#and then one of them died but not because of the dragon? she just has to witness this

[jaehaeryshater]

Daeron the Drunken and his daughter Vaella at the tavern midday *again* (she’s paying for some milk and honey)

art by: @wodania, commissioned by me

I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but I have two other Vaella Daeron commissions that I need to post on here and two more ongoing, the irrelevant character bug has bitten me. I think it’s because Vaella is meant to be Queen under historical English law, which is one loose inspiration for asoiaf, but the reason she was dismissed and not taken seriously whatsoever is because she’s “simple minded”, which I’ve always taken as meaning developmentally disabled. As someone that is autisitc, many of the non-characters that I gravitate to while reading are characters coded as having some form of disability: Vaella, Daella, Jaehaera, Lollys Stokeworth, Jinglebell Frey, etc, even if it is more on concept instead of actual character. And while there are women that are usurped that we know more about (Aerea, Rhaenys, Rhaenyra), I can’t help but feel a special place in my heart for Vaella that most other characters don’t touch. I so hope that we get more than the one line we received on her in the ASOIAF series if Blood & Fire ever comes out. I would at least love to see the same kind of elaboration we got for Daella for Vaella.

Daeron obviously has more written on him than Vaella does, thanks to the Knight of the Seven Kingdoms short stories. His main characterization beyond any other trait is that of a drunkard. He can’t keep out of taverns and beyond that, he can’t keep out of brothels. Those two tend to go hand in hand in the asoiaf universe. But in my personal opinion, he’s more interesting than your standard drunkard because he’s neither indulging for fun nor because of a tangible tragedy in his life. He’s doing it to escape his dreams. He has dragon dreams that haunt him and sends him into a very deep depression. We know that he keeps drinking and eventually that he succumbs to a sexually transmitted disease some time before his father King Maekar dies. He never frees himself from either of these vices. And yet, Kiera of Tyrosh, the widow of Prince Valarr, practically falls into his lap and he eventually becomes heir to the Iron Throne. I am interested in Daeron independently and his struggles while still at least attempting to be a good person (as we see between Egg and Daeron), what I find immensely interesting is how the position he finds himself in potentially impacted him as a parent. I care more about father and daughter dynamics far more interesting than any other dynamics (besides my one exception of Stannis and Renly); I could talk for days and on very little evidence about Stannis and Shireen, Mya and Robert, Saera and Jaehaerys, Arianne and Doran, Lysa and Hoster, etc etc. So of course I’m interested in how Daeron may have treated Vaella. There’s no evidence whatsoever so I just insert my own headcanons. To me, I feel like Daeron would be scared to be close to Vaella because he feels like such a failure in everything and his life depends on debauchery. And no matter how much he loves her, his dreams will persists and the only escapes he can fathom are in debauchery. That’s also why I think he only had one child, and yes I think he was perfectly happy with Vaella being his heir. I feel like he would have potentially be worried that he would pass on the dragon dreams to Vaella and any indication that she was having them (I think it would be interesting if she did), would only push him further away because it would freak him out. I would like to think he loved her a lot and wanted to support her in her interests. Perhaps he would have bought her love a bit, seeing as it would be easy to feel guilty over choosing time at a tavern/brothel over time with your child. That’s why I always commission her in very pretty and fancy dresses while he’s dressed more haphazardly. The main interest I’ve headcanoned for her is that she likes ponies!!! So he keeps buying them for her and that’s why he’s broke. One of my commissions soon will have her on a pony so watch out for that.

Seeing the way that Daeron treats Egg, I do feel like Daeron does not know what a proper activity for children is, so my idea was not that Vaella followed him to the bar, but that he took her there on purpose so he could multitask. She’s paying their tab for them. She’s getting a milk and honey and Daeron is already pretty inebriated as always. But he does love her and wants to be around her (sort of. If he could get out of his own way), so he’s looking at her fondly. He literally wants to be a good dad guys please be kind!!!!

Fashion inspired by the Tudor era as always. Her hair has the pink strip because her mother is Tyroshi.

Thank you so much to Wodania for drawing this for me, you were the perfect person to bring this scene to life ^_^

[satancopilotsmytardis]

Dark Embrace

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Summary: Commissioned by Anonymous. When a dragon army kills his father and takes over the kingdom, Dabi and all of his siblings are brought to the throne of the new king. Once there, the monstrous ruler offers Dabi a choice: Become his mate or he will slaughter the former royal line the way he was always taught.

Contents: Fantasy AU, Royalty AU, Dragon!Tomura, Prince!Dabi, Dub-Con, Hypnosis, Soft Mindbreak, Magic, Fuck or Die undertones, Loss of Virginity, Premature Ejaculation, Descriptions of Violence, Anal Fingering, Oral Sex (mentioned), Humiliation, Praise Kink, Corruption Kink, Riding, Mirror Sex, Double Penetration, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Multiple Orgasms, Dacryphilia, Non-Human Genitalia

Word Count: 15,664

Dabi has spent most of his life locked away in his chambers. Ever since he was twelve years old, he was supposed to fully enter his training as a knight, taking the challenge of fighting a wyvern so that he could prove his skills with a sword and with the magic that all of the royal line has been blessed with. But he had been so convinced of the way his father told him his blessings would outpace any other in the kingdom, so sure of himself, that he had gone to find his foe. Alone. He had gone, and he had found a dragon instead of a wyvern and his magic failed him. He burned in the dragon's breath and no one found him for the days that pain and fever wracked his body. He had nearly died dragging himself back to the kingdom and he had been in a coma recovering for three years. It took another eight months after that for him to wake and discover that his father never once came to look for him. That he was no longer the heir. That Fuyumi and Natsuo's magic had been tested in more controlled environments, and while they had an affinity for ice magic, it was so weak that they might as well be commoners in the eyes of their father. The three of them were nothing, but Shoto was a jewel. He seemed to have taken every drop of magic that he and his siblings had been robbed of, and he took it to be better. Better than them, better than their father. He would be the king that this kingdom deserved. That's something that Dabi had been telling himself since he took on that moniker. Enji wanted Toya to disappear, and in exchange for letting him linger in the castle and pursue his own studies, Dabi had been born and locked away in his chambers. Natsuo pursued medicine, Fuyumi learning every subject she was allowed to as she awaited their father to use her like a bargaining chip as the Himuras had done to their mother because there just was no other option open to her. All three of them were supposed to hold out for as long as they could, for as long as it took for Shoto to become king himself. His sixteenth birthday is only two weeks away, that thought rings around in Dabi's head as he scrambles through the castle halls. His heart pounds loudly in his chest, shaking his ribs almost as violently as the stones are shaking as explosions of magic ricochet against the building. Two weeks, two years. Then he would be old enough to take the throne. He would have led a coup if he had to so that none of them would be subject to their father's tyranny a moment longer. 

He wishes that was the battle that was raging through the halls now as he runs with the now unfamiliar weight of a sword in his hand to Fuyumi's room. Her chambers are the closest to his and he needs to protect her from what is happening in the palace, too many dead knights littering the halls as he moves to think that she might be able to fend for herself or be protected the way that she should be. He knows he's right when he hears her scream as a door shatters into a thousand wooden shards as a dragon-woman with bright red hair kicks it in with one strike as he turns the corner. 

"Get away from her!" He couldn't fight a dragon when he still had magic, he knows he has no hope of doing anything but distracting this one so Fuyumi can flee now as he rushes into this foreign woman's space.

"Toya, don't!" He hears Fuyumi's voice from deeper in her chamber, but he can't see her as the sword in his hand begins to glow blue. Then it is violently yanked forward, and he hears his sister cry out too. It takes him a split second for him to realize that they are both trying desperately to dig their heels into the ground as they're tugged, his sword aimed to run her through and continuing to move no matter how much he tries to pull it off course. 

"'Toya'?" The dragon woman says, catching him by the collar and ripping the sword from his hands before he was flung passed her to kill his sister. Dabi chokes as his collar is crushed into his throat. "Really? The disowned prince and the prized princess, oh, that is lucky for me." She throws him into Fuyumi with such force that they both go tumbling to the floor painfully. He knows it hurts, knows that it hurts her too, but the burn of fear pulsing through his veins makes that ache feel distant as he tries to get Fuyumi behind him so that if this monster tries to kill him, she might be able to scramble around and get out of the room before she can pull her war hammer out of his caved-in chest. She levels the weapon at them. "On your feet. The king wants all of the royal line in the throne room." 

"Our father--" 

The woman grins, her teeth-shark-like and vicious, "Oh, princess, I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about the real king. The one who now controls these lands. Now on your feet, or I'll drag you to him by your pretty hair." 

Dabi tries to keep Fuyumi's body shielded from this monster as they both shakily get to their feet. The dragon woman gestures for them to hurry up and they are led through the halls towards the throne room, more of these monstrous foreign soldiers boxing them in and keeping them from running. 

They have all been told all of their lives the horrors that would come for them should war or rebellion ever tear through the walls of their home, so Dabi isn't surprised at all that there are soft tinkling sounds against the stones as they go, his sister so frightened that her tears are freezing as they fall from her cheeks. 

When they arrive in the throne room, Natsuo and Shoto are already kneeling in front of the throne, their father's throne, now drenched in blood with a new monster sitting atop it. He thinks, maybe, that it's his father's body hung on the wall behind it, crucified into place, the head missing because that has been mounted on a spear at the base of the dais. Dabi's stomach rolls more when he sees his other siblings with swords braced against the backs of their necks than he does at seeing their father killed. At least if these new monsters are planning on killing them right away, it might mean that they won't have to endure the tortures that they have been told act as entertainment for the demon king's court. He can only hope that Fuyumi is given the same treatment rather than forced to suffer alone. 

"Got the princess and the spare." The woman who captured them tells the room at large. There are other obvious dragonfolk around. One with green scales, a man with wild brown hair and golden slitted eyes, a young girl with large fangs and hair the color of wheat, and one with a scar splitting his forehead and silver scales spilling out from that point. But the one who is the most obvious, the most powerful, is of course the one sitting on the throne. A man with large leathery wings with scales the same color as the freshly spilled blood around them. His long hair reaches his waist and is stark white that falls in messy, jagged waves that says he has never seen the well-practiced scissors of a proper court stylist. His chest is littered with more of his deep red scales, contrasting his pale skin that is puckered and pocked with scars, all of him that is not bare wrapped in fine dark leather. The harness around his chest accentuates  every hard plain and soft press of muscle as he is relaxed and almost, insultingly, bore-looking on the throne, his legs spread wide and his long spiked tail flicking against the stones like an unsatisfied cat. Black talons curve off of each of his nail beds and the red eyes that look down at them as he and Fuyumi are forced to the floor beside their brothers leaves a rage Dabi didn't know he was capable of simmering in his chest. 

Those slitted red eyes look over the four of them slowly before he deigns to get up, moving down the dais so that he's standing in front of Shoto. "The crown prince," he says before moving down the line, "the healer, the princess, and the... disgraced." The dragon's tail reaches for him, trying to move beneath his chin to make him meet his eyes, and Dabi is too full of that reckless hate to stop himself from opening his mouth and sinking his teeth as hard as he can into the delicate tip. He feels it twitch with surprise and, he hopes, pain as his teeth are met with scales so tough that he has no hope of actually puncturing them with his teeth. But he's not expecting that to make the dragon... laugh. But he does. He leans down and pushes his thumb and forefinger hard into either side of his jaw, the pressure barely stopping the staples from separating at his cheeks, as he forces his jaw open enough that he can slip his tail out. "Well, now I know how you could have survived Destro's attack at such a young age. You truly are a very spirited failure of magic, aren't you?" His voice is not as low as Dabi would have thought it might have been. No, his might actually be lower, but there is a growl to it that makes his bones shudder beneath his skin. 

"Leave my siblings alone." Shoto snarls, trying to move only to have the dragon with the split forehead bring a blow across his shoulders with the flat of his sword, so hard that the impact leaves his brother winded and his knees crack against the stone as he is forced roughly back to it. 

"Keep your mouth shut, crown prince, or I will tear your tongue from it." The dragon crouching before him doesn't even glance his brother's way as he threatens him, his head cocking to the side as he continues to take him in. "Tell me, spare, what did he choose to call you once you were cast aside for your youngest sibling?" 

Dabi can't keep his spine straight with a sword biting cold against the back of his neck, but he manages to glare at the monster in front of him like he has no fear of the darkness it could bring to him in a second. "He chose to never speak to me again. I chose Dabi." 

"Dabi. Cremation." He muses absently. "Did you die all of those years ago, Dabi?" 

He doesn't answer. He felt dead. He's felt dead for a long time. He is not about to let the will that kept him here anyway wane in the face of this monster. 

"What did you do with all of that time as a ghost, Dabi?" When he doesn't answer this time, the dragon doesn't look away from him, doesn't change the inflection of his tone, he simply orders, "break the healer's arm." 

"No!" Fear sparks bright through Dabi's whole body and the dragon raises his hand to stay the violence of his knights stationed at each of their backs. "I-- I read. I studied whatever I could and lived like a monk in my chambers." He forces himself to speak, eyes flicking over to Natsuo who looks even more terrified than he had when they first were brought into this room. 

"That's all? How quaint. Did you hold any love for your father?" 

Dabi doesn't hesitate to answer now, not wanting to see what cruelties this monster will do to his siblings if he does. "No." 

"Oh, really? He let you live. That didn't give you even the slightest flicker of fondness?" 

"No." 

"And what about the crown prince? He was born to replace you. Surely you hold nothing but contempt for him?" 

"No!" The word is vehement and filled with venom. "Shoto is the king that this kingdom deserves and I would have been proud to see him on the throne where he belongs." It breaks something in his chest to say that and he feels pressure behind his seams start to build. But he will not cry. If they are going to be killed, he is going to die with what remains of his dignity intact. 

"'Would'? You're not dead yet, spare." The monster's tail moves languidly along the stone as he rests his elbow on his knee and his chin on his knuckles. "But you see, my father has always taught me that, whenever one conquers a kingdom, the first order of business should be to kill all of the former royals. Every last one. Interrogate the ones who are so scared of pain that they'll give anything to be spared of it, to make sure that there are no secrets that can come back to bite us, and then make sure that the pyre built is so large that not a single person in the kingdom will doubt that the old regime is gone." 

"I'm not afraid of you." Dabi hisses, not sure if it's false bravo or not, but the dragon seems to have ideas about that of his own. 

"No, you're not, and that is what makes you interesting, little ghost. But you are scared of how I could hurt your siblings. I could have them torn apart, piece by piece, until their skin can't be so easily held together like your own." He reaches for him, tracing his fingertip along Dabi's cheek, over the staples, the coolness of his skin and the slight prickle of his talon putting ice in Dabi's gut. "And then I can kill you all. Put your bodies on the pyre with your father's and wipe any record of the Todoroki line from my kingdom." He says it all so easily, like he has done this a thousand times before. Maybe he has. Their father always kept their borders closed so that they would be beholden to no rule but their own. He told stories of the wars fought with the demon king and his draconic armies, but he didn't know just how terrible they would truly be if ever they reached their kingdom. "But today has already been a great success, and I can think of one more that would please me and my own father greatly to add to this. If you wish for the lives of you and your siblings to be spared, you will become my mate." 

Dabi stares at him, and the longer he does, the more self-satisfied the smile on the monster's face becomes. "What?" His throat is hoarse as the word slips from his lips. 

"My mate, consort to the king, my personal whore, whichever title you fancy, little ghost. Be mine, and I will spare your siblings." 

"I-- I'm a man," and then, knowing that there are men who can, he adds, "I can't have children." 

"I'm aware of that and I want no children from you. I simply wish to have you warming my bed." The dragon waits for those words to sink in, but after a long moment he adds, "Well?" 

Dabi's mind whirls, but there is a sword against his neck, against each of his siblings’, and his father's head is on a pike not a meter from where he kneels. He and his siblings will die in this room, they will be hurt before that is allowed to happen if he declines this monster's offer. "No harm is to come to my siblings, not ever. They will live, and you will provide for them, and you will let me see them so I know that they are being cared for well. They will be allowed to pursue their own interests and marry if they choose to." 

"Toya--" he hears Fuyumi's distress. This is a fate that she was told would be hers if ever their castle fell. But he would happily take every torture this monster gives him on his back if it means that he can spare her from it. 

"I want you to enjoy it when I take you to bed. If you don't believe that you can do so on your own, then you will allow my magic into your mind so I can take away those inhibitions. I will have you enthusiastic and hungry for me." 

Dabi's lip curls with his disgust. "If you have to poison my mind to make yourself an attractive bed partner then that is your shame to bare, not mine." 

The monster laughs again, and the smile is bright and warm on his features in a way that he absolutely loathes. "The only shame is that it will be needed at all, but I have a feeling that you are a creature that knows how to hold a very, very long grudge, aren't you, little ghost? What else?" 

Dabi can't believe that he's even being given the chance to negotiate this far, but with his siblings' futures secure he has to think of himself now. "You will not have me harmed, in your bed or outside of it." 

"Outside of it, never, but I do enjoy playing roughly with my toys." He says, his voice a purr. "But I will never beat you until you cannot move, you will not become a eunuch or otherwise permanently physically modified, and I will do no damage to you that will take," he considers, "more than a week to heal." 

Dabi's stomach is sunken and sour, but that seems like the best deal he is going to get from this monster. "...I will be treated well outside of your bed. Able to pursue my studies, provided for the same as my siblings." 

The dragon inclines his head, the large black horns of bone gleaming like jet in the beams of sunset that cast fresh bloody light through the room as it grows darker. "You will never marry or know another touch but my own, and should you or your siblings ever conspire to take back the throne, this deal will be moot, and I will exact every ounce of my bloody revenge on all four of you and any descendants that might have been born in the interceding time." Dabi's heart sinks so heavily, but he just swallows hard. He doesn't know if any of his siblings will ever choose to marry if they are kept political prisoners like this forever, but he knows that there isn't any other option they have right now unless Shoto has enough magic to kill them all quickly enough they don't have to endure this monster's torture. 

"Deal." 

"Deal," the monster purrs, straightening back up. "My name is Tomura Shigaraki, and I look forward to learning every inch of you, mind, body, and soul, Dabi." 

///

After the deal had been struck, he and his siblings were hauled off of the floor and taken from the throne room. Shoto, Natsuo, and Fuyumi were dragged off down a different hallway, but the guard who took him, brought him to a spare room, and locked him inside. That is where he had been left for hours and hours as night fell heavy and black, but the smoke of the pyre outside in the courtyard grew thicker and thicker as every knight, servant, and citizen who had been killed when the castle had been taken was brought to be burned. The smell of it was pungent and had left him vomiting into a vase as he remembered the scent of his own flesh burning as the light of the fire flickered over the walls. He manages a few fitful hours of sleep in a chair, but there was not a second of quiet in the castle once he had been locked in this room. When the sun had risen again, the pyre burned for another hour or two more before it had been extinguished with a wave of magic that had gathered the ash and pieced back together the cracked stone beneath it. Shigaraki's people seem to all have magic, though he guesses that has more to do with the fact that his people are all monsters. 

But over the course of the rest of the day he sees them moving below, bringing things here and there and the dragon king's new servants entering the castle and presumably taking up the positions of everyone who had been killed in the initial attack. It's mid-afternoon before Dabi starts to feel the hollowness in his stomach is hunger and an ache in his bladder that asks to be allowed to relieve himself. It's all hesitation when he goes to the door and tries the handle. It is, unsurprisingly, still locked, but a moment after he tries it, it is unlocked for him and the soldier on the other side in the dark, unfamiliar armor asks what he wants. He has never had to suffer the indignity of asking if he could use the bathroom before, but the soldier, at least, doesn't deny him that, taking him deeper into the castle, to... his father's chambers. Not his father's not anymore. And as they walk, Dabi sees that the cracked stone, the blood that had been soaking into everything, has all been done away with. The castle is pristine again, the only evidence that it was sacked yesterday that the tapestries and portraits of his ancestors have all been removed and replaced with banners of the demon king. 

Dabi cannot claim that he ever had much familiarity with his father's bedroom, but it is clear to him from the moment the guard escorts him inside that this room has been thoroughly changed as well. The bed, for one, is far more lavish than his father would have allowed, with piles of silk, linen, and fur blankets, mounds of pillows, and gauzy silk drapes in a canopy above the four posters that each have a thick leather strap hanging off the edge. He would not have set up a personal desk in this room because he preferred to do his business in his office and only use this room to sleep. The large rug made out of-- Dabi shudders upon seeing it-- another dragon could have been his father's maybe, but he has a feeling that the purple-scaled pelt is something that came from the new king's personal collection. 

The guard locks him in this room with the instruction to bathe and dress in the clothes provided to him by the wardrobe and that a meal will be brought in when it is ready. Dabi does not thank him, eyeing that large bed with a sourness settling deep in his gut. He forces himself to go to the bathing chamber and finds that his assessments about Shigaraki's access to enchanters must have been accurate, because rather than the utilitarian, though still luxurious, copper tubs that have to be filled by servants who bring the boiled water from the kitchens, the one in this room now is large enough for two, set into a dais of its own against the far wall and a window that looks out over the mountains beyond their castle, and it has been spelled so that hot water can be provided with only a turn of a knob. Dabi lets the large tub begin to fill before he goes to relieve himself. 

By the time he is back at the tub, it is only halfway full and he's startled to find an array of soaps and perfumes have materialized along the edge. Soaps for the skin, for the hair, moisturizers for both but one that belongs on the face in particular, and the medical soak that his brother has been making for him for years so that he can keep his seams in a good state. Dabi hesitantly steps into the tub and starts to wash himself, but the soaps don't seem to have any ulterior motive and do not turn to acid when applied to his body. They smell more floral with a smokiness that is a foreign pairing that makes his nose itch a bit, but it is certainly better than having to bathe in the blood of the innocent or whatever other horrors that were told to him in bedtime stories. 

Dabi washes, but he does not linger as his stomach begins to growl. No matter how he feels now, no matter if he is clean enough to the draconic king's specifications or not, it will not matter when he has his magic seeping into his mind. That puts a cold dread in his gut that he cannot let overtake him. He agreed to this, and once the king has had him in whatever ways he chooses, he will demand to see his siblings, provided the state that his body is left in isn't so damaged that he cannot move. He cleans and dries himself before hesitantly going to the wardrobe. He isn't expecting to find it locked when he pulls on the handle the first time, confused because this door doesn't even have a lock. But when he lets go of it, debating putting on his other clothes and asking a guard or servant to open the cabinet for him, the entire door begins to glow. Dabi can't help yelping as a figure of shadow steps out of the door and he hears it unlock behind the specter. 

The shade looks at him and then turns back to the wardrobe, snapping its fingers so that the doors open behind it, another set of arms appearing out of its back as it selects the clothes that the demon king must want for him. Dabi bristles when the shade moves closer and starts to help him dress. His isolation inside of the castle meant that he was taking care of his own tasks, no servants allowed to see to his needs beyond bringing his meals, filling his tub, and washing his clothes as those activities could not be maintained in his own chambers. But he was the one who has been expected to dress himself, clean his rooms, make his bed, and care for himself in that room for years now, and having foreign hands on his body as they bring fine silk around his form is strange and uncomfortable. Though the clothes themselves are equally so as he is given so little to wear. His neck gets a large necklace that looks like a tight metal collar which curves down in a semicircle in the front and back, with an inset piece on the v that is created over his shoulders. That piece is segmented metal that resembles snake, or perhaps more accurately, dragon scales before it ends in a gauzy, see-through silk fabric that has been gathered into it, that curves through the piece on the back as well so that a cape spills down his back and connects to the thick metal cuffs at his wrists that resemble shackles too much for Dabi's liking. The fabric itself is black as night, but the see-through nature of it makes it appear as though he is being lightly embraced by shadows. His chest is left bare otherwise before the shade wraps another of the segmented belts around his waist, a similarly flowy and light skirt made of red silk falling to the floor with splits so high up the sides that Dabi is blushing hotly as he realizes that one breeze or even moving too quickly would have him exposing himself to whoever chooses to look. He wonders if all mates, or only the ones who were obtained through coercion, are forced to wear this in the demon king's domain, but he cannot know and hopes to never learn. If Tomura Shigaraki is the offspring and heir to that throne, Dabi can only ever hope that he does not live long enough to see him take it, for he would never want to force his siblings to follow him to that awful kingdom hidden far from the world they have inhabited up until this point. He is given no shoes, only jewelry crossing over his ankles with fine chains and tinkling rubies, before the shade seems to think that his staples are clashing against the rest of his clothes and waves its hand so that every piece of metal that has been pierced through his skin becomes gold to match. It doesn't feel any different, but the disquieting realization that all of him will be changed for the dragon king's aesthetics puts a fresh stone in his gut. When the shade has determined that he is suitable enough for its master, it steps back into the wardrobe and dissipates, the door locking firmly behind it.

It leaves Dabi standing alone in the room, hating the look of these clothes on his body, and knowing that this is only the first day of the fate that he has resigned himself to until the end of his days or until the dragon gets bored of his company. And how will he not? Dabi burned so young and so badly that he knew he would never take a spouse, even before his father had given him his ultimatum. He was locked away, unable to attend parties, learn about courtship beyond what he read in books or what Fuyumi lamented that she had been taught as their father looked for a beneficial husband for her to take.  he has never known the touch of another, never been kissed, and has had so little contact with those outside of his family that he cannot even begin to contemplate what he should act like if he wants the monster who owns him now to find him alluring and charming. He can't imagine the dragon seeing the swaths of his destroyed skin will do anything to help that. 

But before he can spend too much time contemplating his fate, the door to the chamber unlocks and servants begin to step inside. Real servants this time who bring a solid table and two chairs that are set up over the top of the dragon-skin rug, before another wave of them start to pour in with plate after plate after plate of food. When the last dish has been set down, one of the servants pulls out a chair for him and makes him sit. 

"His Majesty will be with you shortly." She says it as a courtesy that tells Dabi to wait to begin eating even though the hollowness of his stomach seems to be hunger and nausea waring against one another, terrified of what this monstrous king will be like in the privacy of his chambers, but never having gone a day without having a meal when he wanted it since he burned. It's been since early afternoon, hours before the invasion, that he was able to eat anything and he can feel that hunger sitting in his stomach alongside his dread. 

It only takes minutes, Dabi distracting himself from the smell of food all around him by watching how the candles and torches lit around the room are... different now. They cast their light like they have the flickering flames that he has come to expect, but there is no scent of burning, and the wax never drips. More magic, so copious, apparently, among the dragons, that they can use it for the most mundane of things. But all too soon the chamber door opens up and Dabi freezes in place. He isn't sure if he should stand and bow or not. His father expected that from everyone any time he entered a room, but that isn't a custom everywhere. Would not standing be an insult? Would standing show that he is determined to keep the ways of his customs alive and be seen as an act of defiance before he's even given the new king a drop of the service that is supposed to be keeping him and his siblings alive? He can't be sure one way or another and before he can make his decision, Shigaraki is already sliding into his own seat. 

"Do not stand on ceremony, eat when you are hungry, pet. You will never want for anything so long as you are mine."  If he was dressed for conquering a kingdom yesterday, then this must be the dragon's more casual clothing. He is wearing dark trousers of silk himself, the pitchest black in color, with large openings along the sides that expose his thighs to his knees, the pants gathered into a cuff at the ankle and open-toed boots laced up to his calves, the sharp black talons on his fingertips mirrored on his toes. His wings are gone, perhaps folded inside of his body, and his chest is still bare, though today there is a cloak gathered around him, held in place with the demon king's crest over his left shoulder, and otherwise covering his opposite arm and down his back. The crown he wears of black iron is wrapped so securely around his horns and is so organic in its shape, that it almost looks as though thorns have grown out of the bones and tangled themselves in his long hair. He has no weapon on his hip or strapped to his back, but Dabi supposes that he doesn't need one. He has no magic to threaten the other man with, and given the toughness of his scales, he highly doubts that he would ever be able to do damage to him with any of the cutlery that is scattered about the table.

Dabi still hesitates to serve himself before the king has gotten his portion, but he rolls his eyes as he unclasps his cloak and tosses it along the back of his chair, before he snaps his fingers and the dishes begin to serve themselves. The roast duck is cut by knives hanging in mid air, the potatoes, rolls, spring vegetables, and wine are distributed between their plates, and Dabi feels helpless again at the show of power that the dragon displays so casually. 

"Eat." The order comes absent-mindedly as the king takes his own seat, and Dabi forces himself to pick up his fork. He is supposed to eat. He is hungry. But he cannot help the way that it feels like it takes the strength of a hundred men to simply lift his fork from the table. He keeps his eye on his plate, trying to remember all of the table manners that he hasn't had to use in years because he has not been allowed to have his meals in the company of others since he burned. It makes every bite feel like an arduous task, each one with him waiting to discover the food will turn to ash in his mouth or has been made of the flesh of newborns for all of the stories of terrible cruelty he knows about the demon king's armies. 

But if there is deceit to be had here, Dabi is not given a glimpse of it as he continues to methodically eat, still never daring to raise his eyes to the monster sitting across from him. The table he had brought is not for banquets, it's the same size as the one that Dabi had in his chamber before this. It could seat six, though the pair on either of the longer ends would be brushing elbows to fit, and he does not have nearly enough separation from the dragon to not notice him sighing softly before he speaks. 

"I had thought my influence would only be needed when I had you in my bed, but it seems as though you are incapable of even the simplest tasks that might be expected of a mate. Come here, pet." 

Dabi bristles, but this is the bargain he struck. He has to abide by this monster's rules or he will damn his siblings to a fate worse than death. He sets down his fork, wipes his mouth on a napkin to buy him a moment to steady himself, and then rises from his chain and approaches the monster. Shigaraki catches his chin again with his claws and his slitted pupils are a stark black against the otherworldly glow of red that appears around his irises. 

"You will relax. You know that no great harm will come to you if you misspeak. You will entertain me as if you are trying to entertain a suitor." 

Dabi feels the magic slip inside of him like an inky black shadow that wraps around all of the places in his mind that were holding onto his worry so tightly. With those pieces set in shadow, the tension in his body mostly dissipates and leaves a vague confusion in its place as he tries to focus on why he had been so frightened a moment before. "My apologies, your Majesty," A sharper tinge of embarrassment comes over him as the dragon king smiles at him. He has a scar cutting through his lips that looks old and wasn't deep enough to gnarl and twist his smile. "I-- I was never allowed to learn how to be a suitor and my father wouldn't allow me to be courted. I... don't know the etiquette beyond the stories my sister told me." He explains, eyes dropping from his. 

"That is such a shame. You have the loveliest eyes. I have no doubt that if you had been allowed to attend your father's court, someone would have snatched you away long before I could arrive to lay claim to you instead." The dragon lets go of him and gestures for him to retake his seat. "We need not stand on that much ceremony in private. In public you will address me properly, you will kneel at my feet or sit on my lap when I hold court, but here you can speak to me as an equal-- so long as you obey my orders when I deign to give them." 

"Yes, your Majesty." 

"You are my prized pet, little ghost," He says, that almost unsettling smile still in place. "And I think that good pets should call their owners 'master'." 

"Yes, master." Dabi doesn't have words for the relief that goes through him as Shigaraki gestures for him to resume his meal. He had been so terrified just a moment before, but this is much better. Being told exactly how the dragon wants him to act means that he doesn't have to try to tiptoe around things the way that he always had to with his father. There is no guesswork, no magic word or misstep that he might take that will result in the dragon deciding to give him a punishment that he didn't know was even something he should be prepared for. "What happened to my siblings?" 

"Your youngest brother is working in the archives and treasury under supervision until I have the affairs of this kingdom settled. After that I will determine where he is best suited. Your sister is being assessed." That has Dabi tensing but Shigaraki goes on as the table serves him a second glass of wine. "Her chambers were full of books and other materials more befitting a scholar, when interviewed once her nerves had settled, she said she always wanted to be the governess to her own children instead of leaving them to be taught by others. I have one of my scholars seeing if her self-schooling was sufficient. if it was, she will be allowed to start shadowing them and learning how to be a teacher. The availability of education in this kingdom is abysmal and I will have a school house for the commoners built by the end of spring. Having more than one teacher, especially a native to these lands there would be beneficial. Your second brother is already a fine healer and he has returned to his position alongside my own court physician. If you wish to see them, they are all remaining in their chambers when not working." 

Dabi's entire body goes nearly boneless, the seams under his eyes aching badly as pressure builds behind them. 

"What's wrong, little one? I thought this would please you." 

"I--" he takes a breath, trying to keep those tears from falling. "I am. I was.... scared that you might not keep your word." 

"You will learn quickly, pet, that I always keep my word." He gives Dabi a moment to recompose himself as they eat, and then asks, "What did you do in your exile?" 

"...Studied." 

"What?" 

"Anything. I read almost all hours of the day." 

"What did you read about my father's empire, pet?" 

Dabi hesitates, but Shigaraki's expression is patient, his eyes gentle instead of sharp the way that politicians' and courtiers' were when they used to speak to him when he was young. "That his lands are full of horrors and violence, but the texts I could access here only ever knew of them in the aftermath of the wars that would ravage border villages. I don't... want to believe that what your people do during a war is all that they are."

"They are not. You will know more of our culture the longer we spend together, my pet, and you will learn to enjoy it on your own, so deeply, that I will never have to reach into your mind to make you sure of that again." 

Dabi doesn't know what to say to that, so he chooses to say nothing as they return to their food. When they've finished eating, Shigaraki stands from the table and moves around to Dabi's side, catching his chin again and making him look up. 

His smile is already satisfied and sweet when it comes. "You were not allowed to court or be courted, so I suppose that means you have no experiences with pleasures of the flesh?" 

Dabi feels his face heat, his nails biting into the meat of his palms as nervous anticipation spikes through every inch of his veins. "...No, master." 

"Never been kissed?" He asks and Dabi only manages to weakly shake his head. "Never been touched?" He shakes his head again. "What of your own hands, wandering in the dark, staining your sheets?" The words come as a purr that makes something... else tingle through his body that he doesn't recognize. 

He is certain that he's blushing the same color as the dragon's scales. "...No, master." 

That smile widens further. "Then it will be a very special privilege to have you as my mate." He says, leaning down. Dabi's whole body goes hot with anticipation, but the dragon only presses his lips very lightly to the corner of Dabi's own. "I can't wait to see how exquisite you are as you unravel, pet." 

He knows that the dragon sees it when his throat bobs as he tries to swallow, but he can't make himself say anything in response. 

"Not tonight, pet, but soon. Tonight, I want a good night's sleep and your body warming my sheets. Entertain yourself as I bathe." 

"Yes, master." 

Shigaraki lets go of his chin and goes into the bath chamber and the inkiness that blanketed his mind slips away. And the fear rushes back in, the indignance, the anger. Dabi is left sitting at the dinner table, trembling with his humiliation as he realizes that those things he'd been thinking, the reactions he'd had, while they still feel like him, they aren't what he would have thought or said if the dragon hadn't influenced him. Is that how it's going to feel when he takes him to bed properly for the first time? Will he be as embarrassed as he felt a moment ago without the disgust and rage that sits in his gut from the reality of having sold himself into this life? That puts bile on the back of his tongue and Dabi snatches the wine bottle from the table's clutches and tips it to his lips. He has never drunk so heavily in his rooms in all of the time since he was disowned, but he drinks and drinks now, until his stomach is sloshing and the contents of the bottle go dry. If he is not going to be in his right mind for any of this, then he might as well get to choose the way that he is left mentally incapacitated. Two frustrated bloody tears slip down his cheeks, but he wipes them away quickly and throws the napkin in the fire that has roared to life to heat the chamber. He is already giving up so much of his mind to this monster. He will not give him any other evidence of his weakness. 

When Shigaraki returns from the bath he is entirely naked, his wings spread from his back now and nearly scandalizing Dabi with his nudity. 'Nearly' because the dragon has scales that run over his shoulders, down his back to his tail, and along his lower stomach, over his pelvis, and down the inner part of his thighs. Those scales are fine and red but the ones over his pelvis are the same pale color as the rest of his skin and they completely conceal the other's genitals. He makes Dabi strip out of all of his clothes as well, and he's not sure if it's the alcohol or magic that make his head feel floaty and his body hot as he strips down to nothing too. He is squirming though when the dragon surveys his form before smiling again and making him get into the large bed.

It's large enough that he thought he might be able to scooch away from him and sleep, but as soon as they're both beneath the thick blankets, Shigaraki is pulling him close. He doesn't let his hands wander, he just wraps him in his arms and then encircles both of their bodies with his large... soft wings. It takes a few minutes of being enveloped in the dark and cool of the other's embrace before the wine makes his head feel so heavy that he has no choice but to close his eyes. 

He didn't realize how exhausted he was until sleep comes so heavily for him. 

///

The next day Dabi is allowed to walk the castle wherever he chooses. He hasn't been allowed to do that since he was a child, and oftentimes he finds himself unable to tell if things changed because of the new regime in place or if there were renovations while he was locked away in his room. He is able to go to his sister's room and the guards stationed at her door let him inside. Anything she might use to hurt herself has been removed from the room, even the sheets from her bed have been replaced by thick pelts that it would be nearly impossible to tie a noose with. She bursts into tears as soon as she sees him, but she assures him again and again that no one has touched or harmed her since they were separated the day before last. She begs him to get himself out of being this new monster's mate, but Dabi immediately snarls at her to keep words like that out of her mouth. He will not have her or their brothers proposing treason. 

"If Shigaraki doesn't torture and kill us all outright, he will make me watch as he torments and kills you and then he will take what he wants from my body instead. I would rather choose my place in his bed than be forced into it and without the protections that his deal has awarded all of us." 

It does not keep his sister from weeping with deep, wracking sobs, but it does manage to make the resolve that Dabi had not felt even when he made the deal solidify. This is the best that they could hope for and he will not risk his sibling's safety rebelling against it. 

That night he has dinner with the dragon again and it feels like it takes a little less of that soft darkness in his mind to help drown out his fear of speaking to him. 

"Why take a disgraced, foreign prince as your mate? Surely there are plenty of candidates in your own kingdom who could capture your interest." 

"There have been," the dragon says, his amusement clear. Dabi doesn't know how they got fish at this time of year when all of the lakes and streams running through the mountain should still be frozen, but he is picking at the dish, mostly focusing on the bread and greens that have been served as sides. That look tells him he hasn't been as subtle about his dislike of their main course as he'd hoped he'd been. "And I have enjoyed their company immensely. But suitors from my father's kingdom come with strings attached that I do not always want to step through when I am trying to find someone to share my time and heart with. I always intended to take a mate from somewhere outside of my kingdom, and the disgraced foreign prince who chose to bite me instead of accepting his fate passively, was far too appealing to throw away without at least giving him a chance." 

Dabi bites his tongue to keep himself from being outrightly rude, but he doesn't ask about things like that anymore. Shigaraki lets him eat more bread and calls for dessert unlike the day before, and the sweet fruit tart with fresh whipped cream and honey fills his stomach far better than the fish could have. He is already hoping that they will just sleep again when Shigaraki pushes his chair out and gestures for him to come closer. 

Dabi feels that barrier of magic trying to soothe away the disgust and anger, stealing it away and leaving only a squirming embarrassment in his gut as he stands and makes himself walk to the other man. Shigaraki wraps his hands around his hips, his thumbs rubbing over the jut of bone there before he gently lowers him until he's perched in the dragon's lap. Shigaraki's tail moves then, curling so that it is pressed along the small of Dabi's back, keeping him in place as his hands start to wander. His palms are cool against him, and Dabi can't help but shiver even as his blush is hot across his skin. His nipples pebble immediately at the cool touch, and Shigaraki brings his hands along his pecks, teasing at them until there is something else sparking across his nerves that makes his breath a little more shallow. His knuckles trace along the seam of his collarbone, tease over the one that curves across his stomach, and then dips down to his split skirt so that he can thumb over the ones that curve around his thighs. 

He is starting to tremble slightly, anticipating the touches going... other places, when Shigaraki smiles at him. "Dip your head, pet. I think it's time you had your first kiss." 

Making him lean in to accept the kiss makes something rattle against the soft dark in the part of his mind that has been taken away from him. The rest of him is just even warmer with his embarrassment as he doesn't know if he's supposed to pucker his lips or if he should move them at all when he leans closer. Shigaraki's hand comes up to cup the back of his neck and gently coaxes him to tilt his head to the side. Then he moves in the rest of the way and presses his chapped, cool lips against Dabi's own. Dabi sees a brighter amusement in Shigaraki's eyes as the contact simply is for a few long seconds before he pulls away.

"Close your eyes and relax, pet. I'll show you how to feel good." 

Dabi's eyes fall shut immediately, his blush hot under his skin, but he accepts the instructions without a fight. Shigaraki leans in again and kisses him. This time his lips don't just press, they move. It's gentle, slow, but they move, making Dabi's mirror the motions, and then flicking his tongue along the seam of them. Dabi can't help the gasp that slips out of his, but when they part for the sound, Shigaraki's tongue moves inside. He hears a soft sound come out of his throat that might have been a whimper, but he doesn't manage to make another before his tongue is brushing against his own. Shigaraki's mouth tastes like the sweet tart they shared as his tongue presses inside, finding places that have never been touched by another person in Dabi's life, and giving him sensations, like the hands that continue to wander his skin so slowly and teasingly, that he hasn't ever had before either. Each one makes a heat start to unfurl inside of him that he only has the memory of. Echoes of it that he often woke up to, either with his prick hard and dripping in his sleep clothes, or spent and sticky when his dreams of nebulous pleasure unfolded in his sleep. But it's not a sensation that he's ever felt bloom inside of him while he's still awake and Dabi is left panting weakly against Tomura's mouth as he kisses him and kisses him, never parting for long enough for him to fully catch his breath. 

The dragon only lets up with a purr when Dabi realizes that these new sensations and the memory his body has of pleasure in his sleep has started to rouse his prick, making it ache weakly and press a half-formed tent into the folds of his thin skirt. Shigaraki pulls away from his lips then, that same self-satisfied smile on his face that makes the warmth of embarrassment under his skin feel like that other kind of warmth too. 

"There," he strokes his knuckles along the seam of his cheek. "Already proving that I made the right choice, little ghost. You are going to be so receptive of my touches that someday you won't ever be able to understand why you didn't want them. And I will give them to you whenever you ask. I'll teach you how to enjoy pleasures so great and pain so sweet that you'll long for nothing else." 

But he doesn't give him what he is promising now. Instead he makes him disrobe and ready for bed, and only holds him closely until he falls asleep again.

/// 

Dabi is disgusted with himself the next morning when he wakes alone, but each night when Shigaraki returns, that softness spills through his mind. In those softer moments, his body warms as he looks at the draconic king. Every inch of him screams of the power that is set into his form, and every touch he deigns to give him leaves his body craving more. Dabi doesn't think his need has been so high since he was a teenager and no matter how he considers trying to take away that edge of arousal by... touching himself when the dragon leaves him to his own devices, but he can't bring himself to. The humiliation that he feels over the month that passes from the takeover robs him of the ability of satisfying himself without the dragon's permission. 

So for a month he lives mostly in this chamber, though he is able to visit his siblings who are being looked after, and walk the castle grounds when he chooses. He still feels like a specter haunting the halls when he does, but he doesn't know if he will ever feel alive again without Shigaraki's influence in his mind and his hands on his body. A month of only being given sweet kisses and light caresses with the knowledge that the monster will hurt him when he wants to because he wouldn't even pretend otherwise when negotiating to have him as a mate. All of those things live in the back of his mind, but they are locked away when he wakes one night, his dreams having been filled with hot kisses and cool hands touching every sensitive part of his skin, his prick aching as he had been so close to his satisfaction only for his waking to rob him of it. 

Dabi lets out a frustrated sob as his body aches and Shigaraki purrs, his tail circling around one of his thighs as he makes him spread his legs, opening his wings so that he can see him more clearly from the light that is filtering in from the moon beyond the windows. "Look at you, pet." He runs his knuckles along the underside of him, the light sensation enough to have his hips trying to move on instinct to get more. "All you have to do is ask, and I will give you the pleasures that being a mate can offer." 

And with the heaviness in his mind, not knowing if there is marriage or any other custom that he should ask for from this monster before he gives up his virtue, with such sharp desperation clinging to his nerves, he can't do anything but sob weakly and beg, "Please, please, master! I want it to feel good, please!" 

Shigaraki's wings flare out as he rolls Dabi's body onto his back, pinning him beneath his bulk as his tail yanks his thighs wider roughly. His eyes are glowing in the dark and his hands are so sure now. They aren't feather-light and teasing the way that they have been before. They are firm as they wrap around his body. They hold him tightly, and stroke over his skin wherever he chooses. He cups his chest, pinching at his nipples until the buds are pert and aching like a new special type of bruise beneath his skin that makes his sensitive cock drip where its trapped between their stomachs, while making blood bead up past his seams and drip along his cheeks as he whimpers and moans. Shigaraki's mouth full of sharp teeth descends on his own and these kisses are frantic and hard, making blood bloom between their lips that the monster devours voraciously before he is trailing lower so that every inch of his neck can be claimed by rings of his teeth and not just the collar that he has around his neck each day he belongs to this monster. 

Dabi only manages a mortified squeak when Shigaraki's tail moves from his thigh to between his legs. Not at the front, where his pleasure is centered, but behind him, the tip flicking around his hole that he has never had touched by another. But before he can gather his breath to ask to slow down, to beg to know how... two men are even supposed to copulate, Shigaraki is shifting above him. He hadn't even gotten a moment to wonder how he would use his body when he doesn't even have his genitals visible, but he doesn't need to voice that concern anymore. His breath is caught entirely in his throat as he sees that there is a slit appearing on Tomura's pelvis, the scales splitting along an invisible seam and dripping fluid that his tail rubs against to gather, before he sees two heads starting to emerge from that slit. Dabi whimpers, trepidation and arousal both singing through his veins that must amuse his master because he chuckles as he hears it. 

"Oh, precious, you have been teasing me with your warmth so badly." He says with a purr, "but now I'll know every inch of it. You will be full of me and I will make certain that your body craves nothing else for all of your days. You will be my perfect mate, and such a lovely set of holes for me to defile as I please. From a prince, to a ghost, to the whore of the king, and of the three it is the last that will give you more status than any circumstances of your birth ever could." He speaks and his hands grope across Dabi's body, pressing against seams in a way that sparks pain beneath his skin the same flavor as his sore chest is pulsing with, and the words push against the soft darkness of his mind and the neediness that is aching through his more immediate thoughts. His wet tail goes back to his hole, rubbing around it with its slickness, and before he can get enough breath to speak again, his master has pushed the first inch of it inside, making his muscles burn as they are stretched in such a foreign way. But that stretch feeds into the roughness and pleasure of the other touches too quickly and Dabi cries out loudly, shock, pleasure, and humiliation cresting through him as the touch makes his prick pulse as his balls draw tight and he spills his seed all over his stomach. He hasn't ever had the pleasure of an orgasm while awake before, and Dabi doesn't know if his mind will ever feel whole again as he is blinded by the stars that dance across his vision as he moans and sobs beneath the dragon. 

The laughter that rings through his ears as he starts to come down from that high that has left his body shaking against the sheets has fresher tears on his cheeks. But Shigaraki catches his chin in a firm hold as he leans down to lick them away from his skin. "Oh, little one, you're so cute when lost in the throes of your pleasure. Going to be even cuter when I see you shatter around my cocks." 

Dabi can barely get his mind around the possibility of more when the other seems to determine the cursory stretching that he's done is enough, and he removes his tail from his body. Dabi whimpers, and he feels a sharp absence of emotion that he thinks his mind wants to reach for now, but Shigaraki kisses him to take his thoughts away from it. His other hand goes to his prick again and he starts to touch him, making Dabi's nerves sting and fresh tears trickle down his cheeks as he's held in place beneath him, unable to squirm, as the head of his first, thick, hard cock presses wetly between his cheeks. He lets out another weak gasp, unable to find a way to make his tongue more coherent, as he starts to push inside. The stretch is blinding, his whole body seizing up from the way that it fills him so completely and takes away any other thought in his mind. He's left just gasping and sobbing against the sheets as he's made more and more open for the dragon's first cock. 

"That's it, pet, you can take it," he coos at him, leaning in to kiss and lick away the bloody tears falling over his cheeks. "It will feel so good if you let it. You just have to let it, sweet one." 

Dabi feels that big inky darkness struggling to contain his thoughts the same way that his body struggles to take in his master's cock for the first time. He feels that darkness begging him to just let it take over, to make the sharp thing with knives behind it go quiet, and Dabi knows, deep down, that he should keep fighting it. That the thing with knives and teeth behind that thick, dark curtain is him, even if it feels so foreign to him right now. But as Shigaraki slows, pressing more kisses to his lips, as he coos, 

"That's it, beautiful, you opened up so well for me. I can't believe that your fool of a father thought that no one else would want you when you are the greatest treasure I've taken from this kingdom," 

He hears the words, knows they're false, knows the stings of pain and the whorls of pleasure are not things he would have chosen for himself without that soft, velvet dark of the curtain in his mind telling him that he would be soft too if he accepted it. He knows, but cannot touch the wild, furious thing that claws and bites and that he knows makes him feel worse when he spends time outside of his master's company. So he turns away from that dark, letting it envelope and smother so he can reach out to the space that is actually between him and his master. He wraps his arms around his neck, spreads his thighs wider and gives himself over to whatever pleasures and pains that his mate will give him now that he is owning his body the way that Dabi pledged himself to. 

Tomura purrs at him again, kissing him so sweetly as he strokes Dabi's prick with his hand until he's aching again as his thrusts stroke his walls with his cock. He does it over and over again, kissing away the tears that blend pleasure and foreign sorrow together, until he can't tell one from the other again. He can't tell up from down when his second orgasm comes and Tomura reaches his first before he takes his first cock out of Dabi's body and presses the second in again, resuming the movements between his thighs until they are both unraveling again. 

He holds Dabi throughout the rest of the night, kissing his skin so sweetly, but in the morning, he wakes alone with the curtain torn down, blood crusted along his neck from the places that Shigaraki's teeth nicked his skin, and their fluids dry and tacky on his body. He sits up in the bed and cries for so many hours his seams are horribly swollen and he has to go to Natsuo for fresh medicine. Thankfully, his brother thinks that he's such a wreck because the dragon king must have done something horrible to him, and Dabi doesn't have to tell him that even in the cold light of day, he can't take how the soreness in his body is leaving him warm with the remembrance of how good he had felt in the soft dark of night. 

///

Once Shigaraki has had him for the first time, he doesn't hesitate to take him again. He has him spread open on their bed, his head between his legs as he shows him how dexterous his tongue can be, teaching Dabi how to move his so that when he has him on his knees for the first time, in the throne room as he conducts court, he isn't embarrassing himself as badly as he might otherwise, as he gets more familiar with his master's cocks and the position of being his good pet. Tomura has him bent over, a pillow beneath his hips that he absolutely ruins with his cum as his master shows him that his body is pliant enough to take both of his cocks deep inside of him, and that he can be pumped so full of his mate's cum that he feels it start to distend his lower stomach.

It has been around a year of being taken nearly every night in so many positions that Dabi marvels at how human, demon, and draconic kind have ever been able to get anything done when they seem bound and determined to use every second of their lives to find new ways of fornicating, before he comes back from a walk around the grounds and finds their bedchambers have been modified. He is used to Tomura changing things here and there. Sometimes it is for his own benefit, putting a custom made desk in this room so that he can sit and do paperwork as Dabi is curled up on the soft mattress beneath it where he is expected to warm his cocks until he deigns to have more. The window seat and reading nook that he had built into one of the windows, replacing the frame as well to give Dabi more light and a cozy place to read or sun himself like a cat whenever he chose to, was a modification he never asked for and one he refused to use for six months out of sheer stubbornness. But when he had finally let himself enjoy the things that his master offered him, he realized that Tomura was always looking for ways to make this bargain something that Dabi might come to someday... enjoy rather than leaving him only grappling with the absence of his magical influence when they were apart. The dragon may not have claimed him through a proper courtship, and certainly not in anything that Dabi would describe as good circumstances, but he can't help but notice that the things he has chosen to give him in the aftermath do feel an awful lot like the things that Fuyumi said that the ladies of the court often talked about receiving from their husbands if their marriage was arranged and they were unable to meet the man before the day of the wedding itself. Husbands who tried to play catch-up as they truly attempted to make their new brides happy even though they hadn't had the opportunity to be sure they would be pleased with the match beforehand. He was not happy to say that the way the dragon always perked up when he would seek out his company or use the things that he brought him had started to warm him to the monster even when they were apart and his magic wasn't so thick in his mind. But Shigaraki wants him, he has made that very clear, and he wants Dabi to at the very least be content in the new world that he has found himself in. So when he gets back to the room and sees that the silks draped above their bed have been removed and that there is a large... mirror in place above the bed, and doesn't know how he might have ever implied that would be something he would want, he has to assume that this modification is for the king instead. He's certain he'll learn about the purpose of it later, and that is encouragement enough to go to the bath. 

Shigaraki is sharp everywhere. The soft, smooth scales that litter his body are only soft in one direction, and movement against the grain can chafe and cut. Only the last two inches of his tail are unspiked and can be pushed inside of him, and his fingers are tipped in sharp black claws that have a vein inside and bleed and hurt badly if he tries to cut them, though he does attempt to keep them blunt enough that he doesn't rend Dabi's flesh completely when they are tangled together in their sheets. Even the edge of his wings can cut the skin like a razor if touched carelessly. So Dabi has discovered that warm baths and working his own fingers inside of himself to loosen his muscles, or wearing the heavy plug that keeps his insides stretched, can be the best way to ensure that they are both comfortable and enthralled with their pleasure the whole time if his mate wants to have both of his cocks in him at the same time. Dabi isn't certain that he will tonight, but if he's already gotten something special prepared, then he decides that he too would like to make his own preparations.

His body warms with anticipation as he brings his fingers inside of himself as he relaxes in the hot water of the bath, four inside of him and his lower lip between his teeth as his prick aches. He is allowed any pleasures that he wants when he is tangled with his mate's body, but he isn't allowed to cum alone, so his prick strains and reddens, but he doesn't dare touch himself there as he readies his body. He isn't sure if Tomura has some enchantment on the door that tells him that Dabi has returned to their room, or if he was so eager for whatever he has planned that he simply couldn't wait to have Dabi as soon as he could get him. But he has four fingers inside of himself when Tomura comes into the bathroom and his wings flair, his tail flicking, the sharp pupils of his eyes rounding out considerably like a cat that has spotted a patch of its favorite grass when he finds him in the tub. Dabi's body was already warming, but that look, the presence of his master, it has him moaning softly as he feels his mind wrapped in that velvet darkness again that takes away any twinge of nervous anticipation that he had before. 

"Oh, my love," those words are becoming more frequent the longer that this goes on, and Dabi, with the curtain or without, still doesn't know what to make of them. He just knows that Tomura no longer calls him a ghost because Dabi doesn't feel like the walking dead in or outside of his sheets anymore. "You have trained yourself so perfectly for me." He praises as he comes over to the tub. Dabi was already feeling so good, but with the softness of his mind now, he has to fight the urge to push his fingers in deeper and stroke the place inside of him that makes his whole body burn when his orgasm crashes through him. But Tomura comes right up to the edge of the tub and leans down. Dabi takes his fingers from his body, instead wrapping his arms around Tomura's neck as he captures him in a kiss that is already heavy with hunger, before he reaches into the water and lifts Dabi out, not caring at all as the water sloughs from his skin and drenches him and their floor. 

He is still kissing him as he takes him to their bed, letting Dabi soak the sheets too as he is set down before Tomura reaches for the clasps that keep his armor and clothes in place. The fabric smacks against the floor as it slips from his body and Dabi starts to scoot back on the bed, meaning to lean against the pillows and push his fingers back inside as he sees his lover's slit is already parting with his arousal and he's certain that he will be made far more satisfyingly full in a short while. But Tomura clicks his tongue as he climbs into the bed with him, his wings flaring out behind him. 

"Not like that today, pet." He purrs and then Dabi hears a snapping sound that had terrified him the first time it rang against his ears. Now he can't help how his breath catches in his throat as Tomura uses his tail to tilt his chin up so he can watch as his lover's wings spread and click, the joints sinking back inside of themselves and the skin of his back opening to accept them as he takes them back inside of his body. Dabi is breathless, and he thinks that he might have been disgusted at one point, as he watches the dragon's body perform feats of magic so mundane to it, but so fantastical to him. He used to be able to command fire so hot that it burned as brightly as the sky on a sunny day, but this is something that Tomura is capable of with the same matter-of-factness as breathing.

When his wings have been put away, already a rarity in their bed when Dabi has learned that rubbing along the points where they connect to his back can bring his lover to orgasm as surely as Dabi's body can be if Tomura wraps his lips around his nipples until they're sore and swollen for days, before he shifts. Dabi is made to kneel to the side as he lays down, careless of the damp on the bed, the length of his body on display to him like this and reflected in the mirror. Dabi's body only heats further, expecting that he will be lowering his head to his cocks as they emerge and getting to stretch his jaw until his staples pull, but he's stopped again when he starts to move. 

"Come here, sapphire." 

Dabi's cheeks heat, but he moves anyway. It had taken barely a year before Tomura had started calling him that, saying that he was 'the jewel of his kingdom' and making sure that everyone knew it. But he moves, taking the coaxing until he is trembling with his nervousness and embarrassment as he is perched over the other. He doesn't often end up on top of him, but he knows from the few times that he has, that this is one of the positions that make his already thick cocks feel even bigger and reach even more deeply inside of him than they already do. 

"That's it, precious." He says so sweetly as he steadies him with his hands on his hips. "When I have you with me in bed like this, how do you feel?" 

"Good, master," he says immediately, the evidence of that plain from how he hasn't softened at all since his master walked in on him in the bath. Every one of his master's touches, even the ones that sometimes draw blood, always leave his body feeling so good. 

Tomura reaches up with one hand, cupping his cheek against his palm and stroking along the seam against his cheek. "And what about when I'm gone, love? How do you feel then?" 

Dabi's lips pull into a soft frown. He knows he feels other things when the curtain isn't soft and warm around his mind. But when that is in place he doesn't have the words to even say what it is. "... I don't know, master." 

The smile that he gets from Tomura now is... different from the other ones that he's grown so accustomed to. It makes something squirm in his stomach that is softened by the darkness. "I want you to." He says, his hand so gentle on his cheek. "So I brought this mirror from my collection. It will let you see both parts of yourself, love. I want you to see how beautiful you are when you're broken with pleasure, precious. I want you to know, and then, if you decide that it isn't something you can keep, then I will take it away again." 

Dabi doesn't know if he understands completely, but he knows that his master only ever does things to make him happy. He will take this strangeness if it means that he is going to feel good again, and he wants to when his lover's body is right there and his own is so ready for him. "... Okay, master." 

That smile is still puzzling to him, but he leans up so that he can catch Dabi's lips in a slow, hot kiss that has him moaning so quickly. His hands start to move along his body, over his chest, down the planes of his stomach, along his thighs as he spreads them open wider before he coaxes Dabi's hips against his. It makes him breathless when he's allowed to rub his prick through the slick that is dripping from Tomura's sheath as his cocks start to press out. It's such an indulgence to let him rut like this as though he might ever know the way a warm, wet cunt could feel, as his lover lets him chase sharp pleasure of his own as his body warms for him. He is left moaning and trembling more though when his cocks are both out and Tomura reaches for them, taking all three in his palm as best he can and stroking them. He's soaking from the fluids of his body, but Dabi is already dripping pre badly from how high he worked himself up in the tub and every moan that comes out of him as he ruts into the touch like he's nothing but a needy, misbehaving pet only makes his pleasure creep higher. 

Tomura is definitely bound and determined to spoil him today because he keeps working his hand over their cocks until Dabi can't help it, and he's spilling against their skin as he's allowed to move at whatever pace feels good for him. He's still shaking from how good his orgasm feels when Tomura lets go, leaning up so that he can press kisses along his collarbone, up his neck, and over his panting mouth as he gets Dabi's legs spread and braced on the bed at either side of his lover's hips. He has him put his hands behind him, balancing his weight on the bed so his hips can be angled forward and his head can loll back so he can look at himself in the mirror. 

It's like the thick velvet curtain has turned into the same see-through black fabric of his cape. He can see himself in the mirror. Can see through to the emotions that he would have if he weren't separated from then by that veil of magic. The sex still feels good. He has stopped denying that truth long ago. But seeing himself, his face hazy and his pupils blown from how deeply the lust has reached inside of his mind, he knows that this is different. Knows that the him in the mirror, the him without Tomura around, would never be anything but humiliated to find his body made such a needy receptacle for pleasure. But it is the him that is always with Tomura, the him who is hazy, trusting, loved, who follows his master's guiding hands and angles his hips the way he wants. It's that him who asks the reflection why they have to be resentful or scared still when this all feels so, so good. 

Dabi throws his head back and hopes his reflection is watching as he moans so loudly as he lets himself start to sink down on their lover's cocks. He doesn't need to take them one at a time now, not when he was prepared for two. He prepared himself for two before Tomura came to find him. That him that is behind the veil now knows as well as he does that he is made to bring them both this pleasure. So why should he try to shy away from it now? He doesn't want to. He wants to feel good. He wants to look up at the mirror not to find echoes of emotions that don't matter to him now, but to enjoy the sight of his body stretching open for his lover. He just wants to be breathless with his pleasure as his spent cock begs to fill again as he sinks lower and lower until he is flush with his master's pelvis and his whole body is thrumming with pleasure. 

"That's it, little one," Tomura purrs, his tail swishing against the sheets and his hands helping to keep Dabi steady as his walls pulse from the stretch that they're being made to endure fresh. "So beautiful, all lost in your lust." He means every word. Tomura's eyes on him, his praise, his adoration that he gives to him so freely no matter where they are in the castle, has made Dabi more than a mistake that didn't have the good grace to die. He made him desirable, beautiful, exalted. Tomura put the curtain up in his mind so that he could fall in love with the way he could make his body feel, fall in love with the softness that he can give as freely as he gives punishments and cruelty to those who have earned them, without his fear and resentment holding so much sway in his mind. He gave him kindnesses unheard of from a conquering king as he lets his siblings live their lives, as their citizens thrive under his new rule, as he asked him to try to just open his heart and mind to the possibility of being... happy. Not just in his ownership, but for the first time in his life since he burned. Tomura gave him so many opportunities, and he recognizes the mirror as another one. An offer to take away the curtain and let him be completely and wholly himself. 

He thinks it's the him beyond the veil that is the one who starts to cry, but he turns that ache in his chest sweeter as he rocks down, his muscles already shaking as he brings himself along his lover's cocks. He is the one who is moaning as his whole body is soaked with heat as he is filled even more deeply as Tomura starts to move with him, rocking up into him so that he can reach even deeper inside. It makes pleasure rocket up his spine, leaving tears dripping off his cheeks and his mouth hanging open around the sounds that spill from his lips. How could he still have a part of him inside that resents this? He would let his lover chain him to the bed and leave it for nothing but bathing if he had his choice. After a life denied pleasure, after a decade alone and in pain just hoping that he would somehow get to have a life that was passable at best, he is being given this. He should be thanking Tomura every day until he's cut his tongue open on his teeth for how grateful he is to be able to live like this now. He watches their bodies move in the mirror and feels the softness of the veil and through that pleasure he does find a twinge of resentment. Not for Tomura, but for the trepidation that he can still hold beyond it. He shifts, bringing his weight more fully over his lover as he fumbles to reach for a glass that is set on their nightstand. 

It's only because his mate knows him so well that he sits up, still helping him to move his cocks inside of him, as Dabi throws the glass at the ceiling. Tomura's wings are around them before it impacts the mirror and has glass raining down over their bodies, every shard shattering further and bouncing harmlessly off of Tomura's wings as it does. And then the world of his mind is soft and dark again. Dabi is fully in Tomura's arms, fully pressed as closely together as their bodies can be, and he manages to say the words that he has been denying have been sitting in his chest for weeks now. 

It's his hands on his lover's cheeks, his strength pulling their lips together as he sobs, "I love you, I love you, I love you." 

But it's Tomura's purrs that make his entire body rattle as he flicks a hand to banish the glass from their bed before he has him on his back, fucking his body so much harder and deeper than Dabi could manage in the previous position. He's the one who always makes him feel so good that Dabi is scared that he might come apart at the seams if he is forced to sustain such wonderful sensations for too long. He keeps pulling at his lover, trying to get him even closer, not wanting to part their lips, but having to between moans and sobs and both of their words as Tomura reassures him, 

"My mate, my sapphire, my love. Mine, from now until the end of days. Not even death will part you from my side."

Dabi didn't know that he could fall apart so many times in one night, but it takes the heavy blackness of exhaustion washing over his eyes to actually make him stop trying to get more kisses and sweet touches against his skin. 

///

It has been five years since the rule of the Todoroki line has come to an end. Fuyumi has been a teacher for three now, Natsuo is still learning how to administer medicine to a people so imbued with magic, and Shoto is receiving warrior training from the draconic armies, halfway through a proper courtship with one of his classmates, leaving him with a draconic mate of his own. Dabi is the king's prized pet. People bow to him when he passes them in the halls, and he knows all the business of the kingdom and is allowed to offer his master counsel whenever he sees fit. He is a ghost no longer, and the curtain in his mind is so soft, a robe around him now rather than a curtain that separates who he was before Tomura entered his life. He knows the hatred that he started with, knows the disgust, revulsion, and fear, but his mind is not so rigid anymore. He fantasized for years what his world would be like once Shoto ruled instead of their father, now he knows that reality could not have made him feel so whole and complete as he does at his mate's side. 

Dabi has spent his morning in the library, reading about all of the places beyond their kingdom now that things are stable enough Tomura has started to consider taking him to tour the large stretch of land that he has claimed for himself, even if it was in his father's name. Dabi wants to leave the castle, he wants to see what the world looks like beyond this place, but he doesn't want to embarrass himself by fumbling his way through foreign cultures. So he does as he always has and studies. But he didn't think that his master would be back in their room so early in the afternoon, his day usually focused on maintaining his control and conversing using magical looking glasses to the various outposts along his territory. Sometimes he takes his full draconic form and goes flying, though he stopped asking Dabi if he would like to go after the first time left him so sick he was bedridden for days, both his mate and brother tutting over his fragility the entire time. 

"Master," he can't help the warmth that comes to his voice. Four years has made the sharpness of that word fade. He is a pet, but he is beloved. Tomura took him as a mate upon having one conversation with him rather than any of the dozens of suitors that he could have had instead. He still chooses to have only him as a mate even though so many of his father's generals choose to take many instead. Tomura will only ever have him, until the end of time.

Tomura smiles at him and that is so warm, so welcoming, that it puts an ache behind his ribs. Dabi doesn't know if it is magic or not, but he kept thinking that perhaps someday he might not feel his heart ache like a tender bruise whenever he was blessed with his mate's company. But the love in his chest will not be quelled or softened with time, it seems, it will only grow stronger. 

"Did you have a good time?" He asks, always wanting to know that he has found ways of entertaining himself if they cannot be together throughout the day. 

"Yes, master," but he doesn't care about his reading at this moment. His mate had to leave him early this morning and only arrived back at their room late last night when Dabi had already gone to sleep. He's become so spoiled for pleasure that his body is already growing warm as he moves across the room to immediately make himself at home in his lover's lap. 

Tomura chuckles at the display, but makes no real protest, "It's nearly lunch, aren't you hungry, pet?" 

"Only for you." He will be ravenous after if he has his master all of the ways that his body craves now, but he will sate that need after his more urgent ones have been as well. "I missed your kisses against my skin." He says, his cheeks growing warmer as he confesses his neediness. 

"And I missed every inch of your sweet skin, my love." Tomura leans closer, nuzzling their noses together. "I'll just have to satisfy myself by tasting every inch of you today, I suppose." He punctuates the words by hooking his legs around his waist and putting his hands on the backs of Dabi's thighs, standing easily with him held in his arms like he weighs nothing at all. Dabi can't purr like his lover can, but he would right now if he were capable of it as he is carried over to the bed. Their sheets are soft and black now too because Tomura likes to make him cum until he is past coherence before having him count the streaks of white on the sheets so he can see how completely he has been ruined. It makes the velvet darkness of his mind manifest in a way that only serves to bring Dabi more pleasure aching through him. It's a darkness inside that is so much warmer than the isolation he had before his mate, and one that he will never allow himself to resent having now, not when he can choose each time he is with Tomura, to sink deeper into his dark embrace. 

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[lokh]

oughh i wanted to do a cute laishuro take on the blu ray extras (what if laios had been eaten instead) but lets be honest. they absolutely would not have made it as far without laios

[bitegore]

if your ocs were bosses in a video game, what do you think their boss fight would be like?

[sp4ceboo]

rant but im a bit scared im going to get attacked

[isaacathom]

because a pc died in a recent ttrpg session my brain has gone absolutely Ballistic and i have fun thoughts about my character in ways that both do and dont relate to that, which i should stop flooding my twitter timeline with, and thus,

so first of all! the character who died, Commodore Morgaan Vandervest, was the party leader. He was the head of the fleet, the leader of our little strike force forward troop, captain of the Pendagast. A man with a military background, he'd signed onto this whole trip largely to get away from his family.

my character, Naielle Odelia, was the Pendagast's navigator. In a confrontation with pirates, Naielle was required to navigate the sheep through a shallow reef, and nearly got the boat grounded. When the pirate ship was captured, Naielle was, for reasons still unclear to her, appointed to serve as its captain.

Vandervest was a complicated leader for the crew. He was illsuited to the complicated political and diplomatic incidents he had to engage in, in ways which often wrankled against the more diplomatically minded crew. He also gave orders that were... harsh is the wrong word, but were coming from a more ruthless perspective, which particularly wrankle the generally polite and conflict avoidant Naielle. She wasn't alone in her dislike for the commodore's actions, but she only acted against his orders twice. "only", huh! other people were planning mutiny, on a variety of grounds.

BUT. Naielle would consider him a good leader. Not suited to his task, necessarily. She had many disagreements. But she trusted him to make those decisions honestly. And she took her appointment by him extremely seriously, despite her misgivings that she herself wasnt suited to the post.

Vandervest's background, being from a tiefling bloodline cursed centuries ago, meant that the majority of individuals in a given generation do not live past 80 or so. The Blight, as it's so called, will claim them before that point.

He was 63.

He hid the effects from everyone as best he could once they manifested, some month or two ago in-game. He slipped only rarely, and refused to be babied by the understandably-concerned crew. He didn't tell them. He told only his personal spy, who helped him arrange his affairs. Despite his condition, he didn't stop going into the field with the party when the situation demanded it. When he was knocked unconscious in battle against a corrupted dragon, multiple members of the party pulled out the stops to rescue him, even against things he wanted to happen - a chain devil had arrived to ferry his body away, and was prevented from doing so by three separate interventions. He was given the chance to explain himself, in brief, with what power he had left. And then he was gone.

He was 63.

Naielle has. a great deal to unpack in the Commodore's death. There's the issues in the immediate, the sudden gulf of leaderlessness that is being filled reluctantly by another party member, appointed by the dying Commodore with no fore-knowledge of his eligibility. Led or not, the dynamic has changed. There's the loss of his presence on the battlefield, the space in which he is most present, most skilled, most suited.

And there's other things. Naielle sees in the death of the Commodore the death of a cousin of her, Vincent Gerner, who died 7 or so years ago of a recurrent illness. Vincent was similarly stubborn and refused help as far as he could. Perhaps unluckier than the Commodore in a sense, that he lacked the nigh-supernatural strength to keep fighting until 11:59.

Vincent is the one who got Naielle her job as a navigator.

Vincent looked at Naielle, exiled from her home and wallowing in despair in his mother's spare room, and he told her that was not living. That she couldn't just let life come to her, couldn't just wait out the result she wanted, but had to grab it. And if she couldn't? If what she wanted wasn't available? Seek something else. Live, for fucks sake. He gave her that job, through his guild connections, and he got her on her feet.

It wasn't love. It's not love. It's bitter pragmatism. It's the knowledge of a dying man that he is doing his best to Live, and that everyone should, however they define that. And that what she's doing couldn't possibly be it, even by her own standards. If she'd refused, he would have let her. But he gave her that glimmer of hope, without love, and she seized it.

Vandervest is the one who gave Naielle her position as captain.

She doesn't know what motivated him to do it. She had just floundered in her role as navigator. She had failed the Pendagast. And, she supposes, and she can only suppose, he saw her skills lying elsewhere. Thought she might better suit command, a higher level perspective. Thought it was an opportunity for her to redeem herself and not wallow in her failures. Had faith, and she hopes it was faith, that she would succeed.

She doesn't know if she has. She hopes she has.

Like her job or not, she has considered it worthwhile. Command has forced responsibility on Naielle that she has avoided much of her life, and while she has not grasped it eagerly, she has sought to pay off his faith. She has gained confidence from his action.

In a letter she wrote to him, intended to be read after her own death and instead delivered after his, she told him:

For what I can only assume was faith that I could rise to the challenge, I have to thank you. Given the circumstances, I think anyone else would have thought that a foolish notion - had I half the confidence then as I do now, I would have said so myself.

And she was sincere. She meant it. She did not want the job, but she didn't want to let him down, and it's only now, months into her station, that she has the confidence she would have needed to tell him as much.

She owes both men a great deal. Neither man will ever really, truly know the depth of Naielle's gratitude to them.

She will repay them for what they did for her, whether they understand it or not.

All her unspent wages will go to Vincent's mother, who so graciously housed her in her exile, and to Vincent's daughter Josefien, a woman close in age to her who she might, sometimes, consider like a sister.

She can't pay Vandervest. She certainly wouldn't pay his family - all evidence suggests he wouldn't want that. But she can keep going. She can continue in her role, unwanted or not, and rise to the challenge he gave her all those months ago. She can hold true to who she is, and she can maybe, maybe, make his trust worth it. She can not disappoint a ghost.

-----

There are things she wanted to talk to Vandervest about, but was never going to.

Naielle is a warlock to the star Alcor, a forgotten glimmer in an elven sky. He is the reason for her exile, 20 years before the campaign began. Naielle's sister Mariela is a warlock to him too, unwillingly, brought into the fold by accident on Naielle's part. Long story, that.

Recently, Naielle learnt the reason she was made a warlock.

From her perspective, she had entreated the stars for help on her research project - knowledge, that old card. And the stars responded, and said she would have that and more.

That more was that she would serve in distant battlefields against Aboleth, and that she would reach apotheosis and join the star in the sky.

The former she had done with some acceptance, unaware at the time that this was all by design. She felt it her moral duty to intervene, to aid, to repell.

To give over herself to the divine is a concept she fears.

A fragment of her patron gave her options for how she might move forward:

Forsake her pact entirely, losing all knowledge and power gained therein. This would, not in totality but in effect, wipe 20yrs of memory from her. She would remember why she was here, and some details, but large sections would be utterly erased.

Declare her pact complete at a moment of triumph - no minor triumph, but grand. The death of an aboleth. To rid her sister of the pact, she must also be present.

Declare herself unfit to discharge her duties as high priest of Alcor, and nominate another as successor - her only option is Mariela, the sole other adherent.

Commit wholly, in the knowledge that manifesting the power of a great celestial may be what separates victory from defeat, the beating back of the aboleth threat from the complete destruction of the plane they invade. To reach for the stars.

Naielle fears her options. She considers the first utterly untenable, even in the face of her sister's suggestion that such a revocation would remove that which caused her exile, and would potentially permit her return home. As much as she wants it, she could not tolerate betraying the party in such a way. To be so selfish, without qualification, so as to remove herself entirely from the field of play.

But the remaining options, she struggles to pick between. She fears each in their own way, for the consequences for herself, and for her sister.

She would have liked to talk to Vandervest about them. She was never going to.

Regardless of the Commodore's weaknesses, Naielle trusted him. Naielle wanted his faith in her, as she saw it, to not be misplaced. She never went against an explicit order made of her - a measely distinction, but one she would make. She may have undermined orders of his made to others, but she followed her own.

She could not have spoken to Vandervest, Captain to Commodore. Any input he made would be an order.

She could not have spoken to him, peer to peer, one warrior against the aboleth to another. Any input he made would be a strong suggestion, something she might treat as though it were an order, no matter how he qualified it.

She would have liked his insight, even if she likely would have disliked the results. Frankly, she feared the idea of telling him she'd made a certain decision, and what reaction he might have.

Maybe it's for the best that he died before she made a choice.

-----

There are, arguably, two Naielles.

There's the Naielle that is Captain of the Xistina, Navigator of the Pendagast, a level-headed if anxious soul with a good heart and a desire for peace. A person reluctant to volunteer for a difficult task, but will commit with gusto should the duty fall to her, because others rely on her. A person who thinks and overthinks and triplethinks over anything she can see coming, who only acts when the situation demands immediacy, who might otherwise think herself into a hole. A self-described coward.

And there's the Naielle who steps onto the battlefield, Warlock and Reluctant High Priestess of Alcor, avatar of his power on the material plane. A healer and ranger spellcaster, who, in an instant, will ignore her backrow position to sprint forward to support her melee crew. A woman who hates to fly who considered leaping from a building to rescue someone. Someone who would take any action, make any decision, if it would save another. Someone who has to be reminded her own life is at risk in order for her to take it into account.

These are the same person. It's the same person forced to act.

If left to her own devices, Naielle will think and think and fret, and she will not act. Vincent and Vandervest, in their own ways, forced her to act on a particular scale, but in the micro she is often still there, worrying.

She can't afford to on the battlefield. So the first thing she drops, the first thing she leaves behind when the chips are down, is herself.

She often regrets it. Her breath will slow and the adrenaline ebb, and she'll realise she crossed a mortal boundary. Her head will return to earth and find it riddled with blood.

It's not that she doesn't know what's she's doing. It's not a barbarian rage, insensible and disconnected from the self. It's just that, in the moment, what she wants is the first thing to go, and the first thing to come back.

She acquired a mindflayer sword, a grotesque weapon intended to subjugate and control. She took it reluctantly, and said that she would make use of only specific abilities - the ability to cast forbiddance, the ability to cast gate, the ability to cast planeshift. Traits for which her party could find unambiguously positive use. A spellcasting implement.

And then, in a fight against a paladin of Asmodeus, who had blackmailed the fleet's Admiral with a contract over him and his son, Naielle used the sword to enthrall him.

She robbed him of his free will, even if only for a time. Demanded he rescind the contracts. And when clarity returned to his clouded eyes, she killed him. A man disarmed and restrained.

She knew what she was doing. It wasn't an order, either. She volunteered it, reluctantly even in the moment, as a solution to the problem. It was a tool at her disposal, and in a crisis, she will use any tool.

And after the crisis, she will weep.

Apotheosis is a tool. The fragment of Alcor did not refer to it in those terms, but it is the manner in which she understood it. An act ultimately to benefit the celestial, by allowing it a brief material manifestation, a means through which to empower itself and spread its will. And, in so doing, potentially fell Aboleth, first and father of all.

It's a tool. An option the Naielle of the battlefield would seize.

And Naielle of the ship fears it.

She doesn't think she'd regret it in the moment. That she'd acknowledge, even afterwards, that to make that commitment, to declare herself Alcor incarnate, would be the correct decision. But it means the loss of her individual personhood, her chance to live a life she has long craved with her wife, with her family. Isolated from all of them. Even if her decision was the deciding factor in their success, she thinks she might regret that.

So she wants to remove it. Naielle of the ship sees a tool that will kill her, no ifs ands or buts, that will take from the people she holds dear and deny her the satisfaction of victory.

And Naielle of the battlefield would see it as a decisive tool against evil. As a way to protect what she holds dear, to ensure that they all get to live their lives full and without fear. A way to allow others like Naielle their happy ending, at the cost of her own. A small price.

And the two are not reconciled. Maybe they never will be. Maybe Naielle of the ship will dither and delay, and deny herself any out, and Naielle of the battlefield will win. Or Naielle of the ship will be decisive, and she'll remove it from the board, and Naielle of the battlefield will regret its absence.

And both Naielle's, I think, wrestle over the idea of whether the self matters more than the group. And they'll keep wrestling until the storm envelops of them all.

[anam-mana]

It fascinates me that Alistair gets lumped in with the “Chantry Boys” in discussions about Dragon Age Archetypes because it’s just. Very untrue. But it’s an idea the text actually pushes you to connect with in a way I think is purposeful.

This guy introduces us to the lore of the Blight by asking if we want “the chantry version or the truth.” If we ask if they’re not the same thing he smirks and says with some attitude “they rarely are.”

He sums up his religious beliefs saying he’s “not especially” Andrastian, and that “believes in the Maker well enough.”

He’s actually LESS religious than Zevran, who describes himself as fully Andrastian with a regular prayer routine in optional conversation branches.

The things that people use to categorize Alistair’s supposed “Chantry Boy” boy status all have non-religious motivations.

For example, the big one, his virginity, is because 1. He’s nervous around women, which is the gender he finds most attractive 2. He’s actually the youngest Party Member, being freshly 20 years old. 3. And most importantly, he correlates sex with love and was brought up to see them as requiring the other and so feels uncomfortable having sex without what he sees as “true love.” And he just hasn’t been in love yet.

Another example would be his reaction to the Urn of Sacred Ashes. He reacts with wonder akin to Leliana where many others react with a contrasting blasee attitude. Even the Andrastian Zevran.

But you gotta read between the lines here. Zevran doesn’t hold remains as sacred. He’s an assassin. So his prophet’s body is in that urn. It’s a body. The least remarkable and most mundane, perhaps even the hardest to swallow, thing she could ever be to Zevran is a corpse. Kinda takes the wonder out of faith for an assassin if she dies and rests just like any one else.

But Alistair is fascinated, in awe. 1, probably because the Chantry he doubts so much now has some kinda proof that something they said was true, unlike what he previously believed. 2, Alistair is WAY more patriotic than he is religious and we gotta remember that the Fereldans pride themselves on Alamari heritage, and Andraste was probably the most powerful and influential Alamari person to ever live. 3, he’s actually a giant history buff. He info dumps history on you often, with the memorized readings of whatever question you ask. If asked about the King and Loghain before the betrayal at Ostagar, he shows respect for Loghain’s service in the War for Independance, and knowledge of his tactics. And when speaking about his time in training with the chantry as a child, he says the education was actually what he liked most. And a lot of his gifts are things like replica soldiers, Fereldan historical things, maps, (along with his interest in magical artifacts but that’s for another day.) etc. Given his patriotism and love of learning history, yeah, the Urn is a big deal to him.

I have more things I could say, but really, I just find Alistair to be one of the most misrepresented by fandom characters. His character has a TON of subtext that challenges you to look beyond what others represent him as and the low opinion he holds of himself.

The perception of him as Andrastian and devout is one pushed on him by people like Morrigan (and others to some degree) who fights Alistair more like a straw man representing society than she engages with him as himself. She sees him as a Templar even though he left the order specifically because they abused him And he fundamentally disagreed with their practices, The Harrowing specifically being what pushed him to fight to leave.

There are, textually, two ways to interpret Alistair. Through face value aesthetics and symbolism pointing to association with the Chantry and by observing other’s opinion of him. Or through actually listening to what he says and watching what he does.

And it’s just interesting to me that a lot of people get caught in the trap of what he represents aesthetically rather than who he is.

[slaytheusurper]

⭑ Our sweet sister ⭑

Masterlist

Pairing: Aegon II Targaryen x Sister!reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: Aemond has been waiting for years to marry his favourite sister, Aegon agreed it was the only way of keeping her close of making sure she only belonged to them. But her being given away to a dornish prince changes everything.

Warnings: NSFW, +18 mdni, targcest, murder, threesome (my first), making out, mastrubation, grinding, fingering, oral (both m and f receiving), vaginal sex, breeding kink, mommy kink, titty sucking, creampie, switch Aegon, dom Aemond and Aegon being drunk as always.

Word count: 3.3k

The early morning rays shone through your window in the Red Keep as your handmaiden finished up with your hair. She always had a need to have your hair perfect, not one strand out of place. With some pins she adjusted the headpiece with the sheer black fabric and green and gold details. Your mother, Queen Alicent, could arrive any moment with your twin sister Heleana, to pick you up for prayer at the sept. 

You absolutely despised it but you could never disobey your mother. You were her favourite daughter after all. She always tried to get close to Heleana but you knew your twin preferred to keep her distance from everyone. Even though you were twins, you didn’t really look alike. Both of you of course had the silver hair and lilac eyes of house Targaryen but your facial features were different from hers.

The door opened and your mother and sister entered your chamber. “My dear, how did you sleep?” Alicent asked as she adjusted your headpiece a bit, at which your handmaiden frowned. “Fine, shall we leave?” You stood up and Alicent stopped fussing with your hair, following you out instead. Strolling through the halls with your mother and sister in front of you, Aemond walked passed giving you a small smile. To which you mouthed a silent “Help me”, he chuckled as he gave you one last sympathetic smile over his shoulder. 

You thanked the gods the morning passed swiftly, for you were already on your way back to the Red Keep. When you reached the door of your bedchamber you hurriedly went inside as your handmaiden stood at the ready for your, often daily, dragon ride with Aemond. She helped you quickly change into your dragon riding attire. You and Aemond have always been extremely close, always there for each other, both the favourite children. But ever since Aemond started to grasp for more power, he started to lose the favour of his mother, her now fully turning her attention to you. 

Your eldest brother, Aegon, had never been much loved by your mother. And because of your maturity and grace, he started to cling to you instead. This was the root of your complicated but deep connection with your older brother, everytime he got scolded or drunk he would turn to you. Now this used to be in an innocent way but lately the winds started to shift, Heleana was more distant from him then ever, his mother had just been ignoring him and his father on the doorstep of death. You hadn’t seen him yet today, so you assumed he was still asleep, you would check on him later. 

As for now, you would take to the skies with your other brother. You couldn’t admit it but the way people were terrified when the two of you flew together made you feel so powerful. Yes the two biggest dragons of the realm were a godly sight indeed. You claimed Vermithor, The Bronze Fury, at age ten and two. That evening at Dragon Stone with your family was an interesting one. Everyone either preparing for bed or still drinking and talking was disrupted by the notice of your absence and the terrifying screeches and roars from the Bronze Fury below. Your mother demanded you to be rescued at once, for Vermithor was known to be relentless and fierce, having not accepted a rider after the old king died. But you were much like the dragon when it came to fierceness, you weren’t afraid. And so when the guards, dragon keepers and your family arrived at the cave where the dragons resided. You stood there, in your nightgown, hand on Vermithor’s nose. After years the Bronze Fury had been claimed... by a little girl.

Aemond joined you in the training yard where your horses were waiting to take you to the outskirts of the city, for Vermithor and Vhagar were both too big for the Dragon Pit. You were both quick to mount and race through the city to get to your dragons. When you arrived, Vermithor and Vhagar were both resting next to each other, they too, formed a close bond, as they only had each other outside the dragon pit. Both of them lifted their heads and grumbled and roared at the sight of the two of you, knowing they could fly with their riders again. You both climbed on your mounts and took to the sky, frightening the shit out of towns beneath you. 

It felt good to be with Aemond, natural but powerful at the same time. You knew his desperate want for the throne but that still couldn’t change how you saw him. By the time you came back the sun had begun to set and you both knew supper would be soon. So you returned with your brother to the Red Keep where two guards were waiting to take you to the dining room. As you both entered your mother wore a disapproving look on her face, she didn’t like the two of you flying for so long but when it also cut into her time with her family she really got annoyed. “You stink of dragon.” She began. “We only just got back mother, time gets away from us on dragon back.” Aemond defended. You took your seats next to each other, Aemond to your right. Aegon to your left. Heleana to his left. Her head down as she mumbled to herself. Aegon slumped in his seat as always, probably already drunk and waiting for supper to end so he could sneak out to his whores. 

There was a tension in the air, your mothers and grandfather's eyes were on you. Only then did you really take in your mother, teary eyed, red cheeks, looking down. Weird. You thought, you looked at your grandfather, the hand of the king, questioningly. “You are twenty years old already,” He began, you still looked at him confused but deep down you knew where this was heading, again. “For 4 years I have been searching for a good match for you, I have tried again and again to match you with someone you could grow to like, maybe even love and yet, you refuse them.” Otto stood up from his chair, “Alas, I have had enough. Your father, sadly, cannot make these decisions anymore, so I have. Now an opportunity has arisen, one that I have been waiting for.”

“House Martell is looking for a fine lady to marry their second son, prince Robyn. I sent a letter a while ago and they have agreed to accept your hand.” Two hands slammed on the table as Aemond stood up in rage. “You will do no such thing! She is a Targaryen princess! She will not be married off to some Dorne cunt!” He yelled, you could only look down. You knew this day would come, where they would be fed up with your defiance and force you to marry. But it seemed your brother would not give up without a fight. 

What you didn’t expect was for Aegon to stand up as well. “My sister is the most beautiful and fine Targaryen princess of the realm, I stand with Aemond. You will not marry her off to some plain man of house Martell.” You were taken by surprise, Aemond’s reaction was expected but you didn’t know Aegon cared so much too. Otto Hightower leaned slightly over the table. “She will marry him, he and his family should be here on the morrow. End of discussion!” He sneered. You stood up and left without a word. You went to bed that night knowing your calm, easy life in King’s Landing was alas over. Aemond however, thought otherwise. 

After everyone had gone to bed he was still awake, mauling over the dinner. In a fit of rage at the memory he left his chambers and almost ran to his older brothers. He could hear the disturbance inside yet he did not care, not when his beloved sister was about to be sold off like a broodmare. He passed the guards and pushed open the door. Aegon's bedchambers were completely destroyed, cups, tapestries, pillows, blankets were everywhere, glass and wine splayed on the grounds and walls. Aegon was standing over a small table that used to hold his wine. “Brother.” Aemond urged. Aegon looked up, his eyes bloodshot and fist balled up. “There is only one way to stop this, to keep her here.” Aegon didn’t even respond, he just nodded. They were very different from each other but they both had one thing in common, they loved you.

You woke up from a restless sleep to the entire Red Keep in disarray, you could hear shouting and arguing from inside your bedchamber and just as you were about to open the door. Heleana entered your bedchamber, hands covering her ears. You knew if Heleana looked to hide with you, it was bad. “What is it? Hel, what happened? Tell me.” She looked at the ground and muttered. “They’re dead.” Fear struck your heart as you thought the worst, her children? Your brothers? “What?! Who is Heleana?” You grabbed her hands and sat her down on your settee. “House Martell, at least, the prince and his father. Qoren Martell is now to be their new king.” You couldn’t help but smile. “How did they die?” Heleana finally looked at you, “They say Aegon and Aemond left in the middle of the night. No one could stop them as Aegon mounted Sunfyre and Aemond mounted Vhagar, they burned them on the Fork Road until nothing but ashes were left. Grandfather is furious as you might have heard.” 

That was the end of a short betrothal between you and the prince of Dorne. It took two weeks for things to finally calm in the Red Keep. But the two brothers' plans to keep you here were not completed. Sure their enemy was dead but it would be sooner or later the hand found a new match so they had to make sure you couldn’t marry. You were sitting in your bedchamber on your settee, in your nightgown, your long silver hair down while reading a book about The First Men. When all of a sudden your bedchamber creaked open, as you looked up from your book both Aegon and Aemond entered your bedchamber. You weren’t allowed to speak to them, for two weeks you hadn’t been able to leave other than to pray by your mothers request. You couldn’t help but smile as both of them entered with a mischievous grin on their faces. You also noticed the guards outside were gone. 

“You know you aren’t allowed to be here.” You said closing your book. They didn’t say a word as Aegon went and sat down on the settee in front of you, while Aemond settled next to you. “For two weeks we have lived in agony of not seeing you, not speaking to you. But as you know, Aegon and I have taken matters into our own hands. You, are ours. And we will do anything and burn anyone to keep you here.” Aemond spoke as he moved your hair behind your ear, placing a featherlight kiss on your neck making your eyes flutter shut. A fire started to burn inside you, heart thumping in your chest and a tingling feeling in your abdomen. When you opened your eyes you saw Aegon looking at you through half lidded eyes, his lips parted as you noticed a bulge in his pants. You weren’t stupid, you knew what sex was and you knew what they wanted and oh did you want it too.

“You, I think, know how we can keep you here. If your innocence is ruined, you’ll have no choice but to marry Aemond. You’ll stay here and have his children and of course you can keep taking care of me as well, right sister?” Aegon spoke, now standing up and moving to sit at your right side. You could only nod as Aemond groaned and moved his hand up your thigh, while Aegon grabbed your chin and smashed his lips on yours. Moving his lips feverishly against yours. Teeth clashing, tongue entwining and hands moving to rip off any clothes that were on you in the first place. Aemond finally had you bare next to him as his hand moved between your thighs, his lips and tongue moving over your neck. You moaned in Aegon's mouth, even your filthiest fantasies couldn’t compare to the real thing.

“Need you so bad mommy.” Aegon whined against your lips. You could hear a faint chuckle from Aemond who now used two fingers to tease your wet folds. “Listen to him, you haven’t even touched him yet and he’s already begging for it.” You couldn’t even speak as Aegon refused to stop kissing you. Aemond now circling your clit with his fingers making your free hands grip the fabric of the settee. Aegon started to remove his own clothes while never leaving your lips as Aemond paused to take off his as well. Both men now in their breeches, their hard ons evident between their legs. The effect you had on them made you feel like a goddess. You had them wrapped around your finger and they had you wrapped around theirs.

Aemond moved off the settee and kneeled between your legs, you looked down at him as he undid the clasp of his eyepatch, the sapphire in his eye socket twinkling in the candlelight. Aegon moved his lips down towards your chest, taking a nipple in his mouth and suckling on it like a babe. Aemond started to kiss between your thighs moving further until he reached your aching cunt. Tongue darted out as he began to lap at your folds. You could barely breathe as pleasure consumed you. Aegon sucked and licked at your breast hungrily, holding the other in his hand and using his right hand to pull down his breeches enough to free his cock. As Aemond continued to eat you like a starved man making you moan and whine, Aegon started to pump his cock, eager for that pure bliss. "Fuck- mommy-" Aegon mumbled.

Both brothers groaned and panted against you, Aemond now palming himself through his breeches. He couldn’t help it, he was too impatient. Precum started to leak from Aegon’s tip, he moaned and whined around your nipple. You couldn’t take it anymore, the erotic sounds, the feeling of one brother fucking you with his tongue and the other sucking on your breast while he was pleasuring himself, with a gasp and a plead you reached your peak. Seeing spots of how hard you squeezed your eyes shut. Your thighs clamping together around Aemonds head, which he forced right open before he stood back up. You hadn’t even noticed he removed his breeches as well. His cock stood proud, also leaking from the mere sight of you bare before him.

Aemond eyed Aegon hungrily, also seemingly turned on by the noises he made. Not to mention the sight of him at your breast while fucking his own fist. Aemond pulled Aegon of your nipple by his jaw and forced him to face his brother, before pulling him in a harsh kiss. Aegon made a strangled noise at the action and stopped pleasuring himself to hold the back of Aemond’s head, not wanting to let go of him. Then Aemond pushed his knee between Aegon's legs right against his hard cock. 

Aegon gasped against his brother's lips, you whined at the sight, never had you seen such an erotic scene before you and you were begging the gods to not let it stop. Aemond didn’t stop there but started to move with more pressure against Aegon’s cock, capturing his moans in his mouth. Aegon removed himself from Aemond’s lips for a moment. “Please- don’t stop- feel so good.” He mumbled. Your hand unconsciously slid down your body, touching yourself was the only way to relieve that nagging ache that returned again. But to Aegon and to your surprise, Aemond did stop. Making Aegon whine at the removal of the contact. “On the bed, both of you.” Aemond commanded, and both of you scrambled towards your bed. 

Aemond followed, positioning you like you weighed nothing. Putting you on your hands and knees, commanding Aegon to move towards your head while he stayed behind you. Aegon knew exactly what Aemond wanted and already held the base of his cock to smear his precum across your parted lips. Aemond grazed your other lips with his cock, smearing your arousal around. He reached out his hand to Aegon. “Spit.” Aegon did as told immediately and let his saliva drop onto his little brother's hand. Which Aemond used to coat his cock making it easier to breach your maidenhead. Aegon entered your mouth and hissed at the feeling, somehow this was better then any whores cunt. His sister and his brother sharing the bed with him was better than a thousand whores. 

You softly sucked on Aegon’s cock while Aemond pushed the head of his into your cunt. You whined around Aegon while Aemond sank further into you, a shuddering breath leaving his lips at the feeling of his sister's tight hole around him. He had waited so long, feeling sure that the two of you would be wed but that day never came, and it would never unless he took the matter into his own hands. Moans, gasps and panting filled the moonlit room, it was almost an ethereal sight. Three silver haired bodies becoming one. When Aemond felt you relax and Aegon started to carefully fuck your mouth, he started to move as well. Wanting nothing more than to fill you with his seed that would hopefully take root so he could finally make you his wife and mother of his children. "Oh mommy feels so good-" Aegon whined.

As your moans grew louder, Aemond started to fuck into you harder. Gripping your hips so he could move you against him as well. Aegon was the first to finish, being already so pent up and horny he didn’t last long in your warm wet mouth. With a gasp of your name he filled your throat with his cum, fingers entangled in your hair for support. He pulled his softening dick out and laid down next to you catching his breath. Aemond started to now pound into you like a wild animal, it seemed as if he was so lost in pleasure he couldn’t hear or see anything else but you. Aegon however, with a clearer mind, sat up and moved closer to you. Letting his hand trace your body to where you and Aemond were connected. 

Moving his fingers until he found your clit, you confirmed with a moan. He let his fingers rub against your sweet spot adding to the pleasure of your building orgasm. You pleaded for more, and Aegon started to move his fingers in rhythm with Aemond. This was all you needed, all you needed to scream out their names while gripping the sheets in ecstasy. Your walls clenched around Aemond, making him see stars. Aegon removed his fingers and watched in awe as his brother fucked you relentlessly. 

However Aemond’s thrusts were getting sloppier. And his cursing and groaning made it clear he was about to peak as well. With a couple of final thrusts he came hard. Making sure to go as deep as possible, he spurted his cum right against your cervix. Surely filling your womb with his spent. Giving you a couple of lazy trusts he made sure to be completely milked empty before pulling out. Letting himself fall on the bed next to you so he could pull you against his side. Aegon, not wanting to be left out of it, crawled against your other side, cuddling up next to you. What you didn’t notice, was how the door was accidentally left ajar. Your brothers made sure the entire Red Keep knew of your bedding. Surely they can’t deny Aemond his sister now?

[ambrosiagourmet]

I love Izutsumi. She's got a great design, she's a fun addition to the main party, she adds some new tension, and she's honestly one of the reasons I read dungeon meshi in the first place. I mean, "the most cat to ever girl" is an extremely appealing hook to anyone who loves cats and girls (me, I love cats and girls).

However, while I have always liked Izutsumi, I finished the story kind of feeling like I didn't really get her. I felt like I had a decent grasp on her character an character arc (she's a traumatized teen given space to feel safe and open up, and because of that she realizes that she can't grow without letting go of the coping mechanisms she once needed). But I didn't feel like I really understood her role in the story as a whole.

She follows the group of her own accord, after a coincidental meeting and a misunderstanding of what they can do for her. She's never super invested in saving Falin, at least not compared to the rest of the group. Though they do help her escape Maizuru's shackles, and are clearly good for her in general, she doesn't really have a healing Moment with the group the way that Senshi does with the hippogriff soup.

And yet, she gets an entire chapter, the third-to-last chapter, dedicated to exploring her growth and future. She's the one who frames much of the falling action, who lets us check in with everyone. She's the one who helps talk Laios into accepting his role as king. She may join the story part way through, but she is there for most of it. So Izutsumi! What's your deal!?

Well, I think I've come up with an answer, at least for myself, that I really like. Two of them, even! Though they both really work together to form the overall point - Izutsumi is the character that most helps the story face towards the future. Here's why I think that.

So the first of these "ah-ha" moments was when I realized that Izutsumi really is the best supporting evidence for Laios' point about the good things that wouldn't have happened if Falin hadn't died.

If Falin hadn't been eaten by the dragon, Izutsumi probably would still be a slave. It was because of Shuro and Laios' parties both being in the dungeon to rescue Falin, as well as Marcille's use of ancient magic in the resurrection, that she got the chance to escape. None of that would have been the case if Falin hadn't died. Shuro wouldn't have separated from the group and joined up with his retainers, Marcille wouldn't have revealed her knowledge of ancient magic, and Izutsumi never would have even met any of them. They are only part of her life because of Falin's death.

Though this isn't explicitly pointed out by Laios or Izutsumi in the scene, I do think you can very much feel the presence of it. For one, when Marcille reflects on the journey and how much it made her realize she didn't want to lose everyone, her relationship with Izutsumi is prominent:

It's the main original group at the top and center, but when you read it right to left, it’s Izutsumi and Marcille who might catch your eye first. And it's specifically Marcille and Izutsumi's relationship on display here, not just Izutsumi's presence in the group in general.

Also, after Laios' statement about how none of their adventure would have happened without Falin dying, it is Izutsumi who gets the final word:

Izutsumi is also the one here who is the most forward-facing. Chilchuck is trying to correct Laios, Senshi is focused on the immediate future, and Izutsumi is talking about her new goal.

And I want to talk about that goal in general as well, because it’s also interesting how it comes up. In that moment, everyone is trying to remind Marcille of her less destructive desires - to eat food, to share it with them, and to meet Chilchuck's family. All of which are previously established, existing desires. When prompted by Chilchuck to join in, however, Izutsumi offers something new:

That's interesting, isn't it? It's kind of funny, of course, to see her rambling on about a completely new thing, her own personal motive, in the middle of everyone working together to reach out to Marcille. Izutsumi doesn't even know who Yaad is! But at the same time, it’s kind of meaningful. Amidst the focus on desires that everyone already had, she adds a completely new one to the mix. It’s even the final bridge that lets Laios reach Marcille.

It is, in fact, even an idea that comes back later to help out another lord of the dungeon. The idea of finding new goals and feeling new desires... this is exactly how Kabru reaches out to Mithrun, after the Winged Lion is gone

So yeah, Izutsumi's presence here, both in what she's actively choosing to say as well as what she represents of the consequences of Falin's death, supports the story's ideas of moving forward. Of accepting the past, and finding new reasons to live.

Which is all really good, and that alone works pretty well as an answer to what Izutsumi's role in the story is.

But oh, oh. There's more. Something I realized after having thought of all this, because I still couldn't let go of the feeling that there was still something I was missing.

And as I reviewed the things I loved about Izutsumi - her sometimes unhealthy ways of coping with trauma, her struggles with isolation, her skill with fighting, her selfishness contrasted with the ways she grows to care for and protect the group, her perpetually guarded nature, born from the seeming impossibility of ever fitting in or finding a safe place to just be herself - I realized something.

Izutsumi...

is a foil to Falin.

Where Falin copes with isolation and trauma by being eternally caring and struggling to say no to people, Izutsumi copes by constantly saying no to everything she can. Falin is often considered selfless, but does have selfish desires that she can’t easily express until a moment of crisis. Izutsumi is delightfully selfish, but chooses to stick by her friends when they need her. They are both transformed, against their will, into partly monstrous hybrids, and they both will have to live with that - there is no undoing what has been done to them.

Falin anchors the group in the past. Izutsumi pulls them towards the future. Neither would find freedom without the other - it is Falin's death that leads to Izutsumi joining the party, and likewise, it is Izutsumi who inspires the realization of how they can save Falin.

And Falin is her future, as much as Izutsumi is Falin's. Both learn to be a little more like each other, even though they never meet. Falin gets a little more selfish. Izutsumi gets a little more willing to bend.

In this context, I feel like I have finally started to understand just how important Izutsumi is to the story. She is a proof that they cannot just go back, and she is a clawed, happy-to-scratch-anyone-who-pisses-her-off reminder, at that. In any conversation about what the group wishes would have happened with Falin, she cannot be ignored or brushed aside.

She is a reminder that, even in the midst of a tragedy so big it feels like a shadow you will never escape, you have yet to met all the people you will love. Hell, some of those people might even be catgirls. We should all be so lucky.

[apersonnamedel]

Something I would like to point out while rewatching HTTYD2 that I think is very interesting and also not at all talked about is this.

HTTYD2 brings lots and I mean LOTS of parallels whether they are visual or spoken but the one I hear spoken about the most is between Hiccup and Valka and them not killing a dragon. Even the movie tries to make this seem like a parallel. They bring it up even!

“Ehh it runs in the family.” Hiccup says after the flashback scene.

But something I noticed is that it is not a parallel. Mainly because of a few key things. It’s more almost perpendicular. They head in the same direction and they have the same realization, then go in complete opposite directions.

Valka runs away. A key part of her character I’ve noticed while I’ve been writing my analysis of her is that she oozes of cowardice and willful ignorance. Now that doesn’t mean she’s a bad person, it simply means that she ran away and chose to stay away. But that’s not the main reason I brought this up.

Remember the flashback where they draw attention to how similar Hiccup and Valka are? They talk about it in a very specific way.

They bring attention to two points. Both of them looked into a dragons eye and saw themself. Then they both didn’t kill a dragon. They show this as some kind of parallel. Maybe to show that Hiccup has someone who understands him, maybe to add a bit of layering to the first movie and how he’s just like her.

But it’s not a parallel.

What’s the difference in this scene?

One dragon is tied up.

One isn’t.

It’s a matter of choice.

“You and your father nearly died that night. All because I couldn’t kill a dragon.” Quote Valka.

“300 years and I’m the first Viking who wouldn’t kill a dragon.” Quote Hiccup.

Hiccups statement STILL rings true. Valka had no choice in if she wanted to kill Cloudjumper or not. That’s why I brought up Valka’s cowardice. Valka was in a trapped house with an injured newborn and an unbound dragon 5x her size. She was in the middle of a raid with people all around. Stoick was around the corner. She simply couldn’t kill the dragon. It wasn’t a matter of would or wouldn’t.

Hiccup on the other hand was alone in a forest with a tied up dragon. He made the decision to not kill Toothless. He wouldn’t. Because he absolutely could have killed Toothless.

“I was a coward. I was weak. I wouldn’t kill a dragon.”

“You said wouldn’t that time.”

This scene (in my own opinion) is meant to show that Hiccup was never the hiccup. He was never a coward. He wasn’t weak. It’s meant to be ironic.

Hiccup let go one of the most dangerous dragons in the world and it was brave. He went against his culture, his tribe because he thought it was the right thing to do.

That’s where Valka and Hiccups story become perpendicular. Hiccup was brave. Valka was a coward.

Hiccup chose not to run away. He chose to change their minds. He thought their minds could change.

Valka ran away. She didn’t listen and didn’t think change was possible. She held this belief until Hiccup comes along.

Valka’s path is where she believes that dragons are more than they seem. Then, “This wasn’t a viscous beast, but an intelligent gentle creature whose soul, reflected my own.” She has the revelation. Then she runs away and stays away. Now she had her own reasons and I am very much phrasing this in a biased way but it’s meant to show a point. She stays away and doesn’t change much. Because she couldn’t kill a dragon.

Hiccups path is where he does not see much to dragons. He wants to kill one to be accepted into the village. He shoots down Toothless and- “Everything we know about you guys, is wrong.” Or- “I looked at him and saw myself.” Hiccup and Valka’s paths cross here. But Hiccup doesn’t run away and he changes Berk’s mind. Because he wouldn’t kill a dragon.

Anyways I think that’s about it for that topic and I think it should be discussed more! Because if you really think about it, there are almost no parallels in Valka and Hiccup. And if there are, it isn’t well executed enough that it leaves a strong impact. I definitely will talk about this more but it’s late and I crave sleep.

[baejax-the-great]

One of the things missing in Veilguard is any sort of meaningful power struggle. By keeping to the poorer parts of the city-settings, we don't really deal with corrupt or powerful nobles. By defanging the Crows, an organization who famously has lethal squabbles between factions, they turned them into some weird, benevolent family organization. Even the assassin trying to make "evil" power plays doesn't actually manage to kill any of his targets, and his ruthless relatives? Also don't kill him in revenge. In the end, the status quo is maintained. Nothing has changed.

In Tevinter, we have the Threads, an organized crime unit who we know runs "protection" rackets on the locals and is involved in some kind of smuggling (it's Tevinter--so presumably this would involve slavery and dangerous artifacts, but it's Veilguard, so I guess not). Instead of them beefing with the Shadow Dragons, who presumably ruin some of their deals with their pesky "freeing the slaves" thing, and instead of their main issue being with any sort of law enforcement, something which doesn't exist in Veilguard beyond one singular templar who does all of jack shit the entire game, their main power struggle is with the Venatori, who are evil just to be evil.

And instead of the Veilguard siding with law enforcement or the threads and enlisting their help to, idk, unseat the corrupt head of the templars or otherwise deal with the venatori shit, the threads are highly favored by the storyline, and in the end the only real choice is to make Neve a thread or to make her... idk, the same Neve? The game calls her an "inspiration", but it's not like she's part of any organization, so we can't call her a figurehead. It's just like, see that random citizen right there? She rules. And I don't really see how that increases the power of the rule of law, because even if one good person is working within rule of law to get things done, she's not part of the system, and everyone already know the system is corrupt in Minrathous. Random citizens in fucking Ferelden know the system is corrupt in Minrathous, or they would if they weren't all dead. Neve is now just playing on hard mode to appear righteous, which, good for her, but I'm sorry, won't inspire all that many people who are still paying "protection" money to the local mafia.

(Putting Neve in charge of the Threads is an absolutely whackadoodle decision by the devs that I don't even know how to respond to. She has a single Thread contact. Presumably the Threads have a hierarchy. She has never demonstrated interest in being a smuggler. Being a detective really has no overlap with being a crime boss. Telling a group of criminals that they are all detective's helpers now is sure to go over like a lead balloon. What the fuck was that. Why did that happen.)

Maevaris and Dorian arguing came out of nowhere and lasted a fairly long time, which was interesting, but after the most recent election in the states, Maevaris's position sounds unbearably naive and trite, and this hardly counts as a power struggle as they both say they will support the other depending on what some random outsider thinks should happen. (That is soooo not a basis for a system of government. Why would Maevaris OR Dorian cede their power to Rook, someone they don't know and who doesn't matter)

The power struggle within the Wardens is also very stupid and easily solved. The First Warden is a moron. He dies (kind of). For some reason the extremely hot and competent couple who we first encounter in the middle of nowhere are next in command, so, phew. Problem solved there. A question of what the Wardens will do now that the Blights are over would have been interesting. Do they keep recruiting lest the Blight somehow reoccur and nobody remembers the Warden secrets? Or do they disband? Do they set themselves to seeking a cure and nothing else?

The closest you get to that is deciding what the griffons will do, which, again, why the fuck is Rook deciding that, but also there are 13 of them, in two or three more generations they will be dead unless a lot of mages bone up on genetics real fast.

Who is left? We have Rivain, which is just pointless in this game. I played as a Lord of Fortune, but you could drop that faction and not a single thing changes in the game. Pirates who don't loot valuable artifacts because they are elvhen? Give me a fucking break.

Same for the Mourn Watch. There is pretty much nothing going on in that region. You could excise it from the game and nothing changes in the slightest. There is not a single excuse for them not using the Eluvians to help the Veilguard earlier in the game, given just how little they have going on.

The Veiljumpers are just missed opportunities all over the place. They could have had factions debating whether to join the god of vengeance in fucking up the human civilizations as payback for, you know, everything. They could have had people joining Cyrion in thinking that a Forgotten One might be the best way to face down the gods, given they'd done it before. There could have been a HUGE cultural impact on "what do we do now that we know our gods are evil fuckfaces--what do we keep and what do we throw away," but Veilguard ain't that deep. They could have had knowledge of a super-weapon or some elvhen bullshit that would help the Veilguard fight the gods... but nah.

In DAO, your decisions not only affected the political futures of the various regions, but they decided who would help you and how. Did the dwarves have golems? Did you have templars or mages? That whole wolf thing with the Dalish that I no longer remember that well? And the Dalish deciding to help changed how they were viewed in Ferelden. The mages helping you meant the monarch would treat them favorably. It fucking mattered.

In Veilguard, the only situation remotely close to that is the dragon decision at the beginning, which was one of the fucking dumbest plot points in a video game I have ever played. It was the first thing that made me set my controller down and go... what? What the fuck? The idea that Rook, a nobody, is the only person singularly capable of driving back a dragon in the entire north is laughable. What the fuck was Dorian up to that day? How is Rook more capable than every single Crow? How is it the two companions you sent to the other city were absolutely useless? If Lucanis/Neve + two companions were unable to drive a dragon away, what makes them think Rook would be the deciding factor? What makes them blame Rook when they themselves couldn't fucking do it? Neve in particular was a big part of fucking up that ritual and releasing the gods, so why is Rook taking all the fire for this?

AND WHY IS THEIR RESPONSE TO A BLIGHT TO FIND A SINGLE DRAGON HUNTER? HEY DIPSHITS, THE DRAGON IS HUNTING YOU. YOU DON'T NEED TO WORRY ABOUT THAT PART. YOU NEED AN ARMY.

But Treviso or Minrathous being spared doesn't change the global political situation at all. It would have been really interesting if it did. Tevinter hobbled? How many kingdoms would be salivating to take a bite out of their territory? With the trade princes of Antiva being absolutely fucked over by the Blight, who is taking over that trade? Who is getting rich?

Nobody, I guess, because why would Rook know or care about that, because, as previously mentioned, they are a nobody who doesn't matter and honestly shouldn't be listened to.

The stakes in this game are nothing because the bad guys are all so obviously bad that you know, as a video game player, that you are going to defeat them. Oh, the Antaam are just mindless, faceless brutes fucking up Treviso? Okay, let's kill them. Venatori again? I'm pretty sure they aren't the heroes of this game. There's no power struggle, and in the end all we've done is revert to the status quo, (except i guess Treviso is no longer occupied).

Except for the south. The south is dead. but we didn't have anything to do with that for some reason. Couldn't even be bothered to house some refugees in our safehouse that was built specifically to house refugees. The Inquisitor, who has access to the eluvians, couldn't figure out how to get other people through them or something so... sorry, every single Orlesian, Fereldan, and Marcher.

[alicentofhightower]

the cost of a dragon

pairing: addam velaryon x wife!reader

synopsis: addam is covered in cuts and scrapes from falling and running in the forest, and now you must take care of him.

includes: fluff, episode 6 heavy spoilers, probably historically inaccurate w some parts but we’re just gonna Let That Slide, not proofread again oops

wc: 1.3k

a/n: i love him so bad. rn my top 3 tb characters are rhaenyra rhaena and addam. he’s so sweet!! i really hope we get to see a lot more of him in the next few episodes

-

Addam is bewildered when he returns to your home, panting, eyes wide and mouth agape. You’ve never seen him like this, but you guess that it’s the dragon laying beside your house that’s done it.

“What’s happened?” You exclaim when you see the way he’s stumbled in, bleeding from a cut on his cheek.

“…The, the dragon,” He mumbles, locked hair spilling over his shoulders. Addam walks over to where you stand by the kitchen table, hands gently grasping your forearms, as yours do his, thumbs running over your skin to ground himself. He smells strange, like something otherworldly. Could it have been because of the beast outside your door?

“It came to me, followed me through the woods by the shore. I think I’ve claimed him. Yes, that’s what I’ve done. I must go.” Addam attempts to retract himself from your grip, but to no avail.

The pots and pans inside rattle when the silver creature lay its head on the yard outside, no doubt resting from its flight. “Please, my love,” Addam insists. “I need to go and see the queen myself. She is in need of more dragons herself, is she not? If I serve her, perhaps she will allow you and I to live at Dragonstone with her. This is our chance.”

You shake your head, apron ruffling from the beach’s wind blowing through the window. Addam has always been ambitious, has always wanted the best for you and himself. He’s fiercely loyal to you, a quality that made you want to marry him in the first place.

“Addam.” Your hands fly up to cup his cheeks, stopping him from continuing on with his tangent. “You’re covered in gashes and dirt and sand. At least let me lend you a hand.”

He softens at that, jaw seeming to unclench. Addam’s brown eyes have always been expressive, and now they seem to look at you as if you’re the sweetest person he’s ever known. “…I suppose you’re right,” He mutters, “but we must make haste.”

Finally, you let go of each other. You use one of your hands to intertwine your fingers with his, and the other to grip your skirts as you lead him to your room. It’s small and modest, mostly swallowed up by the bed you share. “Sit,” You say, almost commandingly, quickly fetching a spare piece of cloth by the tub in the main room and a bowl of water.

Addam’s eyes almost glint at the way you flounce about before him. He spreads his legs so you are able to stand between them, chin tilting up so he can make eye contact with you while you fix him up.

“Let me see.”

He holds out his right arm, palm up, covered in tiny scratches and sand from his poor attempt to escape from his new dragon. Seasmoke, he remembers. Addam squeezes your right hand lightly while the other cleans him up.

You barely manage to suppress a heavy scoff at the mess in front of you, but you dab gently at it with the towel anyway, soaked with water. “What did you do?” You ask, brows knitting together. “Did you try to run from it?”

“Yes,” He admits, face scrunching together at the fresh memory. You’ve told him to be careful of the sky-beasts constantly looming over the two of you, and he knows he’ll be scolded for trying to escape the damn thing.

You shake your head, mostly to yourself, and Addam’s shoulders deflate. “Well, what would you have done?” He asks, exasperated. “My apologies for wanting to come home to you tonight.”

You pinch his arm. “I only worry for you,” You say, voice soft. Addam and his brother, Alyn, are the only family you’ve left; you’d never known your father, and your sweet mother had died of a fever shortly after your seventeenth nameday. She hadn’t been able to last, to see you wed the man you love so dearly.

“…What will you say, when you see Queen Rhaenyra? She may think you are coming as a foe, to battle rather than service.”

Addam hisses as you brush against a particularly deep cut, eyes squeezing shut. “Sorry,” You say, and he only tips your interlaced fingers up to his lips and kisses the back of your hand.

Your husband pauses after he lets your hands back down, considering the weight of whatever his words to the Black Queen will mean. He almost thinks of it as a duty, to you and his brother. To further your ever so small family.

“I suppose the words will come to me when it happens.” He swallows harshly, eyes averted from yours, darting around like he’s telling himself to fucking think.

You’ve moved onto his other arm, now, and suddenly the odor of him has become unbearable. It’s nothing like anything you’ve smelled before.

Grimacing, you drop the washcloth and cover your nose with your hand, taking a step back. “What?” questions Addam, clearly confused. “What’s the matter?”

“Gods, you fucking stink. What is that?”

Addam laughs. He laughs, tension seeping out of him as he does. “It must be the dragon,” He claims, reaching out to grab your waist and pull you back towards him. “Don’t mind it, please.”

You’re unable to fight the smile you feel blooming, because despite the fact that your husband reeks of his new dragon sleeping outside your home, and your feet are sore from walking to the markets, only to find nothing, and your nerves are set ablaze thinking of his meeting with Rhaenyra, Addam is here. He’s here with you, holding you, safe in the comfort of your humble little home.

The feeling is fleeting, only settling in you for a moment, but you tip your head down to press a kiss to his mouth. “You must be vigilant,” You plead when you pull away, ignoring the way Addam’s lips seem to chase after yours. “And you must return to me. I do not know what I would do if I were to lose you.”

“I will be. I swear it.”

You brush away the dried blood on his cheek with the cloth, frowning. “We should leave, shouldn’t we? Fly to Essos, where we will be safe without the threat of war. That dragon is large enough to saddle three, isn’t it? We can go-“

A thumb soothingly presses against your lips, silencing you. “…If I can put the thing to use, it will strengthen us. Strengthen whatever I have with my father.”

Addam had always been desperate to get the same attention from Lord Corlys that Alyn had always seemed to receive after he’d saved the man. You’d never spoken to the Lord Velaryon yourself before, but it was hard to miss the way he’d stare at you when you visited your husband in the shipyard, almost melancholically.

“I do not care for jewels and gowns and for you to be gilded in glory, Addam,” You state, pushing his wrist away from your face. “I care for you. Should we not go now? I could find your brother.”

“No.” He shakes his head, standing from the bed, now towering over you. His fingers, callused from his seemingly never-ending work on Lord Corlys’s ship, caress your waist almost reverently.

Almost every inch of your skin heats up when Addam leans down to kiss your chest, right where your heart is. The skin is covered by the sea-blue gown you wear, a white apron tied about your waist, and you shudder at the feel of his lips on such an intimate spot.

He kisses up from your bosom to your mouth again, firm and sweet and longing. There’s no guarantee you’ll ever see him again, but some strange part of you feels that all will be well. It’s a naive thought, perhaps, but one you welcome nonetheless.

“I will come back to you,” He promises, voice rasping. “I love you.”

[dalishious]

Dragon Age: The Veilguard’s Familiar Faces and Factions

The trailer for Dragon Age: The Veilguard has dropped, and I couldn’t be more excited. It’s like a new breath of life has entered my lungs!

Within the trailer, we now have confirmation of who our seven companions are going to be, and among them are a few familiar faces from the book Dragon Age: Tevinter Nights. We also have some name-droppings of a couple factions featured in the same book and the comics, Dragon Age: The Missing. So, here is what knowledge is established about these faces sand factions.

Neve Gallus & The Shadow Dragons

Neve Gallus was first introduced in the Tevinter Nights story, “The Streets of Minrathous”. She comes off as a no-nonsense and a little intense kind of person. Neve is a Tevinter mage who works as a private investigator. For example, if someone wants some detective work done but doesn’t want the public to know, they would hire Neve. On occasion, she’s even been hired by the templars, who act like just regular cops in Tevinter – and yes, that includes their corruption and primary goal of simply protecting the elite – but Neve prefers to work alone because of that corruption, and has a personal grudge against the order for taking bribes to cover up crimes.

Neve has a prosthetic leg below the knee, made of dwarven-crafted metal.

In The Missing, Neve says she is friends with the Shadow Dragons. In the article shared by EA, as of The Veilguard, she is officially a member. The Shadow Dragons are a group of concerned Tevinter citizens who help those in need. This includes supporting escaped slaves, for example.

Emmrich Volkahrin

Emmrich Volkahrin was first introduced in the Tevinter Nights story, “Down Among the Dead Men”. He is a necromancer from Nevarra, and therefore naturally a member of the Mortalitasi – specifically, a professor in the Mourn Watch. The Watchers serve as elite guardians of the Grand Necropolis. Emmrich is on the eccentric side, personality-wise, but kindly and informal.

Emmrich has a skeleton assistant name of Manfred, who helps him with different office tasks. He also has friends in Myrna, a fellow Watcher, and Audric, a dead guardsmen who looks after the library.

Lucanis Dellamorte

Lucanis Dellamorte was first introduced in the Tevinter Nights story, “The Wigmaker Job”. He is the favourite grandson of Caterina Dellamorte, First Talon (leader) of the Antivan Crows. As such, he was raised from birth to be the perfect assassin in a ruthless and torturous environment, knowing only cruelty from his family. This has led to him feeling less like a person and more like a living weapon – and he is treated like one by everyone who knows of him. He has “the Demon” as a nickname.

I know a few people are curious about the “mage killer” title in the trailer. Rest assured that Lucanis specifically kills evil blood mages. In his own words: “If someone wants to pay me top coin to kill a bunch of racist blood mages—who have it coming—I’m not going to complain.”

Where his cousin Illario has a “silver tongue” as Lucanis puts it, he himself is a lot blunter. His reputation of a killer is spotless, except for one small problem: He has a heart under all that black leather.

Lucanis and Illario get along quite well, except for the fact that Lucanis is destined to be the next First Talon, after Caterina dies. Illario wants the job far more than Lucanis, but Lucanis isn’t sure he’s capable of making a decision for himself that goes against the wishes of the Crows.

The Veil Jumpers

The Veil Jumpers were first introduced in The Missing #3. They are a group made up of primarily Dalish elves, though also inclusive of other folks of any walks of life willing to help, working to try and control the new threats within Arlathan Forest. The forest has become a ground of chaotic magic, with the Veil so thin that time and place is jumbled together. Thus, the Veil Jumpers move in and out of the spots that bleed into one another.

The Veil Jumpers do have a headquarters called “The Sanctum”, but we know nothing else about it.

The Lords of Fortune

Despite the Lords of Fortune being mentioned in more than one Tevinter Nights story, as well as the show Dragon Age: Absolution, we don’t know a lot about them. The only concrete information provided is that they are a loose group of people who collect trinkets and glory. They come out of Rivain. They typically wear a lot of their collected trinkets like badges of honour. That’s really all there is, so I can’t wait to learn more.

[angstywaifu]

Priority - Garrick Tavis

Anonymous Request: reader would get frustrated with garrick loyalty to xaden (hence protecting violet) and it gets all angsty because hey a girl gets insecure and she’s like “when push come to shove and its my life vs xaden, hell even violet, i don’t know if its my life you’d be saving”, but garrick redeems himself!

Masterlist | Support Me

I storm past Garrick, continuing down the hallway in the sea of riders heading to formation. I was sick of being second to Xaden and essentially Violet. So many times he had brushed me aside or left me behind because of them. Just once I wanted to feel like a priority to him. Something I hadn’t felt since Violet had bonded Tairn, putting Xaden on high alert. Which by extension, meant Garrick. I hear him calling out behind me, but I don’t turn to acknowledge him. We were under attack. And the first thing he had done is rush out of the room to get Xaden and Violet. Leaving me alone in the room to get ready.

I make it to the courtyard before Garrick makes it to me, his hand grabbing my arm to turn me around to face him. “I was calling out to you.” He tells me with a pointed stare.

I shrug my arm out of his grasp, taking a step back to get some distance from him. “I know, I could hear you.” I tell him sternly as I cross my arms over my chest.

”What’s gotten into you?” He says with a scoff.

”What’s gotten into me? Oh I don’t know, maybe I’ve finally had it with being second best to Xaden and Violet the last few months. Maybe I’ve finally had it with being so low down on your priority list that I feel like I barely exist to you any more.”

”That’s not true.” His gaze softening at my words.

”Is it? Because I’m starting to feel like when push comes to shove and it was my life vs Xaden’s, hell even Violet’s, I don’t even know if it’s my life you’d choose anymore.” I spit out at him.

Garrick just stares at me in shock, clearly not expecting me to say something like that. We kept our relationship behind closed doors, but never once had I felt like I wasn’t cared for or loved by him. But since October it had just gotten worse and worse.

”If she dies, Xaden di-”

”I am well the fuck aware what happens if she dies. We all are Garrick. We’re all looking out for them. None of us want to loose Xaden.” I nearly yell at him, causing him to flinch. “But you might have just lost me in the process.”

I turn and head into formation, not wanting to hear what else he has to say. I was getting to the point of anger where I was going to say something I’d regret or go too far. Though I might have just gone too far. I knew how close Xaden and Garrick were. Always have. But this was the first time since we’d gotten together that I had felt like this. And now I couldn’t help but wonder if I had just put the nail in the coffin of our relationship.

We were overwhelmed. Buildings were collapsing, people screaming as they tried to flee to safety. I was honestly starting to think we weren’t going to make it. We’d already lost two to the onslaught. Loud screams to my right startle me, but I have no time to react as a wall of people slam into me, knocking me to the ground.

My ears ring from the contact, amplified by the shoes that kick my head on their way past. All of them too scared to realise they’ve knocked me to the ground. I can barely register my dragon yelling in my head, unable to make out the words they throw down the bond as I try to get back to my feet. I manage to get onto my hands and knees before another shoe meets my head. My dragon continues to yell at me down the bond. I can feel their fear, panic and worry. But I still can’t make out the words they throw at me.

I push myself up again, this time being successful due to the crowd all dissipating. All but one. In the distance down the end of the street, I can just make out a blurry figure clad in robes billowing in the wind. My vision spins as I try to focus on them, my head throbbing from the effort. Shit. I’m concussed. But something tells me I need to move. Need to get to my feet and get out. But I can’t.

I try to focus on the figure again. A figure that’s much brighter in colour to their surroundings. As if the colour has drained from everything around them. I watch as the muted colours get closer and closer to me by the second. I try to stand, but my legs crumble, sending me back to the ground. I need to move, or I’m dead. I try again, grasping onto a nearby wall to try pull myself up. But my hand slips, sending me back to the ground as I cry out in pain. I roll to my side, this time the figure much clearer now my vision isn’t blurry. Watching as the Venin channels from the ground. Watching as it gets closer and closer. I have probably thirty seconds till I meet my end. Thirty seconds left and my last words to him were becoming true in more ways than one. And now I have no way to tell him I’m sorry before I’m gone. I’ll never get to take back those words.

I squeeze my eyes shut, not wanting to watch when my end will come. But they fly open when I’m pulled from the ground. I look up and see Garrick pulling me into his arms before turning and running us down the street towards Chradh who angles his leg for Garrick. Garrick doesn’t miss a beat as he runs up the makeshift ramp, holding me in his lap as he takes his seat and Chradh launches into the air.

The wind howls around us as Chradh beats his wings, propelling us higher above the chaos below as his magic washes over Garrick and I, securing us in place. I clutch onto Garrick’s flight jacket barely registering the warmth of his body through my haze of pain and fear. My head throbs with each pulse of my heart, and my vision swims, but I can’t tear my eyes away from his face. His jaw is clenched tight, his brows furrowed in concentration as he manoeuvres us out of danger.

"Garrick," I whisper, my voice barely audible over the rush of wind.

His eyes snap down to mine, and for a moment, the icy walls of detachment he’s built around himself crumble. There’s something raw in his expression. Fear, anger, relief, and something deeper that I can’t quite name.

"I thought..." My voice cracks, and I swallow hard. "I thought you didn’t care anymore."

He lets out a harsh, humourless laugh, his grip tightening around me. "Don’t care? Is that what you think? That you’re second to Xaden and Violet?" His voice breaks on Violet’s name, and his gaze darkens. "They’re my responsibility. My duty. But you—" He exhales sharply, his eyes glinting with something that looks almost like desperation. "You’re my everything. And if you ever doubt that again, I’ll—"

"You’ll what?" I manage to croak, a faint smile tugging at my lips despite the pain.

"I’ll never forgive myself," he finishes, his voice dropping to a whisper. He presses his forehead to mine, his breath warm against my skin. "You think I could survive losing you? You think I’d want to?"

I blink up at him, my heart twisting at the raw vulnerability in his voice. I’ve never seen him like this, so unguarded, so human. For all his stoicism and sharp edges, Garrick is breaking right in front of me, and it’s because of me.

"I’m sorry," I murmur, reaching up to brush my fingers against his jaw. "I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean any of it."

He closes his eyes, leaning into my touch as if it’s the only thing grounding him. "Just don’t scare me like that again," he says softly. "Please."

Chradh lets out a low growl, drawing our attention back to the chaos below. Garrick straightens, his grip on me tightening as his eyes scan the battlefield. "We’re not out of this yet," he says grimly.

I nod, forcing myself to sit up despite the pounding in my head. "I’m with you," I say, my voice steadier now.

Garrick glances down at me, his lips twitching into the faintest hint of a smile. "Always," he says.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Aemond goes to Storm’s End to spend some time with the Baratheon daughters as he agreed to marry one of them in exchange of House Baratheon’s banners and men. He spends time with each sisters, and ends up getting along with you the best although your older sister says she deserves the prince more. You disregard their opinion and continue spending time with Aemond. Smut happens in secret…and almost gets caught

Request: Library sex!! Aemond find someone who loves books and reading and they end up having sex or maybee not all the way

Warnings: 18+, smut, fingering, almost getting caught,

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When Aemond returned to Storm’s End, he viewed the Baratheon daughters as part of his duty. He was obligated to marry one of you in exchange for your house’s support for his brother’s claim. Any of you would have done the job, but Lord Borros let him choose. 

The daughters, on the other hand, saw him as a valuable prize. He was a prince. They competed fiercely for his favor, each eager to secure the final spot as his bride. 

‘’Did Prince Aemond propose?’’ you asked Floris as she returned from her afternoon with the prince. 

‘’He has not,’’ Floris said, sitting down on the end of the couch, still giddy from her outing. ‘’But he might soon.’’ 

‘’Did you kiss?’’ Cassandra pressed, wondering why her sister assumed so. 

Floris shook her head, and Cassandra sighed, turning her attention back to her embroidery. She was trying to make a dragon to impress Aemond, but it was somehow looking like an oversized bee with a long neck. 

Beside you, Ellyn breathed a dreamy sigh, thinking of the prince’s tall stature and sharp jawline. ‘’I’m seeing him tomorrow. I picked out a dress just for him.’’ 

‘’Is it the blue one?’’ Floris asked. 

Ellyn nodded with a sly smile. At the moment the dress had been made, it fitted Ellyn perfectly, but now her breasts were slightly spilling out of the neckline. It wasn’t appropriate wear for a casual dinner — not anymore. But when a prince was visiting and looking for his future wife, it was perfect. 

‘’That’s unfair. Not all of us have been graced by the Gods…’’ Maris moaned, jealousy evident in her voice.

When she spent time with Aemond, he made it clear that he had no interest in her. He didn’t say he didn’t wish to marry her, but she felt his disinterest. And he didn’t ask to see her again.

Cassandra interrupted, her tone sharp. ‘’As the oldest, I should be the one marrying the prince. I have flowered, therefore I am capable of providing heirs.’’ 

You rolled your eyes without letting her see. Three out of four of your sisters had flowered; it didn’t make her superior. Not anymore. ‘’I doubt heirs are on the prince’s mind right now, Cassandra. Not when there’s a war in preparation.’’

‘’What do you know about war?’’ She raised an eyebrow, waiting.

‘’Why do you think Prince Aemond and Prince Lucerys asked for our father’s banners and men?’’

‘’She’s right,’’ Maris said, agreeing with you. ‘’He is only marrying one of us because his brother needs our house’s support. If the king had not sent him here, he would never have thought of making one of us his wife. I doubt he even knew our names before he flew to Storm’s End on his big dragon.’’ 

Cassandra huffed, refusing to recognize that Maris was right. 

Instead of waiting around for Ellyn’s return with Cassandra, Maris and Floris, you went to the library. You didn’t want to listen to her bragging about Aemond’s eye peeking down at her chest. Using your body to get a man’s interest was not how you planned to find your husband. For seducing the prince. You wanted him to marry you for the person you were, not the size of your breasts. The conversations would be sad.

‘’A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies. The man who never reads lives only one,’’ a voice you recognized as Aemond’s said quietly, his voice cutting through the stillness.

You raised your head from your book, seeing him standing by one of the shelves. ‘’May I help you with something, my prince?’’ 

Aemond plucked a book from the shelf and glanced at the first page. ‘’Searching for something to occupy my time. I do not mean to denigrate your home, but there is very little to do on Storm’s End.’’ 

‘’You read?’’ you asked, a hint of surprise in your voice. It was rare to find men who were genuinely interested in books.

The prince nodded once. ‘’I have a preference for history books.’’ He closed the book he was holding and returned it to its place on the shelf. 

‘’I’m afraid our library will disappoint you,’’ you said, a touch of regret in your tone. ‘’As you may have noticed, my father cannot read, and neither did my grandsire, so our collection is quite sparse.’’ 

Aemond’s gaze shifted to the book in your hands. ‘’What of the one you are reading?’’ he asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘’I bought it in town. My septa taught me how to read.’’ 

She taught all of your sisters, but only you and Maris were interested in reading. She insisted that reading was knowledge and believed that a woman should be more than just a dutiful wife and mother. Your father would strongly disagree with her; he just sold one of his daughters for a political alliance.

‘’You never brought it up during our outing.’’ 

‘’I didn’t want to bore you.’’ 

Aemond stepped closer, the distance between you narrowing. ‘’I think reading makes you more interesting.’’ 

Your heart quickened as his words hung in the air. 

Before your first outing with Aemond, Floris had warned you not to mention reading or books, saying that men don’t like that. It made you smile to find out she was wrong.

‘’May I join you?’’ He gestured to the seat beside you. 

You nodded, and Aemond gracefully sat beside you. He took the book from your grasp. You wanted to protest, but he began reading to you, his voice deep in tone, but soft and calm at the core. No one had ever read to you before. 

The torches on the walls of the library casted a golden hue over the room, creating a serene atmosphere. If your sisters knew of this intimate moment, they would be jealous. Especially Cassandra. You would love to see her reaction, watching her jaw tighten as she glared at you. 

Occasionally, Aemond would pause and you heard the gentle rustle of pages turning. You allowed yourself to steal glances at him from time to times, watching his lips move as he read. He must have caught you because sometimes the corner would twitch into a slight smile.

While he read, Aemond’s voice wrapped around you like a warm embrace, each word painting vivid images in your mind. You could listen to him for hours. 

‘’Why did you stop?’’ you asked, turning your head to look at Aemond with a frown drawing between your eyebrows. 

He didn’t say anything. He simply looked back at you, his one eye intensely holding your gaze, and you felt a magnetic pull drawing you closer. You wanted to be all up in his personal space. You wanted to touch his face, gently trace the line of his jaw and feel the warmth of his lips beneath your fingertip.

Aemond’s gaze lowered from your eyes to your lips, sending your heart racing with a newfound intensity. Maybe this unchaperoned moment was not a good idea? Or, maybe it was exactly what you needed? Before he knew it, Aemond’s hand touched your chin, guiding it towards him. He gave you a chance to pull back, to deny him, but only a fool would do so. 

You let your desire take control, closing the gap between you and kissing him. He instinctively leaned in and deepened the kiss, so tender but passionate at the same time. His scent filled your nose, his fingers in your hair while his lips pulled your bottom lip softly as he pulled away. 

A silence filled the air, your head still spinning from the kiss. You reached out to tenderly caress Aemond’s face, soft and smooth beneath your palm.  

Aemond dove for a second kiss, and you heard the thud of the book falling to the ground, completely forgotten. At another moment, you would have picked it up right away, but your mind was…occupied. 

You reached behind Aemond’s neck and pulled him closer to you, his own hands grabbing at your waist and hips as the intensity of the kiss increased. 

It wasn’t in the prince’s habits to kiss a woman like that — to kiss a woman, ever —, but something within Aemond was pushing him to make a move on you. Was this the desire his brother often told him about? 

Humming against his mouth, you grabbed at the front of his jacket, needing something to grab onto as you felt your lower belly start to tingle. The new sensation caused you to shift in your seat, the sudden throbbing between your legs making sitting on a chair very uncomfortable.

‘’Did I hurt you?’’ Aemond asked when you broke the kiss. 

You shook your head. ‘’No. I… Please keep going.’’

He searched your eyes for a sign that would contradict your words, and resumed when he couldn’t find any. 

He slid his hand up your arm and pulled down your sleeve from your shoulder, his warm palm brushing against your bare skin and rising goosebumps. You glanced down at your newly uncovered shoulder, breathing heavily. Aemond then moved down your sides to cup one of your breasts, causing your breath to catch in your throat. 

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, pressing his chest flush against you. It was a clumsy position on the small reading couch, but Aemond manoeuvered himself to make it work. His hands slid down your back as his mouth traveled lower, to the dip in your throat, kissing your neck. You moaned under his mouth, the new sensation awakening so many new feelings inside you. He reached down your leg to find the bottom of your skirts and lifted the fabric to ghost his hand over your ankle and up your leg, bunching the hem up as you breathed heavily. 

You knew where he was going — and you wanted it. Gentleman as always, he stopped and searched for your eyes, needing your consent before pursuing. You nodded, excitement bubbling as you felt his palm on the inner part of your thigh, very close to where you wanted him. His name left your lips in a whisper, a soft beg. He covered your mouth with his, swallowing his name as he dove his hand between your legs. You felt his fingers prodding at your entrance, gently caressing the outside of you before swiping between your folds, causing you to gasp.

On the scale of forbidden things by your father, indulging in sexual activities outside of marriage — in his castle — was most likely at the top. He did not wish for his daughters to have a bastard baby or lose worth because they lost their maidenhood.

You should have asked Aemond to stop and pushed him away. But your desires were telling you to open your legs and let him in — literally. 

‘’Ahh,’’ you breathed out, your fist clenching over the prince’s clothed bicep as his long finger was deep inside of you, getting squeezed by your clenching walls. 

He pressed his forehead against yours, intently watching your expressions as you discovered a new pleasure. 

Aemond pressed his thumb down over your clit, and started to gently massage it. 

‘’Right there! It feels so good.’’ You sighed immediately and opened your legs a bit more, biting your lower lip to keep yourself from being too loud. There was no one else in the library, but anyone could come in. 

He added another finger, making you moan and pant around him. 

Unfortunately, the pleasure was short-lived as a servant calling your name. 

‘’H-here, Jeyne,’’ you replied, trying to keep your voice steady to avoid any suspicion.

You heard her footsteps approaching on the library’s floor, and you and Aemond quickly composed yourselves. You smoothed down the skirts of your dress while he picked up your book from the floor and opened it, pretending to read as Jeyne arrived.

The servant was visibly surprised to find Aemond with you as all your time in his company had to be chaperoned. She bowed her head to him respectfully before turning to you. ‘’I did not know you had company, miss.’’ Her tone indicated she was searching for gossip. 

You smiled kindly — and innocently — at Jeyne. ‘’Prince Aemond found me in the library during my afternoon reading. I was helping him find a book to take to his chamber as he forgot to bring one for his stay. You are not interrupting.’’ 

Despite their outward trustworthiness, you knew servants had loose lips, and that’s how rumors from the castle spread around town. 

‘’What is it that you wanted?’’ you asked, pressing her leave.

Jeyne glanced nervously between you and Aemond before speaking. ‘’Your father requests your presence in the great hall, miss. A raven arrived from Winterfell and he is struggling to read it.’’

You nodded, maintaining your composed demeanor. ‘’Thank you, Jeyne. Please inform my father that I will be there shortly.’’

You watched Jeyne leave, and let out a breath once she was out of earshot. That was close. Getting caught in a compromising position would not have been good for your reputation. 

Aemond closed his book, a frown marring his composed posture. ‘’I apologize for losing my manners, miss Y/N. I don't usually engage in these kinds of…activities in public places.’’ The mention of sex seemed to make him uncomfortable. His usual confidence was replaced by a rare vulnerability.

‘’I don’t either,’’ you said, your cheeks flushed as you stared at the skirt of your dress. ‘’I…I should get going. I promised to help Cassandra pick her dress for tomorrow. Not all dresses are suited for horseback riding.’’ You rose from the reading couch, giving Aemond one last glance. ‘’I’ll see you later at dinner, my prince.’’ 

You made a move to leave, but Aemond clasped his hand over your wrist. His touch was firm yet gentle, sending a shiver down your spine. ‘’That won't be necessary,’’ he interrupted, his voice low and steady. ‘’In case I haven't made myself clear, I've already made my choice. I want you.’’

—

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[nicksolemnlyswears]

FORGED UNDER FIRE

blurb: when brennan sorrengail died he left more than his family and a dragon behind. he left his best friend. he left his lover. he left his unborn child.

pairing: brennan sorrengail x rider! reader

word count: 1.1k

a/n: first and foremost, this is unedited. second, i've had this in my drafts since i finished reading fourth wing in september. i kinda wanted to make it a fic but lost some steam. i don't think i'll continue this but if i do it will be shorter blurbs/moments rather than the 10k monstrosities i like to write. i figured it wouldn't do anything in my drafts so here you go!

i like the idea of brennan having someone he befriends and takes under his wing while at basgiath war college. there's so much we don't know about him and this is me filling some of the gaps with the wonderful fanfiction.

i hope you enjoy! i honestly love fourth wing so damn much and i can't wait for onyx storm. i even have tickets for rebecca yarros tour in january. so yes, read, enjoy and let me know what you think!

The cold wind drifted around you, ruffling the grass and the branches of the dispersed trees. The sunrise was turning from a beautiful deep blue to a pale pink that bled into orange. The chill bites into your cheeks and nose, reddening them, but you welcomed it. It numbed the pain that continued to tear through your heart.

“You must stop thinking so much about him.” Your dragon Calliss shares through your link. She’s the angry voice in your head reminding you to move forward.

“I thought we agreed I could wallow in my misery this time of year.”

The day that marks his death came and went yet it left you with a whirlwind of emotions. You should’ve moved on long ago, the pain in your chest turned into a soft ache that you remember fondly as you rebuild your life without him. Still, it remains a deep gash that continues to bleed and keeps you up at night, unmoving.

“You have better things to do.” Calliss reminds you. Its inscription day and people from all over the continent will be arriving to drop off their children.

“Mhm. Yeah, sure.”

The red dagger tail huffs behind you. The air coming from her nostrils counteracting the cold breeze. She’s moody because you shut her out instead of letting her help.

The ground lightly shakes and the air stirs as another dragon lands near Calliss. General Sorrengail’s brown dragon, Aimsir. The older woman approaches you and sits down beside you on the damp grass. Despite her reputation she’s been kind to you, patient even. She’s kept you close, tucked under her wing just like he used to.

Your signet allowed Lilith to keep you closer than most. Otherwise, she’d have no choice but to leave you on your own to battle your emotional wounds.

It tends to weigh in your conscious that she only does it because you have the last piece of him. Had it not been the case, would she have cared as much?

At the same time, you’re eternally grateful. Had it not been for Lilith Sorrengail you would definitely be cold and dead. Despite all the bad days, there have been good ones woven in and you wouldn’t trade those for nothing in the world.

“Violet goes today,” Lilith says, looking at you sternly.

“You sure this is what you want to do?” You ask her, keeping your gaze on the mountain and the sunrise.

Lilith has discussed Violet's inscription with you time and time again. It's the one thing she continues to think about since the death of her husband, which is unusual. The woman is confident in her decisions, she's calculating and precise. A wonderful quality for a commander, but it falters when it comes to her children.

“Do you think she won’t be able to make it?”

You sigh and look down at the grass before your eyes shift up to look at her. “She’ll make it. She might've been raised by a scribe but she was also raised by you and Mira and Brennan which means Violet won't go down without a fight. She won’t go down easy. It is my belief dragons respect that.”

Saying his name is difficult. It's heavy on your tongue as you enunciate the syllables. So familiar yet strange at the same time.

Lilith hums in agreement, leaving a period of silence to hang in the air. She’s giving you time to talk, to bring him up. When you don’t she takes matters into her own hands.

“I can’t believe it’s been five years.”

“Only five and it feels like a century,” you scoff, pulling at the grass blades near your crossed feet. Calliss and Aimsir shuffle behind you two, making the ground tremble. It used to scare you as a cadet.

“You should get out there again, try and find something that at least resembles what you had with Brennan,” Lilith dares say.

You gasp in a sharp intake of air at the mention of his name. It’s not a surprise for Lilith to suggest such a thing. After all, it’s been five long years since Brennan left, died. But, does she not feel like she’s betraying her own son by suggesting this?

“She’s right,” Calliss voice purrs in your ear. She’s suggested it more than once, begging you to ‘release the tension you have inside.’ You've tried but the sense of betrayal that follows reopens old wounds.

“Hush, Calliss.”

Calliss growls from behind you, voicing her displeasure at you telling her to quiet. Humans do not tell dragons what to do.

“I don’t think I’ll ever be able replicate what I had with Bren. It was forged at Basgiath under the threat of imminent death. I was another person there who needed help desperately and Bren was the perfect person to guide me. He was one of a kind, our circumstances were one of a kind. It might’ve been short lived but it held so much value.” You give Lilith a smile and shake your head, “I have everything I need. I’m making a name for myself, which was what I always wanted. I was married, and I have a child who I love to death.”

Lilith nods offering you one of her rare smiles. She stands, dusting off her clothes from any sticking grass. “Speaking of, we have to make our way back before he wakes and brings the house down.”

You nod and laugh, “Oh, he’s going to throw a fit when Violet goes.”

Your son and Violet are as thick as thieves. They get along well and Violet loves to spoil him. She’s never one to turn down babysitting or entertain him when you need a break. After all, he's what she has left of her brother.

“Maybe Mira will get him to calm down,” Lilith hopes, climbing up Aimsirs leg.

You have one question for Lilith. From the ground, glancing up at her you ask. “How do you do it? It’s been five years and I feel just as heart broken as I did that day.”

Brennan’s father passed away about a year ago. His heart giving out on him. All because of Brennan’s death. You mourned him too, he had always been kind to you and he loved his grandchild. It might’ve been the only reason he held on for so long.

Lilith sighs and takes a moment to form her words. “Your relationship was young and somewhat new, barely 4 years. He was the first person you trusted. You had your whole life ahead of you. My husband and I were together for nearly 30 years. We travelled all around Navarre, had three amazing children, and we watched them grow up. I wish he was here to see what will become of Violet but,” she pauses without finishing her sentence. “My point is you were full of what ifs and places to go. It’s hard to move on from that when you keep trying to make sense of it.”

“I wish I knew I was pregnant before he died so I could’ve told him. Maybe things would’ve been different,” you confess.

“Possibly. I know Brennan would’ve loved him.” With those last words General Sorrengail flies off, leaving you and Calliss alone once more.

“No more moping. We have a job to do,” she says, urging you to get on her back.

“Thank you for being patient with me,” you tell her honestly.

Calliss is opinionated but she wants what’s best for you. She continues to feel all the pain Brennan’s death caused you. All her snide remarks are only meant to encourage you to manage your pain and move forward.

“Beware. It’s running thin today.”

thoughts?