who can also be assassinated. Nor do these people stop before Tywin, who may drink poisoned wine the next evening. These people enjoy dancing on dead bodies. These people tell Tywin what he wants to hear and the next moment he's dead. Emhyr var Emreis only has to send the armies of the Empire and Tywin would be dead if he faced him alone in battle. Emhyr var Emreis is greedy for power, a bad father for Ciri, a tyrant. I'm not saying Emhyr should die, he's a tragic figure. He should just apologize to Ciri. Emhyr, Tywin and Rhaegar could still be best friends, the three of them are similar. Emhyr may suck but is a good leader for an empire, which means that at some point there has to be an end to kings and queens. It is always said that kings and queens are to blame when wars, famine or disease come. The people in the streets must choose their own leaders, not vassals appoint a king. Cruelty? It can be a lot, Sansa. I've made questionable decisions too, I'm a murderer too, and I can cope with that. But no more kings, queens or tyrants. And it is always the fault of the kings and queens because they sit in their castles, have warm asses and the population gets sick because the hygiene is not right. Winterfell, Karhold, Sunspear are dirty, Sansa. You can write pig in the dirt. It may be that Rhaenys and you are good queens, but vassals also want to have more power one day. It's very simple, the king and queen have to pull together. You must make an effort in your relationship and rule as monarchs. Otherwise you don't need to have a relationship if you think there will be kings or queens in the future. I am very happy that Geralt finally shows love and has his true love in Daenerys. But Ciri, Dany and I want Jon and Geralt to be neutral about wars."

Sansa and Rhaenys groaned, "we got it."

Jon, Geralt, Dany smiled, "you are the best.

Jon smiled, "I love you", she smiled, "I love you."

Tywin and Rhaegar agreed, "these types of people and tyrants have no friends or mercy. No more kings and queens in the near future, we are creating new offices.

They are two steps ahead of us, which means we have to hit them with weapons, which they don't have. Tyrants don't have time, an empire must grow or die. And this downfall must be our goal. An empire needs armies and an economy, if one of the two pillars breaks, the other pillar cannot compensate for it. Varys will poison the economy to the core, and we will bring Emhyr var Emreis with all armies directly to Westeros where he is most vulnerable. Then we will defeat him in battle."

Rhaenys, Sansa, Lyanna, Elia, Daenerys, Tywin and Rhaegar groaned, "Yes tyrants are terrible. Yes then we have to destabilize him until he makes mistakes. We're sending Varys to Nilfgaard to overthrow the empire. Then the empire must be disbanded when we have him on the battlefield. Then the conquered territories must be returned to the point of sovereignty. Then we have to increase the number of armies immediately, then we will immediately mobilize from north to south when he soon finds out that Ciri is gone. Then he has to kneel so that an empire can be overthrown. Then the tyrant must be defeated in battle. Then fighting is important", said Sansa.

Yennefer nodded, "That's it."

Sansa nodded and kissed Aegon, "and I love my strong king."

Lyanna cheered like a cheerleader, "yeah Jon. Yeah Yen. This is my girl. This is my boy."

Daenerys, Rhaenys, Lyanna, Elia, Sansa and Yennefer gave each other high five and patted each other on the buttocks.

[cinlat]

Family Fun (Halloween Fic 2020)

Characters: Fynta Wolfe, Aric Jorgan, Shillet Jorgan, Balic Cormac, Elara Dorne, Tayl Cormac, Verin Ejnar, Keshal Vakk, Jodi Ejnar, Tranx Vakk, Zula Dun, Torian Cadera, and @kunoichi-ume Noara Starspark. Rating: G Word Count: 855

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Odessen Alliance Base Mess Hall

“That’s disgusting.” Shillet’s laughter rang through the abandoned mess hall when Aric and Cormac returned with supplies. Fall had arrived, and Fynta had announced that it was long past due for their family to celebrate in true Mando’a fashion. Verin, Keshal, and the baby had arrived the day before, joining their son and soon to be daughter in the Alliance for an extended visit.  

Cormac rounded the corner into the kitchen to find Fynta and Zula digging into the guts of a large gourd. Shillet sat on the counter by the serving window, face scrunched at the stringy mess dangling between the older women’s fingers, while Elara sifted sugar into a large bowl of seeds. Cormac leaned against the counter, mindful of Shillet’s swinging feet, and wrinkled his nose to match hers. “What is that?”

“Tradition,” Zula answered. The fiery Mandalorian youngster had made herself at home within her new family. Cormac expected her to be shy, but she’d shouldered past Tranx and locked arms with Fynta to proclaim her as an adopted aunt. Cormac and Elara had been absorbed in the wake, giving Tayl two other cousins to look up to. 

Jorgan leaned through the window to flick one of Shillet’s head tresses. The Nautolan teen rolled her eyes in that way always made the grumpy Cathar laugh. “It smells awful.” 

Fynta tisked, lifting her hand as if to flick the goo in their direction. All three dodged with Cormac and Shillet butting heads in the middle. With a triumphant smirk, Fynta made a shooing gesture at them. “No men in the kitchen this year. Go mingle." 

When no one moved, Fynta huffed and angled her thumb over one shoulder. "Don’t make me sick my Jedi on you.” Noara moved behind the other women, bouncing baby Jodi and making cooing noises while they observed the mess from a safe distance. 

Keshal appeared out of the walk-in chiller with a pitcher of ice before Cormac could think to ask where she was. He lifted his hands in surrender when the woman lifted a brow in an all too familiar, Fynta-ish way, and slunk towards the door.  When Shillet tried to follow, Keshal clicked her tongue. “Not you, girl. Now, get your sheb’ika over here and help with the next step.” 

“Oh come on.” Shillet flapped her arms at Jorgan, who looked to be having trouble containing his amusement. “A little help, dad?”

“Nope,” Fynta called. She was elbow-deep in the orange goo now and Cormac took another step away. “Someone’s got to teach you how to cook, and it isn’t him. Get over there and help Keshal.”

With the flare that only a teenager could manage, Shillet stomped back into the kitchen. Cormac saw her small arms anchor across her chest before the kitchen was lost to him. With more humor than Cormac had heard in years, Jorgan clapped him on the shoulder and steered them towards where Verin sat astride a backward chair while directing something hidden from view. “That’s no way to hold a blade. Son, teach the boy.”

When Cormac drew closer, his heart clenched with fear at finding his seven-year-old with a blade, then eased when he realized that his child wasn’t alone. Tranx sat cross-legged on the floor with Tayl cradled in his lap. His hands rested over the boy’s while they carved an intricate design into the side of the thing that had produced the guts Fynta and Zula were playing with. 

“That’s better.” Verin tipped his drink towards the two. “That other hold was a good way to lose a finger, then your mom might not like me as much.”

Torian offered Cormac and Jorgan a cup similar to the one that Verin held. "Tranx is a good teacher," he added. "He's good with kids, too."

"I trust him," Cormac replied, even while his stomach still fluttered with every swipe of the blade. 

Being distracted by watching the boys work, Balic didn’t ask what he'd been given and was pleased to find that it was one of Torian’s specialty brews for weaker stomached aruetiise. The sweet spice of the ne'tra gal warmed away Cormac’s concerns, leaving him with the whimsy of having their entire family under one roof.

Pausing, Tayl tipped his head back to look at Tranx. “Why does it have a face?”

“To scare away the bad things,” the boy answered with a grin that could have been straight off Verin’s face. Cormac wondered if Tranx’s father had been a goofball too, or if he’d inherited Verin’s knack for easy humor.

Tayl studied the face he and Tranx had created as if considering whether or not it was scary enough. Whatever his thoughts, the boy kept them to himself as he indicated to Tranx that he was ready to start cutting again. Silence settled over them as the four older men observed the next generation absorbing traditions from the past. Cormac knew that this peace wouldn’t last. There would be war again, tearing families apart and sending them into chaos. But for now, he was content to watch his son enjoy a quiet moment in peace.

[katastrophycal]

Okay y'all want full targ restoration au? Imagine a story with Rhaenys lives and raised by the Sand Snakes AND instead of Aegon living/Jon joining them give me a bastard Targaryen from either Aerys or Rhaegar combine it with Gendry's botched storyline of being a nobody raised to the throne...

Imagine the idea of this child (Let's call him Jaehaeron, after Jaehaerys I and Daeron II who are considered to be some of the best Targaryen kings). Jaehaeron, grew up a street rat (maybe we'll employ some of the Young Griff storyline and have him be a member of the Golden Company or have him be a sell sword with Daario) and knows the struggle of being lower class and fighting for a way to make something of himself. He's never had a family, anyone he's ever cared about he's lost, either to disease infighting, to the law etc. He's learned that he's just one of those people who doesn't get to be in a family.

Imagine him not knowing who he is, never known family and never wanting any, but he meets Daenerys. He joins her because he believes in her and her cause. He knows what it's like to fight for yourself but he wants to learn how to fight for those who can't do it themselves, and she seems like the right person to learn from. Daenerys knows the minute she sees him. Maybe she dreamt it, maybe she could see the ghost of her brother's in him, maybe blood just calls to blood. In any case, of course she hesitates at first to let him know. She gathers evidence from spies around the world, she studies his intentions/ his mannerisms/ his very heart to make sure that he's not like Viserys. And he's not, he's the first sign of home she's had in a long time. And she becomes his first taste of it, essentially granting him saftey to love people and not get killed over it.

Imagine Rhaenys training with the Snakes, surrounded by home and family, but still feeling like something is missing. Imagine her Uncle Oberyn bringing her news of Daenerys in Meereen. At first she's guilty for wanting to know her but Oberyn reassures her that no one can have too much family, in fact Daenerys across the sea might have too little. So she sets off, with the assurance that the full weight of Dorne is behind her. Imagine her meeting Daenerys, matching title for title and after the following silence grows to be too much Daenerys launches down from her seat and Rhaenys just knows that she's gained another sister. After hearing Jaehaeron's story she just gathers him up in her arms and bawls. While he can't replace Aegon, the hole in her chest labeled brother does shrink a little.

They work flawlessly together. Jaehaeron walks Rhaenys through life in Essos, maybe sprinkles in a little bit of personal stories. Dany and Rhae pour over the Targaryen history and tentatively start making plans for Valyria. Jay pretends to be not paying attention (he is) and he and Dany agree on most things and he actually sits in on a lot of her meetings with her citizens. They all have moments of impulsivity tempered with control, but generally Jaehaeron tends to be the patient one, he tends to wait for all the information to make a final decision. Daenerys has her ideals and her determination to make it happen. Rhaenys is very action oriented but also is aware that forgiveness can sometimes go a longer way than retribution.

He and Rhae both teach Daenerys how to fight. She comes out fighting best with an Arakh, which means after they teach the basics they bring in one of Daenerys' remaining Dothraki to teach her while they learn from Grey Worm (Missandei being taught as well) but generally the stick with the tools of their trades.

Daenerys introduces them to Viserion and Rhaegal and tells them of Drogon. As they grow closer to each other, they do so towards the dragons as well. You'd think Rhaenys would be drawn to Rhaegal but Rhaenys barely remembers her father so it's actually Viserion who she bonds with. In the right light his scales remind her of the sands of Dorne, his fire of the light that filtered through the tent she shared with the snakes, his eyes of each piece of gold she earned from their battles and conquests, and while she never knew Viserys she's not gonna let something like a bad namesake keep her from her dragon. Jaehaeron just thinks that Rhaegal exists to hate him. He shows no sign of interest towards Jay, so much so that it almost gives him a complex about not being a "true" Targaryen. But Jay is persistent. He's there whenever he can be, he's always the one to bring Rhaegal his meals, eventually he's able to get close enough to stroke the neck of Rhaegal and when they look into each other's eyes Jaehaeron realizes that it's not hatred or indifference, it's loneliness that's keeping Rhaegal from bonding with him. From then on Jay is in the line up the pyramid every day, to ask Dany to release the dragons from their cells.

Imagine if when Dany leaves on Drogon Tyrion does not start running things, Jay and Rhaenys do. Rhae judging from her experience and compassion, Jaehaeron from his knowledge on the ground and instincts. They take Tyrion's advice into account but also Missandei's, Grey Worm's, even Oberyn's opinions. Imagine Rhaenys truly getting to know the people, and slowly but surely she starts to fall in love with this land. Imagine Jay training the Meereeneans(?) Because the need to and because he doesn't want to see a single one of his citizens helpless. They follow in Dany's footsteps, ruling as she would, so when the slavers siege (because of course they would) the Targ's are ready for them. When Daenerys returns with the Dothraki she's met with her sister at the head of the Sand Snakes and the soldiers of Dorne. She sees her brother riding with the Second Sons and the Golden Company (who are now convinced honor is as good as gold). The battle for Meereen was over before it began, especially after the dragons join the fray. As soon as it's over Jaehaeron and Rhaenys are ecstatic (and also demand Dany teaches them how to ride).

Imagine if it's Oberyn who brings Olenna to Dany and her cause, and Yara knows Jay from years back so she's even more confident for her cause when she sees him at Daenerys' side. During her time away they managed to comission armor for the dragons and their riders. When Daenerys sets sail for Westeros her siblings are by her side, her dragons are safe above them, her best friends are at her back, and she has some of the wisest minds advising her (including/excluding Tyrion depending on how you feel about him). They have the Dothraki, the Unsullied, a decent amount of Ironborn, the Second Sons(with or without Daario depending on yada yada....), the Golden Company, and the whole Dornish army. They stayed long enough for the new Meereen Guard to have been sufficiently and leaders put in place. The citizen's hearts are behind their Targaryens and they know if they ever even fear trouble they will fly back to assure them.

Imagine that they do take King's Landing first. The dornish get the majority of the lower town evacuated before the gold cloaks even notice. The dragons decimate the scorpions early on, with only glancing blows thanks to the armor. Even the wildfire Cersei throws out as a last resort doesn't stop them and as the trio makes their way to the throne room they have to walk past the what little is left of Cersei's forces. They decide to pardon every soldier who bends the knee, the rest are set to work rebuilding the damage of the siege. Cersei is sentenced to execution, via dragonfire where the Sept of Baelor once stood.

Imagine that the Iron Throne does melt, but only enough to shape into a bench. Just like in Meereen, however this one is long enough to seat three. No arguments, no hesitation, the Targaryens work better as a family anyway.

They rule as one. They leave a small council in charge of King's Landing and set off to the rest of Westeros. They do meet some resistance but no one is strong enough to stand against them, and honestly after meeting them and hearing their vision no one even wants to. Then there's the north.

Depending on how anti stark you are you can visualize the war for the dawn however you like. But imagine them hearing through Jon's story, taking a stealth mission to observe the white walkers themselves. Imagine that in addition to granting them access to Dragonstone they also command soldiers from each kingdom. (Jon is... commanding troops? Attempting to make an alliance that doesn't have him bending the knee) Imagine a fleet of red Priestesses, giving their fire to each soldier (not just the dothraki cause why not??), Jorah fighting with Missandei and Grey Worm, and hiding Bran at the starks head table (which reminds us of Ned and how long it's been for all of them). Imagine not housing the innocents in the crypt (cause they have common sense) and actually send them to the godswood to be protected by some of their own soldiers but also Jay overhead on Rhaegal. Imagine Rhaenys on the front lines with Viserion lighting her way (no walker proof storyline=no Viserion death win-win). Imagine Danerys cutting the wights of from behind, and when spotting the night king she goes to meet him. (However you view the show end to the NK/the prince who was promised prophecy this is gonna Dany, sorry).

Imagine Jaehaeron fighting like hell for Winterfells innocents, dancing through the fire almost as though he's a part of it. Nothing seems to touch him. Imagine Rhaenys cutting through wights like paper, grinning from ear to ear cause she's riding on the battle high and the strength of the Sand Snake around her. Imagine that when Drogon's fire doesn't work, the Night King throws a sword into Dany's child's chest. She pulls it out of his chest plate(again thank you armor) and Drogon lights it ablaze. She meets the monster for blow. Seeing her in danger both Jaehaeron and Rhaenys make their way to her. Imagine the Night King dealing her a viscous blow but getting knocked down by a spear from Rhae and kept distracted by Jay. They give Dany enough time to stab the so called king in the back (mirroring when her father was lost and their kingdom was officially lost to them; all these years later her family is remade and the kingdom is theirs again). As Jon sees them from the remains of the wights, let's pretend no r+l=j or at least he doesn't know and if he found out there's no way he gets enough support to take the throne from them or feel the need to. He decides to bend the knee, only to find that the Targaryens don't really plan on keeping the kingdoms together, as they were anyway.

Being rulers does have its share of problems, especially as they dissolve the country into something more democratic but they make it work. One of them is always in Kings Landing, even with Rhaenys' frequent trips to Dorne and Meereen, Jaehaeron's explorations of Essos and his quest to rebuild Valyria, and Daenerys' continues mission to make every land truly free. They always make time for their people and each other.

And so while Daenerys is the Mother of Dragons she is also the Hero of the People, Rhaenys is the Fierce Queen from Dorne, and Jay is declared Jaehaeron the Fortunate and he cannot find reason to disagree. They each have their titles, their armies, their stories. But they also have each other. After all, the dragon has three heads.

[astranne]

Crossover idea MCU/GoT

I was watching a Game of Thrones edit and this idea came in my mind. 

2012, when Loki attacked New York, he had Clint Barton (Hawkeye) under control. But not only that. Clint had a strong mind, so Loki took all his memories of his personal life, only leaving the ones full with violence and darkness. He doesn’t remember his family, his loyality to S.H.I.E.L.D., his friendship with Natasha. He thinks, that he’s a mercenary and just working for this Loki guy. And when his job is finished, his handler sends him away, through a portal. 

Now, Loki made some mistakes, especially with this archer. He talked to much about his plans, he can’t risk his victory and reign over earth. So, he stole many memories, happy memories of this mortal and send him to another world, another dimension. But he isn’t too cruel, he enchants the quiver, so the mortal has an infinite amout of arrows. He makes him faster and stronger than any human, like a super soldier and sends him away to a world full of knights, kings and other dumb mortals. His mortal will be the best of all. 

Clinton lands in the middle of snow and trees. He just sighes and makes his way through the forest, until he comes to a town. There he sees, that his clothes are not really usuall and he steals a cloak. Since he’s trained as a spy, a mercenary, he does his ‘magic’ and makes some money. He now knows, he’s in Westeros, in the North and wants to go to Dorne. He buys a horse and makes his way. Some years pass and he makes himself a name. The common folk calls him the Hawk, since he never misses and also has a tamed hawk as a pet. He even goes to the King, who is the biggest joke he ever saw, and asked for a house. House Barton, we never miss. Naturally a hawk and an arrow are his house sign. He goes to his castle, the Nest, which is in the north. That makes the Starks his ‘bosses’. Not that he really cares, they are honorable and good fighters. Soon Barton men are known to be the best archers in the whole world, but also woman become ‘Hawks’, as everybody calls them. Clinton takes his job as lord seriously, he is loved by his common folk and feared by many lords. He’s ruthless, but kind to innocents. He’s a hunter and always finds his prey. He makes money with training hawks, eagles and other birds, but also his bows and arrows. His weapons are the best in whole Westeros, even Essos. They are made with metal and cost a fortune for anyone who is not a part of the Barton household. He personally trains his archers, in many ways. Since he’s known to be a good, fair but also strict lord, many come to pledge loyality to him. Bc of this, his army grows, his ‘Hawks’ become more. He lives is peace, trains a elite group to be like him (mercenarys (only loyal to him)). Then he hears, that Lord Stark goes to Kingslanding and offers a place over night for the King and the Lords, to stop, before they leave the north. Naturally, they accept, since Ned wants to talk with him and Robert enjoyed his presence. The King’s and Lord Starks households are in awe with the nest, the caste, which grew in the past years. There are hawks, eagles and other birds of prey. Lord Clinton Barton welcomes them, as well some of his best fighters. Since he knows, that Robert is the biggest whore alive, he sent most of the woman away. While his guests eat, he observes them and finds out, that Lord Stark is worried. Before they march to Kingsman, he asks, if he could make Arya as his ward, since he sees great talent in her. Ned hestiates, but Robert just laughes and says he approves. So, Clinton takes Arya under his wing, teaches her everything he knows. She becomes his shadow, which many find amusing, they can see the stars in the girls eyes, whenever Clinton talks with her. 

Then the whole shit in Kingslanding happens, well, almost. Clinton has his birds (of prey (he definitly doesn’t call them his little birds, like Varys)). They save Ned Starks life, but there is war. Ned recovers in the Nest, while Clinton makes preparations to go to Winterfell. He sends many forces away, telling them, they need to hide in the common folk. He takes 1′000 archers with him, and leaves the elite group in charge of the nest. 

Ned Stark remains in Winterfell, while his son goes at war to rescue his sister. Clinton becomes one of his best advisors, many Lords don’t know him personally but are impressed. He keeps his eyes close to Roose Bolton and when he’s sure, that this man will betray the Starks, he kills him. Well, his eagle kills him, and blames Roose for this. His animals are loyal and would never hurt a friend, they remain peaceful, as long they are not bothered. And instead that Roose asks for help, he tried to hurt/hit/kill the animal. When Clinton is sure, that they don’t have spies anymore, he calls every archer, he sent away from the nest. Robb is baffled, when he suddenly has 5′000 soldiers more. They are all great swordfighters, but even better archers. With new strenght, they walz the Lannisters to the ground and defeat Tywin. Well, Clinton defeats him (his army) and takes him as hostage. 

Robb almost dies, but Clinton could save his life. He sents the young Lord home and leads the big army himself. At first, the lords start to protest, but then Robb himself says, that this is the best idea. Clinton is now always seen at the front, with his two eagle (Artemis and Apollo) and his three hawks (Ares, Mars and Tyr) He marches in only three months to Kingslanding, defeating every army and winning every battle. When he’s finally at the capital, he kills Joffrey, says that Tommen would be the better king than his mad brother and safes Sansa. He keeps some of his Hawks in Kingslanding, so he still has informations. He’s grinning the whole day (many are terrified, when they see his grin), when one of his Hawks told him, that she’s now the secret lover of Tommen Baratheon. 

He goes back to the north and starts his normal life again, bc of his glorious victory in the war, more people come and want to be trained by him. Slowly, his army becomes bigger than anyone’s, but he hides the number before everyone. His official number now is 10′000, but he has around 15′000. Since he saved a Stark’s life, twice, he’s now a true friend to the house. Everything is good, until he hears of Daenerys Targaryen, who is now the queen of Mereen. He takes some of his men/women (something like 100?) and makes his way to Essos. He sends some spies, gathers informations and is intrigued by this young woman. Clinton offers his alliance, at first Daenerys is very skeptical, but then she hears what people say about him. Clinton remains some weeks at Essos, starts to teach the young Queen and promises her, that he will fight for her. He isn’t a big fan of Baratheons and Lannisters, there is a reason why Targaryens are Kings and Queens. He leaves 10 Hawks with her, to protect but also train her. 

Then fast forward, Cersei kills Tommen, becomes Queen, bla bla. The Starks don’t care about the shit in Kingslanding. Ned makes Robb the Lord of Winterfell, since he fears his health. (someone tried to poison him (totally the Lannisters)) Then all the shit in the series happens, until Daenerys finally comes to Westeros. She immediatly has the support of the Starks, since Clinton spoke with them. (more manipulated, but eh- does he care? Daenerys is the best choice for the Iron Throne) Bc of this, the whole North follows now Daenerys. Clinton leaves Nest and goes to Dragonstone, with some hunderts archers. The two spend some time together, become rather close, until they are lovers. They don’t let anybody know for a long time. When the time came, and Daenerys wants to attack Cersei, Jon Snow visits with Robb Stark. They talk about the Army of Death and Clinton wants to bang his head against a wall. Of course something bad needed to happen. 

The whole fight with the Night King hapoens, Clinton is a proud dad™, when Arya kills him. Then they go at war with Cersei, totally win, bc one of Clinton birds who kills Cersei, while she fucks Jamie. Naturally everybody knows and is disgusted as fuck. Daenerys becomes the Queen, Clinton her Queen’s Consort. 

Happy ending? You wish. After 20 years he came to Westeros, he slowly starts to remember. He’s torn, he has a family on earth, but here too, he loves Laura and Daenerys, he’s an agent but also a Lord. How should he even go back? Well, either, he slowly becomes depressed, but hides it or the Avengers come to his rescue. I don’t know and I’m really torn, since Clinton loves Daenerys dearly as well his children in this world, but still Laura and his other family.

So, if anyone wants to write a story or a HC, please tag me, so I can read and reblog it :)

Masterlist

[aegor-bamfsteel]

As Daeron, how u would have dealt with Daemon ?

You opened up a floodgate, anon.

The chances to neutralize Daemon (as opposed to other rebels/groups of rebels like Aegor, Fireball, Gormon Peake, Eustace Osgrey, the best knights of the realm, the marcher lords including House Yronwood, believers in Da3ron Falseborn theory, those who supported Daena as Queen, basically everyone else) as a threat to Da3ron’s rule are so numerous they’ve been a source of snark between me and @godihatethisfreakingcat​ for years now. The amount of missed opportunities Da3ron II had to make a friend/ally out of Daemon for me undermine textual claims of his kindness and intelligence. I’m going to try to prove in a 2000-word meta of counterfactual history that Da3ron never attempted to treat Daemon and Rohanne like part of his family or with the respect they deserved, but like inconvenient cast-offs he wanted out of his sight, but still not in a place where they’d gain any high position.

Starting scenario: The year is 184 AC and I am Da3ron Targaryen. Aegon IV has died, but I, loathing my slowly rotting father, refused to come to the capital until 2 weeks after his death, which meant I could not contest his decree legitimizing his natural children. One of those children is the son of Princess Daena, newly legitimized like the rest, but still a Waters and landless. My father promised the Archon of Tyrosh a dowry for the hand of Rohanne, probably a relative of his. What do I do?

Pay the dowry, but wed Rohanne to one of my sons instead. Breaking a betrothal is serious, but keeping the betrothal and switching the groom (after the other died or was disinherited) isn’t unheard of: Rhaelle Targaryen wed Ormund Baratheon when her brother Duncan was to marry his sister, Catelyn Tully wed Eddard Stark when she was betrothed to his brother Brandon, Sansa Stark married Tyrion Lannister (though Lancel was a possible spouse) after she was betrothed to Joffrey Baratheon. Aegon may have wanted Daemon to wed Rohanne, but if Fire and Blood is any indication, a close female relative of the Archon is a match worthy of the heir to the Iron Throne—Rogar Baratheon wanted Jaehaerys I to wed the Archon’s daughter, and the Archon sent his sister to the 134 Maiden’s Day Ball in hopes of her marrying Aegon III. A landless natural son is far below Rohanne in terms of status, and the dowry the Archon was asking for probably reflected that. Perhaps Baelor was too important to wed to anyone but a Stormlander, but Aerys or even Rhaegel certainly would have been a better match for her on paper than Daemon. We don’t know how old Rohanne was (although I’m certain she was a few years older than Daemon), and Aerys was born between 172-76 and Rhaegel between 173-77, but bride-groom age gaps have certainly been larger, especially in this series. If my sons are already betrothed or this betrothal is too disruptive for my policy, I might be desperate enough to consider betrothing Rohanne to Brynden (Aegor gets no royal match as he’s a traitor’s son. I may be nice!Da3ron, but I’m still Da3ron), who I implausibly trust not to rebel. Super desperate would be trying to broker another betrothal between Shiera (or Mya or Gwenys, if they didn’t die in infancy) and the Archon/his ally, as was sort of floated around when Baela Targaryen might have been betrothed to Tyroshi admiral Racallio Ryndoon. If I can’t or won’t renegotiate the betrothal, I can:

Pay the dowry or part of the dowry in order to keep peace with the Archon, but have the High Septon annul the betrothal: I’m sure Rohanne as a Tyroshi didn’t keep the Seven, so the High Septon would be inclined to protest the marriage anyway. I would still need to pay a bit of that dowry or risk the wrath of Tyrosh, since in real life border wars have started due to dowries from stalled betrothals (Richard the Lionheart raided the county of Vexin though it was the dowry of his betrothed, Alys of France, because his parents refused to let them wed. He never got the Vexin, as Alys married Count William of Ponthieu). However, the Tyroshi-Targaryen alliance was originally thought up for Aegon IV’s future war with Dorne, and giving it up would signify to the Dornish that neither I nor my relatives had any intention of making war on them. So a bit of money (of which I have plenty of, see the “Rohanne and Daemon stay in the Crownlands” section) spent on the Archon’s goodwill seems like a wise investment. 

With Daemon unmarried and now with no standing betrothal, the best place for him is the Kingsguard. He’s the youngest knight of the realm and the wielder of Blackfyre, so he’s definitely skilled enough to join. We know he takes his knightly oaths very seriously, and the Kingsguard oath to protect the king is about as serious as it gets (Olyver Bracken and Raymun Mallery betrayed Maegor I by rebelling in favor of Jaehaerys I, but Jaehaerys still sent them to the Wall for violating their oath). Better yet, the Kingsguard is a celibate organization, so Daemon will not be able to pass on his claim or the Targaryen’s ancestral sword to his children.

If appointing Daemon to the Kingsguard doesn’t fit in with my policy, then I might send him to Sunspear, possibly with a betrothal to Roxana Sand (Born 162, so of marrying age with Daemon) who is Maron’s uncle Rhodry’s illegitimate daughter according to the MUSH RPG (which becomes more canon with each supplementary tie-in GRRM publishes). It took two years of negotiations for the Maron/Daenerys match to take place, and having Daemon there possibly betrothed could be used to gauge the popularity of a Targaryen/Martell match on Dornish soil. Prince Rhodry was an infamous separatist who killed King Da3ron I at the peace conference, so wedding his natural daughter to Daemon also helps quiet the ‘Keep Dorne Independent’ movement that is still ongoing, of which the Yronwoods were some of the biggest supporters. Amidst Da3ron’s strongest allies and wed to them by blood, Daemon would doubtlessly be loyal.

If I think Roxana is too old, I use the Daemon/Daenerys relationship and make him her sworn shield, then send him south to prepare for her marriage: Not an especially good idea as he’s still unbetrothed, and it might cause the Martells to raise some eyebrows, but it gives those two a chance to be around each other and be happy (not being so was likely the source of the semi-canon clashes Daemon and Da3ron had), and no doubt Daemon would be a faithful protector. The illegitimate children of nobles have guarded Targaryen royalty before, with Jonquil Darke being Queen Alysanne’s sworn shield. The same idea of the Martells keeping Daemon loyal still applies, although I’d watch out for any Yronwoods asking about his betrothal status. 

If the Daemon/Rohanne marriage must go on: 

While Daemon is still young and newly-married, I’d send him and his wife on a diplomatic mission to Tyrosh (it worked for getting Aegon IV out of the way) where he can hone his politicking skills away from any rebels, or fight for the Archon in the Disputed Lands. If he makes friends with the Tyroshi and seems to have integrated into their culture as Orryn Baratheon did, he can stay there with his family. 

If he expresses vocal discontent after 4-5 years—considering Da3ron in the OTL named Brynden to the Small Council when he was around 20–I’m calling him back to Westeros and giving him some court position depending on how well he performed his duties. If he didn’t do so well, he can take Quentyn Ball’s old job as master-of-arms where I can watch him at all times. If he rose to the occasion (given Daemon’s penchant for making friends I’m sure he would be a fine diplomat), he gets either a position on the Small Council—perhaps Master of Ships as he’s been in the naval power Tyrosh for some years?—he becomes leader of the City Watch—he was raised in an urban environment, his mother had connections with the smallfolk, he’s an amazing fighter and decent leader, if Prince Daemon is any indication it’s a position for somewhat wayward family members—or he substitutes as a Warden if the Stark, Arryn, or Lannister heirs are too young to lead armies (not Tyrell given the Reach’s general support for Daemon in the OTL, although Leo Longthorn was obviously of age so there’s no need for a substitute Warden), which is a prestigious but largely ceremonial position in Da3ron’s time of uneasy peace. If I’m super-desperate to give him something to do that won’t cause much trouble, I’ll revive the position of Warden of the King’s Mint, since I know from OTL that he minted his own gold coinage and so displays some interest. I’m sure that his Aunt Elaena would be delighted to work with him as she’s de-facto Master of Coin.

If for some reason I don’t want Daemon at court but don’t want him in Tyrosh, it’s going to cost me dearly to give him and Rohanne suitable lodgings in the Crownlands: but I must be improbably loaded despite my father’s wastefulness if I’m building Summerhall and completing the Sept of Baelor, so I can pay! None of that “give Daemon and Rohanne a piece of paper saying they can build a Keep in the Crownlands” that we see in canon; Rohanne is a bride worthy of a legitimate Targaryen prince and some lazy document with no funds or castle attached to it is just insulting her family. Either give them an abandoned and renovated Keep (there could be some after the Dance/Da3ron’s War), or construct a new one like with Summerhall. Illegitimate sons of kings in England and France were either Dukes or Earls, so that Keep is going to be a lordly seat (people call Brynden “Lord Rivers”, they can do it for Daemon even if it’s just a ceremonial title). 

But at least one Daemon’s children are getting sent to court once they’re old enough, as cupbearers or pages or eventually squires for boys. I’d consider betrothing Calla to Matarys for more permanent loyalty since he’s not expected to inherit and they’re roughly the same age, which would certainly appease Rohanne’s family some.

If I want to keep the Blackfyre family like they are in canon—in the ephemeral keep they built themselves in the Crownlands, with no royal positions or betrothals—and not change any of the other character motivations like Aegor Rivers’ or Quentyn Ball’s (since it’s not stipulated in the question), it’s going to be difficult to prevent a war with Daemon at the helm. We know so little about the circumstances of Daemon’s crowning and arrest on potentially trumped-up charges that it’s hard to tell who started what. But if I had to do anything, it’s:

Stop trusting Bl00draven so much. Start questioning his motivations and methods. How does he know Daemon crowned himself? From whom? Did he torture that person? I seem to know that torture isn’t reliable since I ended the office of Lord Confessor! What does he have to gain from Daemon being arrested? What does Daemon have to gain from being crowned? What do I think will happen to his family if he is arrested successfully (there’s a chance Bl00draven will have them killed and then torture the confessions out of a fall guy)? If I think Bl00draven is a danger to Daemon’s family, doesn’t that give Daemon the “rebel or have my children die” non-choice if I order his arrest? What the hell is going on? I don’t want rumors; I need proof!

For much needed proof, I’d use Princess Elaena’s connection with both of us to find out what’s happening. Daemon would never hurt a lady, especially not close kin. Have her meet him or a nonviolent representative (Rohanne?) and see if he’s crowned himself. Have an escort (all traveling great ladies seem to have them) wait for her in a location a few hours away with orders to sound the alarm if she doesn’t return by the next day. If he hasn’t crowned himself, she’ll report back to Daeron that the rumors were false, and make it look like a friendly family visit. If he was thinking about it, she could talk him off the ledge as his aunt. If he did crown himself, she can report back and have Da3ron call the banners. If he crowned himself and somehow Elaena was prevented from delivering her report (Daemon wouldn’t hurt her since kidnapping a woman is the height of dishonor, but it’s clear some of his supporters had fewer scruples), take that as the act of war and have her escort call the banners. It’s not a perfect solution, but it’s better than letting civil war break out on the say-so of the Shadiest Man in History.

But there is one difference between me and Da3ron that makes all of these alternate scenarios impossible in canon: I actually like Daemon Blackfyre. I like his mother, the courageous Princess who gave up her chance to be queen to raise him in her home. I like how hard he worked to be the best knight ever when he was just a young boy. I like how, despite marrying an older foreign woman at age 14, he enjoyed one of the happiest and most fertile marriages in Westerosi history. I like how he gathered a great coalition of men and women who had every reason to hate each other behind him, including the neglected and traumatized Aegor Rivers (I even like his potential friendship with Brynden Rivers). I like how he demanded his opponent get medical attention after dueling him for over an hour. I like how his last act was running into a field of arrows trying to save his oldest son. I like Daemon Blackfyre and his family. I want him and Rohanne to grow old together, to have their sons and daughters mature into strong men and women without the fear of death hanging over their heads, to have a chance at happiness in the home Daemon knew or even where Rohanne lived. Da3ron II had so many opportunities to give Daemon and Rohanne long, peaceful lives...and he wasted them all on incoherent policies, irrational grudges, and hypocritical distrust. For that, he will always have my disappointment.

[greyias]

This one got… epically long. Like, over 7k words. Based on one of @grumpyhedgehog’s headcanons with her Jedi Lyra and the trash panda extraordinaire. Main pairing is Draike/Lyra (Smuggler/Jedi OC) pre-relationship, secondary pairing of Theron/Knight. I should also warn for a very brief foray into a M rating. For reasons that will become very clear about halfway through.

He didn’t care what anyone else in the Alliance said, Draike Highwind was in the very firm opinion that life on Odessen was boring. The pace around the base had practically slowed to a crawl the past few months, what with them officially laying low and trying to stay off the galactic radar while the rest of the galaxy started to ramp up back into their umpteenth war. Not that Draike liked the constant state of war they all seemed to live in, but at least out there things were happening.

A thin trickle of condensation ran down the side of his glass, and he flicked the droplet across the cantina table, watching it skip along the smooth polished metal surface. It wasn’t the most entertaining diversion — no, he still had a few hours left before that particular game started again — but hey. It was better than watching paint dry. Another trickle worked its way down the side of his glass, and he tried to see if he could get further distance.

“You do realize,” a pleasant voice chimed in, “they make coasters for that.”

Draike lifted his attention from the very interesting and oh-so-important glass of booze to see the familiar form of Lyra Dorn, standing next to his table. As usual, she was looking stereotypically Jedi, decked out in armor and robes even though they were just stuck here in this boring excuse for a base of operations. Her honey blonde locks swept back from her face as she arched a delicate brow at him. He spied a datapad in one hand, and in the other a platter filled to the brim with fried Capellan turg-root, roast gorak, and Ahrisa.

“I’m just livening up the place,” Draike said drolly, by way of greeting.

Lyra almost rolled her eyes, but seemed to catch herself before plopping down in the chair opposite him, delicately setting down the platter in the center as if it were some sort of offering. That was all the invitation he needed, and he snatched up a turg-root.

He was already halfway through chewing with when she let out a half-sigh, half-laugh. “Yes, those are for you.”

He just returned the remark with a crumb-filled grin, as if to say, “I know.”

That got past her internal defenses, and she was unable to suppress her urge to roll her eyes. The twitch at the edge of her lips let him know she found it amusing though, despite whatever airs she liked to project.

Summoning some modicum of manners, Draike finished off his bite and waved a hand at the plate. “You can have one too.”

“Oh, how magnanimous of you,” she said, but there was no sting to her tone, and she politely pinched off a piece of Ahrisa, setting down the datapad as she did so.

He eyed the device, disguising his suspicion with an easy smile as he snagged another turg-root, smothering it in one of the spicy sauces ringing the platter. “What you got there? Some spicy HoloNet fic? Apparently the latest trope everyone’s writing about is the poor betrayed rebellion commander and their traitorous spy lover.”

“How do you know that?”

“There is nothing to do here. I get bored.”

“Those are about your sister!”

“Look, it’s not my fault she professed her undying love to her stupid boyfriend in front of an open broadcast to the entire galaxy!”

“And that’s your brother-in-law now.”

“Don’t remind me,” he grumbled. “Okay, so if you’re not reading fictionalized accounts of my baby sister’s love life, what’s the datapad for?”

She shot him a look, as if to ask him once again why she would ever read trashy romance about a real person in her life, much less a relative of his. “It’s…”

“Yes?”

“For your reports,” she sighed.

“What? My reports?” he sat up a bit straighter. “Why?”

“Someone made me aware that you’ve been having difficulty getting your reports turned in on time,” Lyra said hesitantly, “and so I thought I’d help you out with them.”

Draike managed to summon his most offended face to bear. “So you bring me a giant platter of my favorite food as a ruse to trick me into working?”

“It’s not a ruse,” she was quick to reassure him, “it’s a… peace offering. And fuel for the brain.”

“It’s a bribe is what it is.”

“Oh, and so what if it is?” A little bit of haughtiness was beginning to creep into her tone, accent thickening ever so slightly as his combativeness managed to puncture her friendly demeanor. “You need to get your reports done, and I’m willing to help you write them because I am a good friend. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal is I don’t need help writing my reports,” Draike said, crossing his arms as he leaned back into his seat.

“What... yes you do! Theron said—”

An almost maniacal grin spread across his face before he even realized it and quickly smothered it. Usually he was better at keeping a good Sabacc face, but for a moment, even that was eclipsed by the momentary and purely malicious glee that stole through him.

“What was that?” Lyra asked.

“What was what?”

“That look.”

“There was no look.”

“Yes, there was. I know that look—Draike.”

One of the most boring parts about living on Odessen was the rules—and the paperwork. On his own, he only had to do the bare minimum of paperwork to get his cargo runs in. Just enough legality to keep people off his back. It was annoying, but he did what he had to. And at some point he just let Risha take care of that sort of thing — he secretly suspected she enjoyed the tedium. Alas, those salad days were behind him. Here they liked to dot all of their i’s and cross all of their t’s. They wanted a flimsi trail and records for runs, but also stupid things like, incident reports. Which unless something really exciting happened was just an absolute snore fest.

So, he’d made a little game out of them.

Because of course the one person who was hounding him the most for all of this pointless paperwork was his new brother-in-law. If there was something Draike liked less than being told what to do — it was being told what to do by a joyless workaholic that was giving it to his baby sister every night.

“Your report was supposed to be handed in this morning. Do you need any help getting it—?”

“Oh no, help isn’t necessary. I’ve already got it done.”

An adorable little frown of confusion creased Lyra’s face. “Then why the delay?”

“No one, and I mean no one gives Draike Highwind orders,” he said proudly. “Shan will get the report when he’s good and ready.”

Bless her heart, Lyra always seemed willing to believe the best in Draike, even more than most people. That belief was getting tested at the moment, as he could see the wheels starting to turn in her head. She hadn’t put the pieces together yet, but she would soon.

“I’ve got, oh,” he made a show of glancing at the chronometer, “about nine hours and fifty four minutes to go before turning it in.”

As if in triumph, he picked up another turg-root and ate it with an almost perverse pleasure. This time he didn’t try to smother the big grin that blossomed in full on his face.

The thing about Shan was that he was way too predictable. Mister Super Secret Agent Man and dedicated workaholic was never too far from a datapad, whether it was in the war room or in his own quarters. If something were to come into his inbox tagged as urgent, his type couldn’t resist taking a look. No matter what they were doing. And hey, what could Draike say if maybe the message was perfectly timed to chime in right at the most, ahem, romantic portion of Shan’s evening? And if the report itself had been a little more exciting than expected, so exciting that it completely distracted Shan from any other plans, well that was just a side benefit. He was just trying to keep everyone entertained. And of course every report had a twist ending, because Draike was really giving like that. The twist being that the giant  cliffhanger he was building up to was all a sham, and that the incident report was really just a boring waste of time all along.

By his reckoning, Draike was pretty sure that he’d successfully prevented any nighttime activities between his sister and brother-in-law for at least a week now. If Shan was sending Lyra to do his dirty work, it meant he was probably getting desperate. Perfect.

Lyra let out a long suffering sigh, still acting as if she was trying to negotiate some all-important intergalactic trade deal instead of just trying to get her best friend to do some pointless paperwork. “Look, if it’s already finished, I could send the report in for you. Theron does need to sleep some time you know.”

He just snorted and shook his head. “I love you, sweetheart, but you don’t mess with a man’s data stream. If Shan has a problem he can come and talk to me—”

Draike’s statement ended in a lurch, his whole body going rigid as he suddenly processed his own words. He slid a look over to Lyra, who blinked back at him. The hints of a smile were starting to form at the corners of her mouth, something she tried to hide by taking a prolonged and yet somehow delicate bite of her Ahrisa as if she hadn’t heard anything at all.

It didn’t really matter how much she pretended though, because he knew what he’d said. It was as if the entire, expansive cantina had somehow managed to shrink in those few seconds, the natural carved stone walls closing in around him. His chest tightened, each breath a little harder to pull in than the last, as all of the blood drained from his face.

Panic could take on many forms — it all depended on the person. Some people go rigid and weren’t able to move. Others hid theirs with anger or lashed out at others. Some didn’t hide theirs at all, going into full on hyperventilation. But Draike Highwind was none of those types of people. And so he scanned the room, desperately searching for salvation, and found it in the tall form of a Wookiee at the bar.

No actual coherent thought was in his mind as he leapt to his feet, Lyra, the datapad, and platter of food seemingly forgotten as he loudly proclaimed for every patron of the cantina to hear. “Hey, Bowdarr!”

The wookiee looked up with an inquisitive growl.

“You know I love you, right? I love all my friends!”

Bowdarr shook his massive furry head, neither confusion nor resignation registering on his face as suddenly the much shorter human had crossed the threshold, practically slinging his arm around the taller being. Without missing a beat, Draike slung his other arm around the Mon Cal that was also at the bar.

“You too, Guss!”

“Oh, Captain! This is so unexpect—”

“Hey, you! Droid!”

C2-N2 had been dutifully sweeping up a mess over in the corner of the cantina, and the protocol droid looked up in confusion, as if not expecting to be pulled into this of all conversations. “Oh, Captain Highwind, as flattered as I am by your affections, I don’t—”

“What? No. I don’t love you.”

“Well I never!”

“You’re taking good care of my sister, right?”

“But of course, Captain Highwind. I am the primary expert on comfort in all of—”

“Yeah, yeah yeah. You know how much I love her right?”

An audible and communal sound of confusion rippled through the entire cantina. Apparently, this was news to everyone on base.

“In fact,” Draike continued, broadcasting at the top of his lungs to drown out the dissenters of his brotherly affection, “you should go let her know that. Right now.”

The protocol droid practically saluted him as he scuttered off to do as he was told. Orders taken, Draike turned to give the next, and possibly most important person in his life, the good news, and proclaimed to the bartender on duty his undying love for the perfect glass of whiskey that he poured every night.

Off in the corner, Lyra sunk further and further into her chair the louder Draike got, eyes raising up to the ceiling. As if somehow, counting all of the flecks up there would somehow, magically, get him to stop.

This was the perfect plan, if Theron did say so himself. Not that he was really saying much at the moment. Just enjoying the slow, slick slide, the enveloping heat, and the low but appreciative noises filling the room. It had been far, far too long. That was, of course, a nice chunk of his good mood—just having some nice quality time with his wife. But it had the added benefit that he’d finally managed to outwit his stupid brother-in-law’s attempts to derail it. There was no way Draike and his late reports could screw this up. All it had taken was rearranging several meetings and some nonessential business to get the afternoon off.

And Theron was putting the time to good use.

His lips wandered their familiar route, starting just under the shell of his wife’s ear, slowly making their way to the hollow of her throat. Just the way she liked it, if the fingernails digging into his back was any indication. That’s right. Just like that. He let out his own sound of appreciation, and just a little more and he’d—

That thought, and the precious rhythm he’d been building up, was completely shattered as the telltale hiss of hydraulics cut through the room as the door to their quarters whooshed open. Both occupants in the bed went completely still, wide eyed and dumbfounded as a little breeze of recirculated air drifted in from the hall.

Before Theron could say anything, or even twist in what was now a very awkward position, a cheerful robotic voice called out from the doorway. “I have wonderful news, Master!”

A frown of confusion stole over Grey’s face, clearly perplexed by whatever was more important than their privacy.

Heedless to this breaching of protocol, C2-N2 continued on obliviously. “Your brother was just telling the whole of Odessen how much he loves you and how much you mean to him. He urged me to make sure I was taking the best possible care of you that I could!”

At this point, any glimmering hope of continuing their previous activities had now been shattered thoroughly. Theron let out an inarticulate growl as he disentangled himself, flipping and turning even as the bed’s coverlet, previously shoved out of the way magically flew up to cover both occupants propriety. Just about at the same time, Theron had grabbed the nearest pillow, and had chucked it as hard as he could towards the doorway.

It was a marvelous throw. One for the ages. Truly, Theron had missed his calling in Huttball. Unfortunately, pillows weren’t nearly as aerodynamic, and it flopped to the floor several feet away from its intended mark.

“Oh my!” Seetoo exclaimed.

“Close the door!” Theron’s snarl echoed across the expanse of the room.

“Oh, quite right!” Seetoo hit the button for the door to close, and it swished shut behind him. That task completed, he turned back to the bed as if awaiting further instructions.

“I meant for you to shut it with you on the other side!”

“Well, you must be more specific in your wishes if you—”

“Get out!”

“How rude.”

Theron flopped back on his pillow, or he would have, if he hadn’t flung it across the room. Instead his head hit the mattress with a slight spring and bounce back. The motion made him nostalgic for thirty seconds ago, when that bounce back had been for different reasons. He glared at the room in general, as if it had betrayed him. After thoroughly expressing his displeasure with his environment, he turned to look at his wife.

“First it was the manipulative Force parasite in your head interrupting us. Now it’s your brother.”

By proxy no less.

“Did you just compare my brother to Valkorion?” Grey asked. He couldn’t tell if she was offended or in agreement with him. At the moment he didn’t particularly care.

“If the evil shoe fits!”

At some point, Draike’s near maniacal effusion of love for every person and object on Odessen had finally run its course. Probably around the time that Bowdaar had practically shoved a bottle of whiskey into his mouth. It had been an effective measure of finally getting the endless stream of affection to stop.

It had been a little while since that point. So much so that Draike had migrated from his laze-a-bout in the cantina over to the Logistics Hangar. He wouldn’t have said that he was consciously avoiding Lyra or anything, but at some point he’d looked back to where he’d abandoned her at the table and realized that he may have made things a little awkward. There was an itchy feeling on the back of his neck as a tiny in voice in his head told him that he needed to apologize to her. That voice sounded a little too much like his mother for his own comfort, so he studiously avoided it.

Besides, a far more logical part of his brain said that he had nothing to be sorry for. He hadn’t done anything wrong.

He looked up from his contemplative perch to see his brother-in-law angrily storming in his direction. Draike took in Theron’s untucked shirt over rumpled pants, the lack of belt and mismatched slippers in place of the normal calf-high boots, bloodshot eyes, twitching brow, and a possibly new undiscovered vein bulging in his forehead. As an expert in the field, Draike recognized the all-too-familiar signs of someone who had dressed very hastily. That same wide, nexu-like grin spread across his face at the sight.

Okay. Maybe he had done one thing that was technically wrong. But why did it feel so right?

The open display of amusement did nothing to quell the spy’s rage, as he finished closing the distance and furiously poked a finger into Draike’s chest. He growled something distinctly unflattering in High Gammorese, and while Draike tried to hold his mirth in—he didn’t really try that hard, because he almost doubled over laughing.

This only egged Theron on, and the next string of curses mixed in several other languages. Who knew the man was a polyglot?

“I will have you know that my mother was a saint,” Draike managed to get in between wheezes, “and you better not let your wife hear you talking about her like that.”

That seemed to break through Theron’s sexually frustrated rage long enough to stem the seemingly endless, nearly incoherent tirade. But the anger was clearly still simmering. If looks could kill, Draike was pretty sure he would have been a puddle of incinerated goo on the floor of the Logistics Hangar. Of course, he’d been on the receiving end of far worse looks. Shan would need to bring his A game if he wanted to attempt to intimidate Draike Highwind.

Theron started again, in Basic this time. “You son of a—”

“Ah ah, a saint,” Draike reminded him, possibly a little too mockingly.

Theron’s mouth shut with an audible click, and breathed out a long whistling breath through his nose.

“You know, Shan, you really should put a little more care into your wardrobe. Tumble bunny slippers? Really?”

The spy wrinkled his nose, the newly discovered vein seeming to bulge again with a freshly ignited rage. “You sent that droid into our quarters on purpose!”

“Who? Me?”

“Yes, you!”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Draike widened his eyes, the complete picture of innocence. How was he supposed to know that Theron was trying to route around his carefully crafted plans and engage in a little afternoon delight? Truly, it had just been a cosmic coincidence that had turned out in the smuggler’s favor.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Highwind! I know what you’re up to!”

“And what is that?” Draike blinked languidly.

“I’m not going to give you the satisfaction of saying it out loud!”

“Oh, no,” he tsked sadly, “is there some trouble in the bedroom with you and the misses?”

“Knock it off!” Theron snarled. “What the hell is your problem?”

That sort of language utterly wounded Draike, and he displayed that the only way he knew how, by dramatically clutching his chest and crying out in the most melodramatic fashion. “I’m just upset that I wasn’t invited to the wedding!”

“What?” Theron asked flatly.

“It was always my dream to walk my baby sister down the aisle — and your elopement ruined that!”

“…no it wasn’t, you goddamn liar!”

“I’m wounded, utterly wounded!”

Theron pivoted on his heel, letting out an inarticulate frustrated cry.

“You know what would cure that bad temper?” Draike couldn’t help himself. “A little good quality time with the little mis—“

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by another particularly vile High Gammorese curse as Theron stormed off. A final “Turn in your goddamn reports!” echoed across the hangar, and Draike couldn’t hold it any longer and broke down in laughter.

There was really only one problem with Draike’s plan to completely avoid any potential awkwardness with his best friend — and that was when you completely avoided someone, it had a tendency to compound the issue of not seeing them. In fact, Draike had been so successful in his efforts, by the time it occurred to him that maybe he’d overreacted a little, and the encounter itself had probably long faded from her mind, Lyra was nowhere to be found.

Which was just rude. People shouldn’t be able to use his own tactics against him. There had to be some sort of rule or code against that.

Naturally, all inquiries made in regards to her whereabouts were completely and utterly casual. As he had carefully cultivated an upstanding reputation of detached aloofness that had served him well. If he appeared too eager for anything, someone might get the bright idea in their head to saddle him with more responsibility — maybe mistake him for the other Highwind on base that seemed to thrive under that sort of thing.

And it wasn’t like Lyra was the most entertaining Jedi or Force user on base to hang around with, she wasn’t even the most entertaining person—because apologies to everyone, Guss would forever and always hold both of those titles. No contest. No contenders. It was just the cold, hard facts of the situation.

But if Draike was being honest… her company was missed some. Bowdarr didn’t laugh at his stupid jokes that he told in an attempt to cheat—er, strategically get the upper hand—at Sabacc. The wookiee just let out a non-amused growl and called him on it. And Guss just kept trying to palm the cards himself. It just wasn’t the same. He would hang out with Gault, but both Hylo and Theron had strictly forbidden it, as if they were convinced the entire base would erupt in flames if the two of them engaged in a battle of wits.

(And there was no way in hell he was ever going to sit at a table with that Rattataki, no matter how many lewd invitations she offered.)

So, Draike had been forced to turn to the very last place that he would ever dare to find answers: the duty roster.

“Who the hell is Houch Plehnt and why is he flying my ship?”

“Last I checked, the Khoonda was registered to Master Dorn, not you.”

Draike looked up to see one smirking and insufferable spy staring at him over the brim of a large mug of caf.

“Shan.” Any joviality in the greeting on Draike’s part was forced. “Nice to see you up and at ‘em. Still suffering from that acute case of prolonged sexual frustration?”

“Well, since you asked so nicely,” a wide, unrepentant grin spread across the other man’s face, “I’ve found that if I wake up early enough, there’s definitely enough time to fit in a quick bit of quality time with the little lady. Sometimes twice.”

“Gross! That’s my sister you’re talking about!”

“A wise man would know better than to ask a question he didn’t want the answer to.”

“Don’t think I won’t camp outside your door and bang pots at random intervals!”

“I think our guard droids might take issue with that.”

“HK-55 loves me and you know it!”

“Where are you going to find the pots?” Theron challenged, taking a long sip off his mug.

“I have friends in the kitchen!” Draike crossed his arms. “They’ll hook me up.”

“Don’t you think you’re going to excessive lengths to ‘protect your sister’s virtue’?”

“She’s a Jedi, I think she’s entirely capable of protecting her own virtue,” Draike sniffed indignantly. “Besides, this has nothing to with her, and everything to do with you.”

“And what did I do now?”

“You let some moon jockey take my ship out!”

“Again, not your ship.”

“Well, it’s the closest thing I’ve got to one until we track down where mine is,” Draike huffed.

“Guess it’s a shame you were off pouting somewhere when Dorn got her mission then,” Theron said a little too casually, taking another long, slow sip from his mug. “She had to go find another pilot since you were incommunicado.”

Draike tried not to look as put out as a he felt. Lyra knew that he was bored out of his skull and she had just left him here? And had gone off with some moon jockey? Who probably couldn’t even take off without scraping the paint? Houch Plehnt — what kind of name what that anyway? Man probably didn’t even know how to handle his blasters! (Pun partially intended.)

“You don’t just hijack someone’s crew, Shan!”

“Oh?” There raised those eyebrows again, another sip and a smirk. “Your crew, eh? I didn’t realize things were so�� official.”

“They’re not,” he snapped back, perhaps a little too quickly. “We just have an understanding—she knows how bored I am! And she just leaves me here?”

“What she left you was this message.” Theron paused in his sipping and smirking long enough to produce a datapad. “Not that it’s any of my business.”

“It’s not.”

Theron shrugged, picked his mug back up and began to amble off. Presumably to his next meeting, or a rigorous and boring round of coding, or something equally dull and chaste per the elaborate fantasy that Draike was concocting in his head. 

“You still haven’t sent in your report for the Kathol Rift incident yet.” The spy didn’t turn around or even flinch at the silent, rude gesture sent his way. “Maybe you’ll have some time to finish it now, since you’re so bored and have nothing better to do.”

“You know, Theron, I never pegged you as some flimsi pusher,” Draike called after him, which seemed to break through the smug haze, because he saw the spy’s shoulders stiffen, as if that insult had hit particularly close to home. “I guess we all become the thing we hate, eh?”

“You’re the one with the problem here, Captain, not me,” came the sharp reply, before the spy stalked off.

Draike glared at his retreating back, and when that had finally disappeared off into the bustle of the Odessen crowds, he turned his ire back to the traitorous duty roster that had started this whole thing to begin with. He ignored the datapad in his hand for longer than was probably necessary, before finally flicking the thing on.

Hey you. Got a little job to do in Taris. Couldn’t find you to see if you wanted to tag along. Houch Plehnt volunteered — should be back in a day or two. Wish me luck, he’s… not as quick with his blasters as you are. If you know what I mean. See you later, friend.

He glared at the datapad and the text on it, trying to smother the rising and conflicting emotions welling up in his chest. The walls weren’t closing in like the other day, but that nagging voice was starting to whisper in the back of his mind. In particular he kept staring at the word “friend” over and over, as if trying to parse out if it was some sort of hidden message.

It was stupid, that’s what it was. If she wanted to get herself killed by letting some random person with lesser skill at the helm of her ship, then fine. So be it. See if he helped her steal it back again if the jerk decided to fly off without her. Of course, that might strand her on Taris, which was not exactly friendly territory to have to try and navigate a flight out of.

Whatever. It wasn’t any of his business. He had better things to do. Like go teach Guss how to cheat better at cards.

In between about the thousandth time of trying to demonstrate the proper way to palm a card, and Guss accidentally spraying the entire Sabacc deck across the table, Draike had to admit defeat on his latest venture. The game of 76 Card Pickup was only entertaining about the first three times in a row, and then it just became dull. Like everything else around this place.

While he was amazing at most everything he did, Draike would have to admit that maybe he could have been a more effective tutor if he didn’t keep getting distracted by trying to calculate the average duration of a roundtrip between Wild Space and the Ojoster sector. Granted, a talented pilot could shave off a little time from that route, but he was pretty sure Houch Plehnt was anything but. Did the man even know the front end of his blaster from the back?

Not that Draike was concerned.

Because he wasn’t. He just had to find some way to fill his time, and unfortunately he’d been reduced down to basic algebra problems that most school children learned in their third year. And he wasn’t put out. How could he be? It wasn’t like he and Lyra had any formal arrangement (no matter how much Shan tried to slyly imply) to not go on missions without each other… they just… hadn’t for a long time. It wasn’t an expectation exactly, it was just the way things had been for a while. Help each other on assignments, hang out in the down time. Keep the ever encroaching boredom at bay for a little longer.

He also would not define himself as moping about the Logistics Hangar, with Guss trying to pick up an entire Sabacc deck off the floor where he’d accidentally flung it for the umpteenth time, when the Khoonda made its landing again. The ship’s owner emerged down the boarding ramp, covered in something utterly foul. Draike had almost no warning before a particularly sticky and odious arm was flung around his shoulders, an unidentified muck slurping itself onto his jacket.

“Hi,” Draike said, one hand discreetly covering his nose. “Miss me?”

“Yes,” Lyra enthused as she laid her head on his shoulder, further smearing the gunk of whatever covered her onto his skin.

He valiantly did not cringe at the slimy sensation. “You know that you stink, right?”

“It’s your fault,” she insisted.

“I don’t recall smearing you with the most disgusting substance known to man. That you’ve now smeared all over my best jacket.”

“Good,” she said firmly, “ and it is your fault. You disappeared on me, forcing me to take Houch as a pilot.”

“What kind of name is that anyway?”

“Don’t change the subject,” Lyra wrinkled her nose. “He was so afraid of getting bit by a Rakghoul he refused to step off the ship. So I had to get samples for Lokin myself.”

“Wait, so this stuff is—”

“Yes,” Lyra said lightly, “Rakghoul guts.”

“This was my best jacket!”

“Was being the operative word. Now it’s just a jacket covered in guts. We match!”

Draike sniffed indignantly, which was a mistake because all it gained him was a giant whiff of the odious stench emanating from the Jedi. “Why did you not shower?”

“Because Houch was so afraid of being infected he quarantined me in the cargo hold. Wouldn’t even let me near the refresher.”

“It’s your ship!”

“Trust me,” she muttered dangerously, “I know.”

“He still in the cockpit? I can go give him a hug on your behalf.”

“You’d do that?”

“Bastard stole my ship and by proxy ruined my favorite jacket. He’s got it coming.”

“You do realize it’s technically my ship, don’t you?”

“Why does everyone keep bringing that up?”

“Well, you have fun talking to Houch,” Lyra said breaking away, “I am going to go take a shower and then burn all of these clothes.”

“Looks like I’ll be doing the same,” Draike muttered petulantly.

“And be nice to Houch.”

“No promises!”

The conversation itself was normal. Friendly side-hugs and spirited banter but… as Lyra walked away, Draike couldn’t help but feel something about the encounter was different. The barbs just a little more pointed, and Lyra avoiding catching his eye. She had usually been quick to follow up the banter with some sort of reassurance, but this time she just walked away. It wasn’t like this was the first time he’d been an ass, and she had always let him off the hook before. He wasn’t sure why this time was different, but it was.  

He watched her go, that same matronly voice in his ear starting up in its familiar scolding refrain.

The expletive slipped out on its own accord. His jacket was thoroughly ruined. It was a nice jacket. He’d just finished breaking it in. The sleeves were no longer stiff, and it had breathed so much nicer than the cheap synthleather ones that they kept in stock here on the base. Also, Houch Plehnt really needed a sticky Rakghoul gut hug. But mostly the man just needed to be kicked off and banned from ever re-entering the Khoonda.

Is that all you should really be thinking about right now? — the infuriating voice in the back of his mind asked.

He tried to come up with some excuse, some flim-flam to distract it, but arguing with one’s self was the first sign of insanity. He couldn’t give into it now, not after managing to keep his wits about him being stranded for five years on a backwater planet while the galaxy passed him by. That would just be insult to injury.

Fine. Fine. He’d listen to the stupid voice just this once.

It was much, much later when he found her out in the nerf pens. After a shower, burning his jacket, and covering one asshole Rodian pilot in rakghoul guts — not necessarily all in that order — he walked into one of the dirtiest places on base. It seemed almost pointless for Lyra to scrub herself clean and then go commune with the giant stinky beasts, but this was where she liked to hide out when she was trying to pretend she wasn’t upset. Like that time they had to steal back the Khoonda from the Corellian shipyards. Or the anniversary of dates that she’d never really explained the significance of.

Just like those other times, she was petting the nose of one of the giant, gentle creatures. Leaning in and saying something low. He spied a small smile playing at her lips, even if there was the air of something else about her. Like even with her big animal friends she felt she had to pretend that everything was fine.

Draike cleared his throat, and both Jedi and big nerf head looked up at him. He held up a bag from the mess hall as an offering, and her eyes lit up at the familiar sight. She gave the big beast another affectionate pat on the nose, whispering something before wiping her hands and ambling over. Just like all of the other times, they took a seat on one of the fallen logs that served as a makeshift bench.

They didn’t exchange a word, but he pulled out the to-go containers and utensils. She took his offering, removing the lid and inhaling the spicy scent wafting out. The smile that played at her lips was different from the ones she graced the nerf with, and she arched a brow at him. The noodle dish wasn’t her favorite Dantooinian variant, but it was the closest he could wrangle up. Thankfully, the grumpy cook wasn’t in the kitchen today, so he’d been able to negotiate a special order.

“Smells spicy.”

“I’m surprised you can smell anything over that nerf,” he said.

She shook her head, lips pressing together lightly, but the expression was a familiar mix of exasperated amusement. Not the slightly edged smile she’d greeted him with in the hangar, so that was probably a good sign.

“I don’t recall this being on the menu today,” she remarked lightly.

“I called in a favor.”

“How big of a favor?”

“There’s an extra container of hot sauce in here. You’re liable to lose a few taste buds.”

“Ah, that was quite the favor,” she mused. “The kitchen never wants to make it spicy enough.”

“You just have to know how to ask nicely,” Draike shot back, “and also slip them a few credits when no one’s looking.”

She slurped up a noodle with more gusto and noise than was necessarily proper, but the genuine smile blossoming on her face counterbalanced the breech in manners. For a few minutes, they were content to munch on their food as they watched the giant stinky beasts graze. It was almost tempting to just let the companionable silence stretch on, but he was supposed to be listening to the stupid little voice in his head, so…

He took a little time preparing the noodles for his next bite, seemingly focused on getting the absolute perfect twirl as he spoke. “I turned in the damn report.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her pause in the middle of her chew, shaking her head almost in disappointment. As if that wasn’t the actual issue. He continued to twirl his fork slowly, gathering more and more noodles and sauce. She was the one that left him behind, and yet he had swallowed his pride and given that stupid smug spy the satisfaction of having his precious paperwork turned in on time.

You know that’s not the real issue here, that damnable maternal voice in his head whispered again.

He ignored the voice. It only got one good deed out of him per month. That was the deal.

“You left me here,” he said continuing to twirl the noodles into what was starting to resemble a monstrous bite.

“You disappeared,” Lyra shot back. “What was I supposed to do? Refuse a mission because you were pouting?”

“I was not pouting,” Draike said huffily.

“Then what were you doing?”

He didn’t have an answer for that, so instead of replying he stuffed his now epically sized pasta twirl into his mouth. It was a mistake, as there was hardly any room to chew, and the spicy oil of the sauce set his cheeks on fire. Gamely he looked at her and shook his head, pointing at his full mouth as if in explanation that he couldn’t answer her question with his mouth full. The effect was ruined by the fact that he could feel a bead of sweat start to trickle down his face, his traitorous body betraying the fact that he was not as immune to the level of spice that she enjoyed in her dishes.

Lyra quirked a brow at him, unimpressed by his obvious skirting of the issue, while an oddly satisfied smile threatened to quirk at the corners of her mouth. It made him feel as if he had stepped into some sort of well-planned Dejarik maneuver she had been planning from the beginning of the game. Although Lyra Dorn really wasn’t the evil mastermind type.

“It really stung, you know,” she said after a moment of literally letting him sweat, “that you’d avoid me instead of talking to me about whatever was wrong.”

He could have had a perfect follow-up quip for that to distract and derail the conversation, but his mouth was still both on fire and impossibly stuffed with noodles which prevented him from forming any coherent sound. So he just let out a muffled series of noises in protest.

“Chew your food,” Lyra said, that eyebrow quirking again.

He snorted out an annoyed breath and tried to find a way to safely chew his monstrous, ill-conceived bite. He felt not unlike one of the big, stinky piles of fur chewing their cud. In retrospect, perhaps this maneuver of stuffing his face to avoid questions had backfired, as he was now at the mercy of anything else the Jedi had to say.

“I’d never strong arm you into saying or doing anything you didn’t feel,” she continued. “The fact that you don’t trust that…”

He shook his head at her, still unable to form coherent words.

“No, you don’t trust me?”

He shook his head again.

“No, that’s not what you meant?”

He nodded.

She sighed. “Can we just both agree to not do that again? Neither of us goes incommunicado when something’s wrong and… you never leave me at the mercy of a Houch Plehnt again. Fair?”

Draike couldn’t sigh, could only snort out a very long and aggrieved breath through his nose and shrug in an exaggerated manner — but he nodded. That seemed… fair.

“Good.” Lyra shot him a small, almost mischievous smile. “You know you’re being uncharacteristically silent.”

He tried to say something, but his mouth of noodles prevented more than an impolite, disgruntled sound.

“Chew,” she reminded him again, that little smirk still blossoming further. “So, did you get up to anything fun while I was gone?”

He let out another incoherent noise of frustration, unable to form proper words around the fire on his tongue and the noodles trying to slip out of his mouth.

“It’s impolite to talk with your mouth full, Captain.” Lyra clicked her tongue, and took a delicate, small bite. “You know, these are really good.”

He wrinkled his nose at her and tried to communicate his plight with his eyes.

She just flashed him another wide smirk, leaning over so she could bump his shoulder with hers. “You want some of my extra sauce to help wash those noodles down?”

Her only reply was a disgruntled grunt.

[sailorshadzter]

across the sea and back again. chapter 4.

this chapter took me a lot longer to finish than i anticipated, but here it is, finally done! we’re getting close to the end and i’m excited to say i will fully finish this fic before next week!! whether it ends up being 5 chapters as planned, or maybe 6, it’s coming to an end and i hope you guys are enjoying it as we go! 

just a few notes: there’s no conflict with the night king- that in itself would take at least two additional chapters to include- and i really wanted to make this au different, so i said fuck it and scrapped the idea. initially, i was going to do it because i need to figure out what to do with the dragons, but i have an idea for them finally! 

i did mean to bring arya home in this chapter, but it felt like too much once i got through half of the chapter, but i promise the last of house stark will join her family very soon!! 

thank you to everyone for your continued support on this fic. reading your comments here & on ao3 fuel me to keep going. i appreciate every comment, reblog, and like you guys give me. even if i dont respond to them all, know i see them & truly, truly appreciate the nice words! 

that being said...here’s chapter four. :)

Watching Jon retake the North was enough for those who had yet to offer their support; the sons and daughters of remaining Northern houses- Umber, Manderly, and the like- they flocked back to Winterfell to beg on their knees for forgiveness of their father's sins. Given of course, for beyond the sheer fact that they would need all the support they could get in the coming battles, Jon could not bring himself to punish a son for his father's crime. He supposes it's only a matter of time before the declaration for his claim to the Iron Throne will be made.

"Dorne promises support." It's Sansa's voice cutting in, bringing him back from the depth of his own thoughts. They sit together in her solar, or perhaps it belongs to them both, considering the amount of time they spend together inside. She sits behind the large oak desk, dozens of scrolls and letters scattered across the top, some not even yet open. "You know how they hate the Lannister's." She smirks, blue eyes lifting from the letter as she tosses it down among all the others. "But they will ask for something in return." In the few weeks since they had reclaimed Winterfell as theirs, she's stepped into her role as Queen in the North as if she had truly been born for it. It's a role that suits her far better than any other one ever could. "With winter coming, we have little to offer them right now." She sighs, shaking her head as she reaches for another of the scrolls, this one still yet to have been opened.

continue reading on ao3  read chapter 1 on tumblr read chapter 2 on tumbr.  read chapter 3 on tumblr 

He crosses the room and settles onto the edge of the desk as she leans back in her chair, red hair a stark contrast to the black wool gown she wears. Before he can speak, her features are twisting in dislike, blue eyes narrowing as she scans the letter she reads. "What is it?" He asks, a cold sense of dread washing over him. After all they've gone through, he can't think about more problems already arising.

"It's from Tyrion." She answers, but she does not pull her gaze from the letter.

"Lannister?" He asks as if she could even mean another man of the name, his voice full of the surprise he feels. She looks up then and nods, handing him the letter that she holds. Blinking, he turns his gaze down and reads the few lines of script written along the parchment.

Lady Stark, I'm certain you're surprised to see a letter from me, but I hope this finds you in good health. The rumors of your disappearance and death circulated, even here across the Narrow Sea, and I was not certain I'd hear your name spoken again. It has been told that you and Jon have reclaimed Winterfell in the name of House Stark and they call you their queen. Though my alliance is with another queen, I commend you for your strength and ability to take back what always belonged to you.

Surely you must wonder why I am writing you, it is on behalf of Daenerys Targaryen, the true heir to the Seven Kingdoms, and thus the one who should sit upon the Iron Throne, not my sister. I'm sure you wish to see her off the throne as much as anyone.

We have heard the rumors of your half brother's birth, that he is Targaryen born. Daenerys does not wish to fight for the throne with her own blood, but she will, and I am giving you this warning now: do not fight her. My queen is a ruthless one and she will stop at nothing to claim what is hers. Stand with her and take the Iron Throne in the name of House Targaryen. Jon, if truly of her bloodline, will be rewarded for his alliance, as well as the North.

I write to you in hopes there need be no war between our two sides, we have a common enemy in Cersei and thus a common goal. We have arrived in Dragonstone, the old seat for House Targaryen. Write to me here with your answer.

Best regards, Tyrion Lannister, Hand of the Queen.

Jon looks up from the letter to meet her gaze, though she looks lost in thought. "Hand of the Queen? For Daenerys Targaryen?" He speaks in disbelief, recalling the Lannister imp from those days so many years ago, from before they had ever left Winterfell. "Of all the people..." He goes on with a shake of his head, tossing the letter to join the others she's set aside. "What do you think of it? You know him better than I do."

Sansa sighs, shrugging her shoulders as she leans forward, elbows propping her up on the desk as she lowers her cheek into her palm. "Tyrion is no different than the rest of them, kind to me as he was. He looks to serve himself, as most men do." She sighs again, raising her face from her hand, stretching her arms across the desk. "I think we must talk with the lords about it, before we do anything." Jon nods, knowing this was not a choice they could make on their own. "But..." She trails off as she turns her gaze back to him. "He is right- if we don't play this out right, we will have two wars to fight for the Iron Throne." Jon nods, knowing she's right.

Though she opens her mouth to speak on, she's cut off by the door swinging open and in comes Rickon, carrying Robb who is giggling and babbling, one little fist extended up into the air. In the few weeks since their taking of Winterfell, Rickon has fallen quite hard for his little nephew. Although the initial realization that Jon was not his brother by blood was hard for him to understand and accept, he has come to learn that brotherhood isn't all about the blood they share. Sansa smiles as her little brother approaches where they sit, the worries of the realm forgotten as she leans in to brush a curl from her son's forehead. "Look Sansa," Rickon says excitedly as he passes the baby into her arms, but so he faces forward to still look at him rather than his mother. "Where's Robb?" He coos as he slides his hands over his face and then pulls them back with a quick movement. "There he is!" He cries and at once Robb is full of giggles, his gummy smile bringing a chuckle from both adults as they watch the scene unfold.

Her family, though once broken and pulled apart, was slowly coming back together. It was only a matter of time before they found Bran and Arya, until they were all together again. And she would look forward to that day until it came.

[ x x x ]

In the days that follow the letter arriving from Dragonstone, Sansa wrestles with the choice she knows that they must ultimately make. She can't quite explain it, but she doesn't trust Daenerys Targaryen- something tells her that this dragon queen will bring with her destruction, not salvation, and in the end they will face a war far bigger than the one with Cersei Lannister. It's another gamble, the idea that runs through her mind every time she's faced with the thought, a gamble far bigger than any of the others they've made up until now... But she knows, there's no fighting the power of a dragon, especially when there was three of them.

Three days after the letter arrived, the Northern lords are assembled in Winterfell's great hall. Sansa and Jon sit side by side at the head table, looking out into the sea of faces staring back at them. "Thank you for coming on such short notice," Jon is the first to speak, as he so usually is. Though she is queen, Jon is her voice, his ability to rally men to his side uncanny. She admires his ability to boost the confidence of even the lowest man, his ability to fill hearts with hope, with faith in doing the right thing. "The queen has received a letter from Tyrion Lannister." A murmur rises up among the lords- there is little trust in the imp, as there is little trust in any Lannister. "He writes on behalf of Daenerys Targaryen." The voices fall silent and he watches as shock registers on nearly every face in the room. "They sit in Dragonstone as we speak, making plans to sail for Westeros so Daenerys may lay claim to the Iron Throne."

"To claim a throne that does not belong to her?" Lord Royce speaks first from where he sits beside Brienne of Tarth, a few lords nodding in assent around him. "She is not the rightful heir, as she must have heard by now."

"Aye, she's heard," Jon goes on, rising up to his feet, sweeping around to the front of the table they sit behind. "She offers peace if we support her claim to the throne."

"Or so says the imp," Howland Reed says, lifting his shoulders in a shrug. "Can such a promise be trusted?" There is little love for the Targaryen name, Jon knows this as well as any man, especially there among the Northmen. They have not yet forgotten what happened to the Stark men in King's Landing so many years ago. And though they support Jon, it is only because of the love they had for him to begin with, because of the Stark blood that still yet runs through his veins. They consider him far more Stark than Targaryen and he supposes he is quite thankful for that.

"Probably not," it's Sansa who speaks now and all eyes turn to their queen, including Jon's, who shifts where he stands to focus on her. They have discussed at length what they plan to do and they can only hope the Northern lords trust in them enough to go along with it. "But we think we should offer our support to her, at least for the time being." A heavy silence falls, the gazes staring back at her now narrowed, their shock outweighing the anger they surely must feel at her words.

"You wish for us to align ourselves with a Targaryen?" Lord Manderly spits, though he shoots Jon an apologetic sort of look, who shrugs as if it means little to him. "And then what? We're to help her reclaim the throne that belongs to Lord Snow?"

"Not entirely," again it's Sansa speaking, hands folding together atop the table she still sits behind. "We cannot fight a war against three dragons." She goes on, blue eyes sweeping across the room, taking in the sight of every face that stares back at her. "But we can offer her support and gain her trust. From there we can determine what kind of threat she really is to us."

Silence descends once again and after several moments, Jon speaks again. "We will make no decision that you all don't agree with." He speaks honestly, recounting the words he and Sansa had discussed only the night before. "If you don't think it wise, then we will not invite her here, we will not go along with our plan. But..." He trails off, turning so he might look at Sansa across his shoulder. "The queen is right, we cannot fight a war against Daenerys Targaryen and her dragons."

"As I've told you before, you have House Mormont's support in all that you do, Jon Snow." Lyanna Mormont cuts in with a sharp nod of her head. It takes but a moment more for other heads to nod, for voices of assent to fill the room.

"We trust your judgment." Lord Umber speaks, another child that's been put into the place as head of his house. Beside him, Lady Karstark sits, nodding her head in agreement. In the end, all of the lords come to agree with the terms they've spoken of. And so when they've been fed and most have set out to return to their own houses, Sansa pens her letter to Tyrion, knowing that there would be a long journey ahead. For all of them.

[ x x x ]

"A letter, my lord."

It's Varys that hands him the letter, having come into his chamber just a moment before, not bothering to offer the courtsey of a knock. They have known one another so long now, he doesn't mind all that much. Not that Varys would care if he did. Tyrion glances at the scroll now in hand, the Stark seal the one he's been waiting to see. He breaks it open and unrolls the scroll to reveal the neat, slanted script thats written across the parchment. "She invites us to Winterfell to discuss terms of a potential alliance." He's shocked by the words written, he had not thought Sansa Stark to be so easily swayed. But then again... He supposes she's never faced a foe with a trio of dragons at her beck and call. Though, something tells Tyrion if there was anyone to ever oppose his queen, it would be her.

"And you think she means it?" Varys asks, coming around to stand at his back, hands tucked into the sleeves of his robe. "You know what the whispers say..." Even here in Dragonstone, the whispers of Westeros reach him. "That the North and Dorne both support Jon Snow as the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. That the Iron Islands will come behind him, too, thanks to Theon Greyjoy." They know the people of King's Landing would not so readily accept a Targaryen ruler- after decades of violence, they would look to the man who had taken back the North with little bloodshed. They would look to the Northern girl they knew once as their future queen, bethrothed at one time to their golden prince Joffrey. The peasantry would flock to Jon Snow and Sansa Stark long before they would ever stand with a Targaryen.

"You sound as if you think we should stand behind a different queen." Tyrion sighs, tossing the letter down onto the desktop as he reaches for his goblet of wine, draining it in a single gulp. "I have no choice but to believe her," he says then, pouring himself another goblet full. "It looks as if we're to head North."

[ x x x ]

Sansa spends her days ensuring that Winterfell is prepared to welcome the dragon queen and her army of Dothraki, not to mention her three dragons. It's been nearly a month since Tyrion's response had come to assure her that Daenerys sought peace and that they would make haste to arrive at Winterfell before winter came. The winter winds have begun to blow and most certainly, winter was upon them, and so she knows it is only a matter of time before Daenerys Targryen arrived on their shore.

It's a rare moment where she's not working and instead, she's settled into Robb's chambers, the baby tucked into her arms as he sleeps. Outside in the courtyard, despite the flurries of snow that fall from the cloudy skies, Jon spars with Rickon, teaching the boy to use a sword as Ned Stark had once taught him and Robb when they were Rickon's age. She can hear every clash of the wooden swords they use in place of steel and the occassional gasp from a crowd that must be gathered around. For a moment, it's as if they were back to their happy, carefree days of childhood.

She wishes things never have to change, but she knows yet another war looms ahead and they must be ready for it's arrival.

Knock, knock.

"Come in," she softly calls and it's Lord Royce there, stepping inside the the room to come and stand before her. "Have you heard word from White Harbor?" She asks, thinking that it must be Daenerys he comes to speak to her of. But, to her surprise, he shakes his head.

"There's a rider... At the gate." He says instead and she cannot say why, but a lump rises to her throat. Something tells her she must greet this rider herself. And so she rises up to place her son carefully into his cradle and she follows Lord Royce from the room and down the halls until she takes to the stairs, heading down into the main corridor and then out the double doors into the courtyard.

"Sansa!" It's Rickon's voice calling out to her from the far side of the courtyard, where he and Jon are still sparring. "Come watch!" He shouts, waving his wooden sword high into the air. A laugh escapes her and she raises her hand to wave back to him, though she turns and heads instead for the gates, which as she approaches she raises her hand to the guard in the tower, giving him the go ahead to allow the gates to be opened. There, waiting to come through, was a single horse drawn sled, though a somewhat wild looking brunette walks alongside it. By now, Jon and Rickon, along with several others, have begun to approach where she stands, watching as the sled comes through the now open gates.

Her heart has begun to race, faster and faster, her breath catching in her throat as the person settled into the sled comes into her view. "Hello, Sansa." Bran says in a strange, stoic sort of voice, but his eyes... Those are the eyes of the little brother she knew from childhood. She chokes on a sob and she rushes towards the sled, climbing into the back of it so she can throw her arms around him. "Though I suppose I am to call you your grace now," his voice is at her ear and she lets out a laugh, only hugging him tighter. When she wills herself to let him go, it's so she might stare at him, taking in the sight of him, grown nearly into a man. If he were to stand, she knows he would stand taller than even she. "There's much for us to discuss." Bran says in that same strange voice, a voice she doesn't know. But he's home, so she doesn't care about what he sounds like or even how he looks. She only cares that he's home.

He's home and so is another piece of her heart.

[ x x x ]

It's late into the night, but they sit up in the rooms they've had prepared for Bran to stay in, the rooms that once belonged to him as a child. Bran and Jon sit before the hearth, quiet as Sansa tucks the blankets over Rickon and Robb who both sleep peacefully in the bed that was meant to be Bran's. She can't help but to smile as she brushes a curl from Rickon's forehead, leaning over to kiss both boys on the tops of their heads before she crosses the room to settle into the chair she'd only just vacated moments before. "He looks just like you," Bran says to Jon, gesturing towards the sleeping pair, meaning of course the baby that sleeps beside his youngest uncle. "Though he will be taller than you." Sansa can't help but to spare a laugh at Jon's expense, but even he must chuckle at the comment.

"Have you... Seen him?" Sansa asks after a moment, turning her gaze towards her younger brother. In the last several hours, he's spoken to them of many things, including his visions and his role as the Three Eyed Raven. Perhaps it's wrong of her to ask, but to know a glimpse of her son's future... Even just the smallest inkling that he will be happy. That everything they're doing is going to be worth it in the end. Bran's eyes swerve from the bed and instead fall onto her, holding steady for a long moment before he gives a single nod. Something like relief rushes through her and she lets out the breath she's been holding, sinking back into her chair.

"I've seen them all," Bran admits after a moment, glancing from one face to the other. He's seen the fates of all their children, though the rest have yet to come. Someday, Winterfell would be full of the laughter of children, much as it had once been when they had all been children within the walls. "But it's a long road ahead."

Jon casts a quick glance towards Sansa, reaching out a hand to tenderly touch hers. At the touch, she startles, but her lips curve with a smile as she turns to face him for just a moment. "Daenerys will be here any day." Jon says when his gaze has settled back onto Bran's, who nods, indicating he already knew this. Jon wonders what else his little brother knows, what else he's keeping to himself. But he knows he must trust him, just as Sansa once trusted him; it was faith in each other, faith in knowing that there was always one person who would keep you safe no matter what. "We must be ready."

"You will be." Bran says, though he turns his gaze to Sansa as he speaks. Though he cannot say it aloud, he knows it will be her that in the end, saves them from the destruction that Daenerys Targaryen brings. He didn't have to tell her what would come because she would never waver, she would never back down from doing what she thought was right. Bran knows that his sister would stop at nothing to protect her home and her family, though she might not know it yet, there was nothing Sansa would not do in the future to protect both her son and Jon.

And that alone makes her the most dangerous player of them all.

[ x x x ]

It's the next morning when a rider comes through the gates with the alert that Daenerys Targaryen had arrived in White Harbor. But by the time the rider came, the line of soldiers had already been spotted as they made their way from the docks to Winterfell. Sansa stands on the battlements, watching as in the distance, the soldiers make their way down the road that will lead them through her gates.

She's still yet standing there when the dragons come, screeching and belching flames as they fly overhead. "Sansa." It's Jon. She turns to face him where he stands just an arm's length away, his Stark features a little more solemn than usual. "It's time." Sansa nods, silent as she steps closer to him, slipping into his arms a moment later. He holds onto her for several long moments until neither of them can ignore it no longer.

Daenerys Targaryen has arrived in Winterfell.

[ x x x ]

The mother of dragons is not all that Sansa expected her to be.

She is soft and small, with wide violet eyes and silvery hair that she wears in the most elaborate of braids. But she strides into the hall with a confidence that reeks of arrogance and though she smiles prettily enough, Sansa can see right through her. Suddenly, it's Lord Baelish's voice that floats through her thoughts; everyone is your enemy, everyone is your friend. For an instance, she's in another place entirely, a place full of ash and dust, something small and sharp in her hand... Sansa blinks and the vision is gone, but Daenerys still yet stands there, for she and her small entourage have approached the head table where Sansa sits with Jon and Bran to her either side, proof that House Stark was far from dead. "Welcome to Winterfell," Sansa speaks carefully, slowly, not a single soul in the room rising for this self proclaimed queen.

And at once, Sansa see's that she was right to think her arrogant, for those violet eyes dart around the room that she finds to be empty aside from the three that sit in front of her. Beside her a woman with eyes of such a striking shade of gold that Sansa is momentairly taken aback, but the surprise fades when she opens her mouth to speak. "You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne, Queen of the Andals and the First Men... Protector of the Seven Kingdoms." There comes a long pause and for a moment, Sansa thinks her to be finished speaking.

She isn't.

"The Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, the Unburnt," the woman says this last title as if it's a warning. Sansa exchanges a quick glance with Jon, but her attention returns to the woman with golden eyes as she still yet continues to speak. "The breaker of chains." Another silence falls and it's only then that Sansa realizes the woman has finally finished rattling off the titles and names this so called queen has given to herself.

"Ah, so you are finished," Sansa says with a tilt of her head, though her rosy lips are smiling. Jon has never seen this look upon her face before but it is one she's worn countless times in countless places for countless people. "I am Sansa Stark, Queen in the North. I thank you for traveling so far. I hope the seas were not so rough."

"They were calm, my lady, thank you." Daenerys speaks for the first time, her tone and smile matching with the woman that sits before her. She dares, in the privacy of this room, speak as if she's not heard Sansa's introduction.

"Pardon, your grace, but I am not just a lady." Sansa interrupts before the Targaryen woman can continue. "I am a queen, much like yourself." Her smile is dangerous as she folds her hands over the top of the table. "Chosen by my people."

"Forgive me, I didn't receive a formal education like you must have but if I remember correctly there's not been a King in the North since Torrhen Stark bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen..." Daenerys speaks again, blinking those violet eyes, her gaze never once wavering as she stares down at Sansa where she sits. "In exchange for the lives of the Northmen he swore an oath to my house in perpetuity." She goes on, her smile smug as she turns to a man standing just behind her, a man Sansa had not noticed until that very moment.  "Tell me, what does perpetuity mean again, Lord Tyrion?"

"It means forever, your grace."  Tyrion Lannister speaks, stepping up to stand beside the queen he's promised his loyalty to. Looking out at the table of Stark's, he's reminded quite of the old days when Ned and Catelyn Stark had once sat there.

"It means forever," Daenerys grins as she turns back to face Sansa. "So I assume, my lady, you've invited me here to bend the knee. You wrote of peace, of an alliance, yet calling yourself Queen in the North puts you into open rebellion against me. Against your rightful queen." Her gaze narrows, sharpening like steel, but unlike many before her, Sansa Stark does not bend, does not break. Rather, those icy blue eyes of hers darken, not an ounce of fear in their gaze as she squares her shoulders.

"I have no intention of bending the knee." Sansa replies, watching as Daenery's nostrils flare, her mouth opening and closing as if she's not quite certain what she's to say next. Sansa imagines this is a woman who rarely hears the word no, who rarely does not get as she wants. "It is true, I spoke of an alliance, but I never once spoke of bending to your rule."

"That is unfortunate," Daenerys quips, shooting the imp beside her a glare, as if this meeting not going her way is entirely his fault. "Unfortunate that you should invite me all this way only to break faith with House Targaryen."

At these words, Sansa can't stop the chuckle that escapes her. "My apologies, I only laugh for what faith in House Targaryen do I have?" She sobers, those blue eyes once again falling upon the woman before her. "Your father burned my grandfather alive, he burned my uncle alive. He'd have burned the entire Seven Kingdoms alive, had he not been stopped."

"My father was an evil man," Daenerys breaks in and for the first time since she walked into the hall, Sansa feels a bit of humanity from her. "On behalf of House Targaryen, I ask your forgiveness for my father's crimes against your family. And I ask that you not hold a daughter accountable for her father's sins." The violet gaze is softer now, somewhat sad, and Sansa swallows, recalling how Jon had once said those same words to her in regards to the families of the rebellious lords that now served her and House Stark once again. "The centuries of peace with a Targaryen on the Iron Throne and a Stark as Warden in the North were the best Westeros has ever seen... I am the last Targaryen-"

"You are not."

All eyes swivel then, turning to Bran who has spoken for the first time since the meeting began. "Jon is your nephew and therefore, the last remaining male heir of your House. He is the rightful heir to the Iron Throne." He speaks calmly, matter-of-factly, his expression never changing even as his eyes meet the mother of dragon's.

Daenerys regards him for several long moments before a sigh escapes her. "I have heard such a thing.... But how I am to know for certain that you are my brother's son?" She turns her gaze to Jon then, noting his lack of Targaryen looks, wondering just how any son of her family could escape the Targaryen genes. "It is as I bid Tyrion to write, if you are my kin, I do not wish to fight with you." Something tells Sansa that this is a lie, that this woman would topple any person, any kingdom, if it meant she got her way. Once again Daenerys is looking at her and she holds her head up high, knowing that in the end, no matter what it cost her, she would never bend. Not ever.

"Promise Northern independence and I will abandon my claim to the throne." Jon speaks and Daenerys turns her gaze from Sansa to him. "Swear that oath and I will not fight you for the remaining Six Kingdoms." His dark eyes hold fast to violet and the silence in the room is thick, heavy. "You needn't decide it now," he goes on, turning to Sansa who smiles fondly upon him when their gazes meet. "The queen has prepared rooms for your stay, after all." His purposeful use of queen strikes Daenerys and she shifts her gaze back to Sansa, who nods, her smile for her instead. It is a charming smile, even Dany must admit.

"I will think about your proposition most carefully," Daenerys finally speaks, though those around her look truly surprised by her response, as if even they expected her to turn on her heel and storm from the room. "I cannot promise what my answer will be."

"You are welcome to stay, until then," Sansa speaks, knowing that despite it all, she must earn this woman's trust. She must make her think that in the end, the North will be on her side in her fight for the throne. "I will have someone show you to your rooms," she gestures towards Brienne who stands in the corner of the room, who then ducks out to find Agatha who has been tireleslly working to ensure the rooms are well prepared for this queen and her group.

As Daenerys is led from the room, Sansa sinks back into her chair, suddenly drained of her energy. Beside her, Jon turns to face her, a hand falling into place against her thigh, his skin warm against hers despite the layers of clothes between them. "That went well," he says and she lifts her face to him, grinning in spite of herself. "You know what we must do next." He goes on and she nods; of course does. Jon smiles and he leans in, capturing her mouth with his for a quick kiss.

That alone gives her the strength to rise up, ready to meet whatever comes next.

[ x x x ]

"Do you believe him? Do you believe that he is my brother's son?"

Daenerys rounds on him the moment the door has closed, leaving them alone in her antechamber. Sansa Stark turns out to be a generous host, offering the warmest, best wing of Winterfell to Daenerys and her group. Tyrion finds himself housed in rooms far nicer than the ones he stayed in on his last visit to Winterfell. "Well, your grace..." Tyrion begins, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, uncertain as she is in the truth of Jon's birth. "If I may speak freely..."

His queen regards him for a moment before she nods, sinking into a chair nearest the hearth. "You may," she says, eager to hear what her Hand has to say in this situation. Tyrion Lannister was a smart man, though a heavy drinker, he's willing to make choices that others cannot. She trusts his judgment above all others, save for perhaps Missandei or Jorah.

"If you remember, I told you once that I was married to Sansa when she was but a girl." Daenerys nods, recalling the conversation from just a few months before, when the rumors of the wolves of Winterfell came to them in Dragonstone. "She is fiercely loyal to her family, to her House. To the North. She does not forget the wrongs done against her nor her family." Again, Daenerys nods, for does she not know the same feeling? "When she escaped King's Landing, she was forced to marry again, but I have heard the rumors of what she endured here in her own home at the hands of her husband, Ramsay Bolton." That too had been a subject of their conversation and back then, Daenerys had felt a spark of pity for the woman- yet another thing they shared was the abuse at hands of men who thought themselves above them. But now that she's met the young woman- she feels little else but contempt. It seemed as if Sansa Stark was going out of her way to defy her.

"And what does any of this have to do with Jon Snow being my nephew or not?"

Tyrion stands at the table beside where she sits and he pours two goblets of wine, passing the first one to Daenerys, who accepts and sips at the drink, surprised by the sweetness of it. "I only mean to give you some insight to who she is, your grace," Tyrion says when he's gulped down a mouthful of the wine himself. "A noble born girl, married twice against her will, one of those leading to truly terrible repercussions." He takes to the chair across from his queen, legs aching from the long hours they had spent both at sea and on land. "Do you think a woman raised in a world such as this one would so willingly marry a man- a man she thinks to be her brother, albeit bastard born?" Westeros did not view incest as the Targaryen's did and certainly a girl from House Stark would not lay nor marry a man she calls her brother. "It is true, those who could speak the truth of Jon's birth are no longer here to speak for themselves, we have but a High Septon's journal... But, your grace, if I know Sansa Stark like I think I do, she would never marry a man she calls brother. That itself is enough proof for me."

A silence descends and for a moment, Daenerys can only take another sip of her wine, thinking about all of the things Tyrion has just said to her. "I think you're right," she finally says a few minutes later, raising her gaze from the fire to him, violet eyes finding green. "So what of Jon Snow's promise to deny his place as the rightful heir, if only for Northern independence?"

"That is your choice to make, your grace," Tyrion begins, pausing only to take another sip of his wine. "But I have known Jon Snow to be a man of his word, unbelievably honorable, like the man who raised him."

Again there comes silence, but it is quicker to flee as Daenerys shifts in her chair to fully face him, the firelight casting her into a golden glow. "And would the North stand behind him, otherwise?" She asks, slowly, carefully, the only question that truly matters. Tyrion holds to her gaze a moment longer before he gives a single, solemn nod. The North would stand behind Jon and only Jon, especially now that they call Sansa their queen. The Seven Kingdoms would find peace in a world with an alliance such as theirs- a half Targaryen, half Stark prince and his already beloved Stark bride. Tyrion doesn't have the heart to tell his queen that even those in King's Landing would stand behind Jon Snow before they ever stood behind her. "Then I suppose I already know what I must do." She says softly, barely audible, a statement more to herself than to Tyrion.

A promise of peace... Of Northern independence... It would all be worth it, if only to get her to where she needed to be. And then when the Irone Throne was the chair she sat upon, she would give Sansa Stark and the North exactly what they deserved. If they were not for her, then they were against her.

And just like that, her mind is made up.

[queen-scribbles]

Ours

Here we go, only three years overdue, canon version of Tel finding out he’s a dad. :D

---

Elara was fidgeting.

It was an unusual enough sight it almost stopped Tel in his tracks. Elara Dorne--well, Airen--didn’t fidget. No matter how pleasant or unpleasant or boring the circumstances, she was the model of poise and professionalism. And she definitely. Did not. Fidget.

Except, apparently, for now. Her fingers picked at the small metallic object she held as she sat on the couch in their quarters, and she looked a hairsbreadth from bouncing her knee as well. Which meant whatever was on her mind was likely something beyond serious and should be treated accordingly.

So he swallowed any jokes he been planning and plopped down on the couch  next to her. “You wanted to talk, Els?”

“I did.” She nodded, her attention still on the object in her hands. She turned it over and over, picking at the edges.

“Must be important,” Tel hinted gently when she didn’t continue.

A wry smile pulled at one side of her mouth. “It is. Dearest...” Elara bit her lip as the words petered out, then shook her head slightly and started over. “I have... something important to discuss with you; a topic I’ve been wanting to broach since... since Iokath. With our schedules it’s proven difficult to find a good time, so I’m doing it now, whether or not it’s good, and I apologize for any meetings you may miss as a result.”

“I’m all ears,” Tel promised, reaching over to give her knee a comforting squeeze. “You’re way more important to me than any meeting.”

She mustered a smile at that, then leaned forward and placed the object she’d been fiddling with on the low table in front of the couch. It was a small holoprojector, etched with a simple design, the type made to be portable and store images long term. A brush of Elara’s thumb over the controls brought it to life.

Tel examined the pale blue image when it appeared. It was a young girl--maybe seven?--with dark hair that hung almost to her waist. She was smiling impishly, and even as a holo there was no hiding the twinkle of mischievous charm in her eyes. Her hands were clasped behind her back as if trying to keep something secret just a few moments longer.

“Cute kid,” Tel said, glancing at Elara and wondering which potential direction this was going to go.

“She is,” Elara confirmed with a faint smile. “Her name is Kaira.” She reached over and laced her fingers between his. “She’s ours.”

It took half a second for her meaning to hit, and Tel flinched, grip tightening around her hand, when it did. The air seemed to freeze in his lungs for a moment as he stared at the holo.

“She...” he finally managed through the punched-in-the-gut feeling. “...Yours-and-mine ours?”

She nodded and squeezed his hand. “Are you alright, Tel?”

“Sweetheart, I’m...” A dad. I’m a dad. He gave a breathless laugh. “I’m great. A little stunned, but elated.” He freed his hand to drag her into a hug, still staring at the holo of his daughter. He had a daughter. “Weighing the pros and cons of punching Arcann in the teeth for making me miss... her, but otherwise...” A thought occurred and he frowned ever so slightly. “Did Jorgan know?”

He might be having words with the man if he had and didn’t say anything.

Elara shook her head and sat back to meet his eyes, her posture noticeably less tense. “She must have been conceived just before the Expedition was... lost” --her voice faltered for just a moment-- “and I didn’t discover I was pregnant until after the Supreme Chancellor had relieved me of my Havoc command. Jorgan and I didn’t keep in touch much past the first month or two, while he was helping me attempt to get the position back.” She smiled. “He probably wondered why I wasn’t fighting for it harder, truth be told. But between my condition and Chancellor Saresh’s obvious obstinance, it quickly became evident that was not a worthwhile fight.”

“So working for Malcolm...”

“Was actually rather perfect,” Elara confirmed the unfinished question with a nod. “I was still involved, still doing my part, but in a more administrative capacity than field work. It allowed me to... look for you and prepare for raising a child alone.”

He winced. “Sorry I wasn’t there.”

“Considering you were frozen in carbonite half a galaxy away at that point, I think I can safely say it wasn’t your fault, dearest,” she said lightly.

“And we’re back to me punching Arcann in the face,” Tel muttered, tugging her in for another hug.

“That wouldn’t really help anything at this point, darling,” Elara remonstrated, though her lips quirked toward a smile.

“Would make me feel a hell of a lot better,” he grumbled. “But I guess it wouldn’t set the best example, would it? For... Kaira.” It made him grin a little just saying her name.

She giggled faintly, the sound muffled by his shirt. “No, it wouldn’t.”

Tel rested his chin against the top of her head and gave an exaggerated huff of resignation. “Oh, fine, I won’t punch the reformed tyrant for makin’ me miss my daughter growin’ up.” He hesitated a beat, gaze back on the holo. “Els? What’s she like?”

Elara was quiet for a moment, her fingers curling into his shirt, but he could hear the smile in her voice when she spoke. “She’s... wonderful. Challenging at times, but worth every moment she’s made me want to pull my hair out. She has your smile, a fact I’ve both loved and hated depending on the day.”

He hugged her closer wordlessly, shifting so the corner of the couch would offer some support.

Elara took a deep breath. “She was a good baby, for which I’m grateful. Could likely sleep through a bombing run.”

“Els.” He didn’t want to dwell on the odds that theory had been tested, knowing what the Eternal Empire had done to Coruscant.

“We’re fine. Nothing ever came close enough,” she promised, before carrying on. “She’s extremely curious, very smart-”

“She gets that from you,” Tel muttered, which earned a quiet chuckle from his wife.

“I wouldn’t sell yourself so short, dearest. You’re not a stupid man,” she said teasingly, her fingers tracing light patterns against his collarbone. 

“I was smart enough to marry you,” Tel conceded. “So I guess I’m not a total lost cause.”

“There you go, Kaira gets her smarts from both of us,” Elara laughed softly.

But more from you. Tel kept the thought to himself. “If anyone could raise a smart, amazing kid by themselves, it would be you,” he said instead.

“There you go putting me on a pedestal again,” Elara said, playful chiding in her tone.

“Again implies a point where you came down from the pedestal,” Tel rejoined.He kissed the top of her head. “You’re there for life, sweetheart.”

“Ah.” There was a smile in her voice. “Well, before you go counting up more honors for me,Tel; I did not raise her entirely on my own. I had friends who helped, and Aleksei did as well, when he could.”

“Okay, that one’s a bit of a surprise,” Tel admitted. “I thought your brother was in Republic custody?”

“He was. A ‘person of concern’, I believe was the classification; same as I once was. And then he made some valuable contributions at great personal risk in fighting the second Zakuulan assault on Coruscant, which earned him some greater freedoms. Such as lending the Republic his technical expertise and assisting me with Kaira.”

“‘Great personal risk’?” Tel repeated, having noticed how her voice caught on the phrase.

Elara gave a shaky sigh. “Let’s just say you are no longer the only person I care about who has gotten himself blown up in the course of being noble. It wasn’t quite bad enough to require cybernetics, but there was scarring. And a limp.”

Tel blew out a breath and rubbed her back. “I’m glad he’s okay, Els.”

“As am I. After recovering, he was tasked with something computer-related that kept him on Coruscant, so he could help sometimes with Kaira. A lot, actually.” She smiled again. “They’ve grown quite close. She calls him Uncle Lesky, even now that she can say his name correctly.”

Tel smiled, his brow furrowing slightly in thought. “Oh, yeah, she must be, what, six or seven by now?”

Elara stilled for a moment, then reluctantly slid from their hug so she could look at him. “That’s part of why I felt it so urgent to tell you; she’ll be six next week. I assumed you would want to meet her before then. So we could celebrate as a family.”

Yes. “I dunno Els,” he deadpanned with a faint smirk. “Depends on what you’ve told her about me.”

Elara matched his smirk. “Oh, you know, as we discussed; you’re brave, handsome, charming. How you took the stuffy Imperial no one liked and made me the happiest woman in the galaxy, every day we were together. That you always stood up for those who couldn’t protect themselves, and helped those who could stand their ground. That you have a ridiculous sweet tooth she apparently inherited along with your kindness. That you like to steal the blankets,” she continued playfully, leaning in to steal a kiss. “And that you always know how to make me laugh.” She paused, sighed. “How much you would love her.”

“And the fact I was declared KIA? That come up yet?” he asked dryly.

Her brow furrowed briefly, and Tel caught the flicker of pain that danced through her brown eyes. “It did, when she was three. I told her some people believed you died fighting something very dangerous to protect the galaxy, but they were wrong. You were still alive, fighting to keep us safe.” She looked him in the eye. “Because that’s what I believed, with all my heart. She accepted it--what’s the saying about mother knows best?--and it didn’t come up again. Then the Republic learned of your Alliance, and I could show her you were alive and” --she smiled drolly-- “fighting bad guys to keep us safe. I suspect she’d be very excited to hear she can finally meet you.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” Tel grinned, kissing the tip of Elara’s nose. “She with your brother right now?”

Elara nodded. “She is. Whenever I’m off-planet.”

“Then hell yes, see how fast you can get ‘em out here.” He kissed her again. “I know Aleksei might not be able to stay long if he has a job to get back to, but I’d like the chance to ‘meet’ him without transparisteel and a Republic watchdog in the picture.”

A soft, giddy laugh escaped her. “I’ll get right on that. As soon as I steal you for myself just a bit longer,” she amended, leaning back into his space and bracing a hand against the arm of the couch to kiss him.

Tel grinned slyly, cupping her face with one hand and running his thumb along her cheekbone. “Seventy three minutes?”

Elara smiled back mischievously and carded her fingers through his hair until her hand rested at the back of his head. “If you think we can manage that long...”

He closed the distance to capture her lips in a kiss. “Sweetheart, I’d like to see them try and stop us.”

----

They got forty seven minutes, which was frankly longer than either of them had really expected, before Tel’s comm started trilling. And so, with much grumbling about “no rest for the wicked”, he got himself together and headed off to see what the Alliance needed, leaving Elara to work out getting their daughter to Odessen.

She slipped the holo in his pocket as he headed out the door. “In case you want to show her off.”

And show her off he did; to Theron, Lana, Vette, Senya--anyone at all  who commented on the grin he couldn’t seem to wipe off his face. He did his best not to be distracted from the Important Alliance Business that required his attention, but a man had his limits.

He slipped a hand in his pocket to curl around the cool metal as he tried to focus on Aygo’s briefing about ship deployments rather than what was (hopefully) coming soon, and smiled to himself. 

I can’t wait to meet you, Kaira.

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

(I was originally gonna take this through Tel actually getting to meet Kaira, but that part’s getting crazy long and I need to work on other stuff that has actual deadlines, so it’ll have to wait.)

[haledamage]

Hug prompts: 1 for Marii/Theron and/or 13 for Ves/Jorgan

13. Goodbye hug (Ves/Jorgan)

“I should be going with you, sir.”

“We’ve been over this.” Ves bit back a sigh as she turned to face Aric, dropping her hand away from the door panel to exit the ship. He glowered at the door like it was responsible for their current predicament before turning that intensity back on her. 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.” He grabbed her elbow and leaned close, voice low and urgent. “If not me, then Dorne. Or hell, even Vik. You shouldn’t be going over there alone.”

“Aric, I’ll be fine.” She put a hand on his chest, though he wouldn’t really be able to feel it through his armor. She added pointedly, hoping he’d hear what she wasn’t saying, “It’s not Marr and his people I’m worried about. Stay on the ship, keep it warm for me, and keep an eye out.”

“Ves…”

“That’s an order, Captain.”

“Yes, sir,” he said automatically, but he managed to fit a lot of frustration and concern into those two words. He pulled her into a crushing hug and they stayed like that for a while, only parting when her comm gave a warning beep that she was running late. Aric let her go, but then pressed his forehead to hers. “Watch your back.”

“You too.” Ves kissed her husband, but didn’t let herself linger. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

She opened the door and stepped through it before he could stop her again. She nodded at him and then turned to face her Imperial escort as the door to her ship hissed shut behind her.

(the other is much longer (and also less angsty) so it’s under the cut)

1. Hug from behind (Marii/Theron)

Marii opened her eyes, glancing around her dark, barely-familiar bedroom for what dragged her from her sleep. She was aware of three things: first, that she was in the Alliance base on Odessen; second, that it was very, very late; and third, she was alone.

She rolled over anyway, like she expected to be wrong about that last point, but the other side of the bed was still untouched. Wherever Theron was, it wasn’t here. It was nice to know some things never changed.

She’d only been with the Alliance for less than a week, after Theron and Vesiya found her in the lower parts of Zakuul. Long enough for it to start to feel familiar, for everyone to get back to work, but not enough yet for them to find a job for her to do. She spent her days wandering the base looking for people that needed her help - not much different than what she’d been doing on Zakuul, actually, but now with a greater purpose behind it.

Staring at the empty bed did not, unsurprisingly, make her boyfriend magically materialize next to her. With a sigh, Marii sat up and threw on some clothes. Theron’s jacket hung on a hook by the door, the red a bright flash of color in the dim lights. The fact that it was there meant he had at least considered coming to bed at some point, before some priority message no doubt called him back to work.

On a whim, she pulled the jacket down and slipped it on. She loved wearing it any chance she got, loved the weight of it, the way it was just a little too big on her, the way it smelled like him. It felt like belonging. Even after all these years, it was still a bit thrilling to advertise their relationship so publicly.

The halls were dark and empty except for a few night guards, the hum of life and activity now muted and serene. Somewhere deeper into the natural caverns they’d built the base into, she could just make out the sound of dripping water, and past that, the familiar whirring of Teeseven’s servos. In the opposite direction, pale light filtered down the hall, flickering on the stone and durasteel walls. Her footsteps made no noise as she followed the light toward the Alliance’s command center.

Sure enough, there he was. Theron was hunched over one of the consoles in the otherwise empty war room, the blue light making his face look pale and drawn, the angles too sharp, the shadows around his eyes too dark. Still, he was beautiful. Her heart fluttered in her chest like it always did when she looked at him. It had been months since they’d seen each other outside of holos, while he’d been busy helping build a rebellion against the Eternal Empire and she’d been sowing unrest and being hunted as a terrorist by Emperor Arcann. It was nice just to enjoy the sight of him for a moment.

She padded quietly up behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist and hugging him tightly, leaning her head between his shoulder blades.

“I really hope that’s my girlfriend,” Theron said dryly, not looking up from his work, “or you’ve got some explaining to do.”

“Hey, you,” Marii murmured fondly into his shirt, kissing his shoulder.

“Hey.” He didn’t exactly relax at the sound of her voice, but he let his guard down a little. Enough that she could feel how tired he was, how happy he was to have her here. “What’re you doing up?”

“Couldn’t sleep. Looks like I’m not the only one.”

“Yeah.” He covered her hands with one of his, giving them an affectionate squeeze, though his other hand was still typing something into the console. “I just had a couple of things to finish up really quick.”

She slipped under his arm to stand in front of him, arms still around him. He smiled at her, though he didn’t take his eyes off his work. “Theron, it’s 3 in the morning.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” He pressed a sweet but distracted kiss to her forehead. “Go back to sleep, Marii. I’ll be there soon.”

“How can I help?”

“What?” That seemed to finally get his attention, at least.

“It’s pretty clear I’m not getting you back until you’re finished with whatever you’re doing, so I’m going to help.” She could feel him digging his metaphorical heels in, ready to disagree with her, even if only just for the sake of disagreeing. She put a finger under his chin, gently but firmly dragging his eyes away from the console, if only for a moment. “Theron, you are the smartest, cleverest, and hardest working man I’ve ever met.”

“You forgot handsomest,” he deadpanned.

She smiled, but continued as if he hadn’t said anything. “You are also stubborn as a ronto and so self-sacrificing you could make the Jedi jealous.” She slid her hand up to cup his face, sweeping her thumb along his cheek. “You are not the only person keeping the Alliance running. You don’t need to set yourself on fire to keep the rest of us warm. So either you let me help you or you point me to someone who can.”

Theron closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Marii could feel the moment he gave in barely a second before he let out a long sigh and said, “Okay. Tomorrow you, me, and Lana can sit down and see what needs doing.”

“Good. That’s a start.” She kissed the corner of his mouth.

He curled his hand around the nape of her neck and pressed his forehead to hers. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” She kissed the other side. She could feel his smile widen as she did. 

“I’m lucky to have you,” he corrected easily, like he always did.

“Better,” she replied, like she always did. This time, she kissed him properly. He melted into it, work all but forgotten. “I love you. You don’t have to do this alone.”

“Maybe tomorrow, I can take some extra time for lunch.” She couldn’t help the wide smile at that offer, and he took it as the encouragement it was meant to be. He pulled her closer and added, “We can go for a walk or something. Spend some time together, just the two of us. I can finally give you a tour of the base.”

“I’d like that,” she murmured against his lips. “You know what I’d like better?”

“Hmm.”

“Come to bed.”

Theron laughed, “All right. Fine. You win. Just give me five minutes.”

“That’s fair.” After one last kiss, she slipped out of his arms in an effort to stop distracting him and turned to head back down the hall. At the door, she turned back around with a grin. “Oh, and Theron? Handsomest too.”

The pale light did a remarkable job at highlighting the way he blushed at that. “You don’t have to–I was just joking.”

“Well, I’m not.” Theron was so charming, but he was delightfully easy to fluster. Marii took advantage of that fact every chance she got. “You should have heard some of the things I told Kira, after I first met you.”

He ducked his head, but it didn’t hide the pleased little smile on his face. “What, uh, what kind of things?”

She beckoned him to follow her. She could feel how much he wanted to. “Come to bed and I’ll tell you.” With a wink, she disappeared back into the darkness of the hallway.

[lostinaseaoffictionalbliss]

Unexpected Adventure

Requested by Anon: Hi, it's me again 💕 since you said you would like to write Theon, maybe a x Reader where the reader is a Margaery's little sister and her ship is captured by the Ironborn and she becomes a prisoner and pure fluff... Idk but I need some Theon ughhh🤣

A/N: I went with Margery’s age in the show because in the book she’s only 16 and since Theon is 19-20 in book I didn’t want to have him with someone 14-15 years old.

Pairing: Theon x Tyrell!reader

Warnings: none I can think of

Word Count: 1535

Standing on the deck of your father’s ship you gazed out at the ocean with a smile. It was very beautiful and you loved the salty smell and enjoyed the feel of the spray upon your face. It wasn’t your first time upon a ship, but every time you felt just as excited as the first time you had walked on deck. You always imagined that you were going off on some adventure. That you would be able to see the world. This time was no different.

Only the truth was you were on your way to meet with your sister Margery. She was older than you by a few years at the age of one-and-twenty, but that didn’t matter much. You were still a woman grown and in search of a husband for yourself. Someone handsome that knew how to take care of a woman. Someone who would take you on many adventures. You were hoping to find this person somewhere among your goodbrother’s men.

With Margery now married to ‘King’ Renly you thought you would have a better chance of finding a good match. You were still a maiden and almost as fair and beautiful as your sister. A lovely catch for the right man. A man who would respect you, love you, be gentle and kind. That man also needed to know that sometimes you wanted things a little rougher and more wild. You wanted a man who knew that while you were a lady you were more than that.

A small wistful sigh left you as you daydreamed of your future husband. However moments later a frown marred your features as you saw another ship approaching. The black flag had the golden kraken of House Greyjoy upon it. It worried you as you knew the Ironborn had been harassing the Stony Shore and had taken Deepwood Motte. At least that was what the rumors claimed. And you had little doubt they were just rumors.

Moments later your suspicions were proven true. The Greyjoy ship captured yours. Everything of value on the ship was taken and that had been quite a bit. There was gold, food, and silks upon the vessel that was carrying you from Dorne back to your family. While your two families didn’t get along you never had problems with the Martel’s and had often went to visit them.

Yet now you were regretting boarding this ship instead of riding up the Rose road. The plan had been to sail to Lannisport and then ride to Bitterbridge. No one was to know that you were on the ship as your family was declared for Renly Baratheon instead of the boy king Joffrey. They were supposed to think this was a simple merchant ship and let you go on your way.

That all changed the moment you were taken to the captain’s quarters on the ship. The nice silk dress you were wearing gave away your status. As did the way you spoke and stood. You gazed into your capturer’s eyes nervously. You had heard what the Ironborn did to the women they took captive. The thought of having your maidenhood taken so violently upset and scared you.

��What are you going to do with me?” You asked softly.

The man moved closer to you and you stiffened. He lifted your chin and gazed into your eyes. “You’re a highborn girl. You’ll be treated well and returned to your family. For a ransom of course. Just tell me which house you come from.”

“Tyrell. Margery Baratheon is my older sister.”

He hummed. “So you’re a queen’s sister then. Means you’ll fetch an even higher price. Are you still a maiden?”

You blushed heavily. “Yes.”

He chuckled and offered you a cup of wine. “Don’t worry. I don’t intend to take that from you. Not unless you want me to.” He winked.

You took the wine and drank it and a second cup down rather quickly. With your cheeks now warm from the wine you felt a little braver and a lot less nervous. You took a good hard look at the man. He had sandy blonde hair that was a little curly and unkempt, beautiful blue eyes, an easy smile, and from what you could tell he was in pretty good shape.

“Can I at least know the name of the man who has taken me prisoner and wishes to ransom me to my sister for a high price?”

“Theon Greyjoy. Prince of the Iron Islands,” he said rather smugly.

You nodded. “Well Prince Theon where will I be staying until you ransom me?”

“Why here with me of course. Have to keep you safe from the rest of the crew.”

And so in his cabin was where you stayed. After a few days you no longer needed the wine to make you brave. Theon, while cocksure and smug, was also a kind man. He made sure you had everything you needed and conversation was light between you.

It was a few days after your capture that you were laying in the bed and talking to him that you realized you cared for him. It was silly and you knew it would most likely never work, but you didn’t care about that. All you cared about was the blue-eyed handsome reaver that had taken you.

“So you’re doing all of this to prove yourself to a man that no longer looks at you as his son?” You asked softly, playing with his curls.

Theon nodded, “He’s my father and I’m his only son. Though he seems to prefer my sister to me now. It isn’t my fault that I was raised on the mainland with the Starks.”

“No it isn’t, but you shouldn’t have to try so hard to prove yourself to your father. You’re a man grown, you’re smart, you know how to sail, you know how to fire a bow, and ride a horse. You grew up on the very land he’s wanting to claim as his. He should be asking for your advice and listening to you. You know the land and its people. That gives you an advantage.”

He gazed into your eyes with a look you had never seen before; something akin to adoration. “You’re the first person to ever tell me that. Since the moment I returned to Pyke they’ve all looked down on me for being raised at Winterfell and not knowing their ways, but I do know them. Just as I know the North better than they ever will.”

“You do and the fact that your father doesn’t see it means he isn’t worthy of you. Not the other way around,” you said, meaning every word.

Theon cupped your cheek and kissed you softly. It was the first time he had done that. Even though you shared his bed when you slept, he had never touched you before. His lips were slightly chapped from the salty air of the ocean, but they were still soft and tasted of the wine you had been drinking together. Slowly you pressed closer to him and opened your mouth for him to explore. Your fingers tangled in his hair and he rolled you onto your back, hovering over you.

“Theon?”

He rubbed his nose against yours and gazed into your eyes. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. You don’t care where I’m from or how I was raised. You respect me and you give me counsel and you support me. I took you to ransom you, but now I’m not so sure I want to give you back,” he whispered.

“Then don’t. My father will be angry that he can’t marry me off to form some alliance, but my sister will support me as will my grandmother. You’re the one I want Theon. I’ll admit when you first took me I was terrified, but you are one of the kindest men I have ever met. You listen to me like most men wouldn’t. You see past the fact I have tits and respect me for my intelligence.”

He searched your eyes, as if he was looking for something to tell him you were being dishonest. “You really want to stay with me?”

You rubbed his cheek tenderly. “I want you. I want to stay with you and go on adventures with you. Fuck Pyke, fuck your father, fuck my father. Let’s stay together and sail the world. Just you and me.”

Theon leaned down and captured your lips in a tender kiss. He caressed your side affectionately. “Let’s do that. Just you, me, and the ocean. I might have to get a new crew, but I want you. I want this. I’m tired of being what everyone else wants me to be.”

You beamed and hugged him tight. Hearing him agree to what you wanted filled your heart with more warmth than you expected it to.

And that was the start of your unexpected adventure together. Theon did in fact have to hire a new crew, but the two of you sailed the world together. You lived a happy life full of love and adventure. Just as you had always dreamed.

                                                     ****

Likes don’t spread my work! Please reblog and leave a comment if you enjoyed this! I love hearing from you guys and knowing what you think and hope to see!

[ironforgedrp]

♛   AELYN FLORENT

↳ details; female, 25, born on the twelfth day of the sixth month on 481 AC. ↳ status; heterosexual, betrothed, no children. ↳ faceclaim; synnove karlsen. ↳ hails from; the arbor, brightwater keep, the reach. ↳ loyalty; house redwyne, house tyrell.

↳ position/title; eldest daughter of lord florent, ward of house redwyne. ↳ religion; faith of the seven. ↳ magical ability; none. ↳ spoken languages; common tongue. ↳ reason for being in sunspear; to meet her betrothed, prince cedric tyrell.

♛   PERSONALITY

↳ type; enfj-a (protagonist). ↳ alignment; lawful good. ↳ star sign; gemini. ↳ positives; caring, charismatic, altruistic, social, intelligent, adaptable. ↳ negatives; overly idealistic, too selfless, sensitive, indecisive, impulsive, moody.

♛  BIOGRAPHY

↳ family lineage.

Daughter of Lady Arwyn Redwyne and Lord Kivan Florent of Brightwater Keep, Aelyn was born into House Redwyne and Florent, though the circumstances of her birth and early life were rather unfortunate. Her mother, Lady Arwyn Redwyne, the second-born child of House Redwyne and had spent her life being loved and dotted on. When the time came, the beautiful young woman was sent to Brightwater Keep in order to marry the Lord of House Florent, Kivan Florent. Lady Arwyn soon fell pregnant, though everyone’s joy was shorted lived, much like her own as she merely got a chance to hold her baby girl. The new mother caught an infection during childbirth and lost her battle with it after two weeks, leaving the baby girl in the sole care of her father and his family. The Florent family, however, was greatly displeased by the fact that they were given a sickly, weak bride who also gave them a girl instead of an heir. For Aelyn that had consequences; since she was a baby, Aelyn was treated not as a child of Lord Florent, but as an unwanted guest in their home, both by her father and his close family. As a baby, she was raised by her septa, the family had little to no involvement. Soon after her mother’s death, her father remarried and his new wife fell pregnant in a short time after the marriage. As the baby girl was growing older, it was becoming apparent that her father’s new bride did not want her, nor would she allow her to play with her own children. Aelyn was often kept away from her half-siblings or wasn’t allowed to have meals with the rest of the family at all. She often found herself busy with reading, practicing the high harp, dances, and when she could sneak away, she would play with the children of the servants and guards that were around her age. However, her step-mother was a strict woman and would often keep her isolated in her rooms, especially around guests, so none would see the embarrassment of the house. Aelyn felt completely alone and she found solitude in her books when her father and his wife wouldn’t allow her to practice any musical instruments or dances, simply keeping her in her rooms.

She had just turned seven years old when she heard that word had arrived that asked of her to be sent to her mother’s home as a ward. Overhearing the conversation between her father and his family made her almost leap with joy. Even though she was not quite certain of what all that meant, she was simply ecstatic that someone was asking after her, someone wanted her. Not long after, she was all packed up and boarded a ship to travel to the Arbor, her mother’s home, where she would eventually meet her uncle. Clinging to the railings, she watched as the waves rolled by, crashing against the ship, anticipating the time of her arrival. Her time at the Arbor was much like the child had dreamed of since her uncle’s letter arrived; she felt loved and valued, she was cared for, she no longer felt like they were ashamed of her, trying to hide her or wishing to send her away. Her care was trusted to a septa and her mother’s younger sister, and she was brought up learning all kinds of skills, including dances and the high harp she so loved. As the years passed, Aelyn was getting more involved in religious practices, as well as spending her time volunteering in many ways in order to help the less fortunate. Her life was full of love and meaning now, and she was growing to learn more and more about the struggles common people faced in their daily lives. The freedom and happiness she was surrounded by was threatened when her father sent word to her uncle demanding she returns to Brightwater Keep in order to be betrothed and secure the family an alliance. The news devastated her, though she obediently awaited as everything was packed and ready for her departure. Her uncle, Garland Redwyne ordered her trip to be postponed and she hoped and prayed that he had a plan that would not require her to return to those awful people she wished not to acknowledge as her family. News soon arrived naming her uncle Master of War and Ships and her betrothed to the King’s younger brother, Prince Cedric Tyrell.

Aelyn was not displeased if anything she had faith and trust in her uncle’s decision. House Tyrell was a House she had grown fond of through the tellings of her family, reading of their story and achievements. A just and peaceful House, in her opinion. That match secured her, though she was certain her father must not be very pleased with not being the one to make the decision; she regarded her uncle more of a paternal figure than her biological father. Regardless of the opinion of House Florent on the matter, that allowed her to spend more time doing what she loved more, whilst still surrounded by her family; writing and reading. Her love for books had grown as she grew older. Spending a lot of time in town, and a lot of it in the library or the local bookshop. In all actuality, the bookshop held a familiarity to her since it was the first place she visited at the Arbor and a place she frequented; books had been her getaway when she was living in Brightwater Keep and this place offered a certainty. Aelyn befriended the old gentleman, often helping him out in the store. However, wanting to truly feel free and nobody to know her, really, she dressed in commoner clothing when visiting the store, not wishing to be offered any special treatment because of the status and name. She quickly became friends with the older man, so much so he treated her more like a daughter. It was one of those times when he confided in her about how stressed he was regarding the raise of taxes again. A fact that she confirmed was not a lone case; she knew many common people, and she spoke to most of them pretending to struggle herself, finding out they all faced similar problems. It was an awakening call. The young girl felt obligated to help, however, in reality, she held no real power over such matters, so she turned to what she knew best, wishing it would end up helping her friend, and all those who struggled financially or otherwise. She started writing her own pieces, mainly political ones, persuading the people to demand more rights or the leaders to be more compassionate towards their subjects. Her writings were focusing on a fairer taxing system based on one’s income rather than their status. Many struggled with feeding their families, too, and Aelyn wrote about all these hoping for the best. Using the printing press in the bookshop, she printed pamphlets and discretely put them in the baskets along with other pamphlets which she knew would be distributed around town by young delivery boys. Later on she wrote in order to be supportive of King Emeric on his opinion to separate from the Iron Throne. All of her pieces were published and signed under the name “Themis”, a name most would think to be male, and that enabled her to secure them being published as well as taken into consideration; it also served as to withhold her anonymity, not risking her family’s name for her, sometimes, controversial opinions.

Recently she traveled to Sunspear in order to meet her betrothed, determined to secure this alliance. She arrived a little late for the celebrations, though she was a little pleased she was not present at the attack during the Sun God and Goddess announcements.

↳ personality.

Aelyn is generally a people’s person; she is easy to talk to and communicate, she loves meeting new people and adapts in conversation and personalities very easily. She has a charm that draws people in and is never afraid to speak her mind with carefully placed words. She cares deeply for people and it is easy to win her over, which makes her too selfless sometimes to the point where she will bury her own needs in order to aid someone else, which can be taken advantage of. Overall she dreams of a better, fairer world where everyone has a chance, sometimes makes her too idealistic in her beliefs and writings. Her sensitive nature makes her more compassionate towards people in general, even when one does not deserve her kindness. Despite being pretty certain with what she wants in general when it comes to actually making a decision, she can be indecisive and impulsive in her judgment and actions. You can usually find Aelyn being happy and sweet, but she is also moody, her mood fluctuates easily, and often when something goes bad it can ruin her whole day, which also makes her a little bit dramatic.

↳ the splitting of the kingdoms.

It is her first time away from home and she is equally excited and terrified to be going to a new place, especially to meet a man who she is betrothed to. She, of course, has read a lot about Dorne and she wants to experience the life there, though the reason why she is coming to Dorne, aside from meeting Prince Cedric Tyrell, is more complex. She is supportive of King Emeric Tyrell with every fibre of her being, and she has a lot of faith in him as a ruler, hence why she personally feels it was a right decision to separate from the Iron Throne. However, what highly concerns her is the uncertainty regarding the dynamics between the more recently formed Kingdoms and how everything will work out. She does believe the Iron Throne King and Queen have always had good intentions and best interest, but her loyalty has always been to House Tyrell and her mother’s house, House Redwyne. The latest news regarding the attack immediately filled her with worries about what will come next and whether this summit will do more harm than good. However, she tries to be generally optimistic and also showcase her support towards her home and King.

    ♛    STATUS:  TAKEN

[discotreque]

Picard 1.09: Et in Arcadia Ego, Part 1

And we're back to a 45 minute runtime this week. But why? Imagine a version of this episode that was as leisurely and intimate as "Nepenthe," with time to really luxuriate in all these interesting new characters and situations. Instead it felt like an all-out race to... well, the middle, because the second half of this story won't come out for another week.

This is immensely frustrating for me because I'm a fast reader. Shorter novels I tend to finish in one sitting; a big doorstopper might take me two or three sessions max. Never in my life have I encountered a story with a pre-existing emotional connection, characters I liked right away, a plot that started with an interesting mystery—and then rationed that story out to myself in ten small doses, each a week apart. I'd slap you for suggesting it!

If this were a more episodic show—even only as episodic as Disco, which still has the obligatory Big Arcs—or if they dumped the whole season at once, I'd be a lot less frustrated. But releasing a "10-part movie" with a week between each part? I'm not loving it.

My complaints are general; my praise is specific. And contains spoilers:

Accountability update: I get half points at best. Last week I did correctly predict that Brent Spiner was going to come back—but as a synth like Soji, just in the form of an old man instead of a young woman. Did anybody suspect a previously unknown biological son of Soong was in the cards? I sure as hell didn't.

The surprise of that twist bodes well for more fun surprises next week, doesn't it? If they kept Brent Spiner a secret, they could keep Michael Dorn and Gates McFadden a secret too...

I loved the new effects for the transwarp conduit. They feel very of a piece with the new at-warp-speed effects. The old slow, streaky stars were a pretty and interesting effect, but they only connoted speed in an abstract, pseudo-scientific way. The zoomy new warp drive makes no pretensions to "accuracy," it just feels fast. And the transwarp conduit feels appropriately like warp drive on fast-forward—which is to say, kind of terrifying!

When Narek (ugh) is first shooting at La Sirena, there's a wide shot of the crew, and out the window behind them you can see disruptor bolts passing by and casting green light into the bridge. Extremely sexy work, VFX team.

"There's a difference between killing an attacking enemy and watching a wounded one die." Yeah, Picard, the second one's a lot less work.

Speaking of sexy VFX, how about those space orchids?

That "old" medical tricorder looks newer than anything we've seen before. I wanted a much closer look.

"Oh hey, by the way, everyone, I'm dying, now shut up about it." That's our Jean-Luc!

Prop of the week: that crazy soccer ball Rios briefly interacts with as they arrive in Synthville.

After Dahj died, Isa Briones didn't have much interesting to do as Soji for the first half of the season, but since joining up with the rest of the main cast, she's quickly becoming one of my favourites. I have no idea where this story is going to go next week, or what's going to happen to Soji (or Sutra (or anyone)) next season, but I hope Isa sticks around somehow—she’s terrific.

Star Trek has a long and gross history of objectifying Jeri Ryan when all they had to do was put her in a t-shirt and a leather jacket. I'm just... I'm so gay for Seven of Nine, you guys.

I would be 100% more interested in a Seven-and-Elnor series than this alleged Section 31 show we're getting.

Imagine the casting call for the androids in this episode: "Identical twins needed. Ages 20-30. Any race, any accent. Must be sexy as hell."

I love that at least some of the androids have names that fit in with the naming scheme of "Data" and "Lore": Saga (RIP), Arcana, Codex, Rune, and Sutra. I'm not familiar with a language where the word "Jana" means anything information-related, though.

Isa Briones is the MVP this week for sure. Dahj and Soji felt very distinct as people, and now we meet Sutra, who's nothing like either of them. She's creepy as hell, for one thing, and you fully believe she is capable of murder—several times this episode I expected her to reach out and snap a main character's neck. And who knows, next week she might!

I like this interpretation of the Admonition better than the Zhat Vash's. It's not a woo-woo prophesy, and thank fuck there's no time travel bullshit involved—it's a commercial, basically, for a hyper-advanced alliance of synthetic life. Call 1-800-FUCK-ORGANICS and they'll come clear up that little infestation for you.

But what I'm really hoping is that Sutra doesn't have the whole story either. What if the purpose of this alliance isn't to destroy organic oppressors, but mediate peace between organics and synthetics? Or what if they just scoop up all the synths and take them to safety wherever they normally live?

I just really, really don't want the heart of this story to be an evil AI, or even neutral AI vs. evil humans/Romulans. There are way more interesting stories to tell.

Spot II is a good baby and I love him. (RIP Spot the First, I guess.)

Still don't really have any feelings about Rios/Jurati but it's sweet that he's so soft with her.

That scene between Picard and Raffi though... my heart... my whole entire heart......

The fact that Jean-Luc couldn't get through to Starfleet feels extremely fucking ominous to me.

Narek still sucks and he's SO boring. How boring is he? In that scene between him and Soji, I was mostly focused on how the force field kept lighting up when Soji breathed on it—another subtle and sexy VFX moment.

Poor, sweet Saga. Later models didn't cram the entire positronic net into one single eyeball, an obvious design flaw in retrospect given its extreme vulnerability to injury. :(

And just as things are getting interesting...

It's hard to pass any kind of judgement on something that's clearly only half of a whole, but it certainly made me want to watch Part 2. See y'all here next week for the grand finale.