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scarlet-star-witch · 5 months ago

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The moon and his sun

Aemond Targaryen x Female reader

Summary: People would remember their story. Even decades after they were gone, Septa’s would tell young children about the one-eyed dragon prince and his sweet wife as if they were a part of a fairytale, too good to be true for the harshness real life possessed.

Aemond meets a young girl who quickly becomes his most cherished friend and changes the course of history.

Word count: 11.5 K

Warnings: Fluffy, Aemond finally makes a friend, characters will be aged up next chapter, reader is from a made-up house

AN: This is my first time writing for HOTD and I'm excited and terrified to share this story with you. I've had this idea in my head for so long and decided to finally get it out. Hope you enjoy xx

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Epilogue

He was used to playing for second best.

In his short life he became used to disinterested gazes, murmurs of his supposed cold heart and fits of rage, avoidant steps when he passed, the curse he possessed as the scarred second son.

But never from her.

She looked at him as though he put the stars in the sky. She looked at him as if he was the reason the sky bloomed with breathtaking colors in the early morning.

He felt himself unworthy of her attention and affection, something she was aware of, and she would hold him and tell him all the love she gave him was very much deserved.

It was a sentiment he always had trouble not disputing instantly.

She made his miserable heart full.

Aemond couldn’t believe his luck himself for the sun that entered his world and brightened his life.

He never believed he was worthy of her love.

And she spent her entire life trying to prove him wrong.

It was a beautiful, sunny, cloudless day.

A day Aemond was dreading.

It wasn’t often their family made trips away from King’s Landing. His father was King and most visitors made the effort to come to the Capitol and spare them the effort of a visit, but a sudden trip had their entire family uproot their usual routine and he found himself hating every moment of it.

Being dragonless, he was left to endure the crashing waves of the sea that made his stomach turn.

“This place is disgusting.” Aegon said the moment they landed on solid ground.

“Aegon.” His mother admonished with a steady glare. “The Ixtal Islands are a beautiful place and they’re home to one of the most powerful houses in the seven kingdoms. You would do well to show them some respect.”

“Not like they’ll offer me anything of importance.” He muttered bitterly. Rumors had spread of his mother and father’s desire to wed him to his sister Heleana, his future already planned for him.

His mood was immediately soured at the realization that none of the beauties he saw on the Island shore were his intended, but that wouldn’t stop him from having his fun.

“Why are we even here?” Aegon whined immaturely, making his mother suppress yet another eye roll in response.

“The Lord of Ixtal is an old friend of your father.”

“I still don’t understand why that demands my presence here.” Aegon rolled his eyes.

“Our council is in need of a new Master of Coin and your father is considering his dear friend. We are here for negotiations and our family is nothing if not loyal. Your father, our King, needs us.” Alicent answered shortly.

Aemond was excited to finally see the Island he had read so much about. He knew their history, their riches and goods they traded with the entirety of the realm. The Ixtal Islands were the most plentiful and prosperous house in the realm and he was in awe to see his readings come to life before him.

It was the socialization he dreaded.

Nobles would look at Aegon with respect, respect he didn’t deserve even being the first born son of the King. Helaena would be regarded with reverence, a comparison to the Realm’s Delight.

But he was nothing more than a second son, easily brushed over.

Daeron was still just a babe, too young to understand the slight they possessed not having been born first, but Aemond understood all too well.

Their family was escorted into a grand throne room and Aemond was in awe of the intricate ornaments that decorated the hall and he briefly wondered why King’s Landing was where the most powerful man in the realm sat when this place existed.

His wide eyes eagerly took in every sight in front of him, admiring how the vast forest behind the castle casted a mystical green glow on the room from the giant window sitting behind the intricate gold throne.

“Viserys!” A cheerful voice called and for the first time in a long time, Aemond heard his father laugh, a genuinely delighted sound as he embraced his friend.

Aegon shared a brief look with him, his shock at hearing his father's laughter clear in the way he furrowed his brows in bitterness.

“It’s been too long, my friend.”

“Alicent, always a delight to see you, my dear.”

Aemond noted the blush on his mother’s cheeks as the charming lord embraced her. He shifted on his feet as his siblings were introduced. He knew what came next, the flippant dismissal was familiar yet it stung each time.

He looked up as the Lord shook hands with Aegon and gave Helaena a polite nod, her body language giving him the signal she wasn’t comfortable with anything else.

As he stepped in front of Aemond, he suddenly felt two feet tall under the man’s gaze. Until he smiled. It was a gesture filled with warmth he hadn’t been expecting.

“Aemond, a strong name for a strong lad.” The lord clapped his shoulder and Aemond felt his body straighten, his confidence reappearing the second he realized he wasn’t going to be passed over yet again.

He looked up at the Lord with a smile, feeling more respected by the stranger in front of him than he ever had from his own father.

“You remember my wife,” The Lord gestured to a finely dressed woman who smiled and bowed to them courteously.

“My son and-” The lord stopped abruptly, suddenly noticing the absence of the person who was supposed to be next in line and looked to his wife who was already wincing, having expected the abrupt drop in conversation due to their eldest daughter’s absence.

“My apologies, my daughter has lived here all her life yet still feels the need to explore.” The Lady of Ixtal explained, the lack of anger in her voice that gave way to begrudging acceptance made it obvious this was a common occurrence.

Viserys laughed and looked at his friend.

“You could not possibly think your children would give you any trouble, would you?” He chided sarcastically to the Lord who could only laugh in delight at his beloved daughter’s antics.

Aemond watched the interaction with wide eyes, intrigued by the sense of ease that surrounded everything.

If they were in King’s Landing and he was late to an event, his mother would have his hyde.

Suddenly, the great doors slammed open and an armored knight was seen running into the room, his hand latched onto someone small who was giggling in delight.

“My Lord, My Lady, I am so sorry, she wanted-”

“It’s quite alright, Ser Jerrod. I know my daughter could not have made it easy for you.” The Lord dismissed the unnecessary apology and smiled down at his daughter who smiled somewhat sheepishly as she passed by to take her place in line.

She smoothed her hands down the front of her silk dress and stood straighter, putting on the air of the perfect and primed daughter, as if they hadn’t all just seen her enter in a tizzy five minutes late.

Her mother looked down at her and leaned over her brother’s shoulder to pluck a leaf from her disheveled hair. Her eyes widened slightly, fearing retribution for her antics, but her mother only raised a teasing brow, silently admonishing her.

The girl brushed her messy hair off her shoulder and finally moved her gaze to their guests, a smile coming to her face as she met the eyes of the silver haired boy in front of her.

Aemond was rooted to his spot, his expression one of perplexed confusion. The smile she sent him, the gesture which was so simple - and usually faked by most at court - was blinding.

He was taken aback by the fact that she hadn’t looked at the powerful presence that was the King or the Queen faithfully at his side. She hadn’t looked at Aegon, Daeron or even Helaena, the only girl close to her age in the room.

She looked at him first.

She smiled at him first.

It was a gesture that wouldn’t mean much to anyone else, but to him, it meant everything, it lifted the veil of neglect he was so familiar with from his shoulders, leaving him to feel lighter than before.

He listened as the Lord introduced his daughter and he ran her name over and over in his head, feeling his cheeks heat, a blush easily coming to his face as she greeted everyone, but her stare came back to him, smiling shyly.

“This place is beautiful.” Helaena spoke dreamily as she took in their surroundings.

They were granted leave to look around while the servants prepared to set up the welcome feast.

Aemond couldn't take his eyes off the white sand and the crystal blue water. He breathed deeply, relieved to smell nothing but fresh flowers and ocean water and not the filth that permeated King’s Landing.

“Father should take over this place.” Aegon mused, earning looks of disdain from his siblings, which he easily shrugged off. “What? It’s much better than our shithole of a home.”

Aemond rolled his eyes at his brother’s crass nature and kept walking, praying Aegon would somehow get lost or at least get bored of his company and leave.

The sound of a loud laugh caught all of their attention and they walked their way through the lavish gardens to find it. Aemond suddenly became nervous as he saw the children of the Lord and Lady of Ixtal.

The oldest son was playing some sort of ball game with his younger brother. The youngest sibling was reading quietly with her Septa. But the eldest daughter was nowhere to be found.

As they stepped forward, the youngest son straightened and nudged his brother to stop. Catching sight of the young Targaryen princes and princess they let the ball they were playing with drop to the ground as they bowed respectfully.

“Hello.” Helaena spoke brightly and the two young boys were helpless against her sweet nature and they both smiled and greeted her warmly.

“Where’s the other one?” Aegon asked rudely, looking around for the pretty girl from earlier who was missing.

Aemond grit his teeth, praying Aegon wouldn’t drive her away before he even had the chance to speak to her.

“She’s in her tree.”

“Her tree?”

The oldest brother pointed to the enormous willow tree behind them.

He called out to his sister, alerting her to the presence of the royal children and just seconds later, Aemond watched with a slowly growing smile as a lithe form began to descend the ancient tree.

She was slightly out of breath as she jumped the last few feet to the ground, brushing her already tangled hair out of her face as she practically skipped towards them.

As if her Septa’s teachings and her mother’s scolding from that morning had finally caught up to her, the smile on her face fell slightly, remembering she was in the presence of royalty. She slowed her pace and curtsied slightly clumsily as she came before them.

“It is lovely to see you all again. I hope you are enjoying Ixtal.”

Aemond felt his face heat with a deep blush at the sound of her voice, the slight accent he heard capturing him instantly and he wished nothing more than to take the book from her young sister’s hands and demand she read it to him just so he could continue to hear the beautiful sound of her voice.

“Your home is lovely. I’ve never seen anything like it.” Helaena spoke, breaking him from his thoughts. She moved towards the girl, the two of them engaging in easy conversation.

Aegon began speaking with the two brothers, learning the rules to the ball game they were playing, the young boys instantly getting along. Which left Aemond to stand by himself.

He shifted on his feet anxiously, contemplating if he should leave and find his mother. He’d at least have someone to talk to then. The pit in his stomach that grew as the familiar feeling of loneliness settled over him broke abruptly at the sound of the beautiful voice again.

“Would you like to sit?”

He looked up, his eyes meeting hers and for a moment, he wondered if she had actually been speaking to him. His gaze found Helaena who was now kneeling to talk to the youngest of the children who was mesmerized by her lavish dress.

Which left the oldest daughter alone and her gaze on him.

He swallowed against the lump in his throat and stepped forward slowly, his heart racing as he took a seat on the bench next to her.

“What are you writing?” He asked after clearing his throat, wincing to himself at the nerves that lingered in his words.

“Drawing actually.” She corrected. “And not very well by the looks of it.” She shifted closer to him to show him the sketches in her notebook, the scent of lavender invading every one of his senses as her shoulder brushed against his.

His eyes looked over the shaky drawings of flowers and the willow tree she had been sitting in just moments ago.

“They’re beautiful.”

She smiled and the sight was enough to leave Aemond thankful that he was sitting.

“Do you draw?”

“No, nowhere near as well as you.”

“You must be shit then because these are awful.”

Aemond choked on his breath at her words, his wide eyes looking over at her in shock. She had a carelessness to her that he thought he would’ve found arrogant, it was certainly how he felt about the other ladies at court who were so brazen before him.

But he found he could only feel enamored by the girl beside him.

A quiet laugh escaped him, his stomach flipping in ways he had never felt before.

“They’re not so bad.” He spoke quietly, his nerves reverting him to his bashful nature.

“You’re quite the flatterer, Aemond.”

No words came to him, he was left to stare back at her, completely taken aback by her easy nature and blinding smile.

She continued to show him her other sketches, the conversation between them flowing easily, something that Aemond had never experienced.

Later, as their guards escorted them away to prepare for the feast, Aemond’s ears rang with the sound of her laughter, leaving him to hope he would hear it again before he had to leave.

He spent the night with a smile on his face, behaving more animatedly than he had in all his life. Alicent had looked at her second son with barely contained emotion, delighted to see him so at ease.

She was so caught up in her emotions, she hadn’t even noticed how his eyes never strayed too far from the eldest daughter of Ixtal.

The mischievous island girl was known to walk around the halls of the castle at all hours. It had happened so often for so long the guards didn’t bother to stop her anymore and no one batted an eye when they saw her wandering.

She made her way to her parents chamber hours after she had been put to bed.

She couldn’t stop the thought in her head and she had to see it through.

With a smile to the guard at her parent’s door, she strolled in as if it were her own chamber. Her parents looked startled for all of a second before they sighed in resignation.

“Shouldn’t you be in bed, Darling?”

“I was.”

Her father huffed out a laugh. “So what brings you here, Troublemaker?”

She let out a breath, her shoulders straightening, as if portraying herself as proper would help her cause.

“I want to go with you to King’s Landing.”

Her request did not go over as easily as she wished, she spent the next hour arguing with her parents, pleading her case. She may have overstated how much her decision to learn more about court, but her parents did not need to know her desire lay purely with her need to explore what the Capitol could offer.

Her parents knew she loved to explore and the chance to see a new part of the realm was too tempting to not indulge her in. Her parents loved her more than anything, they loved and doted on all their children in ways that left Lords and Ladies from other houses to scoff and roll their eyes in disdain.

They couldn’t say no to her.

By the next morning, she stood at her father’s side as their ship sailed to King’s Landing, her arm linked through his, her head filled with the wonders of what this new place would have to offer.

A smile grew on her lips as she pictured the shy boy who had complimented her drawings and her excitement began to grow.

She was more reserved than she had ever been as she sat beside the table of royals. King Viserys had planned an extravagant welcome feast for the Lord of Ixtal, his new Master of Coin and his daughter to welcome them to King’s Landing.

She had never experienced so many Lords and Ladies approaching her before, giving her their hand to shake and curtsey before them in greeting. It felt as though she had never truly existed until she made it to the Capitol, where the matters of the court actually held weight and prospect.

Her father had regaled many a knight and Lord over the course of the night, leaving her by his side to sit quietly, the overlooked daughter. She knew the power her house held, she knew the reason most Lords gave their good fortune to her father was to ensure their trade routes would continue prosperously. She knew she was nothing more than fodder at her father’s side.

She picked at her food unhappily, contemplating her decision to venture so far from her home, so far from what was comfortable. Her eyes rose from her plate, surveying the large throne room before her, catching sight of her father in talks with a large group of Lords from around the realm.

With a heavy sigh, knowing she couldn’t interrupt her father, her eyes moved to the head table where the Targaryen family sat.

The head seat where the King sat was empty, he was busy at her father’s side. She let her eyes roam over the queen, taking in her quiet servitude and demure presence. Her gaze fell to the heir, Princess Rhaenyra sat with her husband Laenor Valaryon, her brows quickly rising at the sight of the brown haired children sat beside the silver-headed wedded pair.

Her eyes fell to Queen Alicent’s children, a small smile growing as she caught the gaze of Princess Helaena, the quiet girl sparing her a wave to which she eagerly reciprocated.

She was never one to fade into the background and she eagerly took the Princess’ gesture as a sign of goodwill, standing from her seat to make her way to the head table.

Helaena beamed at the girl as she approached, oblivious to her elder brother’s lustful intrigue and her younger brother who sat up straighter as the girl approached.

“Hello, my Lady, I hope King’s Landing is treating you well.” Helaena greeted the girl happily.

“It is lovely, Princess. I am sincerely grateful to your father for allowing myself and my father to reside in your home.”

“We are delighted to have you.” Helaena assured her. She fidgeted with her hands for a moment, her face turning bashful for a moment. “The ladies of the court will be gathering tomorrow, you should join.”

“I’d love to.” She responded eagerly, relieved to know her newfound solitude would not be long held.

“You should join us for breakfast as well. I can show you my collection.” Helaena added excitedly.

“By the Gods, Helaena.” Aegon groaned beside her.

“Collection?” She asked, staunchly ignoring the prince sitting next to the blushing princess.

“My insects. I’ve collected quite a beautiful group of them. I’d love to show you.”

Helaena had a lovely innocence to her she was powerless against.

“I’d be delighted to see them.” She told the princess sincerely, hoping she had found a friend in the eccentric girl. “I’ve also heard wonderful things about your library. I’m eager to read the works about Valryian history and the Targaryen dynasty. There are only rumors where I come from.”

Aemond sat forward in his seat, his eagerness to interject himself finally coming to a head.

“I can show you to the library.” Aemond offered, finally making his presence known.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to take you from your duties.”

“You won’t.” He insisted, positive his face was blooming with a pink blush as her attention now lay on him. “There are many books that have not been translated, I would be happy to read them to you.”

He seemed to melt under her gaze that watched him curiously.

“You would do that?”

“Of course.” He insisted.

“That would be wonderful.”

He was thankful he was sitting because her smile would have knocked him off his feet.

By the next morning, as soon as the sun rose, he was sitting in the library, anxiously anticipating her arrival. He didn’t have to wait long until the door creaked open and her eager eyes took in the vast shelves around her.

She greeted him with happiness as if they were long time friends, causing his stomach to flutter in ways he had never felt before.

“This is incredible.” She mused, eyeing the many books she had to indulge in.

They spent the afternoon together, her at his side as he read the Valryian texts of their history, stopping every few minutes to answer the many intrigued questions she had.

Aemond was sure his face was on fire, he had never blushed so hard. No one had ever taken such an interest in him, no one had ever paid so much attention to him, no one had ever bothered to listen to him.

But here she was, this girl at his side, eager to know more, asking question after question, trusting him to give her the answer. As soon as he began to fear he had spoken too much, taken too much of her time she’d drawl out ‘tell me more’ or ‘what happened next’ and he was rooted to his seat, turning to the next page as he explained the history of the Targaryen dynasty to her eager ears.

He had never felt so important.

King’s Landing proved to be just as wondrous as she dreamed it. Granted, it didn’t have the luxurious beaches or sprawling forests her home did, but she was just thrilled to be exploring a new corner of the world.

Aemond had quickly become her closest ally. He had taken to showing her every inch of the place he thought she would enjoy, dragging her along to the mazes of gardens, the weirwood tree, the luxurious Sept, but her favorite had to be the library. She had spent many late nights with Aemond at her side, perusing through the many ancient works of Valyrian history.

It fascinated her, but she couldn’t deny she loved to hear Aemond’s voice as he read to her, enthralled with stories of Aegon the Conqueror and his two sister-wives, stories of ancient dragons and their riders, of wars long passed.

A week into their stay, as she broke her fast with her father, she was practically bouncing in her seat, shoveling her food into her mouth as quickly as she could, eager to get the meal over with so she could meet with Aemond and Helaena, the two of them quickly becoming her closest confidants.

“Slow down, my love, you’re going to choke.” Her father warned with a chuckle at her enthusiasm.

“Sorry.” She mumbled through the food in her mouth, causing her father to grimace at her very unlady-like behavior.

“Your eagerness wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain Targaryen, would it?” He asked slowly, his knowing smile teasing her clear affection for the young boy she was growing closer to each day.

“Helaena and I are good friends.” She shrugged, effectively dodging her father’s prying. He rolled his eyes and leaned back in his seat, watching her thoughtfully. He had no idea where she had gained such a witty mouth, it certainly wasn’t from him or his sweet, quiet wife.

She finished the rest of her breakfast at record speed and hopped out of her seat, pressing a quick kiss to her father’s cheek.

“I’ll see you at dinner!” She called out over her shoulder as she skipped to the door.

“Be safe!” He called out, but she was already racing down the halls. He looked to the guard at the door pointedly who nodded and trailed after the rambunctious girl.

She slowed her pace once she reached the courtyard, suddenly very aware of the many eyes that would be on her if she was caught sprinting through the halls. She spotted a head of silver hair by the gates and she beamed, throwing all care out the window as she began to jog towards him.

“Aemond!” She called out and watched as the boy turned to her, his own smile growing at the sight of her.

“Took you long enough.” He jested playfully and reveled in the dramatic scowl she sent him.

“I’m not late. You are just an insane man that voluntarily wakes with the sun.”

It was so small, something so miniscule, but it still managed to make his heart race. Knowing she remembered a small detail about him, no matter if it was something that was so inconsequential, was something he couldn’t wrap his head around.

He hadn’t expected it to affect him the way it did.

~~~

She found herself with Helaena in the gardens, finding any bugs she could for the enigmatic

princess. Digging a jittery bug out of the dirt, her nose scrunched in distaste as the many legged creature crawled over her hand.

“What is this thing?”

Helaena peered over curiously and a wide smile beamed on her face.

“That’s a beetle.”

“They’re not poisonous, are they?”

The princess laughed in amusement at the widened eyes that met her gaze and she shook her head. “No, you’re safe.”

The girl nodded and, though still on edge, was less stressed as she held the bug in her hands.

Helaena, preoccupied with her own bugs, stole frequent looks at the girl next to her, noting the unease in her eyes. She smiled lightly and leaned in close to her.

“You don’t have to do this with me. I know not everyone likes the things I like. I can do this by myself.”

The girl looked startled by her words, a frown growing on her usually bright features and she looked down at the bug in her hands again, her eyes shifting from a look of disgust to one of determination, as if she could force herself to not feel grossed out at their existence.

“I like being here with you.” She said softly. “I don’t really have anyone else here.”

Helaena frowned, the thought of her brother immediately coming to mind and the smile that would grace his usually sullen face every time he was with the Island girl. As if she had conjured him herself, she looked over her shoulder, noticing him coming their way.

“Hello, Brother.” She smiled, though it was futile as his attention was locked onto the beauty beside her.

“Hello.” He spoke, though his eyes never left his sister’s friend. “What are you doing?”

“Finding bugs. Would you like to join?”

Helaena, having expected a ‘no’, given it was always Aemond’s answer anytime she asked him for help digging through the gardens, was shocked as he took a seat among them and dug his hands in the dirt before them without question.

The Princess watched with barely contained delight as her brother and friend immediately started conversing as if she weren’t there, the comfortable ease between them thriving.

Usually she would feel slighted by such an occurrence, but rather than feeling ignored, she was happy to see her brother, who was usually so serious, look completely unburdened. She worried about him, about how tightly wound he was, but since the Lord of Ixtal and his daughter had come to King’s Landing, she had noticed his demeanor change, as if he could finally take a deep breath and release the things that so often held him down.

Aemond looked at the dirt beneath his fingernails and mourned at what his night routine would be subjected to, but he found he didn’t care all that much. The stolen glances to the girl beside him had all sense of propriety out the window.

“Do you do this every day, Princess?” She asked the Targaryen who shrugged shyly.

“Most days. I find I prefer the company of bugs over people.”

The bark of laughter that left her had both the siblings smiling, her joyful nature contagious.

Aemond was transfixed, until he heard his name and he was forced out of his daydreams. He looked up at Aegon who was standing before them, judgment painting his features.

“What are you doing here?”

“We’re digging for bugs, Brother.” Helaena answered innocently, her eyes thankfully locked onto the caterpillar on her finger so she didn’t see how her brother rolled his eyes in disdain.

Aemond glowered at his brother, his mood dampened, his protectiveness for his sister rising involuntarily whenever he was around. He hated seeing Helaena’s eyes dim with every one of his hurtful words.

The Island girl looked between the siblings, beginning to understand just how different they were to her and her own siblings. The more time she spent with Aegon, the more she disliked him. She looked back at Aemond and frowned, noticing the dower expression grow on her friend’s face, and she called his name.

“Hmm?”

“What are these?” She asked, her dirt covered fingers trailing over the petals of the flowers in front of them, diverting his attention from Aegon.

“Marigolds.” He answered quickly, as if he wanted her to be impressed by his knowledge. “You don’t have these in Ixtal?”

“No. It’s a shame, they’re beautiful.”

Aemond bit his lip, his heart racing as she moved back to digging for bugs. He ignored the nerves that coursed through him and reached out to pluck the flower.

“Here.”

She looked up and her eyes widened, her cheeks burning as he tucked the flower behind her ear, his shy smile mirroring hers, his hesitance clear, but his bravery clearer.

Aegon scoffed, rolling his eyes at the pair.

The noise caused them both to glare at the older Targaryen, their eyes narrowed in annoyance.

“You two are pathetic.”

“It’s not our fault your pea sized brain cannot comprehend the idea of caring for someone other than yourself.” She snarked easily, making Aemond’s eyes widen as he nervously looked between her and his brother whose face twisted in anger.

Thankfully, his brother was smart enough to know not to start a fight with her and he stomped away, most likely in search of more wine.

“You shouldn’t do that.” Aemond mumbled, his worried eyes lingering on his brother’s figure as he stormed off.

“Do what?”

“Antagonize him.”

“Someone needs to knock him off his high horse. Why can’t it be me?” She shrugged, perfectly content to be the antagonist in Aegon Targaryen’s life.

“Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Why would anything happen to me?”

“Because… he’s… it’s Aegon.” He stressed, as if his brother’s existence was enough explanation.

“Yes, and he’s an absolute cock.”

Aemond’s eyes widened, not expecting the vulgar word to leave her lips. Helaena giggled and leaned into the girl at her side. His shoulders slumped and he allowed himself to laugh, amazed yet not surprised at her ability to evade him of his worries.

A body crashed into her as she turned the corner, almost knocking her off balance, but arms that quickly wrapped around her waist stopped her from falling to the floor.

She recognized the boy immediately.

“Aemond.” She greeted breathlessly with a smile. He pulled away from her instantly, taking a step back to create space between them, his head bowed downwards, avoiding her gaze.

But she saw the tear streaks through the stains of ash on his cheeks. Her smile fell and she stepped towards him, her hands gently lifting his chin, though he vehemently refused and harshly pulled himself away from her.

“What happened?” She asked, trying to keep the hurt from her voice at his avoidance, something she had never experienced from him.

“Nothing.”

“Aemond.” She admonished gently. She hated when he acted like this, so unlike the kind boy she knew.

He kept his head down and she sighed heavily, crossing her arms over her chest.

“I won’t leave you alone until you tell me what happened.”

Aemond huffed and side stepped around her to continue on his way to lock himself in his chambers and wallow, but she was too quick. She grabbed his hand to stop him and pulled him back towards her.

He spoke her name, the groaned pronunciation indicating he wasn’t in the mood.

“I just want to go to my chambers.”

“Fine. We can go together.” She said simply and linked her arm through his as they began to walk.

Aemond let out a long breath, his annoyance flaring for a second, but the moment he looked over at her it faded away into nothing. He brought his arm that was linked with hers closer to his chest, as if needing her touch to soothe his nerves.

He thought he wanted to be alone. After his mother had brushed off his tears and scolded him yet again for venturing through the dragon pit, he just wanted to wallow by himself, but with her arm in his, her steady presence at his side, he found he wanted nothing but to be with her.

Once they made it to his chambers, he reluctantly let go of her and practically slumped his way to sit on his bed, his head bowed down to his feet, his brother and nephews' latest prank ruminating in his head, causing shame and anger to cascade over every inch of him.

“Are you going to tell me what happened now or am I going to have to force it out of you?”

Aemond huffed at her words and began to fidget with his fingers, focusing on the sand that lingered on his skin rather than meeting her inquisitive gaze.

She rolled her eyes and moved to sit next to him on the bed, brushing the sand from his hair.

“Were you in the dragon pit again?”

He nodded wordlessly and she felt something inside her clench. She would never understand the hole in Aemond’s heart, how his lack of a dragon made him feel so worthless.

“They said they found a dragon for me.” He mumbled, causing her to look over at him with concern, her stomach sinking at the hurt she heard in his voice, knowing his dreams hadn’t come true that afternoon.

She knew it could only be a cruel prank at his expense.

“They gave me a pig.”

Her shoulders slumped, her hand reaching out to grab his, intertwining their fingers with an ease as though she had done it a million times before. She had only held his hand a few times and it made Aemond blush bright red every time, even now as he wallowed.

“I’m sorry. They shouldn’t be so cruel to you.”

“They’re right. It’s pathetic, a Targaryen without a dragon.”

“Aemond-”

“Maybe I’m not worthy and I’ll never get a dragon, maybe that’s why my egg never hatched. I don’t deserve it.”

“Stop it.” She spoke sternly, gripping onto both his hands in an effort to calm him down from his ranting. “You are every bit as good as any one of them, dragon or no dragon.”

Aemond sighed shakily and moved his gaze back down to his shoes, feeling as if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

“What if I never find one?” He asked quietly, as if afraid to speak the possibility out into existence.

“You will. I know you will.” She assured him, though it did little to release him from his sadness. “There are plenty of Targaryens that didn’t claim dragons until later in life.”

Aemond gave her a plain look, to which she just smirked. Serves him right for teaching her about his family history.

“Aemond, we’re young, we still have so much life to live. It’s not over because you don’t have a dragon yet. You have so much time to find what you’ve always wanted.”

The breath that escaped his lips left him feeling lighter, his hand finally gripping hers back, sending a bashful smile her way, hoping it was enough to convey how grateful he was for her.

He didn’t think he could ever find the words to tell her.

“You’d be with me, won’t you? For my first ride?”

“You would want me there?”

“Of course I would.”

She smiled and he was powerless but to return his own. “Then I’ll be there.”

Aemond’s glare was steady on his face, his eyes locked onto the Strong bastard that twirled her around.

How dare he ask her to dance, how dare he touch her, how dare he make her smile.

His disdain for his nephews was clear, they certainly didn’t give him much reason to be cordial, but this was the last straw. Seeing Jacaerys’ hands on her made his blood boil.

Those damned nephews of his had already stolen her away from his side that afternoon. He could only watch helplessly as she played around with the bastards and spoke politely to his half sister Rhaenyra.

He almost resented how sweet his friend was. He loved her kind heart, he just hated when it extended to his elder half sister and her sons who he despised.

He hated when Jacaerys and Lucerys stole her away from his side. It was happening more and more as they became closer. He felt like he was losing her, the more times she spent breaking her fast with his eldest sister and her brood, the more he dreaded every moment away from her.

She was his only friend, the only one he felt truly understood him, or at least made the effort to. Losing her would mean losing the only shred of happiness he’d managed to find for himself.

He averted his gaze from Jace and the Ixtal girl, the sight of both their bright smiles becoming too painful.

“They seem to get along well.” His father mused, prompting Aemond to torturously follow his gaze to the pair yet again.

His heart began to race at the insinuation, at the knowing look in his father’s twinkling eyes.

“Yes, he seems to be quite taken with her.” Rhaenyra noted with a loving smile.

“They’d make a fine match.” His mother added. Aemond looked to his mother, betrayal in his gaze. His mother knew how much his friend meant to him, she knew someone so precious shouldn’t be shackled to a bastard.

He refused to hear another word. His chair screeched loudly against the floor as he abruptly stood and made his way out of the room as if there were no air left for him to breathe. They couldn’t take her away from him, they couldn’t give her to that bastard.

He raced to his chambers, hoping he was quick enough that no passing guards could see the tears forming in his eyes.

By the next day, he found himself in the gardens, his eyes locked onto the open book in his lap as he read and re-read the same sentence over and over, his racing mind not allowing him to focus on the words in front of him.

The dread he had been feeling since the night before had not dissipated in the slightest.

“Aemond!”

His heart leapt within his chest at the sound of her voice. His hopeful eyes looked around the garden before landing on her and a feeling of lead settled within him, bringing him right back down to his dour mood as he noticed Jace and Lucerys beside her.

She motioned for him to join but he just shook his head softly and moved his gaze back down to his book.

He let out a long breath, trying his hardest to ignore the bitterness that grew in his heart, one that was all too familiar from before he met her. He startled slightly as a body slumped next to him. He looked up and his eyes widened slightly at the sight of her looking at him questioningly.

“Why are you sulking?”

“I’m not sulking.”

She breathed deeply, as if disappointed by his obvious lie. “Why didn’t you join us?”

He shrugged, he couldn’t very well tell her the truth about how he despised his nephews and seeing her with them was like a dagger to the heart, how he feared losing her, his greatest friend.

“I didn’t want to intrude.” He spoke softly.

Her eyes narrowed at his words, her gaze moving to the two Velaryon boys who were talking quietly amongst each other, their curious eyes occasionally drifting to her and Aemond.

She knew there was tension among them, the way they seemed to side with Aegon and play along in the cruel pranks he would play on Aemond always made her stomach twist. She suddenly felt guilty that she had never considered how it would make Aemond feel to be forced in their vicinity after how they treated him.

She turned to her friend and shuffled closer to him.

“You could never intrude.”

Aemond looked over at her, but quickly averted his gaze, finding it just too much to look in her eyes while she sat so close to him.

“You don’t have to stay with me. If you want to be with them, I won’t stop you.” He spoke quietly. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel smothered by him.

“I’d rather be with you.”

Her answer left him using all of his willpower to keep himself from marching directly to his father and demanding a betrothal this instant.

She chose him.

No one had ever chosen him.

She was bored out of her mind. With Aemond and Helaena gone to Driftmark for Lady Laena’s funeral, she was left without her closest confidants, leaving her little to do in their absence. She wished she’d been granted leave to attend the funeral with them, but her father had never met Laena and had been tasked with extra duties while the King was gone, leaving her to stew in her loneliness.

She was curled up on the settee by her bed, her sketchbook in her lap as she scrawled out an attempt at drawing Dreamfyre, to horrible failure.

A soft knock on her door made her lift her head and she sat up straighter when her father entered. The look on his face made her stomach twist, dread falling upon her like a crashing wave.

She got to her feet quickly, feeling unsteady on her now weak legs.

“Darling, there was an… incident on Driftmark.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat, her heart racing. “What happened?”

“I wasn’t privy to all the details but all I know is that Aemond has been injured.”

The breath was knocked out of her and at the first sign of her face crumbling into despair, her father crossed the room and held her tightly, pressing a kiss to the top of her head as the first sob broke free.

“Is he alright?”

Her father let out a long breath at her hiccuped words, holding her tightly. He knew his daughter had certain affections for the young boy, but hearing her now made him realize just how deeply she cared for him.

“The Maesters say he has lost an eye.”

A shuddering breath escaped her and she suddenly felt faint. She had no idea how, what could have unfolded, who would dare to do something so barbaric to him.

The next days were spent in agony. She barely left her chambers. Every time her father came to check in on her, he found her sitting by her window, her gaze locked onto the horizon, waiting eagerly for the Targaryen family’s arrival.

On the third day of her lonely torment, she finally spotted it. Dragons on the horizon. She was on her feet in a second and racing down to the courtyard. She was out of breath and disheveled by the time she made it, but her pace only quickened when she saw Helaena with her mother.

She called out to her friend and Helaena let out a breath of relief when she saw her, her arms opening for her as she approached.

Helaena didn’t let many touch her, but she was one of the lucky few she allowed.

“Are you alright? Where’s Aemond? Will he be ok?” She fired off questions, not even able to get a breath out through her frantic words.

“It’s alright, my Darling. Aemond will be fine.” Alicent consoled her, placing her arm around the shaking girl’s shoulders.

“Where is he?”

“He’s been taken to the Maester’s solar. He’ll have to spend some time there while he heals.”

“What happened?” She asked breathlessly.

“What I told him.” Helaena interjected calmly. “He gained a dragon, but he had to close an eye.”

She looked at Helaena with shock. “He… he claimed a dragon?”

She couldn’t make sense of the despair, relief and joy she had felt all at once. Knowing Aemond and his endless plight to gain a dragon, she knew he would see it a worthy trade, but the thought of him injured, permanently maimed, made her want to crumble to the ground below her.

After bidding goodbye to Alicent and Helaena, she made her way to the Maester’s wing of the Keep. She was denied entry, but she was determined to not let it stop her. Each day, at the crack of dawn, she’d drag herself out of bed and, before even breaking her fast, would make the trek to the Maester’s wing and ask to see Aemond.

She was refused each and every day, but it did little to deter her. She kept trying.

It had been weeks since she had seen Aemond. Her heart was aching without the presence of her best friend, without the boy that made her smile like no other could.

On the fifth day of the third week, as she made the familiar walk to his door, the guard stopped her, as usual, though his words were different.

“The Prince does not wish for any visitors.”

She frowned. It always used to be the order of the Maesters or Alicent, claiming her son needed his rest, but now it was Aemond himself refusing her.

She couldn’t pinpoint it exactly, but she knew she had felt her heart crack in a way she had never felt before.

She walked away from the door with her head bowed in defeat.

The hurt she felt mirrored Aemond’s own. Refusing her made him ache, but the thought of her seeing him as he was and looking at him with disgust was unfathomable and he would delay that inevitable despair as long as he could.

He sulked in his bed, the dour expression on his face one that had been constant for weeks.

His mother was by his bedside as she had been for weeks. He couldn’t stand to see her wince or her teary eyes everytime she looked at his ghastly scar.

She had been trying, in no subtle terms, to get him out of the room, even going as far to bring up his friend, the one he longed to see yet dreaded ever seeing the same look on his mother’s face on hers.

“It’s been a few weeks. She’s been worrying herself sick.” His mother told him, making his already weak heart more fragile.

He stayed silent, his frown deepening in despair.

“Aegon and Helaena will be heading out tomorrow to Ixtal. You should take Vhagar and join them.”

Aemond shifted uncomfortably. He knew his friend was leaving tomorrow, to visit home for her mother’s name day. They had all been invited, but with his father’s fading health and his mother’s refusal to ride on dragonback, it left just Aegon and Helaena to join the festivities.

“Aemond.” His mother prompted again, the disappointment in her voice clear.

“I don’t want to go.” He mumbled, one of the few sentences he’d managed over the past few weeks.

His mother sighed in defeat and didn’t bring it up again for the rest of the night, leaving him to his solitude as he preferred.

The next morning, Aemond lay in bed, the wound over his eye itching gratingly. He longed to claw at the wicked scar, to scream in anger, to enact his vengeance on that Strong bastard. The fury festered in him like the open wound on his face, red and flaming.

The soft sound of his door opening and closing made him stir, assuming it was his mother yet again. As he lazily turned his head, dread settled in his stomach, his remaining eye widening in horror at the sight of her, the one he longed for yet resisted.

She froze in her place at the door, her jaw falling slack, a shaking hand covering her mouth as a hitched breath escaped her at the sight of him.

Aemond’s face twisted in agony. This was exactly what he wished to avoid.

“What are you doing here?” He asked angrily, tears forming in his remaining eye.

“I just wanted- I wanted… we’re leaving soon.”

It was faint but he heard it. Fear. The stuttering of her words, the quiet, almost docile way she spoke that was so unlike her was like a hatchet to his heart. The look on her face was even worse. She could barely make eye contact with him.

“Get out.” He spoke lowly through gritted teeth.

“Aemond, I-”

“Get out! I don’t want you here!” He screamed at her, tears steadily falling down his cheeks.

Her own tears began to fall, her face twisting with agony. He hated it. He didn’t want her pity, he didn’t want to see the disgust on her face that everyone would face him with for the rest of his life.

“Leave me alone! I never want to see you again!”

She let out a sob and turned on her heel, leaving the room with haste.

Aemond slumped back in bed, placing his hands over his face, ignoring the way it made his eye ache, and he cried for what he had lost.

Not just his eye, but his love, his happiness. His everything.

She stood on the balcony of the banquet hall, breathing in the fresh ocean air. She missed home. She had thought of this moment for weeks, had been eager and excited to finally visit, yet now that she was there, it was bittersweet.

The sound of the waves weren’t as peaceful as she remembered. The food she ate wasn’t as delicious as she remembered. The music and the dancing wasn’t as exciting as she remembered.

“Darling?”

She turned to see her mother approaching, concern written across her face as she moved to stand next to her daughter, her arm crossing over her shoulders, bringing her in close to her side.

“Are you alright? I thought I’d see you dancing all night.”

“I’m fine.”

The Lady of Ixtal looked to her once vibrant daughter worriedly. She was far from the girl that had left all those months ago. From all the letters she had sent, it seemed her daughter was having the time of her life in King’s Landing. The girl she saw now wasn’t the one who had gleaned nothing but happiness.

“Was it not what you expected?”

She stiffened, the need to defend her friends and her new found home rising. “No, it’s- King’s Landing is lovely.”

Her mother sighed. She had gotten a short re-telling of the last few weeks in the Capitol from her husband and she was starting to put the pieces together.

“I couldn’t help but notice your friend isn’t here.”

She looked up at her mother, her wide doe-like eyes giving everything away.

“Aemond?”

She felt her cheeks heat and she turned her attention back to the view before her, focusing on the waves of the ocean, mirroring her breathing with each crashing wave.

“He’s not my friend anymore.” She spoke quietly through the lump that grew in her throat.

“From what I’ve heard, it sounds as though he is going through an awful time, something no one, especially someone so young, should ever have to endure. People don’t exactly act rationally when they are hurt. It is easy to speak things that are untrue in that state.”

She stayed silent, taking in her mother’s words thoughtfully. It was easy enough to explain, but it didn’t lessen the hurt she felt.

“You can stay here if you wish. The Gods know I would love to keep you in my arms, but I don’t think that is truly what you want.”

She let out a shaking breath, her mind a mess as she thought of her life in King’s Landing, of what she’d be leaving behind. But, if Aemond was being truthful and he didn’t want to see her or be her friend anymore, what would her life be like there?

“I don’t know what to do.”

“You’ll figure it out.” Her mother assured her. “Or else we’ll have a dragon landing on our shores demanding you come back.”

The smile on her mother’s face made the hurt inside her melt away slightly. Her conviction that Aemond would forgive her for her intrusion, that he would bring her back into his life and his arms made her hopeful.

Her mother was never wrong and she prayed she wouldn’t start now.

She clutched onto Helaena’s waist as they flew on Dreamfyre back to King’s Landing. No matter how thrilling it was to ride a dragon, no matter that she felt as light as a feather, that she could touch the clouds and feel as though she was in a magical, untouchable realm, it felt wrong.

Her first ride shouldn’t have belonged to Helaena, it shouldn’t have been with Dreamfyre. It wasn’t what she promised.

As they dismounted, Helaena’s hand held hers and stayed, holding tightly as they made their way from the dragonpit to the Keep, as if knowing her friend needed the comfort.

As they parted, Helaena promised she’d spend the day with her tomorrow, knowing she needed the distraction from Aemond.

She smiled, though it wasn’t as bright as usual, and with a wave, they parted. She stepped into her chambers and sighed heavily, mourning what her time in King’s Landing would hold.

She moved to her bed, content to hide under the covers for the rest of the day, but she stopped, noticing a bundle of flowers on her desk. She frowned, she certainly hadn’t put them there before she left.

She stepped closer, her fingers gently tracing along the soft petals. They were perfectly bloomed and freshly plucked, most likely just placed on her desk mere minutes before she arrived.

It suddenly struck her.

They were marigolds.

She remembered the flower Aemond had tucked behind her ear, the ones he would bring her on occasion simply because he knew she was fond of them.

Her heart began to race, her stomach flipping at the merest notion that it could’ve been from her best friend. She picked up the bundle, inhaling their fresh scent with a small smile.

She noticed the slip of parchment below them, the simple words in familiar handwriting brought tears to her eyes.

I am deeply, truly sorry.

I didn’t mean a word of what I said

Please forgive me

- Your Aemond

Her breath hitched, her chest feeling tight with sorrow.

The words he had screamed at her that day hurt her deeply, yet the thought of not having Aemond by her side, not having him as her friend, was unfathomable.

She spent the remainder of the day in her chambers, picking sparsely at the food her father had sent to her, knowing she wanted her solitude. By the next morning, having thought of nothing but Aemond all night, she was determined to see the end of their rift.

She dressed quickly and stepped out of her chambers, determined to march her way straight to Aemond, but she was stopped by her guard.

“The Prince has requested your presence in the gardens.”

The crease in her brow that signaled her determination smoothed out, leaving nothing but hopeful nervousness as she quickly made her way through the halls of the Keep. She ignored the looks of disdain from the ladies of the court as she raced past them, ignoring the whispers of her undignified behavior.

They were the last things on her mind.

Her heart was racing within her chest as she approached the gardens. She walked the familiar path, one she had taken countless times, to get to their usual meeting spot. Her feet came to an abrupt stop as she turned the last corner and saw him sitting on their bench, the one they always congregated to over the months together.

Nervous butterflies fluttered within her as she approached him.

She called out to him softly, cursing herself for how her voice shook in hopeful anticipation.

Aemond turned to face her and she was shocked to see the eyepatch across his face, covering the angry looking wound she had seen that morning in his chambers.

Her heart ached at the sight of the red scar that peeked out from the patch. It looked painful and the reminder of what he had gone through, what his own nephew had inflicted on him made her want to cry.

He spoke her name in greeting, giving her a small, weak smile. He winced slightly, the pull of his cheeks causing his scar to flair with pain.

Her chest tightened at the sight of him. He seemed smaller, as if he sat hunched over, trying hard not to take up too much space in the world.

“I’m sorry.” She blurted out before he could speak. He looked up at her incredulously, his stomach twisting at the despair he saw on her face. “I shouldn’t have just barged into your chambers. I knew you wanted privacy and I ignored your wishes and I’m sorry. I never meant-”

Aemond spoke her name breathlessly, stopping her rambling apology. He had never seen her so frantic before, it was unnerving to him, nothing at all like the lively girl he was used to. And it was his fault.

“You don’t have to apologize.” He told her softly. He looked down at his hands that fidgeted in his lap, shame overcoming him as he thought back to that day, when he had yelled at her so callously. He had replayed that moment over and over again in his head for days and it was torturous each time.

He couldn’t get the sight of her tears out of his head. To know he was the cause was his greatest shame.

“I’m sorry.” He spoke earnestly, looking her in the eyes intently, hoping she would believe him. “I never should have spoken to you that way. I’m so sorry I made you cry. I never will again, I promise.”

She let out a long breath, his words stirring something inside her she couldn’t recognize.

He frowned deeply at her lack of reaction, shuffling over and patted the space next to him on the bench, motioning for her to take a seat beside him.

She moved slowly, hesitantly taking her seat next to him.

“I’ve never seen you that angry before.” She spoke, her voice barely more than a whisper as she recalled that dreadful day.

Aemond sighed and bowed his head.

“I…” He started but soon found he had no words, no excuses for how he had treated her. Nothing would ever make it ok, never to her. “I hated to see you look at me like that.” Was the only thing he could think to say.

“Like what?”

“Like you were horrified of me.”

“I was horrified.” She said and he felt his insides turn to stone, his throat tightening with emotion. “But not of you. Never of you.” She added quickly, causing him to look over at her, his eye wide and shining with unshed tears.

“But-”

“Aemond, the thought of what happened to you, the thought of you in pain… it hurts me.”

The vice around his heart lifted instantly. His mind was spinning with the insinuation of her words.

“You… you’re not-”

She reached out, taking his hand in hers, causing words to fail him.

“I could never be afraid of you. I could never feel disgusted by you, I could never think any less of you, or whatever other horrible thing you think I feel for you now. No scar will change how I care for you.”

The weight that had been suffocating him for weeks now seemed to lift just the slightest, allowing him to feel as though he could finally take a breath.

He let out a shaking breath and tightened his hand in hers. She smiled softly and leaned in closer to his side, letting her head fall to his shoulder, letting him revel in her closeness.

He hated the stares he got from the ladies at court, he hated the winces, the horrified gasps as he passed them. He hated the worried looks he received, as if he was seconds away from collapsing like a weak mannered child.

But none of it mattered.

She still cared for him, she was still by his side, her hand in his.

Even the burning fury he held for his nephew seemed dim in the wake of the pure delight he felt in her presence.

“But, if you ever raise your voice to me like that again I will smack you.”

Her threat, that held no anger in the slightest, made him laugh and duck his head against hers as his body shook with each breath of laughter.

His first laugh since the incident.

From then, they were closer than ever. One was seldom seen without the other at their side.

The Ladies at court through the two of them were just about the most darling thing they had ever seen. Yet, not everyone was rooting for the threads of young love to flourish.

Alicent watched her son in the training yard with a frown. Her second son, so dutiful and so smart, was becoming distracted. Her eyes never strayed from him as he neglected his own lessons to play around with his friend, watching with a scowl as the two of them laughed together, as if there was no care in the world.

The sight of the young girl in the training yard was enough to leave her appalled, but her son’s willingness to indulge in such unseemly behavior was worrying.

“We cannot let this go any further.” Her father spoke from beside her.

“I can’t very well tell him he cannot be her friend. It would devastate him.”

“Let them be friends, but make it clear that is all it will ever be. Aemond can’t get any ideas about marrying this girl.”

Alicent chewed on her lower lip anxiously. The thought of tearing her son away from such happiness turned her stomach, but the thought of him marrying a girl so unpredictable was just as unfortunate.

“Would it really be so bad? We could gain leverage with her father.”

“Ixtal is a neutral house. They have never taken a stand in any war, that won’t change now. We cannot risk Aemond allying with a house that could not give us leverage for Aegon’s claim.” Otto hissed angrily.

Alicent wrapped her arms around herself, her eyes falling back to her son, taking in the sight of his smile while she still could. She doubted it would be a common sight once he was forced away from the Island girl.

But they all had a duty to perform.

Her arm was looped through his as he guided her past the dragon pit.

“Where are we going?” She asked, looking over her shoulder at the structure that housed the mighty Targaryen dragons they had just passed.

“Vhagar doesn’t stay there. She doesn’t fit.” Aemond explained, a slightly smug smirk crossing his features as he subtly boasted about his newly claimed dragon.

Her smile twitched slightly, her nerves suddenly overtaking her. She’d been hesitant when Aemond offered to introduce her to his mount, but the reminder of the great beast’s sheer size had the beginnings of fear creeping through her veins.

Noticing the subtle shift in her expression, Aemond tightened his grip on her arm.

“I would never put you in danger.” He assured her. “Vhagar is bonded to me, she can feel what I feel for you and she would never hurt you.”

“If I could hear that directly from Vhagar I might be able to breathe properly.”

Aemond snickered and led her forward excitedly.

Soon, they arrived at the crest of the hill, Vhagar’s enormous form coming into view. A shuddering breath escaped her when she came face to face with the historic dragon that fought in wars long before her time.

She could barely comprehend such a beast of her size existed among them, that the sweet boy beside her commanded her or even willingly approached her.

“Relax.” Aemond told her softly, moving out of her hold so his hand could take hers, intertwining their fingers.

The pair of them stepped towards the sleeping giant. She watched, mystified, as Aemond spoke a few words of Valaryian, the dragon's eyes sleepily opening, her large head lifting towards them.

She felt her body freeze, the blood in her veins running cold as the mighty dragon looked past her rider, her curious gaze landing on her. A low rumble shook the ground, Vhagar’s protest to the stranger before her.

Aemond soothed his dragon, placing an affectionate hand on her snout as he spoke soft commands.

She doubted a few measly words would suddenly convince Vhagar that she wasn’t a tasty snack, but she could only watch, her eyes widening as the dragon became disinterested by her presence, laying her head back down on the warm grass she had been slumbering on.

Aemond looked over his shoulder at her prone form several feet back and smiled, motioning her to come closer.

She shook her head adamantly, her feet frozen in place.

He spoke her name, holding his hand out to her.

She looked to his hand and then to his dragon and back again, contemplating the risk to her life.

“Do you trust me?” Aemond asked and her tense shoulders sagged. She had no reason to doubt her best friend. With one look in his eye, she knew he would never let any harm come to her.

She took slow steps forward, her fear not allowing her to move any quicker.

She reached out and took Aemond’s hand in hers as soon as she was close enough, holding on tightly.

“It’s alright.” He assured her.

He guided her hand toward Vhagar, watching the girl beside him closely, gaging every expression that crossed her face in a matter of seconds. From fear, to doubt, to disbelief and suddenly to awe.

A shaky laugh left her lips as her hand softly rested on the rough scales of Vhagar’s side. Pure delight was etched across her face as she pet the mighty beast as if she were nothing more than a house cat. Aemond saw how excited she got when one of the many stray cats that roamed Flea Bottom ventured their way into the Keep.

The excited smile she wore now as she pet his dragon was the same one he saw when she would cradle those strays.

The thought made him laugh and he leaned in close to her, letting his head rest against hers.

Seeing her now, fearless by his mount’s side, only confirmed what he already knew.

She was meant to be with dragons. Meant to be with him.

I will hopefully have the next chapter out within the next couple of days! And yes, every chapter is going to be long, I have no control. Hope you liked it xx

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen fic #aemond targaryen fanfic #house of the dragon fic

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luveline · 7 months ago

Note

Hi lovely!

I saw you’re looking for Hotch requests and I think I requested one before but I forgot what it is oops.

Could I please have one where Jack calls R mom for the first time and she feels super guilty about it but Hotch is super sweet.

Thanks!

ty for requesting 💞 fem (mom and stepmom!) reader, 1.4k

You’re obsessed with your little baby, but you’d loved Hotch’s son for a long time before you had your own, and you’ve continued to love Jack as your own regardless. If anything, having a baby only cemented that you love him.

Though you’d never disrespect his mother or what she gave up for him, you’re a parent to Jack. When Hotch is home, Jack is home, and when he isn’t you have Jack four days out of the week anyways, splitting him lovingly with his Aunt Jess. You take care of him and you love to do it; being his stepmother is a gift. You love Jack.

And he loves to cuddle.

“Rub my hair,” he demands sleepily, crushed as far into your neck and chest as he can be without pushing his brother out of the way.

“Say please,” you say, already bringing your hand up where it’s sandwiched behind him to stroke the hair from his eyes. “Like this?”

“Thank you.”

He’s pretty much always polite when he’s not tired. Which has little to do with you and everything to do with Haley and Hotch, you’re sure, he’d been a picture of a golden child the day you met him and besides the occasional tantrum or naughty spell, he’s a grateful child. He says thank you for things you want no thanks for, when you towel dry his hair at night for bed, or when you help him into his socks. He once said thank you for a kiss on the cheek, as if it wasn’t something you’d wanted to do.

“You’re welcome,” you say softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from his brow. “Can I have a little kiss?”

You kiss his brow when he smiles, letting your eyes flutter closed, nose still pressed to his skin.

“I love you, mommy,” he says, wrapping his arm around your neck with a sleepy snuffle.

You struggle to answer. The baby gurgles against your chest.

There has been a lot of mommy talk lately. Hotch is calling you mommy often now that the baby’s born, cutesy stuff like, There’s mommy! when you come back from a shower, or How’s your mom? when he’s home from work and he wants to hold the baby, but he wants to check on you at the same time.

He’s never called you Jack’s mom, but Jack’s six. He was bound to get confused, or to feel new feelings, though you weren’t expecting him to do it right now.

Eventually, you figure you’ll do what’s best for Jack even if that best isn’t something you deserve. “I love you too, baby.”

“Are you falling to sleep?” he asks.

You have arms full of children and Hotch will be home any minute if what he said on the phone is true, so you won’t. “Maybe not yet, but you can sleep if you want to. I’m sure dad will wake you up when he gets home.”

Jack settles in with the baby. Your promise gives him the solace he needs to sleep.

…What if Hotch is angry?

You’ll tell him what happened, of course, because you don’t have secrets with each other, and even if you did this is something he’s owed, right? He’s been completely candid with you about everything, how he loved Haley, how he feels he failed her in more ways than her death, and how he loves her still.

You don’t feel like you’re competing for his loyalty or affection, it’s simply clear that he respects Haley’s memory very strongly. What if you tell him what Jack said, and what you hadn’t said, and he’s furious?

The door opens downstairs. Hotch calls hello, but with Jack and the baby both sleeping, you stay quiet in fear of waking them. You listen to him do a familiar dance, the click of the safe where he retires his firearms, the rushing water of the faucet as he makes himself a glass of water, and then a second you assume to be for you.

You shuffle Jack from your chest gently, pulling the baby into the curve of your arm and depositing him with an overabundance of caution into the crib.

You hurry to the door, finger on your lips, startling your husband on the last stair.

“I need to talk to you about something,” you whisper.

He gestures for you to walk back down with him. He’s unperturbed by your worry, two glasses in one hand so he can use the other to feel at your shoulder as you take the stairs in front of him. “What happened?” he whispers.

“It’s–” You wince, descending the stairs with a distinct sense of nausea. “Can we sit down? I’ll make you something to eat.”

“I’m fine,” he says, following you to the kitchen, where you sit in adjacent chairs at the dinner table.

You brace your hands on a placemat.

He laughs and takes them into his own. “Nothing you tell me is worth all this worrying.”

“It’s about Jack.”

His smile fades. “What about him, honey?”

“We were upstairs… You know how he is, he climbed on top of me and we were cuddling because Noah finally fell asleep, and,” —it’s best to just tell, even if you feel clammy and guilty before you’ve admitted to it— “he called me mommy. I’d never tell him to, I promise.”

Hotch brings his hands up slowly, yours raising with them where he’s holding your wrists. “What did he say?”

“He said he loved me. ‘I love you, mommy.’”

“What did you say?”

Your grimace is apologetic, eyebrows pinched. “I said I loved him too.”

“And you’re worried that’s not okay?” You nod. “It sounds to me that he was just telling you how he feels. When you wake him up in the mornings and you tuck him in at night, and you’re the person he goes to when he needs a bandaid, you must feel like his mother.”

“But I’m not.”

“No.” His dark eyes are relaxed, his brow only a shade of its usual downturn. “Haley is his mother, and she’d love how you treat him. He will always, always know who his mother is. But if he wants to call you mom, a woman who loves him and looks after him with the same tenderness as you do your own, then I think that’s okay, especially with Noah getting older… How do you feel about it?”

“I love him.”

He does that silly smile where he’s more happy than he’ll admit to, leaning forward, pressing your hands to his arm and then his lips. “He loves you,” he says.

Hotch stands and offers a hug. When you take it, he sways you from side to side. “She really would’ve liked you, honey. It was me who let her down.”

“But her baby calling me mom…”

“I know. It’s a conflicting feeling.”

You let out a big sigh and slouch in his arms. You’re warm butter under his touch. He reacts accordingly, bending and cupping the back of your neck.

“It felt awesome,” you confess. He might as well know. After the remorse, you were happy. Jack must really love you.

“You’re very, very good to him. Just let him love you however he wants to, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t forget who his mother was, and how much she loved him.”

You wouldn’t let Jack forget her either.

Hotch leans away to dot a kiss to your cheek before he hugs you again. “How are they? The boys?”

“Sleeping. Waiting for you to come home and wake them up. Maybe please don’t wake up Noah, he might sleep through the night tonight if we leave him alone.”

“I won’t. I’ll see him in the morning.” His smile is audible. “I’m a little jealous, I think. Jack hardly ever says he loves me first.”

“You clearly don’t cuddle enough.”

“That,” he says, giving your hip a squeeze, “is a low blow. But I’ll allow it.”

“You’ll allow it?”

Another adoring sweep of his arms on your back. “You can say what you want,” he amends. “Thank you for taking care of things while I was gone.”

He doesn’t need to say thank you, you’re a family, but you appreciate the gesture. “You’re welcome, handsome.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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timmydraker · 2 months ago

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CW: extremely dubious consent, assault and p3d0phillia (not romanticised), self-victimisation blaming, sui attempt. Be safe, be kind.

Tim’s parents mainly had a child for the financial gain as well as popularity.

As soon as Tim was born he was a beautiful and cute little thing that made all conversations at Galas and even and meetings start and flow with ease. People always complimented the bright young boy who could speak as well as a three year old after just turning two and had the cutest little walk in his tiny suit.

When he gets older, Tim understands this and knows that his role is to get deals and funding for his parents.

It’s never out right said, but they always treat him kinda and praise him when he scores them a deal of any kind.

So, he masters it. He learns what people prefer the sweet, endearing little boy and who prefers to see an upcoming business man. He figured out when to talk to a wife over a husband, when to not bother trying or when to be upfront with what he wants so he can get it.

It’s when he’s almost ten, wearing a new suit from a new designer his mother had started to prefer, that one of the older men give him a compliment that just sits wrong to Tim.

It takes him a while to figure it out, and when he does research on it and ends up finding a wiki article on how to tell if someone is attracted to you, he assumes that it’s completely normal. He guess the man thought he was cute like everyone else, but then he reads more.

It’s, quite unsurprisingly, a Reddit post about seduction that tips him off to what the man really wanted from him.

Tim, ever the researcher that he is at heart, properly learns everything he can about sex and seduction and tells himself it’s completely fine for him to do this both because it’s for the family business and he won’t actually have sex. He’s a kid, so they won’t really want him, right?

Of course this is the nativity of the child that he is talking and his still solid trust in humanity keeping him from seeing people for what they really are.

Tim meets Dr Hinders at the next Gala, the man who looked at him like a piece of candy, and gives him a charming little smile and casually touches his forearm like the articles suggested. He plays it off as nothing special outwardly, though he makes sure to leave his eyes lingering on the man’s mouth.

He doesn’t remember much of what actually happened, only entering a car and feeling warm caresses turn harsh and painful.

Tim lays in the man’s bed that night and finds that he hates himself more than the man who used him even as Tim started to push back. He blames himself for not being smarter, for not realising that if he could look at Tim that way, he could do far worse.

But then the man says to Tim, “I think I will endorse your parents, Timothy. You are… quite convincing.”

Tim hears the man’s sickening laugh and hates how success stirs in his gut. Dr Hinders in the lead researching of a project his father had been practically begging to be apart of and now he will.

Jack will be so happy with Tim.

As he is dropped off at home, he runs a icey bath and sobs to himself as he enters. His ass burns as much as his shame, his shoulders ach from where his arms were forced back, yet somehow worst of all is his hip. The hand shaped bruise is giant compared to his own, a brand of sorts to remind him that he handed himself over like a whore.

Yet Tim respects whores, because they need to do it to survive more often than not.

The next day his father picks him up and actually hugs him. Its the first time since he was three that it’s happened and Tim can’t even be in pain from the contact to his aches as he hears his father rant about how proud he is of his son, how he did so well and deserves to go out shopping for a camera.

Tim frowns at the mention of Dr Hinders asking if he could continue to have chats with Tim every now and again yet says yes just to make his father proud.

Janet stared at him all the while with a knowing look, one that screams years of painful experience and burden that she seems to recognise in him.

He pointedly ignores it and goes upstairs.

If Tim this is the result, his father’s love, Tim is going to have to keep doing this.

He just… needs to find a way where it won’t be as painful.

By the time Tim becomes Robin, he’s well known in the elite Gotham circle as ‘bunny’. Find him at an event and play your card right and he’ll come home with you and give you a night you’ll never forget, all you have to do is promise to send some money to his parents or pay for a trip for them.

Most of them pay for trips when they realise that Tim can stay for while nights if they’re away.

He’s eleven when he first goes to a man’s house, already crying silently as he prepped himself, and there’s three others waiting.

He doesn’t even try to back out and upon returning home the next day finds himself holding his head under the iced water a little longer than safe.

Tim doesn’t go through with it and instead goes bat watching.

He tells himself that he’s the one consenting, that it’s okay because he’s doing the seducing, and shoves down the voice that tells him that no amount of temptation should allow anyone older than him to give in to violating a child. He lies to himself about how he prefers it when they are rough and cruel so he can feel better shouting hating them, because the kind touches and longing looks he gets from the ones who let him take the lead make him feel like he is in control, like it could actually be okay, and he knows that it’s not.

It took him a while and soon it will be too late, he’ll be eighteen soon, but he does know that it’s fucked up.

He just ignores that because it makes his dad happy, even after he goes into a coma and remarries.

Somehow he managed to keep it hidden from Bruce for almost five years, but as usual, he finds out.

Tim doesn’t tell him, no he’d never be able to do that.

It’s none other than Dr Hinders.

Bruce host a Gala at the end of summer and winter every year, which is both she he stays relevant and so he doesn’t have to do multiple and not have as much time for Batman.

It’s at one of these Galas that he’s talking with a few men and Dr Hinders says, “You’re a lucky man Bruce, to have Tim with you all the time.”

Bruce smiles proudly as the other two men give each other looks, both knowing full well that Bruce Wayne doesn’t like their kind and probably doesn’t know what Hinders is referring to.

“I am indeed. He’s a smart lad, my Tim. Single handedly raised my company from the ground after my ah, relaxed nature.”

The two men laugh heartily and one manages to make an excuse, abandoning his friend who’s about to shit tears as Hinders leans forward and says, “I’d kill to have him all the time. You know I was his first?”

Bruce is a master of poker faces, he has to be with all the masks he owns in both a literal and metaphorical sense. But his expression still falters for a moment, eyes narrowing as a sick feeling build in his gut.

“What ever do you mean?”

The man besides them stares at the ground in pure fear, knowing that Bruce is one of the most powerful men and he’s been included in the many who took from his financial heir.

Hinders grins a sadistic thing and gives Bruce a look to say ‘oh come on’, “Now, Bruce. Someone had to break him in, teach him the ropes. How else would Jack and Janet get any funding if not for whoring out their son?”

Bruce feels the glass in his hand strain from his tight grip.

“I mean, he definitely had a lot of practice by the time I got to him a second time, but an ass like that comes naturally. Hey, was it you who bought him that red lace? Me and the boys at work still have a photo of him in it up in the lunch room-“

Dr Hinders isn’t ready for the punch Bruce lands on his face, square on his nose with a loud crunch.

A few people turn around and soon everyone is, only to be met with an image of Bruce Wayne that or a cult shows the rage boiling off of him and raining the air with a dangerous aura.

The way he growls is enough to shake the room, somehow worse than Batman’s voice, “everybody get the fuck out of my house.”

Some people get their things calmly and leave, but most hurry like the buildings on fire.

Dick and Damian, the only ones attending that night other than Tim, rush up to him and ask what happened but Bruce is too busy staring at his son across the room.

Tim is frozen, hands cupped to his chest and Bruce knows he heard everything just by the tears in his eyes and how he immediately starts repeating ‘I’m sorry’ over and over and over.

Bruce approaches him quickly but waits for Tim to move into his arms. He wraps his boy up and squeezes him tight, “it’s okay, my sweet. You didn’t do anything wrong, I promise. This isn’t your fault. I’m so sorry I didn’t notice.”

Dick is getting frustrated now, wanting to know what happened to his baby brother, yet when he hears Tim’s response his heart is too busy shattering apart.

“It is! I go to them, I let them fuck me so dad can get his deals! It’s my fault! I shouldn’t have done it in the first place but even then I kept going all for a dad who doesn’t love me. I hate it, I hate it so much but it’s what I’m good for!”

Bruce lets out a sob and moves to look at Tim, “No. No, don’t you dare say that. You are so much more, worth so much more than your body. You are my son, you are Red Robin, you are a brother and a grandson and you are so fucking special. I’m so sorry Tim, I’m sorry you feel that way but it’s okay, I’ll help you. Those men will never touch you again, I swear it.”

Tim breaks down and collapses into his father’s arms, sobbing and wailing years of abuse out.

Dick sobs too but manages to get through it enough to remove Damian from the situation even as the young boys eyes are filled with rage and concern for his brother.

It takes a while, mainly for Tim to chose that he will take the pity and blame from the masses if it means the men who hurt him will pay.

He gives a list to Bruce and cries when he sees that Alfred himself is crying.

If some of the men on that list end up dead in prison and Jason seems a proud of himself, that’s no one’s worry.

Damian refuses to leave Tim’s side for a long time, going with him every where when out in public and not giving up his sword even when the mall security insist he has to.

The photo’s taken of Tim, most of which he wasn’t aware of, only manage to circulate for a few hours before Oracle manages to systematically remove each and every single one with the help of a few hackers and Cyborg.

Duke may also leak to a few of his friends that some of the men are trying to bail out of prison and shouldn’t be welcome in Gotham, and if one of those friends is Cass with a wood plank with nails in it, Kate defiantly didn’t see and help her make it.

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branwinged · 18 days ago

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More than anything, Cersei wants to be respected like Jaime and the other men in her life; she does not rebel against the patriarchy so much as internalize the misogyny of it, believing that she should have been born a man so that she would be given the respect she feels she deserves. In many ways, she lives vicariously through Jaime, claiming that they are “one person in two bodies” and taking pride in his accomplishments. Lena Headey, who plays Cersei in Game of Thrones, claims that her rejection of Jaime when he returns without a hand is deeply tied to that hand being the way in which she wielded power, a power now denied her.

Shiloh Carroll, Medievalism in A Song of Ice and Fire and Game of Thrones

#was not aware of that lena headey comment. society if she had been allowed to play an affc accurate cersei #valyrianscrolls #asoiaf #cersei #*[🫀]

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ofoceansandtombsanew · 4 months ago

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Real Talk: Ace Didn't Need to Ask For Help, It's On Garp

i always hate when i see comments about how ace was an idiot or ace should have just asked garp for help because, no? like dawg wtf do you mean?

the one thing we have been told repeatedly across the manga and anime is that ace could have lived his entire life being perfect and he still would have ended up on that podium

he could have become a marine, a police officer, a teacher, a chef and all of that would have been reduced to nothing the moment his parentage was discovered

yes, ace became a pirate of his own volition, but sengoku never mentioned his piracy

he never mentioned all the criminal activity ace did as the captain of the spade pirates or even later as the second division leader of the whitebeard pirates

you know what sengoku did bring up though the moment he got on that damn podium? ace's parentage

he mentions nothing that gained ace his bounty to begin with when he gets that den den mushi in his hand. why?

because it doesn't matter that ace is a pirate. what matters is that they are eradicating the last gol d roger's bloodline

bear in mind that they were killing pregnant women and young children who could have even had the slightest possibility of being roger's lover or kin

akainu deadass says that he doesn't care if every other pirate at marineford escapes as long as ace and luffy died and he would ensure their deaths personally. and for what? not their piracy. none of their crimes. not even for ensuring that the truth that certain countries and lands that were actually saved by pirates instead of the marines never got out

but because their fathers were gol d roger and monkey d dragon respectively

solely because of that, he deemed neither of them deserved to live

and as far as garp goes - i love garp as much as the next person but garp has never done anything for ace to trust him enough to ask for help even if he felt he deserved to ask

garp's negligent parenting coupled with the abusive words ace grew up hearing led ace to believe he didn't even deserve to be born. when he even asks garp if his being born was a good thing, garp can't even tell him 'yes'. he just says 'time will tell'. my brother in the blue seas, that is an elementary schooler questioning his right to exist

ace is defeated by blackbeard in episode 325 (chapters 434-441), luffy hears about his execution being set in episode 416 (chapter 522) and then finally ace is killed in episode 483 (chapter 574). that is 158 episodes and 140 chapters total and in that time what ace receives from garp are conversations that boil down to

"you did this to yourself"

"i just wanted you to become a fine marine"

"i don't have sympathy for criminals but i do have sympathy for family"

and garp actively preventing those who wish to save ace from reaching him. yes after akainu strikes ace, garp does react viscerally with instinct to protect his grandson, but that's too little too damn late at that point

garp having his moral dilemmas mean nothing when, however long ace spent in impel down, he isn't trying to help him

garp having his 'wishing things had been different' thoughts mean nothing when garp is preventing people from saving his grandson

there's a reason garp lets dadan beat and berate him when they reunite in windmill village and it's because he knows she's right

over the course of 20 years, garp has consistently chosen work over ace and luffy. as much as i love dadan and co, bandits are not a good choice to have raise your grandkids and then be the surprised pikachu meme when neither of them wish to become marines

garp's inability to see past the system he disdains yet clings onto actively shoots him in the foot

prevents him from seeing that ace is right when he says he never could have become a marine

luffy could have never become a marine. i do hear arguments saying that luffy might have had a fair chance considering garp is biologically his grandfather but i say that's truly up in the air considering how, even with that knowledge, akainu still wants to put luffy on a poster

but that's all to say, asking why ace never asked garp for help is ridiculous

the fuck would ace look like asking the man who has done nothing but

unintentionally fostered ace's resentment towards luffy in their early childhood

told ace it was his own fault he landed where he did

falcon punched marco halfway across marineford

for help?

and that's not even mentioning the fact that up until that point, ace didn't believe he deserved to live. he didn't think he had the right to exist. the only thing that kept him going up until that point was hoping he'd find an answer that justified his being born and his love for luffy and sabo. ace tells luffy in his dying breaths if it weren't for the two of them, he would have gave up on living a long time ago

yes, garp loves ace and luffy

he loves them both dearly but he is also incapable of putting them before work, before his ideals of justice. these two truths can coexist at the same time. garp's stubborn to a fault and his moral dilemma resulted in both inaction and the prevention of ace's escape

so to say that marineford would have gone differently if ace had asked is seriously undermining the character work. because in reality, it's up in the air on whether or not that would have done anything. ace asking garp for help could have gone either way and that's the beauty of the gray area regarding garp's actions during the summit war

and yes, i can get why it's frustrating that ace turned around to fight akainu when he could have just left and got it back in a blood a different time

but aside from ace having a temper about specific topics, we do get an answer as to why he couldn't bring himself to runaway when we finally are able to dive into his past with luffy and sabo:

he doesn't want to run away from any situation because ace is deathly afraid of losing something if running away ends up being the bad call

and in that moment, luffy was behind him

even if akainu hadn't talked down whitebeard, ace would have inevitably turned back around because he wouldn't have been able to shake his fear of losing something or someone he cared about

as long as there is something precious for him to potentially lose, ace will never run

he was doomed from the start

his being the son of gol d roger doomed him from the start

and that's what makes ace so tragic

#look she's not writing #one piece #portgas d ace #fire fist ace #monkey d garp #gol d roger #monkey d luffy #sabo #revolutionary sabo #one piece sabo #animanga thoughts #ppl get too comfortable slandering my husband i had to say something #hash and i were talking about this last night #TAT like y'all tf ace need to beg garp's old ass for help for???#please explain i am confusion

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syrupfog · 2 months ago

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Sanji was not born a natural fighter.

He, very specifically, was NOT born with the superhuman fighting abilities of his siblings. He was born normal. Weak. Useless. He knows this.

Zeff taught him to fight and Sanji practised. Learned. Grew. But the natural talent wasn't there.

When Luffy picked him up, added him to the crew, Sanji knew it was for his cooking abilities.

But he knew that being on the crew of the future King of the Pirates meant he couldn’t just be the best cook on the Grand Line. He had to be able to fight, too.

And that’s where Zoro came in. Zoro, who scoffed at him from day one. Who liked his cooking well enough but didn’t seem to care much for Sanji as a person.

Sanji was pretty confident he knew why. Zoro knew they needed to be strong, and Sanji— he wasn’t strong enough.

He didn’t think he ever would be— he was too normal. Born normal. But he TRIES. On the Merry before everyone wakes up and after they go to sleep, between preparing meals. He sets himself a brutal training regimen.

He’ll train until Zoro stopped giving him that scathing look.

They get Nami back from Arlong Park and Sanji finds himself limping to the after party. Zoro takes one look at how he’s favouring his foot and scowls.

In Little Garden Zoro straight up challenges him and Sanji revels in the ability to prove himself. It doesn’t work. They tie.

At Drum Sanji gets injured. He’s too weak too weak too weak— he barely gets Nami help in time, it’s his fault she almost—

He’s strapped down and his spine fixed and all he can think is that Zoro is right. He doesn’t deserve this role.

People have started calling them the wings of the pirate king. Fucking laughable. Sanji could never be on Zoro’s level and Zoro knows it.

They fight. They blow off steam. It helps Sanji to cool down, to gauge what level he’s at. He knows Zoro’s holding back.

He thinks, for a moment, that he has finally moved up a rung in Skypeia. He’s getting better.

All it takes is one moment when he’s changing. For Zoro to spot the marks from the lightning that litter his back. That angry scowl that sets his features makes Sanji’s heart sink.

He takes his frustration out on the Davy Back fight. He tantrums like a child for Zoro’s respect even when he knows he hasn’t earned it, can’t earn it.

It sort of works, though.

Everything goes to shit in Water 7 and for once it’s kinda nice to know he’s not the one fucking up. Not that he would tell Usopp that. He plans good spicy pasta for his return.

He fights a ramen man with knives on the train and thanks the stars that Zoro isn’t there to see it.

(After all, Sanji doesn’t fight with his hands— he doesn’t want Zoro to lose the last of his respect for Sanji by seeing him break with his own ideals).

They get out of Water 7 with a new crew member. He’s a cyborg. He’s strong.

Then Thriller Bark happens. Thriller Bark sucks.

Zoro just— he just pushes him aside.

He knows Sanji can’t handle it. He knows he’s too weak. And it’s true but it HURTS. Sanji’s tried so HARD he’s trained for so LONG he’s tried to balance fighting and cooking as best he can, he barely SLEEPS—

And Zoro pushes him aside.

He takes the damage.

He almost dies.

That should’ve been Sanji.

Sanji hates him for it.

He hates himself for it.

He sits in the infirmary and stares past Zoro’s mangled form and wonders what he’s supposed to do now.

They get to Saboady.

Sanji doesn’t see any of them for two years.

Zoro looks good. He looks strong. He’s missing an eye.

After two years, Sanji can admit that he had been desperate for Zoro’s approval for more than one reason.

He sees Zoro’s face light up when Luffy appears and he thinks, so selfishly, that he wants that look too.

Fishman Island isn’t a great start.

Punk Hazard is— well.

Zoro doesn’t scowl at him when he’s in Nami’s body, his expression is DIFFERENT. Pained. Sanji doesn’t know why. He doesn’t like it.

Then he’s back in his own body and Zoro’s scowl is back and Sanji—

He’s sick of it.

He’s so so sick of it.

He spends what feels like hours running back and forth in this hellhole of a lab with poison gas invading his lungs and fucking Vergo attacking him and the next time that Sanji sees Zoro once everything is over, he’s busy doling out soup to the masses.

They like his soup, because he’s a good cook. Because he spent two years learning secret recipes and two years training harder than ever before and Zoro still has the gall to scowl at him like he doesn’t want to share the same air.

Sanji snaps.

He hands off the ladle to Franky

He walks over and aims a kick at Zoro’s head.

Zoro ducks.

He parries the next kick.

Sanji is relentless. He’s yelling. Insults, obscenities. Their fighting empties out their half of the room. Zoro works all the way up to three swords, breathing hard.

They only stop when Nami throws a weather attack at them and yells to take it outside. Cowed, Sanji calms down enough to slip out he door.

He’s surprised, honestly, when Zoro follows him.

“You gonna tell me what that was about?” Zoro asks.

“Shut up.”

Zoro scowls at him.

Sanji snaps his teeth. “That! That’s what this is about! That fucking face!”

Zoro blinks. “You’re mad at my face?” “Yeah! I fucking am! You keep— you’ve ALWAYS looked at me with that fucking face! Like I’m fucking BENEATH YOU!”

Zoro blinks again. His scowl, briefly, disappears, replaced with confusion. “I don’t think you’re fucking beneath me,” he says, sounding bewildered.

Sanji pauses. “What— is your face just stuck like that?”

Zoro’s face drops back into a scowl. “Shut up,” he says. “Maybe I’m just annoyed by you.”

Annoyed.

Well. That does hurt. The part of Sanji that has realised by now just how much he wants something more than just approval from the swordsman. It… sorta hurts that he doesn’t trust him as a fighter AND doesn’t like him as a person.

“Oh,” he says.

Zoro’s eyebrows knit together. “Hold on,” he says. “What the fuck.”

“…What?”

“You think I don’t like you because you’re, what, not competent?”

“I’m competent,” Sanji lies.

“Yeah,” Zoro says. “I know.”

What?

Sanji peers at him. “You… know?”

“We’re the strongest people on Luffy’s crew. Of course I know.”

Sanji’s not strong. He’s never been strong. “No we’re not,” he says.

“I mean obviously I mean besides Luffy.”

“I— that’s not what I meant.” Sanji tugs absentmindedly on his hair. It’s fucking cold here.

“So you don’t hate me because I’m weak… you just hate me because I’m annoying,” he intones.

Zoro looks at him like he has two heads. “I don’t hate you Cook, fucking hell.”

Sanji throws his hands up, face hot. “Then what is your problem with me? You’ve always done this, always given me this— this LOOK when we’re fighting people—“

“You’re coughing,” Zoro says.

“…Excuse me?”

“You got some of that poison gas in your lungs. Not a lot, but enough that you’re affected.”

“Fine. I fucked up—“

“I should’ve been faster,” Zoro says.

Sanji blinks. “Been faster at what?”

“Clearing the area. I should’ve gone after that fucking clown.”

“You had a job to do—“

“Every time I’m too slow, people get hurt. You get hurt.”

Sanji scoffs. “We can protect ourselves. We’re all in Luffy’s crew.”

“But you shouldn’t have to,” Zoro says, hand gripping his swords.

“You’re the fucking cook, that’s your job. It’s my job to keep you safe.”

“I’m a pirate, I’m just as capable—“

Zoro growls, shoulders hunching up. “It’s not about being CAPABLE, FUCK, SANJI OF COURSE YOU’RE CAPABLE. But it’s my job.” He starts pacing.

“Those scars on your back from the lightning are still there in the right light. That scar from Drum island too. I’d known you for two days before you ended up covered in fishman blood to the point I wasn’t sure if you had just killed someone or were actively dying.”

He stops suddenly, turning and grasping Sanji’s upper arms, that scowl firmly in place as he stares into Sanji’s eye. “Every time you get hurt? That’s MY failure. My ONLY job on this crew is to keep people SAFE.”

Sanji stands rigid, keeping eye contact. “Zoro,” he says.

Zoro drops his arms as if burned.

“Zoro,” Sanji says again. “Mosshead. You’re not in this alone.”

“My job is swords,” Zoro mutters.

Sanji, despite himself, barks out a raw laugh. “And here I spent the last two and a half years thinking you just hated how weak I was.”

“You keep saying that,” Zoro says, looking utterly baffled. “You’re not weak. You’ve never been weak.”

Sanji thinks of metal weighing his head down, of dark dungeons and rats.

He thinks about Zeff teaching him. About his flaming kicks. “…Huh,” is all he says.

Then, because he’s not weak, he reaches out and grabs onto Zoro’s robe. “You don’t hate me. You don’t think I’m weak.”

“I’m not going to keep upping your ego,” Zoro growls.

Sanji pulls him in by his robe and— he doesn’t kiss him. He knocks their foreheads together.

“Shit, ow,” Zoro groans.

Sanji breathes against his skin. “Mosshead,” he says. “Why do you scowl at me and no one else?”

There’s silence for a while. Sanji can feel his eyelashes when he blinks.

“It’s because you’re annoying as fuck,” Zoro says.

And then he surges up to kiss him.

Sanji welcomes it.

It’s a kiss with a lot of teeth and too much heat and the taste of cheap sake.

It’s just what Sanji needed.

Maybe it’s just what Zoro needed.

Sanji can feel him scowling into the kiss and it feels like a promise.

#zosan #my writing

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leyiorr · 3 months ago

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heian era satoru is a god among men. gifted with the looks and prowess of the deities - he alone bares the title of 'the strongest'. with the ability to distort and expand space itself, there are few who hold a candle to him, let alone foolish enough to challenge his authority.

he's gorgeous, the kind of beauty that only higher beings possess. every contour of his skin is sculpted to perfection, every line carefully painted, pale skin a testament to the star from which he was born. behind bandages that cover the upper half of his face are the jewels he called eyes. not two like the normal person, but six, proof of his inhumanity. they're an arctic shade of blue - icy and cold.

as a ruler, he is far from merciful. he does things according to his own rulebook, and anyone who steps out of line does not live to tell the tale. corpses are unable to talk, unfortunately.

his personality is of the worst kind; he's cocky, arrogant and self-indulgent. it's especially noticeable when he's in battle. he enjoys the high and thrill of bloodshed, and he encourages his enemies to fight with everything they have. toppling their pride feels better that way.

he has no need for a wife or concubines, no matter how many women throw themselves at his feet or how many are offered up by their parents. his absence at marriage meetings becomes the norm, and the most eligible bachelor quickly becomes unattainable.

he stands alone in all of his glory, pleas for wife and future heir falling on deaf ears. no matter how much the elders try to convince him he is adamant - he will not have either.

that is, until his six eyes catch sight of you.

you - aphrodite's personal creation. from the first look, satoru is hooked.

he makes a weak attempt to swallow - he's oddly parched. he isn't sure what is; be it pure, innocent curiosity or the deeper, more sinister seeds of obsession, he allows his feet to move like moth to flame.

he looks at you like he sees god, like the perpetual ticking of time has come to a halt. like he's in the presence of divinty.

you greet him like everyone else, bowing in respect and calling him by his title. 'your majesty'. it doesn't sound right on your lips, he thinks. so he requests for you to call him by his first name and you do, who are you ro refuse your ruler?

but satoru? satoru, god, satoru forgets to breathe.

he's ready to tear out his beating heart and place it in your hold already. he's sure you'd take good care of it.

the syllables that make up the name 'satoru' have never sounded more beautiful. with a voice honeyed and dipped in sugar, you introduce yourself, and your name ricochets off the bone of his skull before it buries itself in the tissue of his brain known as memory.

he has never lowered himself for anyone but if you asked he'd be on his knees in an instant.

he sets about courting you. you find roses dyed a deep royal blue on your balcony, along with a note from their sender. the finest jewelry find purchase on your dresser - probably from villages he'd massacred - and the newest silks rest against your figure (your favourite garment is eerily similar to a woman's who had badmouthed you in satoru's presence). all from him. you deserve the best, after all.

he takes note of your likes and dislikes, ever fascinated by how expressive you are. he's infatuated, but it doesn't feel half bad. instead it feels like it's what he was made to do. he's convinced that you and him were written in the stars; that the gods themselves would envy him for taking you as his own.

and you? you revel in your newfound power over the most powerful person of your era. you'd asked him once if he'd kill for you and his answer was instant. a simple yes.

perhaps your personality is as twisted as his, but it felt so good.

#ᯓᡣ𐭩 kiyara.#✎ᝰ.#idk what this is #forgive me....#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x you #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #feral gojo #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader

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mercuriians · 5 months ago

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connect (with you)

synopsis ☆ kuroo’s walls come down after the game with karasuno.

content info — some hurt/comfort with our beloved nekoma captain because he deserves all the love in the world 🙏 SPOILERS for the dumpster battle movie so beware. reader is mentioned to be kenma’s sister a few times.

author’s note — just wanna say hi to the haikyuu fandom :) hope u enjoy this short drabble i wrote, i’ll probably make it look pretty later. lmk if you wanna see more kuroo x kozume!reader in the future.

your lips are on kuroo’s before the locker room door even has a chance to close. his skin is soft and familiar, his kiss eager yet vulnerable. something compels you to reach up, circling your arms around his neck as you pull him closer, tighter, until you’re sure that his warmth has become your own. the sound of his breathing is the only thing keeping you tethered to the ground as your mouths meet again and again. no words need to be spoken.

after years of being together, and even more years of being friends, you know tetsurou like the back of your hand. as if he’s perpetually been woven into your spirit, etched into your heart since the day he moved into the house next to you and your brother’s.

you know that the cheery grin he shot his teammates, the reverent bow he gave to the crowd, and the meaningful hug he shared with daichi at the end of the match were all borne out of three things—his sworn responsibilities as the captain, his earnest respect for karasuno, and the addictive rush of adrenaline.

the moment he left behind the arena’s blinding lights, though, the high seemed to wear off.

yet an aching feeling stayed with him.

when you pour your heart out on the court and play until your muscles feel like they’re on fire, when you devote hours of your precious time towards practicing—towards smoothening out every crack within your blocks, every blemish within your serves, every falter within your receives—and when you imagine the game countless numbers of times in your head until it feels like a memory, there’s a certain type of pain you feel when it’s all over. it’s a sadness that’s inevitable, and yet one that stings so profoundly and uniquely that it becomes a bittersweet moment you’re bound to remember for the rest of your life.

just one more second, one more chance— you think to yourself in a flurry of desperation. because as foolishly selfish as it sounds, nobody ever truly wants the game to end.

that feeling of wanting to remain frozen in the experience is something you yourself are all too familiar with. volleyball, after all, was what gave birth to the connection you now so deeply share with tetsurou.

you suppose that’s why you’re able to pinpoint the exact moment his shoulders start to shake.

pulling away from the kiss, you feel your heart plummet into your stomach before you can even see the tears trickling down his face. something you’ve come to learn about tetsurou is that he rarely ever cries, so when he does, it only makes the sight that much more impactful. wordlessly, you pull him into you once more.

the way your arms firmly, comfortingly wrap around his tall figure conveys a simple but invaluable message that resonates throughout the empty room— “i’m not letting you go.”

quietly, he sobs. you let him.

you barely notice your nekoma jacket becoming damp with his tears. when his crying slowly starts to recede, you break the silence, voice soft and tender. “you were amazing out there, tetsurou,” you whisper. “and there’s three things i want to thank you for.”

withdrawing by the tiniest sliver, just enough so he can meet your patient gaze, your boyfriend tilts his head slightly in the way he always does. his fingers subconsciously trace patterns across the small of your back. “what are they, baby?” his voice is quiet and a little hoarse. really, it’s a miracle that you manage to block out your own shadows of sadness.

“one,” you whisper, fingers reaching out to gently wipe away his tears, “thank you for being the best captain this team could ever ask for.”

“two,” you continue, leaning in to kiss away the tears that remain, before a small smile pulls at the corners of your lips, “thank you for helping my brother fall in love with volleyball.”

“and three,” you breathe out, your vulnerable gaze meeting his own, lips inching towards his once more, “thank you for being as strong as you’ve been, and for carrying the world’s burden on your shoulders when none of us could.”

when you finish your heartfelt confession, tetsurou’s hazel eyes glaze over with a fresh wave of tears—this time, however, it’s for an entirely different reason.

and this time, he’s the one that kisses you first.

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solkara · 5 months ago

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❛ 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐘 , alicent hightower and rhaenyra targaryen ❜

⌗ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 , as the eldest and only heir to viserys targaryen naturally you were born with more responsibilities than you could count your sister being one of them

⌗ 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 , alicent hightower x male! targaryen! reader x rhaenyra targaryen

⌗ 𝐬𝐨𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 , omg so I didn't know if this anon wanted the request to be fem! reader or male! but I made it male cuz well...I can? also this part is sorta just the set up for part 2 so sorry if it's a bit boring

house of the dragon masterlist , next part

⌗ you were the first born son of viserys targaryen and aemma arryn. so naturally you were expected to be the perfect heir to the iron throne. as was expected of you. and you performed that duty to perfection. as a protege in art of the sword an avid seeker of knowledge and an understudy to your father the king. and not to metion well mannered and respectful man in the making. it was no wonder you sister looked up to you so much.

⌗ since the day rhaenyra was born she was drawn to you. perfering to be in your presence more than any other. the only once who could even come close to rivaling the love your sister had for you was your mother. she followed you everywhere like a duckling trailing it's mother.

⌗ your younger sister wanted to do everything with you. from watching you train to going on dragon rides together. and would throw fits when you would try to venture off on your own. which most people chalked down to her naturally childish nature. but if they delved deeper than the surface they would see it for what it really was. possessiveness.

⌗ though you didn't mind. as you did truly love your sister. and she had soon made a friend with the lord hands daughter. the lady alicent hightower. and it seemed her possessiveness had faded. as she spent more and more time with the Hightower girl and less with you. or so you thought.

⌗ as you grew older you were exposed to more and more of the world. no longer were you seen as a child but as a man grown. and with your day's being filled with the teachings of being of how to be a man and one day a king. your uncle prince daemon took it upon himself to teach you the art of bodily pleasure. by taking you to a whore house.

⌗ he paying for the finest whores and wine. claiming his favorite nephew deserved nothing but the best. as the two of you spent hours within the belly of the brothel until you were both spent of seed and drunk. but while the two of them enjoyed a night of endulace. they were blissfully unaware of the storm that was brewing within the castle. and that storms name was rhaenyra.

⌗ see when had rhaenyra caught word that prince daemon had taken her beloved older brother to a brothel she was incensed. how dare her uncle take her dear older brother into such a filthy place. and allow all of those vile whores to touch what would eventually be her's.

⌗ if you had wanted to learn about pleasure why didn't you come to her? as she had ingrained into her head that you would one day marry in the tradition of old valyria. so when you returned disheveled and hung over. she confronted you. screaming at you with tears streaming down her face. to be honest you didn't understand a word the was coming out of her mouth. as you lay splayed on you bed. but then out of no where she kissed you.

⌗ it was rough and passionate. and for some reason you kissed back. as rhaenyra straddled the two of you proceeded to kiss for what felt like hours. nothing more. you wouldn't allow it to get that far. and while it angered your sister that you couldn't go any further than kissing. she settled for kisses. for now. and so began the secret kisses.

⌗ it became like a game to the two of you. to see how many times the two of you could kiss in a day without being caught. though it was mostly rhaenyra who initiated it. you went along with it to keep her from throwing a tantrum. and at one point you were convinced the two of you had locked lips in every corner of the castle.

⌗ and everything was good. until it wasn't. your mother was dead. and here you stood staring at the funeral pyre of your mother and brother. with bloodshot eyes and a heart heavy with grief. you stood with your uncle and sister. as the two provided you comfort. but you refused to accept it. not daemon's comforting words nor rhaenyra's attempt to hold your hand. your mother was dead and nothing would make you feel better.

⌗ looking to your dragon ivax. a beautiful creature with scales as white as snow and eyes as red as blood. the dragon you raised from a hatchling who had now become the largest dragon in the seven kingdoms's. even larger than vaghar. he was your other half. and there he stood waiting for the command. and with a heavy heart you said it "dracarys".

⌗ and you stood there for what felt like forever. watching the burning pile that used to be your mother. the guests had long left and you were all the remains. or so you thought. as you felt someone stand next to you. you thought it was rhaenyra. but when you turned your head. you were surprised to be greeted with the sight of alicent hightower.

⌗ no words were spoken between the two of you. but there was an air of understanding. and as the pair stood in silence. both of their chests couldn't help but bloom with unfamiliar feelings. but little did they know they were being watched by a pair of jealous purple eyes.

@harjasblog , Hi I got a request for rhaenyra and reader. So basically like rhaenyra and the reader used to be dating and for some reasons reader gets married to Alicent and they have their children. Rhaenyra finds out about this and becomes jealous . So she makes a plan to get the reader back, so she attempts to seduces the reader but the reader stays loyal and tells Alicent everything. The. Alicent and Rhaenyra have big problems and then the eye for an eye thing happens and the reader tell rhaenyra that they hate her and rhaenyra goes mad and delusion. So she attempts to take the throne to get the reader back and that what causes the divide of the house.

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yaoyaobae · 2 years ago

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Another twst oc introduction 🏃‍♀️

Jaseem

School : Royal Sword Academy

Favourite food: Rice dishes, Shawarma

Pastime: Playing with his pet tiger Rana, Visiting Kalim, Discovering wildlife

Family: Father, Mother, Kalim(Cousin)

Role: Dormhead

Jaseem is a third year at RSA. To most people he may seem like a lone wolf who despises making friendships, but underneath the surface is a gentle boy who longs for freedom.

Being born from a wealthy family with relations to the Asims, Jaseem’s status is nothing new to even the freshmen. Every year groups of students and parents from high status families would flock around him offering their sister/daughters hand in marriage.

Before he was allowed to bring Rana to school (don’t ask me how he did it-) Jaseem had no choice but to either 1. Run as fast as possible or 2. Teleport himself to a safe spot. Now with Rana, a fearsome tiger donning an expensive turquoise silk ribbon, nobody dares to approach Jaseem anymore.

Personality wise, Jaseem is extremely sharp-tongued and will not tolerate a single second on people he deems as childish. He is capable of cooperating with others but would prefer to work alone. Despite the cold exterior, if one can prove that they love tigers as much as he does.. maybe they’d stand a chance to win his attention. And if you can win his trust, Jaseem is probably the most loyal ally/friend you will ever get.

Having attended many arranged marriage meetings, Jaseem is already accustomed to how he must act around the ladies even if he dislikes interacting with them and entertaining their thoughtless comments about his wealth.

He is actually really bad at conveying his feelings, particularly romantic ones. He can no longer grasp the real meaning of love and has trust issues about whether someone is genuinely interested in him. This only numbed Jaseem more over the years hence brushing these feelings aside.

Jaseem has a general disliking towards women due to his past, but he will respect those who deserve it and mean their words. He won’t voice his opinions unless the situation gets on his nerves.

Jaseem’s mother was hospitalised when he was a young child and has been living there for many years, only visiting for a few days when the doctors deem her suitable. Due to schoolwork and other business matters, Jaseem is unable to visit her as much as his father. But he tries to make time for her as he feels most comfortable and at ease when talking to her about his troubles.

His father already told him that he will never marry another woman as he loves his wife very much, this made Jaseem envious as he hopes to be able to find someone he can stand by faithfully someday. While he feels that his father can be rather strict, both father and son have mutual respect for one another as they only want the best for the family.

Backstory

Back when the life wasn’t as complicated, Jaseem was extremely cheerful and lived every day to the fullest with the vast amount of wealth his family possessed.

However when he had reached the age of 10, his life began to fall apart. As the only son, Jaseem was forced to find a future wife sooner or later. From then on he had to attend countless numbers of arranged marriage meetings, parties while attending his father’s business conferences. Jaseem thought he could shoulder this responsibility , but that pressure would just build up later as he grew older.

Arranged marriage meetings were the worst. Jaseem learnt how shallow and sly people could be, faking their entire personality to coddle up to him for the sole purpose of attaining his family’s wealth. “But that’s just the reality of being the only heir isn’t it”, he thought. Jaseem became increasingly saddened over the fact that no one genuinely TRIED to understand his hobbies or know more about him, only throwing empty praises about his home/accessories/looks.

Since young Jaseem has been fascinated with tigers and his mother was the one who encouraged him to take care of one ( much to his father’s reluctance), thus Rana became his new family member. Many of his suitresses cringed at the sight of Rana whom they saw as a dirty, wild animal. Sometimes Jaseem’s father had no choice but to order the guards to take Rana away in order to force Jaseem to follow his schedule , which made him even more depressed.

Eventually, Jaseem had reached his breaking point during one of the parties and wanted to escape his “cage” even bringing Rana with him. It was then he met a young, white haired boy in the greenhouse. Jaseem couldn’t hold back his tears when the boy comforted him, claiming that he can share the same sentiments. It was after they were called to the main event where Jaseem learnt that the boy was no other than Kalim Al Asim, the oldest son and soon-to-be heir of one of the richest families in the world and his cousin.

From that moment onwards, the two spent their childhood days together basking in the sunlight and running around the mansion. They confided in each other, became each other’s source of strength to keep doing their best( this was especially stronger for Jaseem towards Kalim). They drifted a little after entering higher education, but still keep in contact.

For Jaseem, Kalim is the definition of the sun. Had he not met this smiley boy showing off his unique magic and telling him how he must continue to do his best as not only the heir but as an older brother too, Jaseem would have had a different fate and never face his reality. This explains why he hates Jamil to the core after knowing what he had done when he overblotted.

Current lifestyle for Jaseem was no different from his younger days, he still attends arranged marriage meetings (fewer due to school) and gets numerous phonecalls from his father about countries they have to fly to for business conferences. Jaseem became more adept at his dealings with women and can twist meetings to end faster to save his time to do something useful.. like picking a new silk ribbon for Rana. 🐯

Relationships

Kalim

Cousins by blood and childhood best friends. While many students in NRC thinks Kalim is way too carefree, Jaseem would cut in and tell them off as Kalim is not the oblivious rich boy many thinks he is.

He respects Kalim’s motto to be kind to others, lend a helping hand when needed and staying positive despite the challenges life throws at him. Jaseem wishes to protect this precious spirit, praying that Kalim will have nothing but happiness in his life. Jaseem truly looks up to Kalim for being able to smile through everything he’s been through, believing that he wouldn’t even survive a day in that household knowing he might not live to see the next day.

Jaseem can be extremely over protective of Kalim especially when Jamil is around. “I can’t let that damn snake cause any harm to my cousin..”he would think angrily while glaring at Jamil💀

Jamil

If not for the sake of his family image and Kalim Jaseem would have pummeled Jamil to the ground for the things he said and had done to Kalim. While he tries his best to understand Kalim, Jaseem still cannot fathom why he’d want to keep this traitor who doesn’t even consider him a friend by his side.

Unlike his caring and soft self when he is with Kalim, Jaseem treats Jamil like a mere servant and only replies with direct commands. Sometimes he would mock Jamil for the sake of belittling him, but would not stoop as low as to bring his family into it. The atmosphere around these two can be very intense indeed.

If Jaseem learns to see the overblot incident from Jamil’s point of view, perhaps he will come to understand that the two of them aren’t so different after all.

Najma

One of the few girls he respects, Jaseem is like a second older brother to Najma. Of course Najma catches on quick and can tell that Jaseem isn’t exactly fond of her brother, so she has to constantly remind Jaseem to stop frowning whenever he spots Kalim and Jamil together. He tries his best to be nicer to Jamil, but only because Najma wouldn’t stop nagging at him 🤣

Bonus: Rielle

If you’ve seen my old comics about my RSA ocs i often draw Jaseem and Rielle bickering 🤣 Jaseem thinks Rielle is incompetent and has dad issues while Rielle views Jaseem as a weirdo who is way too protective of his cousin, also why would any sane person bring a TIGER to school??

Fun facts about Jaseem’s design

He carries a waist pouch filled with Rana’s treats, various silk ribbons, water dispenser, comb and toys ( just to name a few). The pouch is magically altered to carry many items.

The tiger plush keychain was a gift from his mother when his parents brought him to an amusement park on his birthday. Jaseem did not have the best experience as he was constantly surrounded by guards and journalists, no other children wanted to play with the renowned heir too.

His seemingly blue day turned upside down when he spotted a cute tiger plush in the souvenir shop, thinking about how it looks exactly like Rana. Jaseem’s mother noticed his adoration for the fluffy toy on the top shelf and asked the staff to order one for Jaseem. Even though this silly fabric toy could not compare to the vast amount of gold and expensive gifts Jaseem received, he saw his mother’s gift as something invaluable that money can’t buy.

Till this day he still brings his tiger plush around with him chained to his waist pouch. Though it looks rather dull after being used for years, you can still tell how well washed and cared for it is by its owner.

I struggled trying to incorporate Jasmine’s hairband into the design but for now its a turquoise strand of hair that starts from the top of his head so it looks like a hairband! Its also Jaseem’s way of exploring with his own style knowing that he is far away from his home and strict upbringing. The first time Jaseem dyed his hair he thought “So this is what its like to be rebellious..interesting” 🤣

His earrings are different, the one on the right is a slightly thick gold piece ( OG Jasmine) while the left is a decorative earring with small, dangling chains and a huge jewel ( Live action Jasmine). I thought it would be cool to incorporate both earrings as I couldn’t settle on one.

END

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed Jaseem too, I’m really happy with the response for Alison haha 😭 Till next time!

*Also I know someone addressed it before but I mean to express Jaseem’s love towards Kalim as familial, nothing more. How you choose to see my OCs is up to your interpretation so long as you don’t twist my words and stories i wrote for them :)

#twisted wonderland #twst #twst fanart #twst oc #yaoyao_twstoc #Jaseem #kalim al asim #jamil viper

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lovifie · 7 months ago

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Villager!Reader and Villager!Ghost They're in love but their families are enemies...

Masterlist - Smut | Fluff | 3489 words

💚A Village Apart💚

The Riley family, and yours, have a history of feuds and quarrels going back years, decades, and if there were writings to back it up, centuries.

It is a small village, where houses are inherited and everyone knows each other. Therefore, all the inhabitants of the small village are aware of the enmity between the families.

And being such a quiet village, the amusement of many arises from taking one side of the families and criticising the other.

It is natural at this point in the story, and each generation that is born the rest of the village waits for the children of each to marry so that they can see how the story continues.

The Riley family earned their name and respect for their construction work in the village. Rare is the house that his family did not build.

Simon began working in his father's shadow almost as soon as he could walk, and as soon as he could carry weight, he became a bishop in his father's small army of builders.

It was not because he was the boss's son that he had it easier, some even say he was the one who had it harder.

It is a hard job, with admirable physical effort, but unfortunately, it left most of the workers without energy to enjoy the little free time they had after a long day's work.

Simon found a reason to keep a little extra energy reserve for when his day was over.

And that reason is you.

Your family is not as well known as his, well, everyone knows each other in the village; but yours is accorded less respect than his.

Unlike his, your family is humble, with enough cattle to feed the family and sell the leftovers when there are any.

It is a humble job, with difficult working hours, considerable physical effort and often little profit or reward.

But there is always food on the table and animals to look after; the people may not appreciate your family's work as much as they should, but the innocent animal eyes you look into every day make it worth it.

Another reason driving you on was Simon.

It was difficult at first, as you both knew it was a forbidden relationship. Your families had told you again and again to stay away from each other's families.

"They are women, Simon. We haven't worked as hard as we have to stoop to that level."

"They think they're better than everyone else for moving stones, sweetheart. You don't deserve that treatment."

"If they see you hanging out with her, the rest of the people in the village will think they have the right to talk to us like we're equals too."

"They're machines, honey. They're not capable of producing emotions those Riley's, you deserve better than someone obsessed with money like that."

But still, despite everything; it was impossible to avoid the sidelong glances as you passed each other walking through town.

When you went to mass, when you went to the village fairs, when friends in common met.

Normally, for a girl like you to meet boys would be frowned upon; but with the village being so small, they were the boys you played with years ago and it was an idiotic feeling to deny such good friendships.

Besides, they were the perfect excuse for you to see him when he joined the meetings; which, curiously enIt had nothing to do with the fact that he would ask before attending if you were going to be there.

Many times in the evening Simon would be exhausted from working all day, but if he was told that you were going to be there, there was no physical exhaustion that would prevent him from seeing you.

Many times he would be on the verge of falling asleep when they were gathered together, waiting for the chance to be able to walk you home.

"A young lady like you shouldn't have to go home alone."

"It's a couple of steps, Simon."

"Not if we follow my route."

"Your route?"

"Yes... Do you want me to show it to you?"

It turned out, knowing the structure of all the houses in the village, Simon knew perfectly well what route to follow that kept you hidden from the eyes of all the villagers.

The first night, it was pretty much just awkward silence. Both of you still internally debating whether it was worth the possible quarrel with your families just to meet the other person.

But the second night you got back together, the decision was made and the conversation flowed as if you were lifelong friends.

Innocent questions about each other's lives evolved into questions about each other's future plans,

You both decided to ignore the voice in your mind that told you not to continue, if anyone in the village, and God willing, anyone in your families, found out; a war would break out.

Your family was much more permissive than his, which meant that if you dared to associate with Simon, they would send you to a convent or marry you off to someone else.

You knew that those were the good options, you preferred not to think about what might happen to him.

It was easier to forget the possible consequences, especially when your hands brushed as you walked. When you felt the heat emanating from Simon's body, warming the side of your body that walked beside him. He walked slower, both so you could keep up effortlessly and to slow down the walk so he could spend more time with you.

In spite of everything, and knowing full well everything you stood to lose if it was discovered. It was during the harvest festival that Simon kissed you for the first time. Hidden in the barn of your family's farm, lying on the hay.

You were both lying down, with you on your back and your head resting on Simon's arm and him lying next to you on his side.

His other hand, the one not under you, rested delicately on your waist, pulling you close to him as if afraid you were going to run away.

His lips were full and warm on yours; a kiss almost innocent and overflowing with inexperience on both sides. Your hand slowly moved up to his jawline, stroking the nascent hair of his beard.

You were both pushing against each other, needing each other's touch and proximity. A mess of tongues to the point that you no longer knew whose was which, as your hands travelled up and down each other's body.

It is because of that proximity that you found it impossible to ignore as Simon's shaft grew in size and hardened against your thigh, the discreet hip movements seeking more friction and rubbing.

"Simon" You called out to him, panic invading your senses.

"Easy... I don't mean to do anything but kiss your lips, sweetheart. But I can't help it when I finally have you in my arms after so long dreaming about it."

And he kept true to his word, his hands never went beyond your hips nor were his lips more daring than kisses at the corner of your lips.

If you noticed moisture on your thigh on the side where he was, you said nothing. Nor did you mention the growing wetness between your legs.

But once you tasted the honey, you couldn't help but visit the hive.

Until then, it had been easy to avoid temptation; you didn't know the sweet sensation, the warmth of each other, the security of being together, the desire, the passion, the possibilities....

But you had to continue to be careful, you didn't know when someone could surprise you.

But when the innocent kisses in the barn turned into something more than kisses on the lips, you could easily expect the punishment you were facing.

"Simon, we can't" You moaned as you noticed Simon's hand move up from your ankle up towards your thigh underneath your dress.

"Why, why delay the inevitable when I know you're the one for me?" he murmured with his lips pressed against the skin of your neck, kissing you wetly and raising every hair on your body.

"But we can't..." You tried to insist, but no longer with any strength against his hand. "I must come pure to the marriage, Simon. Our parents would never forgive."

"Then let us marry, my love. Here and now. The moon and the stars as witnesses that I am yours far more than you will ever be mine, that I was born decades ago but not until I joined you did my heart begin to beat. Witnesses of my love, that there will not be a day that you wake up that is not in my arms, that there will not be a day that you wake up that you do not feel loved. That my work in this life will be to love you each and every day of it. That I don't care if I go thirsty and hungry every day if at nightfall it is your arms that pick me up, that there is no wound or blow that hurts me like when you reject me, when you take me away from you. Don't you realise, love? Don't you realise that I need you more than air? I promise you, my love. That if you accept me you will never ever regret it."

One kiss from your lips was all the answer I needed, the seal of the contract of your unorthodox union.

He kissed you back with the same fervour, a moan escaping his throat as he finally savoured you without thoughts in his mind that would take him away from you and the now.

He moved his hand under your dress, lifting your petticoats in the same way so he could reach your wet folds.

You whimper against his mouth, the touch of the man igniting something inside of you that was waiting asleep in the depth of your body. It is easy for his finger to slip inside between the folds, arching your back at the feeling of the intrusion.

You feel his lips on your jaw, travelling calmly to your ear where he stays professing his love for you, making you mewl when it mixes with the feeling between your legs.

“Simon!” You moan when he adds a second finger, the palm of his hand rubbing against your clit sending a shockwave up your column

You are still surrounded by the feeling of prohibition, the tension of possible discovery with its corresponding punishment. But the sensation of Simon's fingers so deep inside you leaves your mind blurred and you can only moan in moans and whispers of his name, urging him to continue, to give you more, to love you as intensely as you love him.

Your self of mere weeks ago would drag you away from the farmer, scolding you for this lack of decorum, this promiscuity.

But then you look into Simon's eyes, and you doubt which shines brighter; the love that overflows from his eyes or the moon that shines from the window.

"You are the most beautiful woman my eyes have ever had the grace to glimpse, my darling." He says suddenly, forcing you to tug at his shirt to crash your lips to his so he doesn't see your blush.

The man who is normally so stoic, perfectly cordial but not saying a word beyond the obligatory. Suddenly turned into a poet in your presence.

If it weren't for his broad fingers caressing that spot inside you that you didn't know existed and that has you swaying your hips to receive his every wrist movement, you would think beyond the now. Of how you will continue this without anyone knowing, how you will continue together when you know perfectly well that none of your families will allow it.

But not now, now all you can think about is how good Simon makes you feel and how you need him to give you more.

You find it impossible to ignore as Simon continues to move his hips against your side, the hardness of his crotch obvious and pressed against your thigh.

You lower your hand, feeling it's only fair to return the favour; but before you even reach the waistband of his pants, Simon takes your hand, raising it to his lips and kissing your knuckles.

"Don't worry about it, love. I just want to make you feel good, don't worry about me." His lips travel up to your neck once more, leaving wet kisses and licking the spot that makes you cry harder.

There's a knot in the centre of your stomach, which becomes tighter and tighter as Simon continues to touch you. Your hand gripping his shirt squeezes tighter and tighter as the knot tightens.

Never before have you felt this sensation that has you with your face tight, eyes closed, eyebrows furrowed and your lip between your teeth to prevent a scream from escaping.

This is futile when you feel the knot suddenly loosen, feeling as if your body is drained of energy. Biting your lip proves useless in preventing the moan that escapes your lips before Simon presses his hand over your mouth to prevent the entire village from hearing you.

His hand continues to move, slowing and slowly slipping out of you; the wet sound it emits as it leaves once again causing your cheeks to flush.

"Simon... Let's do it... You said it, why delay the inevitable." You say, repeating his words.

He again touches his lips to yours, letting your bodies speak when you are at a loss for words.

You notice him moving, sitting up to kneel between your legs. He lifts your dress, leaving you completely exposed to him with your legs wrapped around his wide hips.

Your glistering folds shine on the moonlight calling him in, but the pain on his groin makes him selfish enough to limit himself to free his hard shaft from his pants, slightly slapping your sweet cunt with it.

It makes your legs shake and a whimper to leave your lips, desperation flooding from you as your hand goes down between your legs. Simon can't help but stare as your inexpert hand finds his tip making his shudder when you press it against your wetness.

His hips move involuntarily pushing himself between your hand and your folds, making his moan your name. His hands lands on your hips, physically stopping himself from moving more against you knowing perfectly fine he wouldn't last long.

There are already beads of his milky seed threatening to spill from his tip, but it is your hand the one that slowly pushes him lower until it catches on your entrance making the both of you shudder.

He looks at you, catching you looking back at him; last chance to pull back. But your hand moves to his hip, silently urging him forward and he gladly complies.

He slowly pushes in, his length getting engulfed inch by inch into your warm cunt making him whine in unison with you. The stretch makes you hiss just for a second before the juices make it easy for him to move.

He moves back and forth torturously slow, entering inch by inch, moaning when he finally bottoms out. The two of you need a moment to adjust; you to the feeling of getting filled to the brim and him to the feeling on your tight muscles choking him in.

Simon is no stranger to the feeling of his callous hand around his length, already used to the constricting feeling; but never in a thousand years would it compare fairly to the feeling of you around him.

You clench around him, desperate for his movement; but it sends him to bend forwards, his hands resting beside your head. But then he comes face to face with the image of you sprawled under him.

Your legs spread to adjust to his wide hips between them, your folds just as spread to let his girth into your core, your soft hands resting on his ribs to feel him close, your hair messy resting on the hay, eyes half closed blinded by the lust, lips glistering with the mix of saliva from both and cheeks blushed as if by the cold of the morning.

He realises then and there that you are the only thing he needs to survive. That he will fight and kill God himself if he dares to try and pull you away from him, let alone a mere mortal. That he will love you for as long as you love him, and that when you stop doing it he will make you fall in love with him again. That he will travel to the deepest level of hell and back if Death feared to steal you from him.

His hips begin to move, making you arch your back when he finally does and it urges him to compose himself only to manage to feel you come undone around his length.

He has a clumsy rhythm to it, voluntary and involuntary thrust mixing together in a weird dance but still consistent enough to make you feel the knot on your stomach tighten again.

He feels it too, when you start to clench around his length. Softly crying his name as your hands move down to his thighs, urging him to move closer, deeper.

He sees how you close your eyes, head falling back with your mouth open in a silent cry with your wet cunt choking harder and harder his shaft, until you finally breathe out, a moan loud enough to awaken the dead from the tomb and wetness making his way around his length when you finally fall over the edge.

Simon barely has enough control to pull out, the first dribble of his milky sticky spent falling on your pubes before he spurt thick and heavy over your stomach; the change from you welcoming cunt to his dry hand almost keeping him from coming.

He looks down, his seed painting your body, marking you his, soft abdomen moving up and down with your difficulted breathing from the orgasm pulled from you.

“Do you really love me, Simon?” You suddenly ask, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. The fear of the consequences finally setting in on your minds now that lust is no longer driving it.

“I do, love. I love you more than anything on this land.” He says, still breathless as he bends down to kiss you again.

Tomorrow, when you meet across the church; the two of you will act as if you didn't know each other. You will ignore the dull pain between your legs and he will ignore the pull of his pants when he remembers how pretty you looked under him.

Every other night the two of you will meet, back in the barn. Professing love and exploring each other's bodies.

And in a couple of months, when you come crying to him, holding onto his shirt; about how your father has told you that he is marrying you to another man. He will hug you, consoling you, and tell you to meet again two days later.

When he will arrive, in his father's cart being pulled by his two better horses; and the two of you will disappear from the village at the crack of dawn, never to be seen again.

In the village there were no more arguments between the families, both ashamed that they lost their kid to their stubbornness. That if instead of fighting they would have supported the two of you, they would have met their grandkids years later and the eternal fight between the families would have ended in a love story.

Instead, Simon and you settled down far away from the village. Where nobody knew where any of you were, and where everyone was told to address you as Mrs. Riley. Where you build your home and your family, and you both lived happily ever after

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raayllum · 4 months ago

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She Must Pay the Price, or A Drop of Mercy :: A Rayla and Leola Meta

Quick:

You're a young elven girl, and you show mercy and compassion to a human that you definitely weren't supposed to. When it's found out, you're punished, with elves even calling for your execution (6x09, book 1 novelization). Your father does what he can, but there's only so much. You're put on trial. You're found guilty regardless of intent, and only by association. You die for this; you die for them. You're a star. A guiding light. There's even a Great Fall off a precipice (though only one of you hits the ground).

Your name is Leola, or Rayla.

You're the beginning and the end, respectively.

So let's talk about it.

Tests of Love

For years, I had wondered where Aaravos' assessment of "Those who fail tests of love are simple animals. They deserve to be motivated by fear" (2x09) came from, cause you don't drop in a line like that if it's not going somewhere. It's quite a statement and worldview, after all. Now, with Leola's trial, it seems we know.

We can see, then, perhaps that Leola's gift giving was the first test of love — are you willing to break the Natural Law, the Natural Order of things? — to help another? To show another a source of power in order to share, to be compassionate, and in Rayla's case, to be merciful (though we'll get more to that in a minute).

We also know that the love Leola had was powerful and all encompassing:

She didn't care to follow the order set in the stars. Though she was born an immortal being from the Heavens, she loved this world... and all its flaws. Her heart was warm and open.

And she befriended mortals. Animals, elves... and humans.

ETHARI: Who I love, where I love, what I love, are all specific. But to Runaan and those like your parents... love is rooted in all families, all creatures. Souls like that feel called to protect everyone as fiercely as those they hold close. (Bloodmoon Huntress)

Okay, so Leola and Rayla both have big compassionate hearts and befriend creatures from all over the place. So what? So do Callum, Ezran, Soren, and most of our other main good guy characters. Even Claudia to a degree (though she could work on not using magical creatures for spell parts).

Well, specifically, it's because of how they intersect currently more with anyone else on the concept of

Mercy

KOSMO: Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled. (6x05)

Rayla sparing Marcos, as noted in multiple interviews by the creators and by myself in previous metas, is ultimately the inciting incident / lynchpin of the entire series. Without it, there would've been no soulfang proposal or Ez running away to find the egg or any of the number of other elements that had to come together to make achieving peace possible.

While we still have details to discover regarding Aaravos' Fall and development of dark magic, we know that a lack of mercy was ultimately what sent him on his path of vengeance. Leola was not shown mercy, and while it seems there were already "flaws" for an imperfect world, things were (probably) better than they currently are in Xadia in a variety of ways. Then, to kick off the entire Saga, we have Rayla sparing Marcos in a soundtrack literally titled "Mercy" and have Kosmo, seasons and seasons later, spell out directly what a big deal this was for well, the ocean of time.

None of this is to say Rayla can't act out of revenge — she did ("when I first came here, I was on a mission for revenge") and she has ("but I became so obsessed with revenge"), much like Aaravos ("he isn't doing anything out of love, he's doing it for revenge") — but that her general compassion and love for others has always been stronger than her grief or rage, and that even when she had every social and personal reason to, she was and is fundamentally unable to hurt someone innocent.

Even when she's shamed or punished for it by herself or by others. RAYLA: The human looked up at me, and I saw the fear in his eyes. RUNAAN: Of course he was afraid, but you a job to do! (1x01)

EZRAN: Yeah, but then you saw he was scared, and you knew he was a person, just like you. RAYLA: That shouldn't have mattered. I had a job to do. (1x08)

The Cosmic Council — and to a degree, the Silvergrove — say that the reasonings or motivations, the intentions, behind Leola and Rayla's actions do not and should not matter when it comes out to doling 'Justice'. So Leola faces her justice, being literally killed in the one manner that can kill a Startouch elf, and so does Rayla, being metaphorically Ghosted / 'murdered' by her community, regardless.

Neither are enough to ultimately quell their light or their love/power, however.

A Star

RAYLA: That beautiful shining star you just pointed out? We call it Leola's Last Wish. (5x02)

So both Leola and Rayla are stars in season 6, literally and metaphorically respectively. Leola's is more self-explanatory, whereas Rayla's is mostly about the role she has in Callum's life as a guiding light and star. I don't think it's a coincidence, though, that just as Rayla placed Callum on his path of being a primal mage, though, that Leola did the same for humanity. I also don't think it's a coincidence that Callum's love for Rayla restores Callum's own light and agency amid Leola giving humanity the same through light and fire.

It happened long ago, when humans had only just learned to hold fire in their hands without burning. They nurtured their precious primal flames secretly—in the dark of night, beneath shadows and shrouds—as cultivating its glow drew the eyes and ire of monsters. Eventually, for the audacity of their fire, they were hunted, and—though they looked to the stars for salvation—the stars, too, looked down upon them with disdain. Humanity had been given something it was never meant to have. (TDP shorts, Ripples)

In this way, we see the manifestation of a repeating parallel of Rayla representing Leola, a gift giver of life, magic, light, unjustly punished/killed, and Callum representing humanity, looking to the kindest brightest star for guidance, magic, restoration, and salvation if he's just given the chance to grasp it. After all, presumably, Leola's last wish would have something to do with primal magic and humanity, and who represents that better than Callum, with two arcana under his belt and possibly more on the way? With that in mind, I want to return to another quote from earlier but with a different focus on

Ripples

Daughter of the Moon, yours is a wondrous heart. In a moment of mercy, you sent ripples out into the ocean of time. Ripples that have not yet stilled.

The wisest of the humans looked upon the water. His own reflection smiled back at him, and he dared to imagine what such power would feel like in his own hands, should he be allowed to hold it. Imagine, he thought, if I were more than what I am. With a trembling hand he touched the surface of the water. Ripples spread from his fingertips. [...] I hope the stars were watching. I hope they saw it: the moment their perfect reflections turned warped and ruined, churned to chaos by the touch of a single human hand. In this, the humans taught me another lesson. And so I touch the surface of the water. I watch the ripples spread.

Water in TDP is a strange beast, symbolically speaking. There are some more straight forward motifs (reflections, "don't try to control where the river [of life] goes, there's one thing you can know and control: yourself"). For Aaravos, it's connected to deep loss but also his own sense of patience in playing and winning his game, as illustrated above. For Rayla, it's linked to shame, self-reflection, bravery, and loss. Aaravos weeps and creates a sea upon losing Leola; Rayla says goodbye to her family by the lotus pond times three.

We don't know what water represents for Leola. Not distinctly, anyway. The best we can figure though, is that by following the through line of the Rayla and Leola parallels, that the ripples Leola wanted to send out or did send out — not the distortions caused by her father and his grief — are ones that Rayla received, and then continued.

Rayla has always been a foil to Aaravos, and this hasn't changed. She is the one who set Callum on the path initially of being a mage, which put him in Aaravos' machinations as prey; she retrieved his Key; and she's the reason Callum's done dark magic, twice. At the same time, much like the moon, Rayla carries Leola's light as much as she shoulders Aaravos' dark. She literally represents light in Callum's life, helps lead him through the darkness, and him being a primal mage and it's possible growth to other humans is the best possible thing that could've ever happened to Xadia.

Sol Regem says that "no one can save" Xadia or fix what is deeply broken. The Cosmic Council said that Leola had broken the Cosmic order and had to pay the price. Rayla has repeatedly been willing to pay the price for both hers and other's actions in hopes of making things right, of sparing others' pain. Sometimes to her detriment, but—if Rayla as Callum's one Truth could fix the darkness within him, if she's the lynchpin for breaking the Cycle, for bringing back Runaan and fixing her family's souls, in opposing and presenting mercy amid the Council's lack of mercy, in the face of Xadia's violence—

Then Rayla's act of mercy in 1x01, and potentially beyond in S7 with Callum, will be what fixes Xadia.

Leola's gift of magic is what 'broke' Xadia, and her execution is what literally did so, leading to the division of the continent. She wrongly paid the price in the absence of mercy and love. Rayla is therefore her thematic successor — welcomed this time as Light and Truth — as the carrier of Mercy and Love, and she will 'fix' Xadia through her ripples and dynamics. She will mend them back together. There will, at last, be no price to pay.

Misc. Thoughts / Predictions

One thing I was always curious about going forward into future seasons was the prospect of a 'trial' or reunification of the Silvergrove. It felt like a no-brainer the Silvergrove would have to change in order to reflect Runaan's character arc, much the way we see Katolis and the Sunfire elves change to better accommodate the new, more compassionate world order. Pre-S4 a trial felt a little strange as an idea, though post-S4 the parallels it could provide to the Lucia tribunal made more sense about why include either (or both).

However, Leola's trial seemed to hammer home the almost necessity (as this is still a prediction, after all, that may not happen) of Rayla and/or Runaan saying their peace to the Silvergrove leaders. This would be a great opportunity to provide a contrast to the Cosmic Council, reaffirming that Xadia is ultimately better than them because the Moonshadow elves and everyone else can change, and the Cosmic Council seemingly cannot or will not. But I guess we'll have to wait for S7 or beyond (#GiveUsTheSaga) to find out if this'll come to fruition or not.

I also wanted to touch on what we see with Leola ("I'm so scared!") and the repeated emphasis on "recognizing fear as a moment of empathy and personhood" and the horror that can come if you don't have that moment of recognition. This is something I've touched on before most notably as a striking difference between S1 Rayla and S5 Claudia, but I thought it was worth mentioning as S6 added to it specifically with Viren towards Soren and Lissa. This is another point in the "Rayla is an inversion of the Council's lack of mercy" column, as Leola's — a child's fear, and Aaravos willing to pay the price and take her place — earns her no mercy. Rayla, meanwhile, sees someone innocent that she has 'every right' to execute is afraid of her, and that strays her hand; it steadies her sword, and she spares him. Because if someone is afraid of you, it's worth asking yourself why, and what you might want to do instead.

Last but not least I wanted to talk about Leola's parallels to Callum and Ezran as well, since they are very much there (though yet not perhaps to the same extent).

Ezran has Leola's friendliness to animals and soft heart. He too is a child whose death is called for as a means of Justice, and he is granted mercy through Rayla and the discovery of the egg, able to live and grow and help usher in peace. He is, I think, what Leola might've been allowed to be if she'd lived in different times. Callum, meanwhile, carries the gift giving motif through his cube, staff, and tokens he both gives to (moon-phoenix bracelet) and receives (the moon opal necklace) from Rayla, and previous 'human-Leola' magic dynamic. Callum being able to break free fully from Aaravos' and dark magic's control in S7 and turn his eye instead to primal magic will be what helps bring true justice to Leola and hope for humanity / Xadia in righting the Cosmic Council's fundamental wrongdoing. Hopefully, anyway.

Conclusion

I hope you enjoyed this deep dive into some parallels and potential narrative goings-on between Leola and Rayla as characters. TDP loves its historical and ironic layers in TDP (Ez and the Orphan Queen, Viren's arc from S1 to S6) and I think this layered thematic dynamic between the two merciful young girls was a good, brilliant choice by the creative team. I'm excited to see where this thematic thread goes in the future and how it may continue to be woven into the story. As always, thank you for reading, and I'll see you in the next one.

#tdp rayla #tdp leola #tdp meta #tdp spoilers #the dragon prince #she must pay the price #s6 spoilers #multi #arc 1 #arc 2 #s6 #analysis series #analysis #parallels #rayla #leola

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