#and using fire and blood to secure what she believes is her rightful throne

[sunfyrisms]

anti targ restoration because i don’t think dany, a girl who has never been to westeros, should sit on the iron throne. i just don’t think that’s how her story ends. i actually think it’s so tragic that viserys so deeply believed it was his to rule, but was never cut out for it. i think dany is the same way. she believes him, then gains the same mindset as him, because it’s what she has heard all her life. but i just cannot imagine a possible scenario where she becomes queen of the seven kingdoms. i’ve seen people say that it wouldn’t make sense for her as a character not to, because she is the antithesis of those who have come before her, and the women of house targaryen have suffered and she’s supposed to avenge them in some way by becoming queen. i don’t know where her story will end, but i don’t think she’ll become queen.

[lunafreya24]

A Passion of Ice and Fire

Pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon/Cregan Stark

Chapter 8: Rumors spread like wildfire, and Rhaenyra will do anything to keep her son from getting burned once again.

(cw: period-typical homophobia)

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Dinner had moved well past its hour. Servants cleared and replaced the table until supplies for the day ran low. The war council had dragged on for hours, voices growing hoarse and lips growing loose with wine as they debated over strategies and alliances. Jace sat at his mother's right hand, forcing himself to focus on patterns and troop movements rather than the weight of Cregan's necklace against his chest, tucked away once more. As servants began clearing the tables for the final time, Lord Celtigar lingered, his expression grave.

"Your Grace," he addressed, "might I have a private word about a... delicate matter?"

Rhaenyra nodded, dismissing the others. Jace rose to leave, but Lord Celtigar's next words froze him in place.

"It concerns the Prince's recent visit to Winterfell."

Jace felt his heart stop. His mother's hand tightened almost imperceptibly on the arm of her chair. Her other hand gently took his arm, encouraging him to stay. "You may speak freely before my heir, Lord Celtigar. What news do you bring?"

The old lord shifted uncomfortably. "There are... whispers, Your Grace. Disturbing rumors about the nature of the alliance secured with House Stark."

"Rumors?" Rhaenyra's voice was dangerously soft.

"Yes, Your Grace. Some report the young Lord Stark and Prince Jacaerys were seen in... a compromising position. That their alliance was sealed with acts that go against the laws of gods and men." His face twisted with distaste. "Such accusations could destroy our cause before the war truly begins. Our allies live by the Faith of the Seven. They would never support a queen who allows her children to engage in... such perversions."

Jace kept his face stern, yet he felt bile rising in his throat. He wanted to flee, to fly Vermax far beyond the reach of these poisonous words, but his mother's steady presence kept him rooted in his spot.

"May I remind you, Lord Celtigar, that my children are royal princes. And my eldest son is heir to the Iron Throne. Who spoke such whispers to you? What is their origin?" Rhaenyra asked, her tone unchanged.

"I... I cannot say for certain. But there are those in the North who remained loyal to the Greens. Perhaps they seek to discredit-" 

"Enough." Rhaenyra cut him off. "Lord Celtigar, you have served my house faithfully for many years. So I will speak plainly. These rumors are a weapon, nothing more. The same weapons that have plagued my family since The Conqueror settled these lands. My enemies would paint my son as deviant, and my allies as corrupted, all to undermine my rightful claim." She rose from her chair, dragon's blood burning in her eyes. "I will not have members of my own council endorsing such gossip."

"But Your Grace, if there is any truth-"

"Truth?" Rhaenyra laughed coldly. "The truth is that my son has secured two of our most vital alliances for our cause through skilled diplomacy. The truth is that Lord Stark pledged his sword to us because he believes in our claim to the throne, not because of some imagined impropriety. Would you have me disparage such an ally? Would you have me doubt my own son's honor? Over some malicious gossip?"

Lord Celtigar bowed his head. "No, Your Grace. Forgive me. I spoke only out of concern for our cause."

"Your concern is noted. Now leave us."

When the door closed behind him, Jace finally let out the breath he'd been holding. "Mother-"

"Not here," she said quietly. "Come."

They walked in silence to her private solar, where she immediately pulled him into a fierce embrace. "Are you alright?"

"I don't know," Jace admitted, his voice shaking. "If they know... if this reaches our allies..."

"Listen to me," Rhaenyra held him at arm's length. "What I said to Celtigar was not just for appearances. These rumors are a weapon, and we will treat them as such. Any whispers of impropriety will be dismissed as Green propaganda meant to weaken us."

"But what if they have proof? What if someone saw-"

"Then we deny it. We write them off as liars and traitors. We will protect you,” Her expression softened, “and we will protect Cregan." She cupped his cheek, wiping away tears he didn’t even realize were falling. "I meant what I said before - I love you just as you are. But the world is not ready for such truth. Not yet. Not during a war for the throne."

Jace nodded, touching the hidden necklace. "I understand, mother. I will be more cautious. We both will."

"Good." She kissed his forehead. "Now, I believe you have a letter to write for Winterfell. Lord Stark should be warned about these rumors. But be careful - use language only he will understand."

As Jace turned to leave, she caught his hand. "And Jace? Remember - you have done nothing wrong. The shame belongs to those who would use love as a weapon - because it is the only stone they can cast upon you, sweetling." She said with pride in her eyes. 

Later that night, Jace sat in the study, quill hovering over parchment. How does one warn his secret love that their passion might destroy everything they fought for? In the end, he wrote simply:

Lord Stark,

The strategies we discussed have drawn unwanted attention. Some find them barbaric and seek to uproot them before they can take root. We must protect our alliance, lest our enemies claim all we hold dear.

With duty and honor,

Prince Jacaerys Velaryon

As he watched the raven disappear into the night sky, Jace felt the weight of his world settle more heavily on his shoulders. He had known their love was forbidden, had known the dangers, but knowing was different from facing the reality of discovery. Yet even now, with fear churning in his stomach, he couldn't bring himself to regret a single moment spent in Cregan's arms.

They would be more careful. They would deny the rumors. They would play their parts perfectly - the noble prince, the stern lord, each devoted to duty above all else. But in secret moments, in coded letters and hidden tokens of affection, their love would endure. It had to.

For now though, Jace could only pray to whatever gods might listen that their enemies' whispers would fade before they became shouts that no amount of denial could silence.

[prettymuchteddy]

Thoughts on Rhaenys and Rhaenyra’s relationship: Rhaenys should hate Rhaenyra

Rhaenyra insulted her and thought she was the exception to the rule. When Rhaenyra and Rhaenys talk in episode 2, Rhaenys widely advises that men will not accept a woman on the throne. Rhaenyra fires back that the lords of the realm did swear loyalty to her and they only didn’t accept Rhaenys before referring to her as “The Queen Who Never Was”. This was incredibly mean-spirited of Rhaenyra because In Fire and Blood when the Great Council took place, Rhaenys was a young woman who had a dragon, was the eldest grandchild of King Jaehaerys, and was married to a Velayron (see the parallels?). Rhaenyra’s insult almost implies that it was Rhaenys’ own fault that she was not chosen as Queen. Of all people, Rhaenys is probably the only person who could know what Rhaenyra was feeling as she was the closest to a female ruler Westeros has ever seen. However, I can forgive Rhaenyra because teenagers say mean and stupid stuff, things likely changed when Rhaenyra got older, right?    

Rhaenyra had three children outside of wedlock while married to Laenor. While I get Laenor was cool with it I can’t imagine his parents were okay with it at least at first. The boys being bastards affects everyone, it makes not only Rhaenyra look bad but also Laenor as well as the Velaryons. It’s not a good look if it’s an open secret that Rhaenyra is cheating on her husband (even if he’s okay with it), especially when the boys look like neither of them. In Fire and Blood, Rhaenys has dark hair which she inherited from her Baratheon mother which Rhaenyra uses as an excuse but even in this case Rhaenys has purple eyes, the boys have brown. The situation also puts Rhaenys in a difficult position because she knows about her son being gay and pushing Rhaenyra under the bus also places a spotlight on his sexuality.  

Rhaenyra married Rhaenys’ son-in-law (her daughter’s husband) immediately after Laena died. There was seemingly no time in between the funeral and their secret wedding in the show but in Fire and Blood Rhaenyra and Daemon get married and have Aegon the 3rd within the year of Laena’s death. It was just disrespectful to Laena’s memory and the Velaryons who are still mourning. Especially if the Velaryons thought about it, they would absolutely figure out that they got together at the funeral.

Rhaenyra was involved with Laenor disappearing. It’s arguably worse in Fire and Blood because it’s believed that he was killed by his lover on Daemon’s orders, though the show took a different approach. Rhaenyra knows he’s still alive and well but his parents don’t. Even if Rhaenyra insists that she did not have him killed like she stated when they talked in the show, she was still involved in faking his death and making his family believe he died brutally. She is still actively lying to Rhaenys and Corlys about Laenor. I doubt Rhaenyra will ever tell her and Rhaenys will likely die never knowing what really happened to her only son.

Rhaenyra takes Baela and Rhaena after her marriage with Daemon. While he is absolutely their father and can take them where he wants as he is their guardian, it is horrifying to imagine it from Rhaenys’ perspective. The woman who was involved with her son’s death and married her daughter’s widow is now raising her granddaughters. If I was Rhaenys I would be fearing for them.

Rhaenyra engaged Baela to Jace and Rhaena to Luke. Rhaenys knows she is doing this to secure Luke’s seat in Driftmark by having him marry Rhaena. And while a case could be made about her reasons for Baela and Jace, Baela is not just any noble lady. She has Valyrian blood and a dragon, Moondancer. Marrying them would give Jace further political power and given the war that was approaching, it would give the Blacks an extra dragon. Additionally, given everything that Rhaenys already suspects about Rhaenyra she could be worried that Rhaenyra might take Baela and Rhaena as political hostages. This has happened before in the ASOIF universe with past kings like Jaehaerys and Maegor. If Rhaenys lets her granddaughters stay with Rhaenyra, she has power over her with the silent threat of what she could do to them if Rhaenys steps out of line.

Like I don't know from Rhaenys' perspective Rhaenyra is a villain in her life, so that's why her decision to join her in the Black faction is very unlike her? Rhaenys is a good character but I don't understand her reasoning for wanting to actively participate in the war of somebody who has caused her so much stress and pain. If anything Rhaenys lost more in the Dance than she could have ever imagined and honestly why? Their relationship will always confuse me lol.

[kckt88]

For whom the bell tolls.

Summary:

After the death of her younger brother, Vaelarra plots to sneak into Kings Landing and take the life of the one responsible - her husband Aemond.

Warnings - Angst, Drama, Referenced Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Plots/Scheming, Language, Kissing, Uncle/Niece Incest, Smut - Oral Sex, Fingering, P in V, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Blood, Character Death, Includes Epilogue.

AEMOND TARGARYEN x O.C VAELARRA VELARYON (& JACAERYS VELARYON x VAELARRA VELARYON).

Word Count: 6778

A.N - Alternate version of Where Water Meets The Sea!!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @immyowndefender @0eessirk8

Aemond sat alone in his chambers, the flickering flames of the fireplace casting dancing shadows across the room. His fingers digging into the wooden arms of his chair.

The fire’s warmth did little to chase away the coldness that had settled deep within his bones. His thoughts turning to his wife, Vaelarra, and their son, Aenys.

He could still see Vaelarra’s face, twisted in anger and hurt, the day he had her and Aenys locked away in their chambers. He had believed he was doing the right thing, helping to secure the throne for his brother Aegon, instead of the named heir Rhaenyra.

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he thought of Ser Erryk, the knight who had, freed his wife from her confinement and allowed her and Aenys to escape King’s Landing on the back of her dragon, Cannibal, with the two of them now safely ensconced on Dragonstone.

Much had changed since he had last seen his wife.

The blood of her brother Lucerys now stained his hands, a dark reminder of the confrontation at Storm’s End. He could still hear the scream of terror as Vhagar, had torn Lucerys and Arrax to shreds.

He knew Vaelarra would never forgive him for what he had done.

No longer would she gaze upon him with love and call him her gēlenka zaldrīzes. (Silver dragon).

He would never get to enjoy the feeling of her combing and braiding his hair and he certainly wouldn’t get to hear her whisper Issa vēzos se qēlossās as they made love.(My sun and stars)

The bond they had shared, once so strong, was now irrevocably broken. She would hate him, and he could not blame her. He was a kinslayer, a cursed title that would haunt him forever.

The fire crackled, a log collapsing into embers. Aemond’s grip on the chair loosened, his shoulders slumping. The weight of his actions pressed down on him, a heavy, suffocating mantle.

Crowning Aegon had cost a heavy price, and in the solitude of his chambers, he faced the true cost of his actions.

The love of his wife and son, all sacrificed on the altar of his own making. The flames flickered and danced, their light casting a harsh glow on the reality he could no longer escape.

Meanwhile, on Dragonstone, Vaelarra stood around the painted table, her gaze fixed on the intricate carvings that detailed the lands of Westeros.

Beside her stood her father, Daemon, his presence a formidable pillar of strength. Her sisters, Baela and Rhaena, stood nearby, their expressions a mix of concern and determination. Her grandmother, Rhaenys, stood silent but strong, her gaze as unyielding as the sea. A small number of lords loyal to her mother were also gathered, their faces etched with worry and resolve.

The tension in the room was palpable, a heavy silence hanging in the air. Vaelarra’s heart ached, her thoughts a tumultuous storm of grief and anger.

“Queen Rhaenyra of House Targaryen, the First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm-”

The door creaked open, and she gasped as her mother, Rhaenyra, walked into the room. Dishevelled and unkempt, Rhaenyra looked like a shadow of her former self.

She had spent the last ten days searching for the remains of her son Lucerys, her desperation and sorrow evident in every step she took.

In Rhaenyra’s grasp was a piece of Luke’s shredded cloak. The sight of it caused Vaelarra’s breath to hitch, a quiet sob escaping her lips.

The room seemed to close in around her as she stared at the tattered fabric, a physical reminder of her younger brother’s tragic end. Her heart twisted and broke, the pain of loss almost too much to bear.

Her grief slowly began to morph into something darker, something colder. As the reality of Luke’s death settled over her, Vaelarra’s sorrow turned into a burning hatred. Her husband, Aemond, the father of her child, was responsible for this.

The man she had once loved with all her heart had brought this unimaginable pain upon her family. The love she had once felt for him was now tainted, twisted by the betrayal and the blood on his hands.

Her eyes hardened, the tears drying as a steely resolve took hold. She would avenge her brother. The man responsible for Luke’s death would pay dearly for his actions.

Vaelarra clenched her fists, the knuckles turning white.

The image of Aemond, once a source of joy and love, now filled her with a burning desire for vengeance.

Vaelarra swore silently to herself that she would spill the blood of the one responsible, that she would make Aemond pay for the agony he had caused.

“Your council stands at the ready Your Grace” said Daemon placing his hands on the table “I will fly to Harrenhal at your command and set our toe hold in the Riverlands”.

“Your Grace, my lord husbands blockade of the gullet moves into place, all seaborn travel and trade to Kings Landing will soon be cut off” said Rhaenys her voice firm.

“I-I want Aemond Targaryen” exclaimed Rhaenyra, her fists clenched.

As Rhaenyra walked away from the table, her face streaked with tears, Vaelarra looked at her father, their silent glance was worth more than a thousand words.

Later that night Vaelarra sat with her mother, in silence as they awaited the arrival of Jacaerys, the grief over losing Luke etched upon her face, her eyes that had once sparkled were now dull orbs, staring at the wall, the only movement she made was breathing.

The sound of the door opening distracted Vaelarra, and she breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted Jace.

Tired, and pale. But he was alive and he was home.

Vaelarra rushed to her brother and held him tight, her face buried in his neck.

“Thank the gods, your safe-” whispered Vaelarra softly as she felt Jace’s arms encircle her waist and hold her tight.

“Sister-“ muttered Jace, his voice small.

Vaelarra placed a kiss upon his brow and released him from her hug, only for Jace to take her hand and refuse to let go.

“Your Grace-Lady Jeyne Arryn has pledged her support in exchange for a dragon to guard the Vale” said Jace.

Vaelarra looked at her mother who nodded silently.

“-And Lord Cregan Stark, h-has promised-“ said Jace his voice wobbling as he struggled to contain his grief “-Two thousand men-”

Rhaenyra slowly rose from her seat and made her way towards her children, she paused for a moment before she pulled them both into her embrace.

Jace couldn’t contain his grief a moment longer and he cried, swept up in the in the arms of his mother and sister.

Vaelarra and Daemon stood on one of the balconies of Dragonstone, the salty breeze tugging at their cloaks as they gazed out over the turbulent sea. The sky was painted with hues of deep orange and red as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient fortress.

Vaelarra's jaw was set, her eyes burning with determination as she turned to face her father.

"I have a plan-to see an end to this fucking war before it gets worse" she began, her voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of fierce resolve. "I will sneak into King's Landing and slit Aemond's throat. He deserves to pay for what he's done, for what he's taken from us."

Daemon's invisible brows furrowed, a mixture of concern and scepticism flashing in his eyes. "And what if you fail?" he asked, his tone gruff. "What if you’re caught before you even reach him? You’re talking about sneaking into the heart of the enemy’s stronghold. The risks are too great-we have already lost two children, one of them by the hand of that one eyed cunt, and I will not lose another"

She shook her head, her gaze unwavering. "I will not fail. I am not some weakling woman. I am blood of the dragon, and I will see justice served for Lucerys. I know the Red Keep; I know the secret passageways. No one else can get close enough to Aemond."

Daemon sighed, his worry for his daughter evident. "You are my oldest child, Vaelarra. I cannot bear the thought of losing you, too. If something were to happen—"

"Nothing will happen," she interrupted, her voice firm. "I am the only one who can do this. Aemond will never suspect me. He won't see me coming."

They stood in silence for a few moments, the weight of her words hanging in the air. Finally, Daemon nodded slowly, though his eyes were still filled with reluctance. "If we are to do this," he said quietly, "then we will do it together. I will not let you face this danger alone."

Vaelarra's expression softened slightly, gratitude mixing with her determination. "Together, then," she agreed.

Daemon placed a hand on her shoulder, his grip firm and reassuring. "We will plan this carefully. Every detail must be perfect. We cannot afford any mistakes and we cannot under any circumstances tell your mother”.

Vaelarra nodded, her resolve unshaken. "I understand"

Under the cover of darkness, a small rowboat glided silently toward the docks of King’s Landing.

Cloaked figures huddled within it; their faces hidden from view. Vaelarra and Daemon, having paid for their clandestine passage, stepped onto the worn wooden planks of the dock. The muffled sounds of the city night surrounded them: distant laughter, the clatter of horse hooves, and the faint murmur of conversations.

Vaelarra pulled her cloak tighter around her, the hood casting deep shadows over her face. Daemon, equally concealed, motioned for her to follow.

Together, they slipped into the labyrinthine streets of King’s Landing, keeping to the narrow, less-travelled alleys. Heads down, they moved swiftly and quietly, their boots barely making a sound against the cobblestones.

The city, even at night, was alive with activity. Beggars huddled in doorways, their eyes tracking the cloaked figures warily. Vaelarra and Daemon pressed on, their hearts pounding with the tension of their mission.

The familiar stench of the city, a mix of refuse and sea air, was almost comforting in its predictability.

They arrived at an unassuming wall, overgrown with ivy and seemingly forgotten. Daemon reached out, fingers brushing against the stone until he found a hidden latch. With a quiet click, a portion of the wall swung inward, revealing a dark passageway leading into the depths of the Red Keep.

Daemon turned to Vaelarra; his expression hidden but his concern evident in his posture. He handed her a finely crafted dagger, its blade gleaming even in the dim light.

 “Be careful, Vaelarra,” murmured Daemon, his voice low and urgent. “I’ll be waiting for you.”

Vaelarra took the dagger, the weight of it both reassuring and heavy with the responsibility it carried. She met her father’s eyes, the shared determination between them a silent promise. “I will be back,” she whispered, her voice unwavering. She stepped forward, embracing Daemon tightly.

As she pulled away, Vaelarra took a deep breath and disappeared into the darkened passageway. The air inside was cool and musty, the narrow walls pressing in on her as she moved forward. Daemon watched her go, his heart heavy with a mix of pride and dread. The shadows swallowed her form, leaving him alone in the silent night.

He closed the hidden door behind her, his thoughts racing as he positioned himself nearby, ready to act if needed. The city’s noises faded into the background as he focused on the task ahead. Vaelarra was strong, capable, and determined. She was blood of the dragon. And though the path she walked was fraught with danger, Daemon knew she would face it head-on, driven by the need for justice and vengeance.

Inside the passageway, Vaelarra moved with purpose, the layout of the Red Keep etched into her memory.

Each step brought her closer to her goal, the dagger a cold reminder of the deadly mission she had undertaken. She was not just a sister seeking vengeance; she was a dragon, and she would see her brother avenged, no matter the cost.

Vaelarra moved silently through the hidden passageways of the Red Keep, her footsteps barely a whisper against the cold stone floor.

The walls, lined with cobwebs and the dust of years, seemed to close in around her as she navigated the narrow, twisting corridors.

Several times, she was forced to stop, pressing herself against the rough stone as maids and guards passed by, their conversations muffled but clear enough to keep her alert. Each time, she remained undiscovered, her breathing steady and controlled.

She made her way toward Aemond's chambers, her heart pounding with a mixture of fear and determination.

As she approached the secret entrance, she took a deep breath, steeling herself for what was to come. The small door creaked slightly as she pushed it open, slipping inside and quickly closing it behind her.

The room was dimly lit, the flickering light of a few candles casting long shadows across the walls. Scraps of discarded parchment littered the desk and floor, a testament to Aemond's restless thoughts.

Vaelarra picked up one of the pieces, her eyes scanning the hastily scrawled words. She saw her name, written and crossed out multiple times.

Aemond must have attempted to write to her, to find the right words to explain his actions. But how does a kinslayer express his remorse?

The sound of movement outside the main door made her freeze. She quickly moved behind a heavy curtain, her breath shallow and silent.

The door swung open, and she listened intently as the unmistakable sound of Aemond's footsteps filled the room. He entered slowly, the familiar rhythm of his gait sending a shiver down her spine.

She heard the soft thud of his leather jerkin being removed, followed by the clinking of his weapons as he set them aside.

From her hiding place, Vaelarra watched silently, her eyes never leaving him. He moved with a weary grace, his back to her as he approached the desk.

She could see the tension in his shoulders, the weight of his guilt and actions pressing down on him. He paused, his hand hovering over one of the discarded parchments, before letting out a sigh and turning away.

Vaelarra's grip tightened around the dagger, her mind racing with the memories of what he had done. The image of Lucerys, her younger brother, flashed before her eyes, fuelling the fire of her anger and sorrow. She remained unmoving, a predator observing its prey, waiting for the right moment to strike.

Aemond moved toward the bed, oblivious to her presence. Vaelarra's heart pounded in her chest, each beat echoing the resolve that had brought her here. She knew what she had to do. For Lucerys, for her family, and for herself, she would see this through.

Vaelarra hid the dagger beneath her cloak, her fingers gripping its hilt tightly as she stepped out from behind the curtain. The soft rustle of her cloak was enough to alert Aemond to her presence.

He spun around, his eye narrowing as he scanned the room for the intruder. Before Vaelarra could react, he moved with the speed and precision of a seasoned warrior, seizing her by the throat and slamming her against the wall.

The impact forced the breath from her lungs, her vision blurring for a moment. Aemond's grip was ironclad, his fingers digging into her skin as he held her in place.

He reached out with his other hand and yanked down the hood of her cloak, his eye widening in shock as he came face to face with Vaelarra.

"Vaelarra?" gasped Aemond, the surprise evident in his voice. For a moment, the fierce determination in her eyes gave him pause.

Aemond's grip loosened slightly, confusion and a flicker of something else—remorse, perhaps—crossing his features. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, his voice a mix of anger and desperation.

Vaelarra’s heart raced, the weight of the dagger beneath her cloak a constant reminder of her mission. She stared at him, the man she had once loved, now her enemy. "I'm here for justice, Aemond," she replied, her voice steady despite the pressure on her throat. "For Lucerys."

Aemond's face contorted with pain and regret, but he did not release her. "You don't understand," he began, but Vaelarra cut him off.

"I understand enough," she spat, her eyes burning with a mix of hatred and sorrow. "You killed my brother. You betrayed everything we once had."

Aemond's grip tightened again, his internal struggle clear. "I never wanted this," he said through gritted teeth. "But this war—it has taken everything from us."

"It didn't take Lucerys from us," Vaelarra hissed, her fingers inching closer to the dagger beneath her cloak. "You did that."

Aemond's eye locked onto hers, the room filled with the tension of their shared history and the weight of their choices.

For a brief moment, time seemed to stand still, the flickering candlelight casting shadows on the walls as they faced each other.

Vaelarra pulled off her cloak with a swift motion, laying it carefully on Aemond's bed while ensuring the dagger remained concealed beneath its folds. She turned to face him, her eyes blazing with fury.

Without warning, she slapped him hard across the face, the sound echoing through the room.

Aemond's head snapped to the side, his cheek reddening from the force of the blow. He turned back to her, a mixture of shock and anger in his eye, but Vaelarra didn't give him a chance to speak.

"You usurped the throne, helped to steal my birthright, and the birthright of our son. Aenys would have been king, but you took that from him. You murdered Lucerys. You killed my brother!" hissed Vaelarra, her voice low and filled with venom.

Aemond's expression twisted with pain and regret, but Vaelarra continued, her words a torrent of anger and betrayal. "You were my husband, the father of my child, and you betrayed us all. You sided with Aegon, you chose power over family, and now, look at the ruin you've brought upon us. You took everything from me, from Aenys, and for what? A throne built on blood and lies?"

"Vaelarra," Aemond began, his voice breaking, but she cut him off, her eyes filled with tears of rage.

"No, you don't get to speak," she snapped. "You don't get to explain or justify your actions. Lucerys is dead because of you. My brother is gone, and the blood is on your hands. How could you? How could you do this to us?"

“Larra-“ muttered Aemond.

"He was an envoy! He was a child-“

Aemond's face twisted with pain and frustration. "-So was I when Luke carved my eye out of my skull!" he shot back, the rawness of his voice revealing the deep scars the event had left on him.

Vaelarra's eyes blazed with a mix of rage and sorrow. "So that's what it was—revenge? What happened on Driftmark was an accident!"

Aemond stepped closer, his expression hardening. "An accident Luke was never held accountable for—he never even apologized," he said, his voice low but intense.

Vaelarra's breath hitched, her anger giving way to a profound grief. "He was a child, Aemond. A scared, impulsive child. And you-you slaughtered him for a mistake made in fear."

Aemond clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. "I didn't mean to kill him," he admitted, his voice strained. "But the anger, the humiliation I carried all these years-it consumed me. And when I saw him at Storm's End, it all came rushing back."

Vaelarra's shoulders sagged, the weight of their shared history pressing down on her. "I loved you, Aemond. I thought-I thought that we could be different. That we could rise above the hatred”.

"I never wanted this," Aemond said, his voice cracking. "But the world we live in, the choices we've made-they've brought us to this point. I am sorry, Vaelarra. Truly, I am."

Vaelarra shook her head, tears streaming down her face. "Sorry won't bring Luke back. It won't ease the pain."

Aemond's eye burned with a mixture of anger and anguish as he stepped closer to Vaelarra, his voice rising with the intensity of his emotions. "How do you think I feel, Vaelarra? My eye is gone, my face permanently scarred, and my own father, didn't even bother to defend me. He publicly chose his favourite child, Rhaenyra, over and over again."

Vaelarra's expression softened slightly, a flicker of empathy breaking through her anger, but Aemond pressed on, his voice trembling with the weight of his pain.

"All through my life, Viserys never bothered with me, Aegon, or Helaena. Do you know what it's like to grow up knowing that your father would probably have preferred it if you and your siblings had never been born? To feel like an afterthought, a mistake he regretted?"

“-Aemond”

"You had your mother; your brothers, and you’ve had three fathers in your life. You had a family that loved you. But for me, every day was a reminder that I was unwanted, unloved. And then, when Luke took my eye, it was as if the last bit of hope I had for my father's approval was ripped away."

“-And you think that excuses your actions, that it some how absolves you of your sins” snarled Vaelarra.

"Why did you come here, Vaelarra?" asked Aemond, his voice a mix of desperation and sorrow. "Why risk so much to stand before me?"

Vaelarra's gaze was unwavering, her voice steady but laced with raw emotion. "I had to stand in front of you," she said. "I had to look you in the eye and see for myself if the man I loved still existed, or if he had truly become the monster who killed my brother."

Aemond's breath caught in his throat, and he took a hesitant step toward her. "And what do you see?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Vaelarra's eyes filled with tears, her expression a mixture of heartbreak and resolve. "I see a stranger," she replied, her voice trembling slightly. "The man I loved would never have hurt me in such a manner. He promised me, on the day we wed, that things would be different. That we would forge our own path, away from the bitterness and bloodshed of our families. And all you've done is start a war, a war that has torn us apart and taken everything from us."

Aemond’s face crumpled, the weight of her words pressing down on him. "Vaelarra, I—" he began, but she shook her head, silencing him.

"No," she said firmly. "You made your choices, Aemond, and now we all have to live with the consequences. Lucerys is dead. Our son’s birthright has been stolen. And you have become a monster."

Aemond's eye glistened with unshed tears as he reached out a hand toward her, but Vaelarra stepped back, her resolve unyielding. "I came here to see if there was any trace of the man I married left within you," she said quietly. "But I see now that he is gone, replaced by someone I can no longer recognize. Someone who values power over family, ambition over love."

Aemond's eye filled with desperation as he stepped forward, taking Vaelarra's face gently in his hands. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he looked into her tear-stained eyes.

"Vaelarra," he whispered, his voice breaking with emotion. "I love you. I have always loved you. Please, don't abandon me. I need you. I am so sorry for all of it."

“Aemond-“

He kissed her tear-streaked cheeks, the salt of her tears mingling with his lips. "Forgive me," he pleaded between kisses. "Please, forgive me ābrazȳrys. I can't bear to lose you” (Wife).

Vaelarra's resolve wavered, her heart torn between the love she still felt for him and the pain of his betrayal.

Aemond pressed his lips to hers, the kiss filled with a desperate need for forgiveness and redemption.

For a moment, she resisted, her body stiff with the weight of her grief and anger. But as his kiss deepened, she felt the familiar pull of their bond, the shared memories of love and passion.

Slowly, her resistance melted away. She kissed him back, her arms wrapping around his neck and holding him close.

In that tender embrace, Vaelarra allowed herself to succumb to the bittersweet illusion Aemond's touch offered—the illusion of a fleeting moment frozen in time, where the weight of betrayal and the horrors of war could momentarily be set aside.

She closed her eyes, letting herself drown in the warmth of his embrace, in the familiar scent of his skin that once brought her comfort.

For a brief, fragile moment, she pretended. Pretended there was no war tearing the realm apart, no blood staining his hands. Pretended that Aemond hadn't betrayed her, hadn't shattered the trust that once bound them together.

In that moment, they were simply husband and wife again, sharing a stolen fragment of peace amidst the chaos.

She brushed her lips against his, tasting both sorrow and love in the tender kiss they shared. Their bodies pressed together, seeking solace and familiarity in each other's arms.

For a heartbeat, the world outside ceased to exist—the Red Keep around them faded into insignificance, leaving only the two of them.

Aemond backed Vaelarra towards the bed, their hands pulling at each other’s clothes, removing them as quickly as they could until they were a heaped mess on the floor.

“-Aemond” moaned Vaelarra he shoved her onto the mattress.

He covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Vaelarra moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelarra as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

“Such a pretty cunny " breathed Aemond spitting on her pussy before he ran the flat of his tongue up Vaelarra’s soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Vaelarra her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Vaelarra.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Vaelarra, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Vaelarra. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Vaelarra; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me” moaned Aemond.

Gods his cock was so hard, it was almost painful.

Finally, he felt Vaelarra’s inner walls start to flutter around his fingers, squeezing them. Her back arched taut as a bow, and she screamed her release.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at his wife whilst she came.

Soon her tense body went slack and pliant, her chest heaving with every breath.

Aemond slowly moved up Vaelarra’s body, pressing kisses to her soft body as he went, until he reached his desired destination.

“Kostilus-” whispered Vaelarra as she writhed against him (Please).

Aemond couldn't wait any longer. He surged forward and ploughed his hard cock into Vaelarra’s soaked cunt causing her to shriek in surprise.

“FUCKING TAKE IT!” spits Aemond, wrapping a hand around her throat while the other digs into her hip, pulling her aggressively against him to meet each one of his hard thrusts.

Vaelarra can’t think of anything but the intense pounding thrusts that greet her, causing her to wail and moan, causing tears form in her eyes, before running down her cheeks.

Aemond sets a brutal pace, his hips crashing into hers.

“YES! YES! AEMOND!” screams Vaelarra.

“FUCK!” shouts Aemond as he feels her cunny clenching around his cock.

Aemond lifted Vaelarra’s legs onto his shoulders and wrapped his arms around her thighs, squeezing them together as he thrust his cock into her soaking wet cunny.

“I’m going to come. Oh, fuck!” screamed Vaelarra.

“That’s it-come for me” exclaimed Aemond as he felt her clenching on his cock.

His wife always looked amazing when she came. Her head thrown back in pleasure, her eyes alive with lust, and her pale skin shining with sweat.

Aemond could feel the tension in his abdomen, but he didn’t want to come. Not yet.

“I love you-I fucking love you” groaned Aemond as he moved Vaelarra’s legs off his shoulders and manoeuvred her onto all fours, she whimpered as his cock slipped out, but he bent forward to press a series of kisses to her glorious arse, his hands kneading the soft flesh.

“P-Please Aemond” begged Vaelarra, her voice slightly muffled as she pressed her face into the mattress.

Aemond took his cock in hand and sheathed himself inside her once again, his eye rolling into the back of his head.

Vaelarra arched her back and screamed as Aemond pounded into her, the sound of his hips slapping against hers echoed through the chambers.

“Fuck. Larra-that’s it” moaned Aemond.

He took hold of her hair, twisting his fingers in the messy braid before he pulled her backwards, her back colliding with his chest.

Aemond held Vaelarra tight too him as he fucked her, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Give it to me” pleaded Vaelarra her head lolling back onto Aemond’s shoulder.

Aemond could feel the tension building in his abdomen again, as he thrust his cock inside her.

“I want you to come on my cock again, but not like this-” muttered Aemond as he once again withdrew from his wife’s wet heat and laid on the bed.

“-Aemond” exclaimed Vaelarra breathlessly.

“Ride me baby” replied Aemond as he manoeuvred Vaelarra on top of him.

His hand moving to his cock, rubbing it along her folds before she sunk down and completely engulfed him.

“Oh” gasped Vaelarra as she rolled her hips against Aemonds.

“That’s it Larra, take it. Take all of me”.

Aemond placed his hands on her hips and marvelled at his wife as she rode him.

Vaelarra dug her nails into Aemond’s chest as she moved her hips against his, his cock hitting the sweet spot inside her perfectly.

“A-Aemond” moaned Vaelarra as he moved his hands to her breasts, rolling her rosy nipples between his long fingers.

“Let go baby, I can feel you clenching around me” exclaimed Aemond.

Vaelarra’s thighs began to burn, as she felt her third climax approach.

“AEMOND” screamed Vaelarra.

“-FUCK” groaned Aemond as he exploded. His cock throbbing and twitching as he finally spilled his seed.

The chamber was filled with the aftermath of their lovemaking, the air thick with a mix of passion and lingering tension.

Vaelarra sat atop Aemond, his chest rising and falling beneath her, his singular eye closed in the aftermath of their shared intimacy, his softened cock still nestled inside her.

She watched as he basked in his pleasure, his cheeks tinged pink. Their recent intimacy had not made her waver in her decision to do what must be done.

Discreetly, Vaelarra reached for the dagger still hidden within her cloak. Her fingers curled around the hilt.

"I hope your seed will take root within me once more," Vaelarra whispered, her voice a soft murmur in the stillness.

Her hand caressed his cheek, fingers tracing the lines of his face and perfectly shaped lips as if trying to etch his face into her memory forever.

Aemond's eye opened, meeting hers with a mix of regret and longing. "I hope so too," he replied, his voice husky with emotion as he placed a hand on her stomach.

"A part of me will always love you, Aemond," Vaelarra confessed, her voice trembling with the weight of her words.

She met Aemond's eye one last time, searching for any remnants of the man she had loved, but finding only the shadow of a broken oath and shattered promises.

And then, with a swift and decisive motion, she plunged the dagger downward.

Aemond's eye widened in shock as the dagger was driven deep into his neck.

For a fleeting moment, their eyes locked in a silent exchange of agony and farewell, he didn’t move, he didn’t try to push her off, he seemed resigned to his fate as his arms had remained by his side.

Vaelarra then pulled the dagger free, the metallic scent of blood filling the air as it seemingly spilled without an end over them both, the red of Aemond’s blood a stark contrast to the white cotton bed sheets.

And then, as quickly as it had begun, it was over.

Aemond's body went limp beneath her, the weight of his lifeless form a stark reminder of the irreversible choice she had made.

As she stared at Aemond’s lifeless body the tears she had held back for so long finally broke free, streaming down her cheeks in silent rivers of grief.

Her whole body shook with the force of her sobs, each breath a painful reminder of the life she had taken and the love she had lost.

After Vaelarra had composed herself as much as possible, she began to dress and pull on her cloak, her movements slow and deliberate, after she had finished she pulled a sheet over Aemond's lower half, a final gesture to preserve his modesty in death.

As she leaned over him, she ran a trembling finger down his sculpted face, her touch gentle despite the weight of what had happened.

Aemond's singular eye had remained open and unblinking, the sapphire that replaced his missing eye was glinting in the low light of the chamber's fire.

With a steady hand, Vaelarra carefully removed the sapphire from the empty eye socket, her touch lingering for a moment on the cool surface. She placed the gemstone inside the pocket of her cloak, a keepsake of the man who had once been her husband, now forever lost to her.

Before leaving, Vaelarra pressed a kiss to Aemond's forehead, her lips lingering for a moment in a silent farewell. She pulled up her hood, concealing her tear-streaked face, and turned towards the secret entrance that led out of Aemond's chambers.

Just before departing, a resolve settled within her. She picked up Aemond's sword and dagger, feeling their weight in her hands.

With practiced efficiency, she fastened the belt around her waist, securing the weapons close to her body.

As she slipped through the secret passage, leaving behind the lifeless body of Aemond, Vaelarra knew that her actions would reverberate through the realm but whatever happened she was ready to face whatever lay ahead.

Vaelarra moved swiftly through the labyrinthine passageways of the Red Keep, her heart pounding with a mixture of sorrow and grim determination. Each step echoed in the dimly lit corridors, the weight of her actions settling heavily upon her shoulders.

Finally, she emerged into a secluded chamber where Daemon, stood waiting anxiously. His face softened with relief as he caught sight of her, and without hesitation, he pulled her into a tight embrace.

Vaelarra allowed herself a moment to lean into his embrace, seeking solace in the presence of her father amid the turmoil of her emotions.

"I was worried-" Daemon murmured against her hair; his voice thick with concern. "I feared they had caught you."

Vaelarra pulled back slightly, meeting her father's gaze with eyes that held a mix of weariness and resolve. "-A son for a son" she replied softly, her voice steady despite the lingering tremor in her hands. "-Aemond is dead."

Daemon's expression shifted, a complex blend of emotions crossing his features. He noticed the blood staining Vaelarra's clothes, evidence of the deed she had carried out. His hand gently cupped her cheek, his pride and sorrow mingling in the depths of his eyes.

"You have done what needed to be done, Vaelarra. You are true blood of the dragon." murmured Daemon, his voice filled with quiet reverence.

Vaelarra felt a swell of conflicting emotions at her father's words—pride, relief, and the weight of the path she had chosen. She nodded solemnly, grateful for his understanding and support.

"You took his weapons," Daemon observed quietly, his voice tinged with both curiosity and understanding.

Vaelarra met his gaze steadily, her own eyes reflecting a mixture of determination and sorrow. "I took them for Aenys," she explained, her voice steady despite the emotions that threatened to overwhelm her. "One day, when he is old enough, he might want to have them. They belonged to his father."

Daemon nodded slowly, a solemn acknowledgment passing between them. "A fitting keepsake," he murmured, his voice filled with a sense of finality.

Turning his attention away from the grim reminders of the past, Daemon looked around the secret entrance. "Let us leave King's Landing," he said firmly. "Now that Aemond is dead, it won't take them long to discover his body. We must not be here when they do."

Vaelarra nodded in agreement, a sense of urgency settling over her as they made their way swiftly through the darkened streets of King's Landing, their steps hurried yet purposeful.

The weight of their actions hung heavy in the air as they navigated towards the shores where their small rowboat awaited them. They moved with silent determination as the sound of bells ringing echoed throughout the city, signalling the discovery of Aemond's body.

As they reached the dock where their boat and it’s row man waited, moving along with the gentle waves, Daemon's arm instinctively wrapped around Vaelarra's shoulders, drawing her close as they climbed aboard and took a seat.

Neither Daemon nor Vaelarra spoke as they drifted further and further away from King's Landing.

Their silence was heavy with unspoken thoughts, each lost in their own reflections on the events that had transpired.

Daemon's grip on his daughter tightened subtly, a silent reassurance of their bond amidst the uncertainty that lay ahead.

In the years following the events that reshaped the realm, peace gradually settled over Westeros under Queen Rhaenyra's reign.

With Aemond dead and Vhagar no longer a threat, under Daemon's leadership, the Black army swiftly secured King's Landing, paving the way for Rhaenyra to ascend the Iron Throne unopposed.

Aegon conceded the conquerors crown and was granted a pardon, he and Helaena chose to travel across the narrow sea to Essos and found a new home in Pentos where they could live out their days in peace with their three children.

Meanwhile, justice was meted out to those who had conspired against Rhaenyra. Otto Hightower, Jasper Wylde, Tyland Lannister, Maester Orwyle, Ser Criston Cole and Larys Strong were all found guilty of treason and faced the ultimate consequence.

Alicent Hightower, while pardoned, remained confined within the Red Keep, a reminder of the cost of ambition and betrayal.

Under Rhaenyra's rule, those who had bent the knee to Aegon were given the opportunity to pledge their loyalty to her rightful reign, solidifying her hold over the Seven Kingdoms.

Stability returned to the realm as Rhaenyra worked to heal the wounds left by the war.

Nine moons after Aemond's death, Vaelarra gave birth to a daughter, whom she named Aemma.

Two years later, she married Jacaerys, finding love and companionship once more.

Together, they were blessed with a son named Lucerys and a daughter named Viserra, their family growing amidst the newfound peace.

As years passed, Aenys, now eleven name days old, successfully claimed Vhagar as his own.

The ancient she dragon, once bonded to his father Aemond, readily accepted him as her new rider, forging a new bond that echoed through history.

Aenys spent much of his youth honing his skills in the training yard, his prowess with the sword remarkable.

His long sword that once belonged to his father, with a sapphire now embedded in its hilt, became a symbol of his lineage and inherited talent.

In the wake of war and turmoil, life in Westeros moved forward, shaped by the choices, and sacrifices of those who dared to fight for their beliefs.

Through it all, the legacy of House Targaryen endured, bound by blood, dragons, and the ever-changing tides of history.

-

A.N - Jace was never betrothed to Baela in this story and please let me know which version you prefer, this or Where Water Meets The Sea.

I like to create different versions of similiar stories that I have written as I like the what if possibilities..

[garnetbutterflysblog]

I would present a counter-argument because I do believe that we are given textual evidence that Alicent’s children were in danger if Rhaenyra took the Iron Throne- even if fratricide isn't an established custom/law. GRRM carefully crafted parallels that would echo the struggles Rhaenyra would face in trying to claim the Iron Throne, though for this purpose I will be excluding any parallels to the main series and using only the show’s canon or Fire and Blood.

My first point would be to look at Lady Jeyne Arryn, the only canonical female lord paramount who is conveniently placed right before the Dance begins. Unlike Rhaenyra, Jeyne Arryn had the full support of Andal law behind her as she inherited the position when her father and brothers were all killed. In spite of her possessing the strongest legal claim to the Vale, her cousin Arnold Arryn rebelled against her three times. Ser Arnold’s reasoning during each attempted coup was Lady Jeyne’s gender, and he gathered significant support given Jeyne chose to imprison him within the Eyrie perpetually. I will concede that this point also prepares an alternative scenario where Rhaenyra could choose to imprison her brothers and any nephews, but considering Arnold went insane from being imprisoned, that isn’t truly a preferable outcome. 

Secondly, even prior to the Great Council, there is an implicit precedent when it comes to the Iron Throne that mirrors Salic law, where a woman cannot inherit at all. The Great Council merely makes this precedent explicit. The first use of this implicit precedent was at the end of Maegor’s reign, where the realm backed Jaehaerys against Maegor in spite of Aerea, the heir of Aegon the Uncrowned being a claimant. Decades later when his eldest surviving son Aemon died, Jaehaerys upheld this precedent by skipping over Aemon’s trueborn daughter in favor of his second son, Baelon. What makes it even worse, is that the realm was given the opportunity to restore the more traditional succession practices during the Great Council but actively chose otherwise by naming Viserys heir. 

One has to consider that it is not only Rhaenyra and her half-siblings operating in this world. As episode 9 proves, there are people willing to use Alicent’s children as pawns against Rhaenyra without their knowledge or consent. In the real world, we have several historical parallels to this such as Lady Jane Grey, Henry VI, the Princes in the Tower and Edward Plantagenet, Earl of Warrick. Even though they had been locked away in the Tower of London, all were either executed or simply murdered because people rose against the reigning monarch on their behalf- forcing the reigning monarch to execute them to secure their own reign and the stability of their kingdom.  It doesn’t matter how disinterested in the throne her half-siblings are, Rhaenyra’s reign would always be more secure and the risk of rebellion would significantly decrease if her half-siblings were executed.

Your argument also willfully ignores the actions or supposed actions of both Rhaenyra and Daemon. If asking for Aemond to be tortured over the truth in episode 7 wasn’t enough, Rhaenyra joined forces with Daemon to get the realm to believe they arranged the murder of Laenor.  In the eyes of the Greens, Laenor was one of the men who shielded Rhaenyra from the consequences of having sons with Harwin. Laenor accepted these boys as his own despite explicitly knowing those children weren’t his as he stated in episode 6.  Laenor was also her cousin, her own blood and though it seems ‘by proxy’ deaths aren’t counted as kinslaying, that is essentially what Rhaenyra is purposefully saying she is capable of. Given Aemond and Aegon's actions only days prior to Laenor's "death", Rhaenyra has reason to be concerned. Aemond clearly hates his nephews (understandably) and Aegon inadvertently did more damage to her sons by answering Viserys that everyone knew Rhaenyra's sons were bastards because of their appearance. If her own allies are not safe from her, how could the living and breathing challenges that are Alicent’s sons be safe from Rhaenyra and Daemon?

And as for your last remark about Alicent’s issue being premarital sex, it is a very shallow and doylist reading of the scene. We, as a modern audience, would initially want to explain this scenario as Alicent being a prude and “slut-shaming” but the Watsonian explanation is very apparent in episodes 4 and 5. Rhaenyra cannot defy gender conventions just because she is a Targaryen and the heir to the Iron Throne, as Viserys bluntly states. Viserys even confirms that the perception of being with Daemon in a brothel would have been enough cause for Jaehaerys to disown her. If that was not enough, Rhaenys and Corlys even reference how desperately Viserys is trying to repair Rhaenyra’s reputation and solidify her position as heir by coming to Driftmark himself to arrange a match with Laenor. Unlike the audience, Alicent can only use the Watsonian perspective which is 1) after offending many lords during her tour of the realm, Rhaenyra choose to engage in even more reckless behavior without thinking of the importance of perception and how precarious her position is, 2) Rhaenyra is willing to work against Alicent’s own interests by having Otto sent away because he gave a mostly truthful report about her actions, and 3) that Rhaenyra is willing to lie to Alicent (even if by small lies or lies of omission). Alicent's options are to entrust Rhaenrya with the lives of her children or try to protect them by usurping the throne (most likely at that point, she thought Viserys could be convinced to name Aegon heir). Rhaenyra understandably doesn't trust her and now, Alicent's trust has been broken in turn.

I finally realized why it always rubs me the wrong way when people compare Alicent to Hürrem: despite multiple genuine similarities between the two, people often use it to imply things about Alicent (and Rhaenyra) that are just plain untrue. Notably, Hürrem has legitimate reasons to worry about her sons' lives, while Alicent... Just doesn't. I am sorry, she really fucking doesn't.

First off, let's make something very clear - recent history of their worlds is very much on Hürrem's side, while with Alicent, it's a lot less clear. Notably, while the oldest members of the Ottoman dynasty, when the empire was just really just a small emirate in Anatolia, were able to peacefully coexist with their brothers and other male relatives that could challenge their power, as the empire grew, so did the propensity of potential candidates for the throne to fight over it. By the time Süleyman I. became the sultan, fratricide was very much an established practice. Ottoman succession laws were rather murky, and at the time the show takes place, the good old "to the strongest" principle was in place when it comes to deciding which prince was to become the next ruler. There was some sense that the oldest has more right to the throne than his brothers - hence Mustafa being considered the strongest candidate, along with his general popularity among the janissaries - but Selim I. did win the throne from his older brother, so it was hardly set in stone.

Then there's Westeros, which is a lot more complicated. Sure, you did have Maegor I. usurping and murdering two of his nephews, where the third was only saved by going into hiding, but notably that was only after the oldest one rose in open rebellion towards him. Now, Aegon the Uncrowned wasn't really in the wrong there, considering Maegor had at that point already burned the Starry Sept and generally showed himself to be the absolute worst. Aegon was fully within his rights to be worried about the fate of himself, his own family and the whole country. But it's worth noting, because even the most tyrannical king Westeros had up to that point didn't just shank his nephews completely unprovoked (as was at the time the show was set already an established practice for the Ottomans). Hell, Maegor previously fully supported the reign of his older brother, apparently for no other reason than because of affection between them. Even after they had a falling out because of Maegor's bigamy, Maegor went into exile rather than directly challenge his brother's rule.

Then we have Viserys I., whose claim was also contentious, but after it was cemented trough legalistic means, noone ever went directly against him. It's worth noting that Rhaenyra's claim too was established trough legalistic means (her father's decree) and just like Viserys' claim, it also went against the common practice of Westerosi succession. Admittedly, Rhaenyra's claim was much less stable, mostly because of her gender, but still. In addition, there is absolutely no indication that Rhaenyra would ever go the Maegor route if her throne wasn't usurped; admittedly, she would've kept a close watch on her brothers (and they might be in danger if there is ever an unrelated crisis during Rhaenyra's death - possibly, maybe), but that's far from the "certain death" scenario Alicent presents to Aegon the Trashy. And considering the alternative is a civil war, which also endangers the lives of her children... Yeah, keeping your head down and trying to appear as faithful as possible to Rhaenyra suddenly seems like a pretty viable option, doesn't it?

But that would mean Alicent has to firmly go against her manipulative father and place her trust in Rhaenyra just after she lied to her about *gasp* having premarital sex, and she just isn't emotionally ready for that.

Look, I am not saying Alicent doesn't have good character-driven reasons to be horribly, horribly wrong. But she is. By God is she wrong. Superficially, hers and Hürrem's situation are similar. But one of them is probably right, while the other is just wrong. And that makes all the difference.

[euterpessi]

Romance Manhwa/Manga Recommendations:

Historical Manhwa/Manga:

Death Is The Only Ending For The Villainess

I’ve reincarnated as the reverse harem game’s villainess, the one and only adopted daughter of the ducal Eckart family.

But the difficulty just has to be the worst!

Everything I do will only lead me to death.

I must be paired with one of the main male characters from the heroine’s harem before the ‘real daughter’ of the duke family appears!

Two older brothers who always pick a fight with me on every little thing.

The insane crown prince whose route will always lead to my death.

‘I only see the heroine and no one else’s wizard, and also her loyal slave knight, too!

‘First, let’s take some of them which I see no hope in, out of the list!’

“I didn’t know my place up until now. From now on, I’ll live as quiet as a mouse so you wouldn’t care the slightest bit!

But why do their interests in me keep on rising every time I draw the line?!

The Villainess is a Marionette

Cayena, the Imperial Princess, was known as the most beautiful woman in the Empire. She was a woman who knew nothing but evil and luxury.

However, she was destined for ruin: she would be used as a chess piece by her younger brother to secure his throne and killed by her crazy husband.

“I’ll make you the Emperor.”

“… Sister, are you referring to me?”

“In exchange, give me freedom.”

She had to change things before she became that Cayena.

The Reason Why Raeliana Ended Up At The Duke’S Mansion

Poisoned to death by her own betrothed?! Eunha didn’t wake up in a novel’s story just to get killed off again as an unfortunate extra! To change her story she needs a cover… 6 months pretending to be the fake fiancée of the novel’s male protagonist, Duke Noah Wynknight. But will this cold-hearted, angel-faced demon of a man really help her avoid another ill-fated ending?!

Your Throne / I Want to Be You, Just For A Day

The story follows main characters Medea Solon and Psyche Callista, who become archenemies after competing for the position of crown princess of the Vasilios Empire. On the day of the Yearly Prayer, Medea and Psyche accidentally switch bodies.

The Remarried Empress

Navier was the perfect empress, however, the Emperor wanted a wife, not a colleague. And so, the Emperor abandoned Empress Navier and placed an enslaved girl beside him. That was fine until Navier heard the Emperor promise the slave the Empress’ position. After many ups and downs, Navier decided she would accept being the Queen of the neighbouring country and remarry.

Kill The Villainess

Eris Mizerian was the villainess of a novel. The only daughter of a marquis, she got executed after scheming against the pure and lovely protagonist, Helena. My only goal, after possessing her, is simply to leave this world and go home. I am prepared to face even death, but the laws of this world keep stopping me.

A changed Eris begins to draw the attention of three men who once loathed her; the Crown Prince, the High Priest, and the Knight.

"It doesn't matter. I will never be able to love this world."

Even if the only way out is death,

even if the only way out is make a deal with a witch...

I will absolutely leave this world!

This is the story of the villainess who defies fate, Eris, and her escape from this world!

The Way To Protect The Female Lead's Older Brother

I accidentally took possession of someone in a 19+ reverse harem novel.

The problem is that I became Roxana Agriche, the older sister of the sub-villain. My damn father kidnapped the heroine’s brother. Now, is the only thing left to meet a terrible end from the vengeance of the heroine?

But what if I can avoid that horrible development?

“I’m also interested in this toy.”

“I’ll protect you until you can get out of here safely.”

The heroine’s brother, Cassis Pedalian, will definitely be able to pay me back later.

Shadow Queen

“Can you be my daughter for me?”

By his offer, Elena became Duke of Franceschi’s fake daughter.

She became the queen and gave birth to Crown Prince’s son.

Then suddenly, Princess Veronica who was assumed dead came back.

She was only just a toy.

But eventually, Elena gets her son taken and is murdered.

However, she went back to the past.

“I’ll destroy all of you.”

I’ll never live as a toy again.

Elena decides to seeks revenge.

Under the Oak Tree

The daughter of a duke, the stuttering Maximilian, married a knight of lowly status at her father’s coercion.

After their first night, her husband departed for an expedition without another word.

He comes back three years later, this time as a famous knight in the whole continent.

How would Maximilian face him on his return?

"The more I think of you, the more lonely and lonely I become. I don't know why I can't quit even though it's so painful."

I'm Stanning The Prince

Angela’s fanfic became such a sensation that it even reached the Imperial Family, leading her to get arrested on charges of treason. Nevertheless, her fanfic improved the First Prince’s image, and his sister, the Princess, decides to take political advantage of this and keep Angela by their side. 

The heroine who can now fangirl to her heart’s content, and the Prince who doesn’t know how to act around her. As they bicker back and forth, they start growing closer…

Miss Not-So Sidekick

Hyejung loved to read to escape her daily stress. But that’s before she woke up inside the bizarre world of her favorite novel! Instead of the main heroine who courts three eligible men, she is now Latte Ectrie – a minor villain that everyone hates?! One way or another, it’s a chance to live out her most beloved storyline, with popcorn in hand to watch all the drama! Taking charge of the narrative takes on a whole new meaning!

Even Though I’M The Villainess, I’ll Become The Heroine!

I wasn’t able to overcome the harassment and took my life, but I was reincarnated with the perpetrator? The perpetrator is the heroine, Florre, and I am the villainess, Dahlia, who’s going to die horribly.

“They said you are a villain with neither blood nor tears, but unlike the rumors, you often shed tears.”

“Your Highness must believe all the nonsense the idiots are talking about, huh?”

Grand Duke of Cervian, the half brother of the Male lead and who will be punished for treason afterwards. He approached me. I can’t lose the man who will be my greatest ally.

“Your Highness, would you marry me?”

“Now…… what did you say?”

“And take revenge together.”

A similar situation, a fixed ending. The heroine is not the only one who knows the ending of the novel. I took a long and arduous path of revenge.

Who Made Me A Princess

The beautiful Athanasia was killed at the hands of her own biological father, Claude de Alger Obelia, the cold-blooded emperor! It’s just a silly bedtime story… until one woman wakes up to suddenly find she’s become that unfortunate princess! She needs a plan to survive her doomed fate, and time is running out. Will she go with Plan A, live as quietly as possible without being noticed by the infamous emperor? Plan B, collect enough money to escape the palace? Or will she be stuck with Plan C, sweet-talking her way into her father’s good graces?!

The Villainess Reverses the Hourglass

With the marriage of her prostitute mother to the Count, Aria’s status in society skyrocketed immediately. After leading a life of luxury, Aria unfairly meets death because of her sister Mielle’s schemes. And right before she dies, she sees an hourglass fall as if it were a fantasy. And just like that, she was miraculously brought back to the past.

“I want to become a very elegant person, just like my sister, Mielle.”

In order to face the villainess, she must become an even more wicked villainess. This was the new path Aria chose to take revenge on Mielle who murdered both her and her mother.

The Evil Lady's Hero

Junipe Magnolia, a villainess friend of the heroine in this novel called Rael Cania.

The Junipe inside the novel has always loved the male lead, Iseed. To the point where she harassed Rael out of jealousy because she's loved by Iseed.

And thus, Junipe is destinied to die in the hands of the male lead of this novel.

But one day.

"Why did I become Junipe?!"

But let's think about it, it's still one year away from the time Junipe is going to get killed by Iseed. So, I have to meet Iseed and Rael first, I'll be able to find a way out of my death if I do so.

Yeah, let's meet them first!

But, this man is just so tender-hearted and kind. Would Junipe be able to escape from this man?!

I Tamed a Tyrant and Ran Away

God gave me a chance to relive my life. Before the rebirth, I had been used for the past 400 years as the empire's sword. And so, I swore to destroy the empire. I found the young prince of the country and became his teacher. I taught him how to become a tyrant and asked for the country.

"I will do the lady's will."

He conquered the whole empire for me, and I ran away.

"I came to take you, Charlize Ronan." Dylan became a perfect tyrant and searched the entire empire for me.

"You tamed me, so why did you run away?"

Untouchable Lady

“Please, Hilise. Please die in place of Gabrielle.” My always dignified brother begged me for the first time. He wants me to die for our stepsister, whom we don't even share a drop of blood with. “For the first and last time, I ask you this.” I've always been miserable, and there is no exception this time. The seventh time that I was betrayed and killed, I was completely free of lingering feelings. “I'm glad that you're a scumbag until the end.” I won't be swayed by love anymore. It's my turn to abandon them first.

I’ll Live On As A Villainess

I reincarnated as the villainess in a book!

The one who dared to commit attempted murder on the heroine is the owner of this body?

Let's just live in a quiet place where we have fun and eat! That's what I thought for a while.

It was so, so, so cold here in the north, where I was kicked out as a punishment.

Before I froze to death, I called the Great Demon of Fire and set fire to the fireplace but...

Why isn't he going back? If you've done the job, shouldn't you go back?!

I was flustered to find out that I had signed a life contract with a demon just to start a fire but to think that I'd be responsible for relieving his desires!

The bickering romance between a big puppy demon and a small villainess lady!

It Looks Like I’Ve Fallen Into The World Of A Reverse Harem Game

When I opened my eyes, I was in a different world. I had become the game’s villainous princess who was feared by all. Not to mention… Completely naked men I didn’t even know were approaching me left and right! “Are you cold? Shall I warm you up with a hug?” “Oh? Have you not had enough yet?” Seriously, what’s up with this situation? And just how the hell am I going to get out of this freaking game?!

Father, I Don't Want to Get Married!

I’m Jubelian? The daughter of the duke and the villainess of this novel?

I managed to avoid my death with some previous knowledge about my life, as this was my second time at it. Now, I should be able to live a peaceful life!

“I’m not going to marry a man unless he has everything. I want the most wealthy, famous, and competent man there is.”

I dreamt of a glamorous life as the daughter of the duke, but my father tells me the Crown Prince who is known to be a lunatic is to be my husband! As an extraordinary measure, I couldn’t help but start a contract relationship. That is, with a handsome side character that looks better than the main one.

“Why are you trying to avoid being engaged to the prince?”

“He’s scary. I heard that he even kills his own entourage if he doesn’t like them.”

A few days later, the prince sent a terrible letter to me.

“I will not kill you.”

Oh no, did I set up another death trap for myself?

Like A Wind On A Dry Branch

"Hi, You."

Count Casarius fell victim to a plague and died suddenly, leaving behind a will stating that Rietta, his beautiful young widow of the manor, whom he tried to use as a concubine, be buried alive alongside him. Just before Rietta is buried, Archduke Axias, rumored to be a cruel tyrant, arrives at the funeral to collect the enormous debt Count Casarius still owes him.

“Everyone here seems to feel sorry for her, and I still have a debt to collect from Casarius�� If I take her instead of debt, I think all of you here should be happy," he smiled.

"Hello, Temptress."

Everything was a Mistake

Roa Valrose reincarnated as villainess in the book. In order to avoid the fate of being burned at the stake, she approaches the hero, Nocton Edgar.

It hurts every time she gets closer to him. Nevertheless, for her survival, she does everything he wants her to do.

“Come again, Valrose.”

The mysterious Nocton unexpectedly sought her out every day.

Then one day, her friend for 10 years says something unknown to her.

“Actually, I have a dream. The Duke of Edgar is a terrible villain!”

He is not the hero, but the villain?

As soon as she realized that she had misinterpreted the role, she decided to get away from Nocton.

“Let’s not meet anymore.”

But the villain’s reaction was strange.

“Don’t go. You’ve always been special to me.”

She was suspicious of his sudden change of attitude.

Will she able to get rid of Nocton safely?

I Became the Tyrant's Secretary

I became the secretary of a tyrant in place of my clumsy brother to survive.

But I have so much potential for it. I’m so darn good at my job. Because I served the tyrant so well, ‘Everyone has a happy ending’.

Well then, shall I quit being a secretary and live a leisurely life now?

“Rosaline, tell me what you want.” He asked as he stepped down from his chair.

“I want to quit.”

His eyebrows twitched slightly.

“Do you want to die?”

Your highness, you never hold on to people who want to leave, so why’re you being like this to me?

Seduce the Villainess Father

After being in a bus crash, I woke up to the world of my favourite web novel.

Not only that, It was before the protagonists were born, to their parents’ world!

To stop the incoming multiple bad events.

I tried to prevent the kidnapping of the sister who is pregnant with the female lead!

But I got kidnapped instead?!

It's depressing to be kidnapped, but my body couldn't handle the mana and became a sunfish-like state

But... if I am next to the emperor who kidnapped me, my body becomes normal!

Right! The way to save that man from marrying a witch and getting killed by his son, and for someone who is vulnerable to mana such as myself to live, is for us to get married!

The Villains Savior

Set on a path to tragedy and misfortune from a young age, Aseph Randell is doomed to die a villain. That is, until the mysterious Elzay Tiathe appears in his life with a promise: "I can save you." After having vivid visions of him for so long, can Elzay untangle the twisted fate tied to Aseph... or will they both be dragged down together?

Contemporary Manhwa/Manga:

Night Crying Crow

This woman; who is she?

If something was action, it'd be action. If something was romance, it’d be romance. The A-list actor Cheon Woo Kang, who's great at every (genre), had his heart stolen away by an unknown woman who’d broken into his house!

“We'll meet again.~"

Woo Kang contracted an over imaginative illness as he drew the woman, whose name he didn't even know. In front of Woo Kang, she reappeared as the police officer Park Tae... Could the shadow of the crisis that appeared in front of them be a coincidence?

Raise wa Tanin ga Ii

Yoshino Somei would have been a normal high-schooler if not for the fact that she is the granddaughter of the leader of the Osaka-based Somei Group, the Kansai region's largest yakuza organization. One day, Yoshino hurries home after hearing of the news about the unification of Kansai and Kanto's biggest syndicates, the Somei and the Miyama groups. This, according to the article, will result in a marriage of the leaders' grandchildren—one of whom is Yoshino herself! Despite her best efforts to annul the arrangement, Yoshino has to go to Tokyo to visit her fiancé, Kirishima Miyama, who is unexpectedly nice and charming.

During their first meeting, Yoshino is swept up in various events and becomes unable to refuse moving to Tokyo, which is why, half a year later, she now lives with the Miyama group. At school, she soon realizes that Kirishima is very popular, so her relationship with him garners the hate of his fangirls and subsequently results in bullying. To make matters worse, Kirishima could not be further away from her prince charming since he, after all, was born to be a yakuza member.

Raise wa Tanin ga Ii follows Yoshino and her new life in Tokyo that is filled with nothing but troubles connected to the underworld. However, though she wishes to be as far from it as possible, this isn't Yoshino's first time dealing with the world of the Yakuza...

Positively Yours

To Hee-won’s dismay, the BFF she crushed on and her other BFF are now dating! Seriously bummed, Hee-won decides to go wild just one time, and find solace with a handsome stranger. A very satisfying one night affair has now turned into more — she’s pregnant! Fate brings them together again, and now the regimented Doo-joon is determined to do the right thing and marry her. But they’re basically strangers! Except... their bodies have been very intimately acquainted. What’s this mother-to-be to do?

True Beauty

After binge-watching beauty videos online, a shy comic book fan masters the art of makeup and sees her social standing skyrocket as she becomes her school’s prettiest pretty girl overnight. But will her elite status be short-lived? How long can she keep her real self a secret? And what about that cute boy who knows her secret?

Cheese In the Trap

Hong Sul is a ordinary college student. Yoo Jung is the school's most popular upperclass man. He's good looking, rich, smart, and even nice. However, Hong Sul thinks there's more to Yoo Jung than what meets the eye…

SPY x FAMILY

The master spy codenamed has spent his days on undercover missions, all for the dream of a better world. But one day, he receives a particularly difficult new order from command. For his mission, he must form a temporary family and start a new life?! A Spy/Action/Comedy about a one-of-a-kind family!

Doppio Senso (18+)

“What are you thinking about?”

“I’m thinking about a guy.”

KyungHyun stopped in the middle of a deep kiss and sighed. His lips began to form a smile, but his fierce glare said otherwise. Possessiveness and jealousy spread across his sculpted face.

“Will you tell me his name?”

His easygoing and languid voice reached her ears.

“Why?”

“So that I can shoot him down.”

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

Ello can you do a Sky imagine where reader and him are a couple and Sky is the only one who knows that there a powerful fairy but then everyone finds out..

Part one - Intertwined 

Pairing: Sky x reader

===============================

Sky had loved every minute he spent with Y/N ever since they met. Her presence alone was enough to calm him and he had acted as a compass for her - whenever she got lost, he guided her back home - back to his arms.

They hardly put any labels on what they are, but Y/N means the world to Sky - he knows that much. And while their relationship blossomed, Sky couldn’t help but worry about her and the decisions she made concerning her powers. Not only did she choose never to divulge the true magnitude of her abilities to anyone but the headmistress and Sky, she also trained alone and it often brought dangers he couldn’t anticipate nor protect her from.

He knew the choices were hers to make but that wasn't how his brain worked. For him the man, the specialist, the soldier must always be protector, guardian, the one in the line of fire. For Y/N to be in any danger was killing him from the inside and all the while headmistress just kept saying her skills were better, he wasn't right for this job. He wanted a shot, a chance to get her out of harms way, but how can he save her from herself? 

And as the days ticked by his visions grew - blood dripping from his fingertips after each practice only to vanish into the cool autumn air. But that night wasn’t a drill he had to overcome in order to get a nod from Silva. This was real danger as the Burned Ones penetrated the barrier and threatened their security. Her security.

“That looks painful”, Y/N points to his raw hands as she leans on the wall beside Sky. “I could help a little”, she offers, her eyes on his tight lipped smile.

“You could help me by going back to the rest of the group.” Sky swallows thickly, continuing to avoid her gaze, unable to face her and show the fear and determination in his eyes. 

“That’s cold. I should know”, she alludes to her powers, forcing a small smile as she steps right in front of Sky. “If I ask you to stand down, you wouldn’t do it.”

Finally looking at her, Sky furrows his eyebrows, “Of course not.”

“Then why are you asking me to do that?” She takes his hand in hers, wetting her lips as she brings the back of his hand to her mouth. Blowing cool air, she relieves a little bit of his pain before slowly moving her eyes up to his only to find his worried hues upon her already.

“If something happens to you, I won’t make it.” Sky lowers his voice, breaking her heart as his voice wavers.

“And what exactly do you think would happen to me if something happens to you?” She raises an eyebrow, challenging him.

“I know we never said anything, but I can’t risk going into this night without you knowing.” Sky tries only to find her index finger pressed against his lips. It’s a gentle touch, not forceful as it seems to some.

“I know”, she whispers, “I feel the same way. It’s like I finally got what I always wanted and now it could be taken from me.” Swallowing thickly, she lets her finger fall, “Which is why I’m not going to be a useless fairy in hiding.”

“What do you need me to do?” Sky manages a smile, his hands intertwining with hers as he brings her closer. He bends ever so slightly, lips parted and it doesn’t take long for her to stand on her tiptoes, eliminating the distance between them as their lips meet. 

Their souls have mated long before they felt the hurricane of emotions that connected them to one another.

Parting, breathless, Y/N couldn’t suppress a smile as Sky rested his forehead on hers, their noses brushing, lips just a whisper apart.

“This is exactly what I needed.” Drawing a deep breath, she steps back with a loving smile on her lips, “Stay inside.”

“Wait”, Sky exclaims as she rushes after Bloom who nods her way and before he knows it, the girls vanish into thin air.

Gripping his head, Sky feels panic rise in his chest, breathing becoming a chore.

“SKY?!” Riven pulls him back by the elbow, “Focus! These things are about to break in!”

“I never got to tell her”, Sky breathes out. She said she knows, but he wanted to say it. He needed to say it.

“Tell her what?” Riven frowns, unsure what’s gotten Sky so rattled.

“That I love her.”

While Sky was trying to find a way to stay alive long enough to tell Y/N how he feels, she was far too busy trying to save everyone else.

“We will have to channel more magic that ever before”, Bloom warns her and Y/N nods. 

“I have no trouble channeling world destroying magic. That’s what scares me.” Glancing at Alfea, Y/N felt her heart sink with the thought of Sky being inside. “Are you sure those things are following you?”

Nodding, Bloom takes her hand, “We can do this.” But even Bloom didn’t know the true extent of Y/N’s power. No one did. Sky had an idea, but he had never seen the damage she could cause.

“They’re coming”, Stella warns and Y/N looks to her with understanding. 

“I can do this”, Bloom whispers as she tries to make a spark, but nothing happens.

“Where’s the fire, Bloom?” Y/N steps back, her voice panicky. She looks around only to see dark figures running at full speed toward them and Bloom still had not created so much as a simple flame.

“Bloom?!” Y/N calls out to her, beginning to shake.

“it’s not working!” Bloom shouts and that’s when Y/N realizes it’s up to her. It isn’t to save her own life, but the very important life inside the school. She can’t fail, not when the consequence would be so dire.

Drawing a deep breath, she closes her eyes. Her mouth is filled with the coppery tang of blood, and it feels like ice is rushing through her veins. She groans as her vision shifts and the world erupts with colors. At first, it hurts, but then she’s suddenly filled with confidence and power. The ice freezes her insides, the colors burn brighter as she curls her fingers up.

In seconds, the water fountain behind her had frozen into spikes. Exhaling, her breath visible in the sudden cold, Y/N felt herself rising along with the frozen spikes she moved to her side. The ice surrounds her, a blue-white light encasing her as her eyes glow ocean blue. 

Y/N grew her wings as waves of silk, effortlessly so, and she felt like she'd won her freedom, won the trust of mother nature. While the wings seem as soft as petals, Bloom soon realizes Y/N’s wings are a weapon as they direct the icy spikes toward the Burned Ones, making them fall one by one. 

It’s as if it isn’t Y/N anymore, but a vengeful angel possessed by the need to protect innocents from the demons that came looking for blood.

Each spike finds it’s mark, each of them laying on the frosty grass. And as the last one falls, Y/N’s glow intensifies. Her skin is pale, sparkling in the moonlight. her eyes are cold, still glowing as if she can’t turn it off and her wings, they flutter as if they could blow the arctic winds down upon the world.

“Holy shit”, Bloom gasps as she stumbles back. 

“It’s okay, Y/N!” Stella tries, “You can come down and rest now.”

“I can’t”, Y/N whispers under her breath. She tried, but it felt impossible to stop it. It’s as if the ice had frozen her heart over, the source of all that’s good - of control.

Looking at her softly glowing hands, she swallows thickly. She’s still above the ground, painfully aware she has wings - the very wings fairies aren’t supposed to have anymore. The brightly colorful world is just as intense, just as difficult to take as when it first appeared. 

“Princess?!”

And that’s when she hears the shaky, loving voice of the one she’s been trying to protect.

“Sky?” She croaks, tears brimming her eyes.

“Come back to me.” Sky holds up his arm, hand open for Y/N to take. He can see she’s lost, scared even. 

“I don’t know how”, she admits. He’s the light in her darkness, her compass, if he can’t help her, no one can.

“I believe in you.” Sky wets his quivering lips, “I love you, Y/N. I need you.”

Releasing a heavy sigh, Y/N nods, closing her eyes. She focuses on her heartbeat that’s like an echo, a distant reminder she is a living, breathing creature. 

When she opens her eyes, she finds her hand almost touching Sky’s. 

He reaches for her, bringing her down to his embrace and she shivers violently as the warm glow around her dies down instantly. 

“Hold onto me”, Sky whispers, running his hands up and down her back to warm her up. “Hold onto me, you’re all I have”, he repeats as he picks her up in his arms. 

She rests her head on his chest, curled up in the safety of his arms. No matter what, she knew she’d be safe with him. “I love you too”, she says softly before falling asleep from exhaustion the magic used caused. 

And while Sky and Y/N spent the night in each other’s arms, the rest of the school was finally made aware of all the secrets Y/N tried to hide - her royal status and the unimaginable power she yields.

It certainly looked like Solaria will soon be second strongest kingdom, because when Y/N takes the throne she’s entitled to - and with prince Sky by her side, their power, their union would be unmatched.

Part 3 

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Boarding enemy ships

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

“Repair teams to deck gamma, reports of coolant leak.” The intercom blared as Vistesh sprinted down the corridors. A sudden shudder through the ship sent him and his repair team sprawling into the wall and knocked several off their feet while the warning klaxons sounded off. “The Avalon cannon is offline until it is repaired!”

“Hull breaches on decks beta and sigma!” A new voice cut in over the captain.

As Vistesh stood once more to his feet he could note the subtle note of fear in the announcer. He turned to see his team still sprawled out along the corridor like discarded dolls.

“Get up now!” Vistesh shouted as he grabbed the nearest team member, Yarvin if he remembered right, and hauled him to their feet. “We were meant to be on deck gamma five minutes ago!”

“But the hull breach-“ Yarvin began before Vistesh cut him off and grabbed his repair kit. “One job at a time Yarvin; we will worry about the breaches later.” Before Yarvin could reply Vistesh was already off running again to deck gamma.

It was hard to believe that a mere thirty minutes ago he had been calmly sitting in the mess hall when the enemy fleet had seemingly dropped out of sub space right in front of them. He still wasn’t sure who they were fighting but the shatter impacts he felt after the battle calls rang out across the ship told them that whoever they were they had enough firepower to put up a decent fight against a Goliath cruiser.

Rounding the final corner Vistesh near went head first into the subzero coolant pooling around the floor. He looked up to see the coolant pipe had ruptured above the corridors ceiling and had spilled out, catching two crew members in it and freezing them into horrifying statues. The coolant was fed into the main energy guns after discharge and meant to instantly dissipate the thermal energy.

As the rest of the repair crew arrived Vistesh had donned his energy gauntlets. He planned to activate them to project an energy barrier that would stop the flow of coolant and allow the team to reseal the pipes. He was just about to activate the gauntlets when the intercom cried out again.

“All hands, all hands, brace for impact!”

No sooner had the words left the intercom did the entire ship jolt sideways violently. Vistesh was quick enough to grab hold of the corridor wall for support but several others from his team were not as lucky and went flying into the coolant pools. He looked away as their gut wrenching screams of pain were cut short by their body’s flash freeze.

It was in that moment he saw Yarvin being tumbling over into the coolant and Vistesh lashed out with his free hand. Grabbing hold of his work uniform he hauled backwards with all his strength and pulled Yarvin away from the freezing liquid just in time.

The shaking subsided and the two straightened themselves. Yarvin was about to say something when he stopped and looked down the passageway they had entered from.

“Do you hear that?”

Vistesh lifted his pointed ears and listened carefully. At first there was nothing but the sounds of warning klaxons ringing out from farther down. Yet as he listened closer he could hear something different; the sound of scraping metal on metal.

“It sounds like a cobax drill.” Yarvin remarked as he took several steps back to listen more clearly.

“Must be the other repair teams,” Vistesh said as he finally activated the energy gauntlets and stopped the flow of coolant, “they must be repairing one of the breaches nearby.”

Yarvin turned to him with an uncertain look upon his face. “Would you use a drill to fix a hole?”

Before either could further ponder the drilling sounds continued to grow louder and closer, until finally the noise was right on top of them. Vistesh put his hand against the wall to feel the vibrations just as the corridor exploded outward and his world went black.  

For what felt like an eternity Vistesh was lost in a void; fully aware of his surroundings and yet at the same time incapable of making heads or tails of anything. He slowly blinked his eyes open and saw a world of swirling colors and shapes. As the corridor stopped spinning he noticed that there was no longer a corridor at all.

The way they had come in was now blocked off by a large boring like device that filled the width of the passageway.  Coated in the blackest metal, the strange machine hissed as several smaller openings appeared around the perimeter of the machine. From these openings shot thick foam like substances that coated the walls around the machine and Vistesh watched as the foam rapidly expanded to form a thick seal. Once the foam ceased being shot out a portal opened at the front of the machine and a pillar of light emerged from it.

Vistesh covered his eyes and saw several similarly black clad figures come sprinting out of the machine.

He barely had time to see the glint of their helmets before the figures brought up their weapons and fired.

“Decks gamma through sigma are reporting hull breaches from the last volley.” The communications officer called out to his captain as she continued to monitor the tactical display.

“Deploy energy barriers to seal the breaches at once!”  

It was the voice of the second in command who spoke up, striding across the bridge from one terminal to another; all the while Captain Obra sat in her command throne and watched the unfolding battle outside her view screen.

The human ship had pulled alongside them and unleashed a seemingly devastating broadside before peeling off to evade Obra’s circling escorts. Yet as the damage reports filtered in from the decks painted only minor hull breaches that could easily be sealed off with internal barrier systems. She was just about to order her ship to come about and chase down the human vessel when the communication officer was shouting again to her.

“We’ve just lost communication with repair teams one and three.”

“Where were they located?”

“They were responding to hull breaches on gamma deck.”

“Have teams four and six report to-“ Obra was cut before she could relay her orders as more reports began filtering in

“Repair teams four and six on are not responding to hails; last known location deck delta.”

“Deck delta?” Obra queried. “I’ve not heard any damage reports for that deck.” She turned to her internal security officer. “Bring up the video feeds for deck delta.”

The security officer nodded and quickly typed in several keys before a mini monitor appeared along the main screen. Several of the bridge crew who glanced at the screen audibly gasped while even the captain herself stood up.

The feed was coming from a security camera of delta deck showing entire hallways littered with the broken bodies of repair crewmen. Gaping holes in their chests, limbs blown clean off, and walls stained with a thick series of purple blood stains.

“What could have caused that?”

She heard her second in command utter the words and yet in the back of her mind Obra had a dark suspicion growing. Having served in her planets militia forces for her early military career, she was all too familiar with close range weapons damage.

“Show me Charlie and Beta decks now.” She ordered her security officer who quickly responded with more key inputs. The camera feeds cycle through various corridors, rooms, and junctions on the decks until Obra found what she had dreaded.

The camera feed showed a repair team working on power junctions on deck Charlie. One of the crew turned their head to look at something off screen before recoiling in horror. Shortly afterwards their head exploded in a shower of blood and gore and off screen several bright flashes could be seen as the remaining repair crew tried to flee but were gunned down.

Moments later several black armored figures came sprinting down the corridor. None of them broke their stride as they casually turned their weapons on the injured repair crew and opened fired. One of the figures paused and looked upwards at the camera. They were covered in some form of armor from head to toe with a series of optical sensors covering their face giving them an almost insect like appearance. Before Obra could get any more details the armored figured raised their weapon and shot out the camera.

“Energize all barriers and seal off Beta and Charlie decks now!” Obra shouted as the camera feed went silent. “I want all dispatched repair teams to decks gamma through sigma to halt and seal off their areas as well!”

She pulled out the communicator from her command throne and switched it to ship wide broadcast. “All hands, all hands! Remain where you are and seal bulk heads to your sections. Enemy forces have boarded our ship. I repeat; enemy forces have boarded our ship.”

Nearly slamming the communicator back down Obra entered several keys herself and brought up the video feeds from the decks surrounding the breach points. Many were offline but the ones that still we retransmitting painted a grim picture.

The human boarding teams had breached several decks and were spreading out quickly; killing anyone they came across without hesitation.

As the feed continued to cycle Obra spied a group of boarders making their way to engineering.

“Seal of section Q-37 now!”

At her command the security officer activated the energy barriers and sealed the corridor; trapping the human borders inside.

“Yes, we got them!” the officer cheered.

“That is only one group,” Obra’s second counter, “who knows how many more are onboard.”

While the two were talking the captain leaned forward and inspected the humans. The lead one brought up their weapon and shot at the barrier. It was a primitive weapon that fired metallic cylinders while harmless to the energy barriers entrapping them could easily cut through the exposed crew.

When the weapon fire did not free them the seeming leader of the group motion forward another and pointed to either side of the corridor where the energy barrier met the wall. The new human rushed forward and placed two strange rectangular objects on each side and then all of them took several steps backwards when the screen lit up and the feed went dead.

“Energy barriers have been disabled at Q-37!” the security officer confirmed. “Enemy is nearly at engineering.”

“Ma’am!” Obra turned to see her second seemingly petrified. “We have reports of fire fights breaking out along the gunnery decks and at the entrance to life support!”

“Damnit!” Obra’s rage could barely be contained. “They’re targeting key systems of my ship!”

“By that logic wouldn’t their next target be-“

Her second was cut off by the sounds of weapons fire from outside the bridge.

[nutellaneedsanap]

Almost a Dream

Jason awoke with a start, the senses he honed as a street kid warning him that something was wrong. It wasn’t a noticeable shift, something a more normal person wouldn’t notice, but to a person with his training it was glaringly obvious. The slight shift of the blankets, the dip of the bed…a quick peek confirmed what he already knew. There was someone else in his bed. The blue-eyed boy kept his eyes lightly shut, feeling the warm body next to him shift ever-so-slightly. Discreetly, he opened his eyes and peered at the figure that appeared next to him, gauging her threat level. 

She was a smaller girl with blueish-black hair, likely of asian-descent, and a wiry-muscular frame not unlike Dick’s. Deciding that she was asleep, (therefore not much of an immediate threat), Jason went to move, planning on getting Bruce. He had only just begun to sit up when she pounced.

She gave no warning before lunging forward, giving Jason’s throat a quick jab that left him gasping for air. Taking advantage of the moment it took for him to catch his breath, the girl grasped his hair at the root and brought his head down on her knee. A telltale crack sounded throughout the room and internally, Jason groaned. 

“Ahhh, Alfie’s not gonna be too happy about that.” His voice had a slight lisp, another sign pointing towards a broken nose. His assailant scrambled to get off the bed and backed towards the balcony, her hands quickly touching her ear lobes. She did not seem to like what she found, her face quickly settling into a scowl.

“I don't know who you are or what you want from me,” she began, settling into a (rather good) fighting stance. “And I don't care. I will be leaving and you will not stop me.”

Jason looked at her, grasping his nose that had begun to leak a small trail of blood.

“What the hell?” He wasn’t screaming but he sure wasn’t whispering. 

“I’m not exactly sure how you do things in France, but I'm pretty sure most parents teach their children to not break into someone’s house, sleep next to them like a weirdo, and then break their nose!” 

There was a chance that the bluenette couldn’t understand him(there was no shortage of immigrants in Gotham), but Jason hadn’t learned more than basic French yet. Technically, learning the more common languages was a part of his training as Robin, but he had kind of forgone those specific lessons. And why would he put in all that time and effort learning French when he could be reading more books from the Manor’s library?

She blinked at him. “What do you mean, I broke in? I apologize but sir, you are not pretty enough to pretend to be so stupid.”

The black-haired boy blinked right back. He may not know French but he does know an insult when he hears one, so he fires one back. “Well fuck you too.” 

The girl scrutinized him, her expression screaming “Is that the best you can do?”

“Oh? You want to go? Fine. My middle finger salutes you and your assholeishness. Calling you an idiot would be an insult to those who truly worked hard for the title.” 

She stuck her tongue out at him. 

“There is a special place in hell for you, ya know that?”

The girl cocked an eyebrow. “I’m aware there is a special place in hell for me, it's called a throne. And those are bold words for someone who literally kidnapped me, but go off I guess.” 

It didn’t take much more for the pair to dissolve into a screaming match, the bluenette yelling in French and what he thought was Cantoneese and Jason using more than a few of the Spanish phrases he had picked up from his dad and other folks on the street. Jason was in the middle of one of his more strongly worded combinations when the door slammed open, Bruce and Alfred standing in the doorway.

The both of them took a moment to examine the situation, Alfred accessing Jason for injuries while Bruce switched on the Batglare™. “Who are you, and how did you get here?” 

The poor girl looked exasperated. 

“I don’t know how I got here!! Last thing I remember was collapsing into bed and the next thing I know I wake up to the face of this,” she pointed at Jason, “creep who doesn’t even have the decency to talk to me! I keep on asking him how I got here and why he took me but he just won’t answer. He’s pretending that he doesn’t know French, but who in Paris doesn’t know French?!? I  mean, sure, there are immigrants, but who the hell would immigrate to Paris nowadays? What with Hawkmoth akkumatizing people day and night.” 

She paused before flopping down on the floor, dejected. “Today was supposed to be perfect, the day I finally got my soul mark and got one step closer to finding my soulmate, but no, I just had to get kidnapped the night before my 16th birthday!” She put her face in her hands and her shoulders began to shake slightly. 

Jason looked from the girl back to Alfred and Bruce. “Is she?” he mouthed, thoroughly bewildered. Bruce exactly as Jason felt, while Alfred’s face was twisted into something that resembled pity and understanding. 

“Master Bruce, may I have a moment with you?” Bruce sighed and turned to leave. Not wanting to be left alone with the now sobbing girl, Jason followed.

Alfred handed Jason a handkerchief for his nose before he began. “Masters, this young girl has been through quite the ordeal and I will not have either of you using your vigilante intimidation tactics on her, understood?” 

He waited until he got a nod from the two of them before continuing. “Good. You know, Master Jason, I read a very interesting book recently about Kate Goodwill and her studies on soulmates. And before you ask, Master Bruce, I do have somewhere I am going with this. The book was absolutely fascinating, the theories, the experiments, simply everything. However, the one thing that stood out to me the most was Dr. Goodwill’s research on the different types of soul bonds, specifically the one that she and her wife shared. Her research was kick-started because no one had heard of their type of soulbond before and it had caused quite the panic for both the young girls and their families.” He paused, making eye contact with Jason. “Their soulbond caused the younger of the pair to teleport into their soulmate’s bed in the middle of the night on their sixteenth birthday.”

•••

Marinette was not having a good day. First, Mlle. Bustier assigned her to work with Lila, Lila of all people, for the end of the semester project in summer school (which she was attending due to her absences as Ladybug and Lila was attending because she was constantly absent for “charity work”), then in the middle of the night, Hawkmoth sends out 1 and ½ akumas (long story), and now she wakes up to find that she was kidnapped by a psycho in her sleep? What the actual FUCK?!?! Where was Tikki’s luck when she needed it?

And ok, sure, she wasn’t necessarily proud of how she handled the situation, but she was under a lot of stress, ok! She woke up in a random kid’s bed with no earrings and no Tikki. And yeah, she probably could have done without antagonizing the boy, but it was so easy and fun to get him riled up! How was she to know that the yelling would bring scarier other people? Ok yeah scratch that she probably should have figured that out herself (I mean the boy obviously had money so it makes sense that he’d have more people around his house) but in her defense she was like, really tired.

She glanced at the closed door that the men had just exited, wiping a few stray tears from her face. 

“If only I had Kaliki,” she mused. 

But no matter. She already had the beginnings of an escape plan forming in her head. I’ll just need a handkerchief, a piece of twine, and maybe a hairpin to pick the lock on the balcony door, but then how would I get out of the property? A house with a room like this must have crazy security measures… She went on like this for a couple of minutes, formulating her plan before she checked out the window. Three stories up...could normal civilian Marinette survive that jump? I would transform, I still have my earrings, but without Tikki I can’t... She went on like this, thinking of different plans and contingencies. The bluenette was so lost in her head that she almost didn’t notice when the three re-entered the room.

“Miss,” the older man who looked like a butler began. “I deeply apologize for the earlier behaviour of Master Jason.” He gestured to the now apprehensive boy who gave her a little wave. “He has not yet learned French and had no way to comprehend the situation. I was able to hear both sides of the story, and I believe that there has been a large misunderstanding. You were under the impression that Master Jason kidnapped you, correct?” Marinette nodded, more than a little confused. “Master Jason was under the impression that you had snuck into his bedroom in the middle of the night.”

“So what are you suggesting, someone put me here without either of us knowing?” I swear to all things holy if this man accuses me of lying…

“I am getting there, Miss. I assume you are familiar with the soulmate story of Dr. Kate Goodwill?” Marinette nodded yet again. 

The man took a deep breath. “I believe this is a similar situation, and that the two of you are soulmates..”

Her jaw dropped. “You mean I...we...what? N-no way.” 

She racked her hands through her hair. She... she wouldn’t overlook something like that, right? You were supposed to feel a sense of belonging the first time you met your soulmate and she...had kind of felt that. The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. From a logical standpoint, it would explain so much! Why he spoke English, why Tikki wasn’t with her, why her earrings weren’t on… Her face turned crimson as she realized the full implications of the statement. She turned to face the newly named Jason.

“Oh Kwami I’m so sorry Jason! I didn’t mean to, I swear, I was just so surprised and kind of scared and oh Kwami, the first time I met my soulmate I broke his nose and called him every name that I knew,” she smacked herself on the head. “Only you Mari. Oh gosh I totally understand if you never want to talk to me again I’m probably the worst soulmate in existence I just-” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the two adults leaving the room.

“You can speak English?” Jason exclaimed, looking equal parts amused and exasperated. “You spent this whole time yelling at me in French and Cantoneese and you can speak English? So much of this could have been avoided if you had just talked to me!”

Marinette gave a nervous chuckle. “Uhhhhh, surprise?” 

At his incredulous look, she rushed to elaborate. “Well I thought we were still in Paris and no one has immigrated to Paris in literally two years so I thought that you knew French and the choice to speak English was conscious? Like maybe it was some weird interrogation tactic or something? I don’t know, I was just confused.”

“You thought I kidnapped you?” He whistled through his teeth. “Yeah, I can see why you reacted the way you did. No worries though, my nose isn’t too horribly fractured and I probably would have done the same thing.” They both chuckled. 

He has a nice smile, Mari noted. (She wouldn’t know until much later, but Jason thought the same about her laugh.)

“I think we should start over.” Marinette held out her hand. 

“Hi, I’m Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I live in Paris, France, today is my birthday, and I think I’m your soulmate.”

Jason smirked, holding out his hand. “Hello Marinette Dupain-Cheng. I’m Jason Todd-Wayne and I think you are my soulmate too,”

They shook, and that was that.

The End.

Bonus:

Jason: You know, Ethiopia can wait for one more day.

Marinette: It can wait FOREVER.

Bonus 2:

Alfred: Would you like to stay for dinner?

Jason: Would you like to stay forever?

[sweetestpopcorn]

If Daemon really did love Laena like that... What wuld he have done of she actually did five him a son or two meanwhile Rhaenyra and her sons are alive and kicking?

Like. Wuld he still try to have a some by Rhaenyra? Or wuld he be plotting to kill all her sons and put his on the throne???

OORRRR what wuld Daemon do if Laenor died and was conviniently removed as an opsticle and Rhaenyra is just... There. Painfully available. And he's married. To Laena. Someone he genuenly loves and respects...

Wuld Deamon ever have it withing him to k!ll Laena? U mean. Rhaenyra is FINALLY available! This is a once in a blue moon event!

Hi there Queen! 🤗

You just want to see me cancelled for good don't you? You just want to see the world burn 😂😂 Fine, let's do this, let's see how many followers I lose 😂😂😂

So, we know how much Daemon wanted a son because that's hammered on us again, and again, and again...

... throughout Fire and Blood.

About him loving Laena... the only thing said about his feelings towards her in Fire and Blood is this passage right here:

"Prince Daemon fell in love with Laena, the singers would have us believe. Men of a more cynical nature bent believe the prince saw her as a way to check his own descent. Once seen as his brother's heir, he had fallen far down in the line of succession, and neither the greens nor the blacks had a place for him... but House Velaryon was powerful enough to defy both parties with impunity." (Fire and Blood, pg. 475)

Now, we are presented with two options:

a) True love, according to the singers.

b) Wanting children and power.

Where does the truth lie though? As with most things, I tend to believe the truth is neither with one side, nor completely with the other.

Do I think Daemon genuinely loved Laena? LOL, no! Daemon's own true love was the Iron Throne, and his beloved mistress was Dark Sister, the women that came along the way fell into third, fourth, and what have you places. Furthermore, I don't trust singers. It's just one useful thing I learned from Tyrion Lannister 😌 #thanksQueen - yes I called Tyrion Queen.

Now, do I think the ONLY thing Daemon wanted was just children and power and he was just using Laena? Hum... no, I don't think he was that uncaring or unfeeling.

Laena was said to be beautiful. She was rich, came from a powerful family. She was a dragonrider commanding the greatest Targaryen dragon alive at the time. If he couldn't have Rhaenyra and the Iron Throne, Laena Velaryon was definitely the second best thing beauty, power, and Targaryen wise. She was a good back up choice. You don’t have the Ferrari (Rhaenyra) but you still have a top grade Porsche (Laena).

For what is worth I do think the both of them were fond of each other, and liked each other well enough. And y'all no need to feel to sorry for Laena 😂😂 clearly her one true love was Vhagar, so Daemon came second at best... though I have some doubts given how the narrator tells us more of Rhaenyra and Laena's friendship than of Laena and Daemon's marriage added to the fact she was once described as not interested in boys - getting some Rhaena vibes here, not gonna lie unfortunately for her I think Rhaenyra just liked 🍆 too much .

As I have gone through before I definitely see Daemon as the sort of asshole who likes women with a sort of brownie point system of how much they can do for him - beauty, sons, power, worshiping him… I think Laena would have earned herself a LOT of brownie points for giving him the son he so desired and if she did, would he still be pursuing Rhaenyra?

It’s a definite possibility. Has I have mentioned before, I do think he would want to be close to her to get as much power as he could. Maybe secure himself a place at her Council one day. Besides being the queen’s father why not the Hand as well? But securing this power meant securing Rhaenyra’s affections.

Putting his son by Laena on the throne would be far too difficult since after Rhaenyra and her own sons (four people) came his nephews and niece (another four people). At this point Daemon was far too low on the succession to hope for that much and he had too many people to kill. Like it just wouldn’t work…

While Laenor dying and Rhaenyra becoming free might be tempting, I don’t think he would have gone that far for the throne as to kill Laena. Unlike Rhea (who he didn’t give 2 flying f:cks about), I do think Laena meant something to him as the mother of his children and someone he could enjoy himself around, so I can’t see him killing her to marry Rhaenyra. BUT I do see him wanting to replace Harwin eventually (likely after he secured one of two legitimate sons), and becoming Rhaenyra’s lover and right hand.

Let’s be really honest here, Laenor besides not being a true husband for Rhaenyra bedroom wise, was also not a true husband to Rhaenyra outside of the bedroom wise. It’s not like these two were bffs who worked out great everywhere BUT the bedroom. Coming from the man who believed (on paper) that Laenor was the father of the “Velaryon” princes himself - Septon Eustace - in six years of marriage they did not share a bed more than a dozen times aka 12 times. So that was the grand total of times the two of them were on the same bedroom together for six years giving us on average 2 times in the same bedroom per year. And outside of it, the two were only together for “formal occasions”.

Laenor didn’t help Rhaenyra to rule anything, and we have no base whatsoever to believe he was much present for “his sons” either. Like have all the headcanons and write all the fanfiction of them being bffs you like please, but don’t mistake them for the facts and the facts are that from what we are told it was Harwin (her lover) who played the role of husband in and out the bedroom as the two were always together. And what Rhaenyra did in canon after Laenor die was take a sh:t on his memory by remarrying almost immediately. And these are the facts.

Was Harwin Strong a more ambitious man, a more cunning one, he might have realised that his affair with Rhaenyra was a prime opportunity to achieve power. He didn’t seem to be this though, but you know who was? Daemon Targaryen, and this is an opportunity I don’t think he would pass up.

So yes, perhaps his enemies would believe him capable of the darkest deeds but Daemon is not black, he’s grey. I don’t think he would have gone that far (though he might me tempted at a certain point). But getting rid of Harwin this I think he would do without a second thought to have Rhaenyra’s affections (and all the power that came with it) and he would have jumped on the sept to marry her first moment anything happened to Laena. Like tier marks on the floor quick. And… getting rid of Harwin would be essencial because Rhaenyra might want to marry him if she was single, which would make his job of seducing her (again) a lot harder.

It’s clear Rhaenyra had no issues cheating on a man who didn’t love her or want her, but - here comes that 🍑 - for the men she did love, she seemed to be very faithful.

Bottom line, Harwin would have to go. Laena would stay.

So sorry for the delay, Queen ❤️ all the best to you 🥰

[toricrypticice]

The Golden Scarred

CHAPTER ONE (Losing it all)

`Hunter sighs as he leans back on his bed, his whole body aching slightly. He groans slightly, putting his hands over his face. Rascal tweets concerned landing on the male’s knee. Hunter sighs annoyed as he looks down at the bird removing his hands. He tweets again. 

“No no he didn't    ...this time” he sighs “but even if he did it’d only be because i messed up” This only caused the palisman to tweet angrily pecking his leg. “Ow hey! Belos is just doing his best okay?” The bird just stares at him. “What?! He is!” he rolls his eyes standing causing Rascal to flitter up “Whatever i don’t have time for this i should be figuring out how i can help heal his curse.” he sits at his desk taking out some paper and a book out. Rascal steals his pencil flying into the air. Hunter scoffs in annoyance. “Tsk- Palisman “ he shakes his head in annoyance. 

Weeks later

Hunter pet the bird softly as he reads before there’s a knock at his door. He gasps and Rascal lets out a soft tweet. “Shhh” he warns quickly, putting his book over the Palisman to conceal it before he stands, opening the door for none other than kikimora. He frowns, leaning slightly to block the view of his desk. 

“Golden Guard, Emperor Belos has requested your presence “ Kiki glares. Everyone knew the emperor never ‘requested’ anyone, if you didn't go well let's just say you wouldn't have to worry about any future meetings with the emperor. Hunter nods. He lifts his cape draping it on, before sliding his mask over his face, closing the door and heading to meet with his uncle. He can’t help but notice Kikimora lingering near his room. He narrows his eyes but continues, turning the corner. Why was she staying at his room? This puzzled him slightly but he shook it off, probably just jealous that the Emperor wanted to see him instead of her. I mean, come on he was WAY more useful. But this was weird, he didn’t currently have any missions to go over with the ruler. Maybe he was getting a new assignment? Yeah... He takes a deep breath before knocking on the huge wooden door. 

“Come in”

The Emperor's voice booms and Hunter can feel his heart start to race lightly. He bites his lip as he pushes the door open, kneeling in front of the steps to his Uncle’s throne. The room felt cold. 

“You wanted to see me Emperor Belos” Hunter looks up at his uncle. His uncle was leaning on his hand breathing a bit heavily as his piercing blue eyes stared down at Hunter. 

“Hunter.” He starts his voice low sending chills “Have you had any luck finding more Palisman like I asked?” The menacing male's fingers tapped on the arm of his throne a bit too quickly, almost impatient. Hunter can feel the tension in the air and he gulps but stands to answer as usual. 

“No sir I have not but I am working to-” Hunter is interrupted by a loud growl causing him to stop short in terror. Emperor Belos morfs slightly, a sharp spike flying towards the other male. Hunter flinches but it was too late. He gasps loudly as the abomination goo slices through his mask, carving a bit deeply near his left eye. He lets a light hiss of pain which he knew would only anger the emperor further. He resists the urge to hold his face as he feels the warm blood drip down under his chipped mask, his eye already having issues staying open. He clenches his teeth, feeling pain seer his face as his heart pounds quickly. 

“DON'T LIE TO ME!” Belos roars standing.  Hunter gulps, putting his head down flinching back as he bows again. Not knowing what to say. Dont lie? But that means..! There was the sound of Belos snapping his fingers before the door opened, someone entering. There is a light sound of quick short steps. 

Kikimora.

Hunter knew the sound all too well. He raises his head slightly, his eyes widening at the sight. 

Smug Kikimora holding a Palisman. 

A Small Red Bird. 

His Palisman. 

Rascal.

She hands the staff to the emperor. Hunter can feel his blood run cold as Belos tightly grips it, continuing to keep his scalding glare on Hunter. Kikimora's smirk showed slightly under her shirt as she leaves without another word bowing to the emperor. As soon as the door closes Hunter can hear his heart thumping loudly or maybe that was just the titans. He gulps slightly. He knew it was forbidden. Wild Magic and now he had been caught. But worse.. Rascal had been caught. But maybe it was for the best he was only here to serve the titans will after all. 

“You Disappoint me so much Hunter and after everything I've done for you. After everything the titan has done for you.” His voice booms as he looms over the young male, his grip on the Palisman tightening. As Rascal lets out a pained noise Hunter stands instinctively. 

“Don't-!” Hunter shouts, reaching his hand out, his words stopping short as he realizes his mistake, his hand dropping quickly. He grits his teeth as he watches Belos carefully place the staff down looking back down at the male. Hunter seemed to shrink back feeling shaky and a bit dizzy, “I-I'm sorry I-I didn’t-” Before Hunter can explain himself Belos dissolves into the floor reappearing next to him. His eyes widen as he flinches back when Belos ambushes him. He moves to avoid the hit, putting his hand up as some sort of feeble defense; this results in the emperor's strike piercing his ribs instead of his intended spot. Hunter chokes out a strangled yelp of pain. He holds his side in grief as blood starts pooling out, staining his shirt already. He stares in shock at his uncle as he quickly moves back. 

Sure Belos hit him before, hurt him. But this was-

He..

..

Belos growls again, advancing towards the male. 

At this Rascal flies forward flashing a fire spell into the emperor's face. He growls enraged as he steps back shielding himself from the blast. Hunter reaches forward grabbing onto the staff quickly. Using the staff to teleport further back from the Emperor. “Please Uncle.” His voice was desperate. He coughs using his free hand to grip his side to stop the bleeding gritting his teeth to keep from wincing. 

“You shall regret siding against the titan!” He morphs worse, shooting forward fast. Hunter gasps moving both hands onto the staff shakily moving back and creating a shield just before Belos could land a hit. He gasps the shield faltering slightly as his vision blurs. 

“I AM DONE WITH THIS!” The Emperor's voice  came out garbled and wrong. Hunter's shield suddenly dropped no matter how hard he tried to bring it back and his eyes widened as Belos smirks. A spike hit into his left shoulder launching him back, his body slamming forcefully against the window. 

“Agh” Hunter’s head spun as his vision blurred again. He closes his eyes for a moment hearing a slight crack. He quickly opens his eyes again, his vision focusing enough to see the Emperor launching a bright light towards him with his staff.  Hunter screams loudly before slamming his fist down on the glass so he would fall through before it hits him. The window falls through almost exactly at the bright light explodes, launching him further back from the tower. His grip on Rascal loosens as he feels dizzy and tired, his vision blurring again as the ground approaches quickly. He can feel sleep start to take him as his vision goes dark. 

Rascal takes action quickly supporting the males body, flying upwards and fleeing the castle. The Palisman lands when they are a good while away hidden in the woods. He flies up and pecks at Hunter’s face gently trying to wake him. It was urgent that Hunter took care of his wounds and to took shelter. By the look of the clouds it'd be raining soon. Hunter groaned painfully, struggling but forcing his eyes open. He felt sick to his stomach and his whole body was hurting badly. He let out a breath gripping his side as he sat up a whimper leaving him. He starts to shakily stand having to use his staff for support his head swimming. He moves his free hand from clenching his side to covering his mouth as he gags from the amount of pain he was under.  He starts to limp looking for shelter for the night. The sky cracks overhead brightly before booming loudly.  He cowered slightly, his ears were still ringing from the explosion.  Hunter sniffs softly as he walks, tears starting to drop down his face stinging his eyes and burning the left side of his face.

“For titans sake” Hunter mumbles, agitated by this sudden emotion. He wasn’t supposed to be crying, he was the golden guard, he was to remain strong and yet he still couldn't believe everything that just happened. 

Did he- 

betray Belos?

He feels more tears start to well and he shakes his head he couldn’t think about that right now he needed to focus. Rascal chirps and Hunter couldn’t help but smile.

“At least you're safe “ He stops by the river, ripping his cape off, peeling his top letting out a slight hiss before coughing into his gloved hand. 

“Ugh dammit!” He growls, ripping the sleeves off his shirt once it was off. Rascal flitted around him tweeting with concern. “Shush bird” he grunts, dipping one of the sleeves into the water before he dabs his abdomen where the deep hole was. He lets out a gasp, followed by a sputtered howl of pain a few more tears falling. He shakes his head, instead he would just stop the bleeding yeah yeah that should be fine, he'll be okay. He stretches the dry sleeve before grabbing a nearby stick putting it between his teeth. Rascal lands by his feet chittering confused. Hunter wraps the cloth around his waist taking a deep shaky breath before suddenly securing it tightly over the gash. He lets out a strangled yowl, his teeth clenching down on the wood splitting it as he hunches forward tying it tight before he staggers slightly using his staff for support as he holds his side spitting out wood chips.  He gags coughing again, this time when he pulls his hand away from his mouth it is coated in crimson. 

“Fuck that’s not good” he mutters seeing black spots in his vision he shakes his head ignoring it. He slowly kneels by the river groaning slightly as he does so. He slowly shakily takes his mask off frowning at his reflection. Jeez he looked like hell. His hair was a mess, his whole left side of his face was sticky with blood. He winces at the slight dropping the mask, his hand immediately going to where Belos had stabbed. His face felt hot and throbbed instantly, stinging at the sensation. He pulls his hand away, wincing feeling tears build again. He was useless. He outlived his usefulness to Belos. He had no one. 

A loud Hiccup erupted from his throat startling him, he flinches when a droplet of water from above touches his leg. Ah boiling rain of course.   He dips his hands into the water below splashing his face wiping it with the wet sleeve wincing with a hiss. He puts on what was left of his shirt before wrapping his cape back around him, slipping his mask back over his face . He wobbles slightly letting out a slight hiss. His body was aching everywhere, every move he made agony, he just wanted to rest. “Come bird we need to find shelter. “

Rascal tweets landing on his shoulder as he starts to limp searching, if only he knew the area his vision was becoming a bit fuzzy. He pants slightly leaning on a tree. “Just give- *huff* me a m-moment” He coughs roughly. The sky crashed above again any second the boiling rain would come down he needed- 

He sees a nearby cave. YES. he breaks into a run just as the water starts to pool down he huffs sputtering once he reaches the cave coughing harshly as he falls to his knees. Rascal tweets softly and hunter lays on the cold cave ground “I know just i need a moment to rest” he confessed his eyes feeling heavy  “Im sorry” his voice was shaky as he felt his vision go blurry falling asleep. 

Hunter woke up after sleeping through almost all of the next day. He groans gasping as he sits up seeing he was in a dark cave. His head felt fuzzy but slowly he pieces together what happened. He frowns. “Right” He shakes his head standing carefully. Rascal twitters at this. “No no I'm not going back… not just yet i need- i need to prove my worth again” rascal seemed upset by this response. “Come on, I need to go into town and get some actual bandages.” He grabs his staff heading into Bonesborrow. He keeps his head down as he walks, feeling his heart racing badly. He shakes his head. He needed to calm down so he wouldn't be caught. No one could- he stops seeing a new coven poster. His shoulders start shaking

Wanted for treason against the emperor.

Reward one million snails.

Wanted Alive

The Golden Guard.

 A picture of Hunter

His eyes widen and he feels like he can't catch his breath.  He quickly rips the poster down looking around to make sure no one saw, he spots a booth with half off merchandise. He wanders over deciding to just focus his attention on something else for now. He picks up a half off basket seeing a black cloak,  he puts it in the basket. He then sees some cloth bandages, he puts those in the basket as well seeing a few more customers start to also notice the sale he waits until he notices the stand owner distracted before he breaks off into a run from the stand. 

After a few minutes of running he hears the shout of ‘thief!’ he had been expecting, he turns a corner hiding against the wall, he takes his cloak off putting the new black one on slipping the hood up. He stashes his old cloak in the basket panting, already feeling exhausted for the day. His body aches but he ignores the feeling heading back to his cave he almost nearly collapses when he gets back. Rascal tweets sadly 

“i know! but i had no choice i don't have anything” he snaps angrily taking the gauze out with a frown. He slowly takes his shirt off feeling his hand shakes “i can do this..” he felt shakier than yesterday. He unties the shirtsleeve he had used as a makeshift bandage he lets out a loud whimper as he peels it from his body. It was soaked in blood. He gulps feeling tears build as he holds back a gag as the slight of the gash which oozed and bled when he removed the clothe. He gulps clenching his teeth as he tightly starts to wrap his torso whimpering “ahh titan” he sniffs hacking loudly as he ties it off  before he gasps in pain “fuck t-that was worse than yesterday..” he mumbles holding his now bandaged wound. He lays down feeling dizzy from the exertion. Rascal tweets and Hunter shakes his head. “No i’ll take care of the rest later.” he mutters feeling tired but his eyes open slowly when his stomach growls loudly. When was the last time he had eaten? He couldn't remember. Rascal twitters again which causes Hunter to get agitated and a bit overwhelmed.

 “I know that! I don't have food! I don't have proper shelter! I have nothing!!” he yells as he sits up feeling so alone he shakes his head as Rascal flinches back. He frowns, feeling his stomach turn and he stands  “just-.. stay here i’ll go find food.” he mutters shakily leaving the cave. He sighs, he should have grabbed food in town then he wouldn’t have to go looking, what would he even find in the woods. Probably death. Plus he wished he hadn’t yelled at Rascal. He was just worried. Hunter frowns before he hears a snap of a twig. He gasps quickly diving into a nearby bush letting out slight hiss of pain before he peers out. 

Luz the human walking with a plate, a plate of… sandwiches. Oh god. Food!!  His stomach growls loudly again and he blushes darkly backing further into the bush. 

“Did you hear something Hooty?” Hunter watches as the human walks over to where a blanket was set up, a strange worm owl looking creature waiting for her. Hunter sticks out his tongue. What the heck is that? Hooty only hoots happily. 

“Luz you forgot the tea, don't worry I’ll get it! Hooty to the rescue!” he chants as he zooms away to which Luz gasps, putting the plate down and running after the demon. 

“No Hooty!! You know what happened last time.”  Hunter's eyes widened. Unguarded food. He doesn't even think as his legs pull him forward, he sprints over picking up one of the sandwiches he pushes his mask up eating hungrily scarfing it come grabbing another sandwich as he chews he stares at the plate tempted to take the last sandwich as well but he shakes his head running back away as he hears voices. Shit shit shit, he dives again into the nearby bush feeling his side flare with pain. He clenches his teeth staying completely still holding the sandwiches close to his chest as he pants quickly staring back at the blanket as the two return., “That’s weird I made three sandwiches? One for you, me and King.” She looked around the area and hunter ducks deeper feeling branches dig into him uncomfortably, but it was worth it for the sandwiches. He lets out a light sigh of relief as the human sits down before he slips from the bush running off unaware that Luz in all her confusion had spotted the male running off. Hunter runs back to the cave panting heavily before breaking out into a light laugh, Rascal looking at him confused

. “Ha I risked my life for sandwiches'” his laughing slowly started to turn to slight hiccups “how far I've fallen” he sniffs sliding down the cave wall. He pulls off a small piece off the sandwich as he sniffs crumbling a few pieces on the ground for rascal. Rascal chirps concerned flittering to his knee. “No just eat, I'm fine” he wipes his face, he couldn't afford to be weak. He takes one bite before putting the rest in his bag for later he didn't know when he would get food again 

[systlinsideblog]

Part 3

The Great Crimes are as follows;

There are three Great Crimes, for which the punishment is death.

The first of the Great Crimes when, in cold blood, a person murders another who has offered no offence. The punishment for murder shall be death, the sentence to be carried out by the loved ones of the murdered or by one they give the right to in their stead.

The second of the Great Crimes is rape. The punishment for rape of another shall be death, the sentence to be carried out by the victim or by one the victim gives the right to in their stead.

The third of the Great Crimes is to enslave another, and hold them in bondage. The punishment for holding another in slavery shall be death…

-The New Laws, or The Change in the Laws of Gor, The Great Ubara Systlin Stellas, on the new laws of the land, speech given in the Throne Room of Turia, 0 AGU. Chiseled on a pillar before the Law Rooms of Ar in its entirety

 Kutaituchik, the Ubar of the Tuchuks, was dead. 

It had been a very brutal and confusing few hours. The strange woman had refused to show courtesy or deference. She had made no apology for killing Tuchuk warriors. She had not relinquished the slave girl clinging tight to her side, the one whose master she had killed when he moved to chastise his slave.

She had stood before the Ubar of the Tuchuks like a queen before her court, and had demanded. 

I pulled at the slave collar around my throat, and found it quite secure. 

I have seen many things in my day. Many horrors, and many wonders. But I have never before in all my days seen a horror like the one that the woman Systlin had brought to the wagons of the Tuchuk. 

I looked to the wagons of the Ubar. There was light within them, bosk-dung fires in braziers. The woman Systlin had claimed it for her own, and gathered all the haruspexes and soothsayers to confer with them. 

My leg throbbed. It had been set and bound skillfully, but the bone would take some weeks to knit. Until then, I could scarce walk, hobbling with the aid of a cane. 

The woman had not even touched me to break it.

Sorceress, I thought. I had not believed in such things, and would have attributed such powers only to the Priest-Kings. But I had seen it now, with my own eyes, the terrible power that woman held, the power to shatter bone and steel with will alone. 

The corpses of some of the Tuchuks who had risen in rage against her after she had slain their Ubar were still lying where they had fallen. I tried not to look at them, but found my eyes drawn. 

Shapeless things they were, only scarce resembling men. The bones, I gathered, were nothing more any longer but needle-like splinters. Those splinters had driven through flesh and vital organs, and once-proud warriors lay where they had fallen, shapeless piles of bloody meat. 

I had been fortunate that it was only my leg that had been broken. 

I shivered. My leg throbbed. And I wondered, what terrible force had set a terror like this woman loose upon Gor.

 The water was cold. 

Systlin hated cold baths. Cold in general, really. But it was, in this situation, useful. 

Her Power screamed and fought inside her, eager to be used again, and she wanted to. Oh, but she wanted to, and that was the danger of it. The cold water was a good distraction. 

She didn't know how many men she'd killed. Some with sword. More, many more, with her power for Breaking. And it had been good, it had been so good, to stand there untouchable and terrible, hearing their screams and seeing their terror, to walk among them like a terrible, unstoppable, untouchable goddess, tearing down everything in her path...

She shivered, and ducked under the surface of the stream. 

It was always...hard, after, and she'd let herself go further than usual this time, in her rage. She always felt brittle after, hollow, the desire to kill and kill until nothing remained clawing to be let out again. She'd be short now with people, she knew, and snappish. Easily irritated, even over trivial matters. Once you started to kill with the Breaking gift, it was so very easy to continue.

Breaking was a terrible gift. The seduction of the sheer power it gave, the delight in using it, were as dangerously addictive as poppy milk. 

To look upon a Breaker is to look upon a madman. She remembered hearing that as a child, reading it in books. 

Under the water, sounds were muffled. But she still heard the sound of footsteps on the stream bank, muted and distorted. She came out of the water in a rush, her hand landing on Ice's hilt, and the sword was half drawn before she realized that the intruder was the girl she'd rescued from being beaten. 

The girl cringed back, falling to her knees and prostrating herself in what was clearly ingrained habit. "Mast...mistress! I am sorry! I did not mean..."

A little of the brittle anger ebbed out of her. Systlin sheathed her sword. "It's all right. I've spent too much of my life with people trying to kill me, is all. You did nothing wrong." She stepped out of the stream, wringing out her hair and shivering in the chilly air. 

The girl looked up at her, eyes wide. It was...unnerving. Systlin was used to people bowing, but bowing and the groveling the girl was doing were two different things entirely. "I have not displeased you, mistress?"

Oh, tits. 

"No. And you needn't call me that." Systlin pulled her trousers back on, and the quilted silk gambeson that went under her scale armor. "My Lady' will work quite well. I'm not your mistress. You're a free woman. I've no interest in owning anyone." 

"My lady?"

"Please stand up." Irritation flared, but Systlin tamped it down hard; it was a bleed-over from the cold joy of destroying, nothing more. It was not her, and she would not acknowledge it. She reached a hand out. After a moment, the girl took it hesitantly, and Systlin pulled her to her feet. "There. That's much better." 

The girl blinked at her, eyes still wide, and Systlin saw a hint of awe there. 

The girl had, she noticed, fashioned herself rough trousers of hide, patterned much like Systlin's own. 

"What's your name?" She asked. 

"I am Sabra." The girl was still staring, eyes moving up and down as she took everything in. "You...you are very strong. I have never seen...I did not know a woman could swing a sword like a man." 

Systlin tugged her armor over her head and hopped a bit until it settled into place. "Swords don't weigh that much. Anyone can swing a sword with practice. The strength to do it well will come with time and training." 

Sabra's head came up a little at that. "Anyone?" There was a thin thread of timid hope in her voice.

Systlin smiled. "Yes. Anyone. You included. Would you like to learn?"

There was a long pause, and then a long, slow, genuine smile from the former slave.

“I….think so, Mi…my lady.”

“Well. Then you shall. You’re a free woman, and free women do as they like.”

“Free.” The woman echoed, as if the word wasn’t real. “Free.”

“Unless of course you wish to go elsewhere.” Systlin shrugged as they walked. “Have you a family anywhere? A home you were taken from?”

“I…a long time ago, I did. If I wished…”

“I would give you gold, supplies, anything you needed, and take you there, and wish you well.”

The look the other woman gave her was naked astonishment, and something like awe. For a moment she looked wistful, but then… “No. If I returned home, I could quickly be made a slave again.” She touched her upper thigh; Systlin had noted that many of the freed slaves bore brands of various types there. “I am branded as a slave; any man could take me and sell me or keep me and be within the law.”

Systlin saw red for an instant. “Then you will stay.” She ground out. “Until we pay a visit to your former home, and teach them the error of such ways.”

“Thank you, my lady.” Sabra breathed. “You would…you would do this? Free other places as you’ve freed us in this camp?”

“If the men of this world insist on being awful,” Systlin growled. “I will do as I must. Slavery is among the greatest crimes, and rape another. I will not abide either.”

“You were sent.” Sabra breathed. “I begged the Mother for aid, though I was beaten for worshiping false gods. Other women also begged the old gods for aid, I know it. We begged for mercy and help and here you are.”

For mercy.

Systlin tilted her head back and stared at the sky. There were three moons here, which seemed to fly across the sky quite rapidly. She picked out the largest nearly by instinct, and glared.

Mercy. Lady’s mercy. Fucking pits. Now it made sense.

Gods. Gods and their machinations. She scowled.

Well. At least she knew how she’d ended up in this shithole.

  Morning brought no greater comfort. 

The slave collar around my neck had been forged for a woman, and though it was the Turian style on me it was too tight, and bit into my flesh. I could breathe, but it was uncomfortable

Between the throbbing of my leg, the pinch of the collar, and the chill of the night, I got but little sleep. Inside the wagon, under warm furs, slept slave girls. Their collars had been removed, and many of the surviving Tuchuk men wore them as did I, bound wrist and ankle and neck. 

I wondered what had become of Kamchak. I had not seen him since the furor had begun outside the Ubar's wagon. 

My wrists were securely chained behind me. Bells jangled with my every move. The ground was hard, and cold. I wondered, for the first time, how slave girls could sleep this way. 

The night passed in interminable slowness and misery. There was movement, among the wagons, and the sound of men's angry voices and chiming bells from other poor souls so humiliatingly bound as myself. There were the voices of women, hushed, and often with a tone of disbelief. 

I heard women laughing. There was rather more of it than I was accustomed to. 

Twice slave girls had come to see me. They seemed to find the sight of a warrior in slave chains novel. 

"You must let me free," I had said, my voice stern and commanding. "You are slaves; you must obey." 

They had giggled, ignoring my words, and left. They were, I noted, no longer attired properly; their hair was bound back in plaits, and they wore leather blouses and had fashioned trousers, hastily made but quite obviously patterned after those of the vicious she-sleen that had brought this ruin and humiliation down upon us. 

At dawn food was brought, dried bosk-meat. I was fed, given water, and then left alone again. 

The chain that connected the rings on my wrists and ankles and neck was quite securely linked to the axle of the wagon. I had tried to loosen it with some vigor the day before, without luck. 

Some time passed. I pulled at my chains, for all the good it would do me; my leg was quite broken, and I could not flee even should I get loose. 

As dawn broke, the scent of charring meat reached me, and south of the camp I saw great plumes of smoke begin to rise. 

I had smelled enough corpses burn to know that the dead of the slaughter the night before were being burnt. 

As the sun rose towards mid-morning, I was approached. 

The she-sleen had chosen herself a fine black kaiila. She rode well; I could see that she was not quite used to the sleen, as she rode as one would an ordinary horse. But she sat well, and when she dismounted it was gracefully and with ease. 

She had shed her leather tunic. Instead, glittering in the sun, was armor formed from what looked like scales, each perhaps two inches long and half as wide. They were of many different colors, each iridescent and gleaming brilliantly in the sun. 

She looked me over. I met her eyes steadily; I was a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba, and I would not be cowed before a woman. 

"Hm." She made a noncommittal noise at last. "You are not of these people."

I said nothing.

"No matter." She shrugged, and turned. A group of slave-girls were following her. All were collarless and had plaited their hair, and wore clothing of various types; some skirts, some trousers. All wore blouses or vests of leather or cloth that sadly covered their charms. "Take him." 

"Am I to be a slave, then?" I glowered at her. 

She turned her head to look at me again. It occurred to me again that had she been less mannish and muscular, she could have been a beauty. 

"I've no interest in keeping anyone as property." She said. "You are to be judged." 

"By what authority?" A girl wearing the long skirt and leather vest of a Tuchuk woman moved to loose me from the wagon. Her hair was plaited. I remembered, not two days ago, seeing her dancing in pleasure silks and bells for her master around his fire. 

I thought of breaking loose and overpowering the girl. But the woman Systlin was still watching me, and I saw her, as the girl chose a key and unlocked my chain from the wagon, curl her hand around the hilt of the long dagger on her belt. 

I am ashamed to admit, but it stayed me. I had seen flashes of the woman fighting, and though it pain me I would be forced to compare her favorably with the greatest warriors of Ko-Ro-Ba. In my current state, I had no chance. My hope for flight lay in my recovering and stealing a fleet kaiila, I knew. So, as the chain was loosed, I gave no resistance. 

"Mine." The she-sleen's voice was crisp. "Can you walk?"

Pride demanded no less of me. I am a warrior of Ko-Ro-Ba. By leaning on the cart, I managed to get to my feet. 

"Help him." She told the girl who held my chain. The girl nodded.

She did not say what would happen to me if I resisted. She did not need to. 

I was taken to the tent of the Ubar. Before it was piled many fine carpets, and cushions of silk and leather. On top of it all was spread a worn gray robe; it was this, I supposed, this simple garment that was the grey robe of the Ubar. 

There were other men, chained as I was, chained to the palatal wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks. I tried to estimate their number; a hundred and a half, perhaps two. 

This was all that remained of the proud warrior men of the Tuchuk. 

I am no stranger to death. But upon seeing this, and realizing the full scale of the disaster which had befallen the Tuchuk, I must admit that I felt a flicker of fear. 

What terrible creature was this woman, to slay three thousand strong men in a night? 

The she-sleen walked past the men chained to the wagon. Her back was straight, and her stride purposeful. 

I could not help but notice that, despite her too-strong build, she had what appeared to be marvelously shapely hindquarters. 

She did not hesitate for even a moment; she went directly to the gray robe, the throne of the Ubar, and seated herself upon it with all the air of one born to it. 

I heard a groan rise from the captive men, myself included. She sat cross-legged, a man’s stance, not a woman’s proper kneeling stance. Women who sit so are often ridiculed as wishing to be men, but everything about this woman was unnatural and wrong.

One man started up, and my heart leapt; it was Kamchak! 

His arm was splinted, as was a leg, much like mine, and his eye was black and swollen. He spit in the direction of the she-sleen on the throne of the Ubar, and cursed her. 

"You! Sleen! You say you wish to judge us? What right have you?"

Her head turned, very slowly, to regard him. Then she smiled, and turned back to look out at the gathered crowd. 

Around the throne of the Ubar of the Tuchuks, women thronged. Tuchuk women, some grim-faced and some smiling. Slave girls, by the hundreds. Many wore trousers. Most had braided their hair. 

Mothers were holding their children. Babies fussed, and were soothed. Some of the older boys looked angry. Some of the girl-children cried too. The elder of the girls, however, were smiling. 

There were many more smiling women than scowling women in the gathered crowd. 

"Tuchuk," said the she-sleen, voice unconcerned and even. "Who is Ubara here?"

The roar of voices was near-deafening. "SYS-TAL-IN!" The women, freewomen and slave girls alike, screamed it. Only a few of the dour Tuchuk free women refrained. "SYS-TAL-IN! SYS-TAL-IN!" 

Systlin looked back at Kamchak, and her smile was an unpleasant thing. 

"There you have it." Her voice, again, was mild, deceptively so.

"You cannot..."

"I did." Her voice rose above Kamchaks'. "By your own laws, it seems, might makes right. The strong triumph, am I wrong?" Her eyes glittered. "It appears, warrior, that I am stronger than you, for I sit here on comfortable rugs and you are defeated and chained to a wagon."

"You used sorcery!"

"Yes." She agreed easily. "Though your warriors were easy enough to defeat without it." A horrible grin. "But yes. I used sorcery, and however I did it one woman, alone, brought every one of your great warriors to their knees. The pyres for those I killed burn still. And now, you will be silent, until it is your turn to be judged." 

"WE HAVE COMMITTED NO CRIMES!" Kamchack's outraged roar drew cries of approval from the other shamefully chained warriors. 

Systlin's mouth...it was a full mouth, and could have been pretty, were it smiling...compressed into a thin line. She nodded to one of the girls standing near the throne of the Ubar, in a grotesque imitation of the honor guard of an Ubar. 

"Gag him," she said simply. 

To my astonishment and horror, the girl moved promptly to do so, with a cheerful and almost gleeful demeanor. 

Kamchak surged to his feet as best he could as the girl approached with a strip of leather; several of the bound warriors gave cries of encouragement. Systlin's head snapped around, fast as a striking sleen, and she was on her feet in a moment and at the girl's side in a moment more, that vicious sword of hers drawn. 

The tip of that blade was pressed close against Kamchak's groin, and the she-sleen kept smiling, even as he drew a breath, naturally alarmed by the sharp steel near his male parts. 

"Sleen." Kamchak hissed this, proud even in chains. "You cannot always be there, woman. Your unnatural sorcery cannot protect you forever."

Systlin laughed. A little huff of a chuckle, even as the slave girl bound the gag around Kamchak's mouth and head with every sign of enjoyment, which disturbed me. 

"I have had," Systlin said, "Far better men than you try to kill me." A wide grin, with all of her teeth bared. "Now be quiet, and wait your turn." 

She returned to the seat of the Ubar. 

"Bring forth the first prisoner," she commanded. 

It was done. A warrior was dragged, bound hands and feet so that he could not even stand, before the grotesque display, and forced up on his knees. He spit at the she-sleen on the Ubar's seat; she did not turn a hair at this. 

"Your name." She asked. 

"Sleen!"

"Your name." The same patient tone. 

Silence. 

She sighed, lifted her eyes. "Can anyone tell me the name of this man?"

"Braltak." A woman's voice. I did not see who spoke. 

"Braltak. Have you, Braltak, in your life, held women or men as property?"

Silence. Braltak looked down his nose at her, and spit again. 

"He has." The same voice. Female. There was a quaver to it now. 

Braltak spun, as best he could. "Kala!" His voice was furious. "Kala, be silent!"

"Come forward, if you would." The she-sleen's voice speaking to me and the warrior had been curt, cold, commanding. But to the girl Kala, it was softer, and gentler.

Timidly, looking always at Braltek, a girl stepped through to stand before the self-proclaimed Ubara. 

She was a lovely girl. Turian, I was certain, with golden hair and eyes as green as summer grass. Her figure was delicate and trim, though it was difficult to tell through the long leather skirt and baggy blouse she wore. 

"Your name is Kala?" Again, the softer, gentler voice, encouraging. 

"Yes, Ubara." The girl was still glancing nervously at Braltek. "And...before you freed us...I was his slave." 

The idea was hard to swallow, at first; every slave in the Tuchuk camp, free!

But she had, I had to admit, the right. She sleen she may be, but she had defeated the warriors, by sorcery or not. She had taken their slaves for her own, and had done with them as she liked. 

I did not like it, but it was fact. 

"He kept you as property." Systlin's voice was hard; her eyes were back on Braltek. "Did he, Kala, ever place hands on you against your will? Did he ever force you to pleasure him?"

"She is a slave! That is her purpose!" Braltek roared. 

"Ah. I have my answer." Systlin nodded her head, once. "By the law of my lands, such a crime carries the penalty of death. As the victim, you have the right to seek mercy. Do you desire mercy for this man?"

Kala's lovely green eyes fixed on Braltek. 

"You are mine, Kala." Braltek's voice went lower. "You are mine. I am your master, you know it."

The lovely girl turned back to the she-sleen on the robe of the Ubar. 

"I do not." Her voice was almost inaudible, but then she spoke again, more strongly. "I do not! I do not seek mercy for him!"

My mouth hung open. 

Kala was slave. A slave loves her master. It is what they are trained for. 

"I do not seek mercy for him!" Kala's voice rose, almost a scream. 

"Then I, Systlin Stellas, Queen of the Northern Lands and Ubara of the Tuchuk, proclaim this man Braltek guilty of the crimes of rape and slaving, and sentence him to die." The she-sleen stood, graceful, and picked up a quiva from among the rugs she had sat upon. She flipped the blade, catching it easily by the tip without looking, the motion smooth, automatic, and practiced. She offered the hilt over to the girl. "It is your right, as offended party, to carry out the sentence yourself, if you so wish." 

To my incredible shock, the girl Kala reached out a hand, almost tentatively, and took the hilt of the quiva. 

She could not do it, of course. She was a slave, and a slave belongs to her master, utterly. 

The slender fingers tightened on the hilt. She did not seem to know how to hold the quiva properly, holding it as if she were about to slice bosk meat for the spit. 

Her eyes turned to Braltek, and in them burned something like hate. 

No. She was slave! A slave serves her master!

"Kala." Braltek's voice sounded suddenly uncertain. "Kala, I have treated you well, better than most would..."

Kala screamed then, high and furious and long,  and flew at him. The quiva rose and fell. 

She was inexpert with the weapon. The blade hit Braltek's shoulder, and slid down, slicing a long cut into his arm. Blood flowed, and Braltek yelled in shock. 

The quiva rose and fell again. Again, again, again the girl struck, inexpert, but the wounds adding up one by one until Braltek lay in a pool of red-stained grass. 

Kala dropped the quiva, and fell to her knees. She was sobbing, great wracking sobs that shook her small frame. 

The she-sleen came down from her throne, went down to her knees beside the girl, and placed a hand on her shoulder. 

"It is all right." Her voice was soft, and Kala leaned into her blindly, as a child might seek comfort from its mother. "He cannot hurt you again." 

Some other girls came forward then; Kala was taken away with much patting of hair and comforting. 

The she-sleen returned to her throne of rugs, sitting down once more. She smiled then, as if nothing had happened. 

I, and the men chained as I, were silent. The shock had not yet sunk in. 

"Had he a wife, or any children?" Systlin asked. 

No one responded. 

"Then it is my order that all the worldly possessions of Braltek now go to Kala. They are hers, to do with as she will. Bring forward the next prisoner." The she-sleen commanded. 

[joachimnapoleon]

I'm reading a preview of Charles-Eloi Vial's "Histoire des Cent-Jours" on Amazon, in which the author mentions that when Napoleon was on Elba, he reconciled with Murat. Do you know anything about this matter?

The subject of the reconciliation between Napoleon and Murat is one of those things about which I still have as many questions as answers.

Correspondence between the two during Napoleon’s exile on Elba is borderline nonexistent; I haven’t come across any letters from Murat to Napoleon from this time, so unless there’s something locked away in the private Archives Murat in the French National Archives, it probably no longer exists.

But, there was certainly some correspondence between them. There’s really no way to know how much, but Napoleon’s Correspondance Générale contains letters to Murat during the Elban exile and also references to other letters between them made by Napoleon to Bertrand. I was surprised to learn recently--thanks to @josefavomjaaga for sending it to me from her volume of the Correspondance--that Napoleon actually wrote to both Murat and Caroline shortly after his arrival on Elba. Both letters are dated 11 May 1814; Napoleon informs both of them of his having just arrived on Elba. He tells them both of Pauline’s impending arrival and asks for Caroline to send him news through someone she trusts.

Pauline arrives on Elba, and then leaves for Naples almost immediately after; I don’t think she’s on Elba for more than a couple days before she departs for Naples. She remains in Naples for months before her return to Elba, and it’s generally believed that she served as the go-between to effect the “reconciliation” between Murat and Napoleon. It’s assumed she was sending letters back and forth between the two. How many letters? What were the contents? There’s really no way to know. Napoleon references one specific letter from Murat, in September 1814, while writing to Bertrand on 9 September:

I have received a very tender letter from the king of Naples; he claims to have written to me several times but I doubt it, it seems that the affairs of France and Italy set his head straight and make him affectionate.

There’s nothing else until the eve of Napoleon’s departure from Elba. He fires off two letters to Murat on 17 February 1815 to let him know he’s sending him a man by the name of Colonna “in order to communicate to you some important and urgent matters,” no doubt about Napoleon’s upcoming return to France. Colonna, he tells Murat, “is authorized to sign every convention Your Majesty may desire with regards to our affairs…. Your Majesty must in particular trust in everything he tells you about my attachment and the high consideration with which I remain.” The second letter from the same day thanks Murat “for what you have done for the countess Walewska,” reiterates that Colonna is coming and “will tell you some big and important things. I’m counting on you and most importantly on utmost speed. Time is pressing. My love to the queen and to your children.” An undated, ciphered letter from Portoferraio, believed to be written between 22-26 February, tells Murat that he’s just waiting for favorable conditions to make his escape: “The winds have been increasing for the last three days and have forced the English warship to move somewhat away from our shores. But it can return any moment and my brick is not capable of competing with it. If I had one of your vessels, I would leave in broad daylight and I would sink anything that stood in my way.” Murat actually does end up sending a vessel, but by the time it gets to Elba, Napoleon has already left.

So, there probably was more correspondence between them, either written or verbal--but there’s just no record of it.

It’s important to point out that Murat’s “allies” (particularly the British) were looking for any excuse they could find during this period to justify turning on and dethroning him. Proof of a correspondence with Napoleon would’ve given them all the ammunition they needed. This is where it gets interesting. Napoleon will claim later on Saint Helena that the allies “doctored” Murat’s papers (to prove there was a correspondence between the two during the Elban exile). And there is an interesting excerpt from the memoirs of Dedem, who claims that the Congress of Vienna received, via the French Bourbons, copies of letters between Murat and Napoleon, left by a careless person close to Murat. I’m assuming that this individual (whom Dedem leaves unnamed save his first initial) is M. de Baudus, former tutor of the Murat children, sent by Napoleon to Toulon as an intermediary after Murat’s defeat at Tolentino; Baudus was to inform Murat that Napoleon would not receive him in Paris, that he was to stay put for the time being under a sort of house arrest while events played themselves out (Napoleon was on the way to Waterloo), and that Napoleon blamed Murat for having “ruined” France in 1814 and having “compromised her and ruined himself” in 1815. Anyway, here is the excerpt from Dedem:

The Tuileries cabinet had sent copies of his correspondence with Napoleon, and it was on these certified copies that Joachim was tried and condemned. Well, thanks to the thoughtlessness of the Count de B… who forgot (in following the King to Ghent) all his correspondence in an armoire at the chateau, we now know that all these letters had been truncated. Napoleon found the originals with the minutes of the copies drawn up in a way which served to lose Joachim; all the copies were in the hand of M. de B… attached by pins to the letters of the King of Naples.

Dedem includes the following footnote at the end of this paragraph:

It is from a man very worthy of trust, whom Napoleon had recalled to him in his cabinet during the Hundred Days and who neither loved nor complained of Joachim, that I have these details. He assured me that he had seen and re-read the letters several times.

So the Bourbons either found enough damning correspondence between Murat and Napoleon--or altered it enough to make it look damning--and sent it on to the Congress of Vienna so they could justify removing Murat from his throne once and for all.

Now, as to the matter of how sincere the “reconciliation” between Murat and Napoleon was… that’s another story. Louise Murat’s take is that the reconciliation was more sincere on her father’s part than on Napoleon’s:

So it was not long before the reconciliation took place and, if we can affirm that, for his part, it was as complete as possible, I do not know if… we will be able to affirm likewise that all traces of the past were also erased from the Emperor’s mind.

This subject bears some remarking on the relationship between the two men in general. There was a lot of bad blood between them by the time of Napoleon’s first exile, going back years before Murat’s treaty with Austria in 1814. Murat had felt ill-used and mistreated by Napoleon since at least 1809, things had gotten downright ugly between them in 1811, and in the aftermath of the 1812 campaign Murat was increasingly resentful of Napoleon’s treatment of him. Napoleon, for his part, had been incapable of trusting Murat since being informed, in 1809, of a scheme between Fouché and Talleyrand to have Murat succeed him in the event that Napoleon died without a legitimate male heir; much of his conduct towards Murat from that time forward comes across as deliberately spiteful and intentionally humiliating. Murat was vain and proud and it took him a long time to get over these kinds of slights and embarrassments. But, he was also capable of forgiving people he believed had wronged him--for example, Murat had restored Lavauguyon to his service years later after having suspected him of having an affair with Caroline in 1811. And I personally believe he retained a certain amount of affection for Napoleon even in spite of their nearly constant quarrels, and kept hoping to find some way to regain Napoleon’s affections, which he felt he had lost without ever quite understanding why; he concludes a letter to Napoleon in 1810 with “Love me as in Poland, as in Prussia, and I will love life again.” He didn’t enter into his decision to leave Napoleon in 1814 easily, and from everything I’ve seen it seems to have been extremely agonizing for him, and the news that the Allies had driven Napoleon from his throne and into exile in 1814 devastated both Murat and Caroline.

All of that being said, there was still some amount of self-interest in Murat’s attempting to aid Napoleon in 1815, and also in his striking out against the Austrians shortly after Napoleon reached France. Caroline believed that Napoleon would eventually drive them from the throne of Naples if he managed to keep his own, and Murat himself very likely saw the reason in this, and hoped he might safeguard himself by claiming all of Italy.

For Napoleon’s part, I tend to think Louise Murat was probably right; I think he saw Murat, being the only member of his family still on a throne, as a useful tool for his own eventual restoration. There’s a footnote in Bertrand’s Saint Helena cahiers basically saying that Napoleon never gave any indication of having genuinely forgiven Murat for 1814, and I personally think that’s probably the case. In mid-April of 1815--not even a week after sending Murat a letter from Paris, assuring Murat “You can count on my attachment,” Napoleon sends a note to his Minister of Foreign Affairs ordering a report on Murat’s conduct in 1814. My guess is, if Napoleon had triumphed at Waterloo and secured his throne, Murat still would’ve found himself in a world of hurt eventually. Murat seems to have anticipated this himself; in June 1815--actually the day after Waterloo, about which he was still oblivious--he is writing once more to Napoleon--the last letter he will ever write him--basically offering himself up on a silver platter:

I have nothing more to ask of Your Majesty, he can pronounce my fate unsparingly; your wishes, whatever they may be, will be carried out. Glad to be lost for you, no complaints will be heard from my mouth, but you can dispense with sending me in the future what they want to call consolations by people named as my friends; may your ministers make positively known to me the place of my exile; I will go there without a murmur.

[bibbykins]

Retroactive Redamancy (M)

A/N: PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS FOR THIS FIC. This fic does have some darker scenes which I will detail in the warnings. This fic wasn’t as difficult for me to write, but we all have different triggers, so please take care of yourself first above all else. On a lighter note, I am extremely happy to be finishing the soft yandere series. Is this the last of my soft yandere fics or this au? Absolutely not, I have a ton of fun writing yandere and this au, but I am also looking forward to the other fics I plan on posting. All of my wips have some yandere elements, but in varying degree. I hope you will continue to support me and have a great day/night and stay safe in these trying times!

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst

Word count: 11.9k

Pairing: Soft Yandere! Hoseok x reader

Warnings: graphic depictions of blood, graphic descriptions of domestic abuse (not done by Hoseok), graphic descriptions of injury on the mouth/tongue, mentions of trauma, anxiety/panic attacks, mentions of puke, penetrative sex, cunnilingus, cumming inside *** all sexual acts mentioned are consensual ***, unhealthy relationship, toxic relationship

Summary: You both swore you would never see each other again. It’s funny how fate works, even when you have to go through hell to make it work. His house was just a random house as you stumbled out of a cab, blood pooling in your mouth. You had no expectations for him to catch you when you fell, and most importantly, protect you when you needed it most. He sat you on his throne and called himself your knight. Is it wrong of you to love him again for it? Is it wrong of him to keep you? Is it wrong of you to want to be kept? 

The act of loving back.

It was the way he looked at you. It was the way he made you feel like the only one in his world and him the only one in yours. It was love. But that's the tricky thing about two people loving one another. One person can decide it is no longer a shared love. In a split second, it is unrequited.

---

“I-I don't understand.”  Your bottom lip quivered as Hoseok stood in front of you. In any other situation, he would've knelt down and consoled you, but this was an outlier in that pattern, “You said you wanted to be with me for the rest of your life.”

“For the rest of my life here.” He gestured to your hometown surrounding both of you, “Now I have to go back to my life.”

His life? But this was his life. Right?

He said you were his world and now he couldn’t wait to explore another universe, any universe away from you.

That's when it hit you. All you did was keep him company as he studied abroad. He was a college sophomore testing out the waters of a new country, and you were a high school senior, browsing for college and falling head over heels for this man the past nine months.

"You must have a lovely girlfriend at home, huh?" He remained silent, guilty. You let out a breathy laugh, “Oh, I see.” You sighed, the tears finally toppling over and hitting your cheeks, “You're scared to be alone.” He remained silent, “What kind of man are you back home that you call this here a different life?” Guilty silence, “I love you, and you don't know a damn thing about me I bet.” Your lip quivered, "That's what I get for being the other woman." You spit the words out, more angry with yourself.

“You're angry, I get it.” He spoke softly as he reached for your hand and you recoiled sharply, “You hate me.”

“I'm hurt.” You snapped, looking him in his eyes full of guilt, “I could never hate you, just like you could never love me. Just like how you refuse to tell me where home is for you. Just like how you refuse to tell me about your family. Just like how you refuse to fall in love because you are so afraid of the other person not catching you. Well, I have just hit the ground, and I hope you're fucking ecstatic.” Your tears didn't hinder your words but made them hit harder in Hoseok’s eyes. 

You were always so observant. He wondered where life would take you with that talent. Where you wanted to go with that talent. He made sure he never knew.

You were only in high school. You were just 18. You would forget him.

“I can't believe how much I love you.” You sighed, “I'm so fucking pathetic. I'm sick of this.” You sniffed and he braced himself for the final proclamation of hate, “You have a great life in mystery land with a mystery girl and achieve all the things you want to with your mystery major, and I will do the same, okay?”  You took a deep breath, “Do great things in life.” You told him before turning on your heel and walking away.

It would have been easier on the both of you if you hated him.

----

Hoseok was now in his first year of graduate school. He was the director of human resources at a large company. He was wealthy, smart, and he loved to have company, even if it was not his ideal companion. There was a certain whisper from his past that kept him awake after an exhausting one nightstand.

The void in his heart was semi-filled as he stuffed his dick inside someone else. Hoseok had established a pattern of getting a secretary into bed and then the secretary would quit once their declaration of love was effectively denied. He could not admit to himself why he rejected each confession, but he knew it had to do with a certain girl he had denied himself further access too at an attempt toward redemption. Despite this unspoken wound on his heart, he was expecting to do the same cycle of his with his soon to be former secretary Jiyeon on this cold night until he heard a knock on his door, a persistent one.

“Give me one second.” He pecked the girl's neck at the table, expecting it to be the groceries he ordered.

Upon opening the door, Hoseok found something else. He found a girl with a thin sweater and sweatpants shaking. She had a face mask and her eyes were downcast. 

When you heard the door open you looked up, “H-Hoseok? Jung Hoseok?” You were baffled, “I-I didn't know you live here, but I need a favor.” He knew who you were. He knew the way his name came from your lips. He knew how the syllables roll off your tongue.

Hoseok drew a breath, trying to make sure he was living and breathing at this moment. He couldn’t imagine he had been dreaming about you this time. All his dreams of you were blissful. Although, this setting of you needing something from him could very well be in his dreams. 

It was really you. The not so forgotten dream girl he abandoned in favor of his fear of commitment. You looked different. You looked hurt. What were you doing here? How did you even get here? Why were you here after years of being apart?

You, on the other hand, felt a mixture of relief and dread. On one hand, Hoseok was a sore spot in your romantic history, but he was officially the best boyfriend you’ve had, albeit, by default. On the other hand, you were in pain and you wanted nothing more than to cry and be coddled, but feeling secure that this man would not hurt you physically was enough.

It was really him. The man who turned his back on you. The man who was still as beautiful as the day he left you, but now was absolutely not the time to focus on that,  “I need to use a phone or charge mine.” You squeaked and Hoseok looked at you in bewilderment, and you assumed it was due to not recognizing you, “It's y/n.” You offered but he was still stunned, as you saw a beautiful woman linger behind him, “Look, I don't care who you're fucking right now, please let me in.” Your voice was quaking, desperate. He had never heard it like this before.

 He stepped to the side as you scurried in, “Jiyeon, leave.” The girl balked and he turned to her with a stern eye, “Go.” The girl scoffed as she slammed the front door behind her.

“Where's the bathroom?” You immediately asked, bottom lip beginning to tremble as the pain set in.

“Y/n, what-" He had so many questions

“Later, I promise,” Your voice shook as your body still was, “Bathroom, please.” Your mouth sounded full almost and Hoseok studied you to find a line of red down your neck. 

It was dried blood, but upon further inspection not all of it was dry.

“You're bleeding!”  He spoke incredulously as he went to take your mask off. You wanted to fight it, but you were exhausted, “Don't even think about fighting me. You're hurt.” He read your mind as he pulled the mask down with a steady hand. The mask revealed a busted lip and a cut tongue that was now oozing blood, “Holy shit!” The man went to grab a rag as he held it to your lip, “What the fuck happened?!” He led your shaky legs over to a barstool in his kitchen.

You sat down, slumped over, looking at the rag to see small amounts of blood blotting the fabric. You were no longer gushing. That was good, “I didn't know where else to go.” You were muffled against the cotton, “This was the first place I could find. I had no idea you would- you would be here.”

Hoseok took a look at you. Your eyes were red and puffy. Your cheeks were stained with pure tears. Your nose had traces of blood on the nostrils. Your hands were bruised with open slices that stopped bleeding. Your shirt was torn on the stomach and shoulder. Your feet only had socks on them as your sweatpants had even more dry blood.

Hoseok shuddered at the thought of what happened. He wondered if someone did it. The notion made his blood boil. He took a look at your hand and saw an engagement ring. His blood was no on fire. It didn't take a genius to see what happened. To put two and two together.

You followed his eyes and scoffed, “Pretty, huh?” You mused, lifting your finger up, “You should feel it when someone makes you slice your tongue on it.” You spoke flatly as Hoseok wet a paper towel to clean your chin.

You let go of the rag, the blood now dry and finished pouring out, “What happened?” Hoseok asked softly as you sighed.

“I have poor, poor taste in men.” You sniffled,” No offense.” You offered to the man in front of you,  “I am a victim of my poor judgment.” You sighed, and coughed as the thickness of your own blood sliding down your throat before it finally hit you, “Holy shit that hurts.” Your hand stroked your throat as Hoseok caught glimpse of faded bruises along your neck.

“How… How are you here?” He pressed a cold hand to your neck and you flinched before relaxing against his touch.

“Alive or in your home?” You giggled before coughing, “Sorry, not funny.” You breathed a small sigh as a wet cloth began to wipe away the blood that dripped onto your neck, “I went to University in Ilsang about two years ago. I fell for a man who could never love me, call me a creature of habit, but his parents did love me. I am quite the parent charmer, so he proposed, we moved just outside of the city, and began to plan the wedding.” Your cocky smile fell as you wiped a drop of blood from your mouth, “But the funny thing about being the girl of his parents' dreams almost always means I am not the girl of his.” Hoseok could feel his body heating in rage, “She is sexier, wild, and full of life, so she tried to take mine away, much to his approval.” You felt a tear try to squeeze past your swollen eye, “Call me a pacifist, but I prefer to be broken up with rather than beat.” Hoseok could finally see your face now with all the blood gone. You hadn't changed much, still as beautiful as the day he met you, “I won't bore you with the gore, but it was without purpose. I got a job in the city here as well as a scholarship for the university, so I was planning to leave anyway. However, running from my old apartment covered in blood and begging a taxi to take me as far as he can is not how I planned to make the move.”

“You mean she attacked you and he just let it happen?” Hoseok clenched the cloth in his hand.

“He… uh, held me down.” You shivered, all feigned strength and nonchalance absolved as you realized the gravity of your situation. You were homeless, beaten, and your job didn't begin until after the New Year thanks to a paid holiday break you still got compensated for, and now felt extremely thankful for, “God, this is so fucking crazy."

“We need to call the police!” Hoseok, in contrast to you, was fuming. How someone could ever lay a hand on you is something he would never care to understand. He just wanted to see them burn.

“No point.” You sighed for the nth time of the night. You opened your mouth to elaborate but was cut off by your own coughing as the blood in your tongue tried to make its way down your throat again. 

Hoseok didn't hesitate in putting his hand in front of your mouth. He felt your blood splatter onto his hand, “God, give me his name.” He murmured as you coughed into his hand.

“I'm sorry.” You coughed again, before pulling away from his hand, “That is so gross.” You looked to his bloodied hand.

There was something almost primal with the way Hoseok felt the need to take care of you. No matter how many years went by or the amount he fucked up with you, his instinct to keep you safe has not changed, much to his dismay. Throughout the years, he did his best to stay away from you, but he found himself more than horrified by the result of this.

You were in his kitchen, beaten and coughing blood into his hand. He was trying to remain calm as he wet a towel to wipe your neck, but his knuckles turned white on the sink when he turned the faucet. He needed to know the names of the people who did this. He needed to tear them down.

Hoseok brought a white rag into your neck and the cooling sensation of the water made your eye flutter closed in bliss. He savored the moment of your care-free look. He missed it. He carefully rid your neck of your caked-on blood and he was happy to see your beautiful skin again.

You let him brush the rag against the corners of your mouth and on your cheek, cleaning you. He turned the rag to a clean side and pushed your cheeks lightly opening your mouth. You got the hint and reluctantly stuck your tongue out, but the feeling of the cool cloth on your wounded tongue made up for it.

You were beautiful, even more so now that he could see your face, “There you are.” He murmured, “Doesn’t look like your face will bruise.” He mused as he cleaned your tongue, “Tongues heal pretty quick and the cut isn’t too deep either.” His first aid training from last month was proving pretty useful.

“You think so?” You asked him before looking into his eyes.

Hoseok returned your look. His face lit up as your innocent eyes looked for confirmation. In your eyes, Hoseok could see all that he denied himself. He could see the number of times you cried without him there, the times you giggled and he wasn't there to tease you on how cute it was, and the times you proclaimed to love someone who didn't deserve it. But no more. Hoseok had you here now, and he was dead set on keeping it that way. You were the one.

Hoseok was always so warm, and his eyes showed as much when he returned your gaze with the same smile that made your heartbeat, “You'll be just fine.” He touched your cheek softly and you relaxed fully for the first time this whole night.

There was something about his affirmation that made you feel like everything would be okay. You would start your new job and be the person you always wanted to be. You would be more than a beaten girl on your ex’s front porch. You would be able to close your eyes and wake up to a new day. This night will be in the past one day. You have a future ahead of you. These are all the things that seemed impossible hours ago. These are all the things Hoseok reminded you of in just four words. 

With this in mind, you decided it was time to let go of tonight. Let go of the pain and the suffering for just a moment.

You felt your bottom lip tremble and you let it happen as you felt your chest give as you let the sob jump out of your mouth. You let go of the rag you held and gripped the soft shirt Hoseok was wearing and pressed your forehead against his chest. You took a deep breath and felt the long-withheld tears pour down your cheeks as you hiccuped and sobbed against his chest.

If Hoseok wasn't so in love with you, he would think you were breaking down. However, he knew better. You were still his y/n after all. This is how you rebuilt. This is how you let go and face the future. This is how you heal. You express emotion in the most physical way you can. You find peace in watching the pain dry from your eyes. 

He wrapped your arms around you as you cried into his chest, clutching onto him for dear life, “You never change.” He mused as your shoulders shook, “Still my strong girl, even after all this time.” He stroked your hair as you sniffled.

You had stayed like this for a while. You let hell loose on Hoseok’s shirt. For a moment, it was like you were together again. It was as if you went back with him instead of all those years ago. You went to school with him and moved in with him. You would flaunt the love you two shared in glee as you spent your life with your first love. There would be no one else. Just him.

While this fantasy was nothing but, at this moment, you remembered how right it felt to be in his arms. Maybe you had been obsessed with him these past few years. Maybe you still loved him like you were still a teenager

Little did you know, he often dreamt of the possibility. 

“I-I thought I was gonna die there!” You sobbed.

Hoseok only held you tighter, unable to even bear the thought, “I'm never letting you go, y/n.” He cooed, “You have to know that.” 

A possibility that no longer seemed too out of reach.

Hoseok held you for hours before he felt your grip relax and your breathing even. Your weight was fully on him and he was happy to see you trusting him enough at this moment to fall asleep. To feel safe enough to rest. He wondered when the last time was that you slept peacefully. 

You stayed in this position until he was sure you were asleep. He lifted you in his arms as your head drooped against his shoulder. He carried you to his bedroom with the lightest step as he laid you down. 

Not one to overstep boundaries too much, Hoseok opted to sleep on the couch after tucking you in. He laid down and he wondered about all the ways he could make that bastard ex of yours pay. 

You woke up purely on your own. No alarm. No paranoia. No nightmare. Just your internal clock, which you were delighted to find was still functioning. You opened your eyes and yes, everything hurt, but you were still comfortable. 

You sat up, and that's when everything really hurt. You cried out as you put your hand to your aching head. Crying always gave you a headache. Paired with the beating from last night, your head was hell.

Hoseok raced down the hall to get to you. You looked up to see him out of breath and holding a bottle of water with a small pill in his hand, “Be careful!” He softly scolded as he handed you the pill and unscrewed the cap on the bottle.

You took the bottle from him as you popped the pill marked with the brand of a painkiller into your mouth before drinking the water. You had only then just realized how thirsty you were and began gulping it.

“Hey, hey slow down.” Hoseok’s hand lightly caressed your nape and you slowly put the bottle down, now half empty.

“Sorry, my-” You winced, your tongue proving to be quite sensitive.

“Talk lightly, you’re healing.” Hoseok cooed and for a moment you were brought back to the ridiculous reality you were brought into. You were in your first love’s bed alone after being nearly killed by your ex-fiance's side-chick. Now, the man who broke your heart was nursing you back to full health and treating your wounds. You wondered if you would wake up soon from this fever dream. Although, the pain on your tongue told you this was all too real.

“My throat was raw.” You with your tongue barely touching your mouth, making your speech much slower, “Is what I was trying to say.”

“I figured as much, you had a rough night to say the least, sweetheart.” Hoseok smiled at you reassuringly, “But here we are, a new day, a new chapter.” He gestured around him, “Now, your phone has been going off quite incessantly since I charged it, is there anyone that you were hoping to hear from?” 

You thought for a moment. You moved to South Korea on your own and the only friend you made became your fiance, now ex. His mom would call from time to time, but no way were you talking to her. Your family was long gone, so that’s out of the question. All you had was your new job, but it was a Saturday morning. You shook your head.

“Do you mind if I look at who it is?” He asked and you shook your head, the pounding of it having now subsided, letting the light vibrations of your phone on the nightstand register in your eardrum. Hoseok reached over and took your severely cracked phone into his slender hand, “Who is Oh Sookwang?” He asked, noticing the way you tensed up, “Ah, so that’s his name.” He noted as part of the work that he needs to get done once the workweek begins.

“Wh-What did he say?” You asked hesitantly. Hoseok also hesitated as he scrolled through the texts he sent, “Is it bad?”

“It’s certainly bad for him.” His voice was much colder now with his eyes transfixed on the phone, “It seems he wants to know if you’re dead.” He spoke flatly, “He also wants the ring back for Minyoung.”

You scoffed, unsure of what you expected. You clenched your fist and felt the gold band of the ring dig into your finger. The diamond has specks of your blood dried onto it by now. He probably didn’t even want it for Minyoung. It was probably going to serve as a trophy for another woman broken under their hands. It was a sign of the torment they were capable of inflicting with all the money and the power their feuding parents could give them. You ripped the ring off your finger before throwing it across the room. 

Hoseok watched as the diamond fell out of the ring and onto his bedroom floor. He rolled his eyes at how cheap of a ring this other man dared to present to someone so extremely out of his league. 

“The world is just going to keep turning under his discretion, isn’t it?” Your upper lip twitched in rage.

Hoseok leaned down and kissed the top of your head, “Not while I’m around.”

You looked up at the man who stood before you, “His family is powerful, and so is hers, it’s useless.”

Hoseok chuckled lightly before ruffling your hair, “Look around, babe, I’m powerful.” 

----

It had been a little more than a week before you agreed to stay with Hoseok. On one hand, he was your first love and heartbreak but on the other hand, you had nowhere else to go. The apartment you planned to move to was detected by Sookwang and for your safety, you decided to not sign the lease. Not like Hoseok would let you.

It had been almost a month since that night now. Your company extended your leave due to the circumstances you were faced with and Hoseok arranged his schedule so he could stay home until you went to work.

He had been quite the caretaker. A doctor he trusted came to make a housecall and gave you a clean bill of health, meaning no broken bones or internal bleeding. You screamed the first time he touched you, so you had to hold Hoseok's hand throughout his assessment. The trauma of it all had not hit you until another stranger had to touch you. Hoseok offered to take you to a counselor but you declined, not ready to say it out loud yet. Even so, you eventually did see someone for coping practices and a diagnosis you had already known.

Being with him again was nostalgic in its own way. Sometimes it felt like catching up with an old friend but then other days it felt like you were picking up right where you left off. Of course, you knew you had no business getting into another relationship after just ending an engagement. In reality, though, the engagement ended long ago, you had just stayed around like a loyal punching bag.

“I forgot how good of a cook you were.” You smiled at Hoseok and the fact you could speak without feeling an ache, “You've only gotten better too, no fair.” You pouted at him.

Hoseok took off his apron, moving to join you at the table, “It's just chicken parmesan, not rocket science.” He ruffled your hair, “Cutie.”

You looked at the man across from you and smiled at the way he settled in, “So, tomorrow you go back to work, right?” You asked as you shoveled the food into your mouth.

“Yes, but I could very easily-” You pouted at him reusing the same line. 

“No.” You reiterated, “We are both working tomorrow, remember?” Hoseok closed his mouth in defeat. You had made a good case about needing to return to work and move on this past week that he could not deny, “Be excited, it's cementing this new start.” You smiled reassuringly.

His face softened at you beaming grin and he smiled back, defeated, “I am excited, just worried.” He sighed.

You knew why. He was scared of you getting hurt or your ex trying to finish his lover's job, “You already reported them, so it's okay.” Hoseok nodded at your words, happy with how calm you were now compared to when you found out what he had done.

That was a rough day. You turned on the news to see the fall of Sookwang’s family corporation and Minyoung also went from heiress to most wanted. They were both under investigation for the attempted murder of an unknown female and embezzlement. There had been outside corporate lawyers and criminal lawyers called to the case. You screamed and cried that day, Hoseok taking the brunt of your misdirected anger. You feared taking the stand and that's what really drove your tantrum.

Hoseok grimaced at the memory, protective instincts kicking in, “You could at least tell me where you work or your job.” He grumbled.

You rolled your eyes playfully, “I told you I will.” You pointed your fork at him, “After a week, because otherwise you will show up or send someone to not so discreetly watch me.” You watch Hoseok slump, guilty, “And you will tell me all about your job then so I don't run to you whenever I get scared.”

“But I want you to run to me if you get scared.” He pouted this time, “I can't bear the thought of you being alone.”

“I can just call you, doofus.” You reached you his hand across the table and watched as he relaxed at the contact, “If I make you my crutch, I will only prove people like Sookwang and Minyoung right.” You mused sadly, “I gotta be better than that.”

Hoseok bit his tongue. He wanted to say that you were miles above scum like them. He would kill them with his bare hands if he didn't have the basic human rationale he cultivated ever so slightly. His morals weren't there, but he couldn't take care of you behind prison bars and he couldn't take you away into hiding and still make you happy. He also couldn't incite violence in fear of you comparing him to Minyoung. He had weighed his options very heavily and was extremely grateful he had the power to ensure the legal system would not fail you. With this, he chose to discipline scum with proper justice and corporate murder.

“You already are.” Hoseok squeezed your hand and stared into your eyes. The feelings he had just looking at you was hard to contain. He would give anything to kiss you again and have you as his, but he knew you wouldn't believe the time was right.

“Thank you.” You stared back at him with an almost equal amount of love and care. You were on your way to the right time. He just knew it.

“I'm sorry that I ever left you.” Hoseok blurted out as you began shaking your head.

You stopped him from speaking any further, “I'm glad you did.” You cut him off, “I needed this all to happen to be who I am now.” You smiled a bit, “It's clichè to say, I know, but before yesterday I considered not taking this job just because I was scared people would be mean.” You mused, “But I lived and at some point loved a man who literally wanted me dead, so what more could a disgruntled coworker or a mean boss do to me?” You picked at the pasta briefly, “I was much too spoiled before all of this. Everything I had was handed to me.”

Hoseok's face scrunched up, “You're the most hardworking person I know.” He spoke up, “You work for everything you get and you still deserve more than that.” 

“These past two years, I would wake up and feel ashamed for breathing.” You felt the pressure in your eyes, “I felt bad that I was still alive because I was causing all of this trouble.”

“None of that was your fault.” Hoseok gripped your hand tightly, “You were not the bad guy in that situation.”

“And logically, I know that, but it just gets to you after a while. Except for today,” You finally looked up at Hoseok and beamed just a little, “I woke up and I didn't even notice the pain, I looked out the window and saw a beautiful day. You smiled at me and everything was okay.” You watched as his signature smile grew, “I wasn't just an abuse victim, for the first time, I felt like a survivor.”

“You are.” He confirmed with and encouraging squeeze.

“And if being one means all this shit had to happen, so be it.” You affirmed to both Hoseok and yourself, “These next few days are gonna be rough, but Dr. Lin says I'm getting better at shaking his hand without shaking the rest of my body.” You giggled a bit before looking at your hand, Hoseok stroking the tan line where your ring used to be.

“The moment you feel uncomfortable, come home.” Hoseok pleaded, “You told them what happened, right?”

You sighed with a nod, “Yeah, they got the emails Dr. Lin drafted and they were actually really kind about it.”

“Good, but even if they weren't, you could work with me.” He offered for the millionth time and you rolled your eyes, “I know, I know, I just want to make sure you're safe and happy and eating right and hydrated and-”

“I am capable of doing so by myself too.” You pointed your fork at him, “I really appreciate you, Hobi, but you have to trust me.” 

Hoseok rested his case in favor of how happy you looked to start this mysterious new job and the fact that his old nickname slipped from your lips for the first time in years. You knew how to play him like a fiddle and had no idea. The last thing he would want was for you to hate him so he even opted to not research you to figure out what your job was. All you said was that you were freelance before they hired you which gave him nothing.

The next morning you woke up at the crack of dumb. In the mirror, you checked your tongue, the wound healed and the uncomfortable stitches you had a week ago fully dissolved. The whole incident felt like a distant nightmare now. All marks from it fully healed, and now only the scars remained. 

You heard Hoseok walking down the stairs, most likely to start the coffee before making breakfast. You had been staying in his guest room, for the time being, your bathroom was in the hall and he could see the light under the door, indicating you were awake. He had offered you the other bedroom with its own bathroom, but you wanted to get used to leaving your room a little more. 

It had been a long while since you put on makeup with a motivation revolving around self-care and confidence as opposed to masking clumps of busted vessels and capillaries lingering beneath your skin. You couldn't help the smile that grew on your face as you applied eyeliner and checked your work in the mirror. There was something therapeutic about painting your face with a much lighter intent. You were excited, and for the first time in a while, you could feel your nerves buzzing and the butterflies in your stomach blooming from their cocoon. 

You also hadn't put this much effort into your hair this entire time. Hoseok would sometimes brush your hair after a shower, mostly out of habit from when both your hands had been wrapped up. However, beyond that, it was kept in its natural state, which you figured was mediocre at best when paired with your naked and bruised face at the time. Hoseok always talked about how beautiful you were, but this was the first time in a while you felt anywhere close to it.

There were no bruises on your face, your dark circles were not even half the horror they used to be, you didn't even have to slather foundation and concealer in an effort to cover an open wound. Your face had never felt so soft, scabs no longer present. You looked at your finished look and squealed to yourself. You looked nice. Your clothes were also stylish, in typical Hoseok fashion, he had surprised you with a new wardrobe beyond all protests, and you couldn't deny how nice it all looked on you. You had called him ridiculous for approaching you with a measuring tape, but the fit was no joke with how it hugged your figure.

“Breakfast is ready!” He called from downstairs and you smiled, excited to show him how you looked.

You nearly pranced down the stairs and to the kitchen to see Hobi with his back turned, getting coffee, “Oh y/n, did you want-” He turned around and was met with the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, “Holy shit.”

To him, you were always beautiful, but you were glowing this time due to your chipper mood. You smiled brightly at him as he took in your appearance. From the stylish high waisted black slacks with a flowy lavender blouse. The black pumps you had only accentuated your confident stature. Your face had light traces of makeup, but it had been growing to be more and more radiant. He took note of the necklaces you wore to compliment your skin complexion. Everything you were fit you so well, his mind was plagued by sinful thoughts of taking them off.

You weren't holding up well either. Hoseok was stunning no matter what, but this was the first time in a long time you had seen him in a suit. His hair was styled perfectly with his brown hair tousled in waves. His suit was well-fitting and the dress shirt managed to outline his muscles. The rings he had on next to his watch made you weak in the knees for some inexplicable reason. The glasses he wore only added to his sugar daddy aesthetic. Were you a gold digger or in love with this man?

You blinked away the question once you registered his profanity, “Is that a good holy shit?” You teased as you sat in front of the plate he set on the table.

“You're a goddess.” He groaned and you giggled, while he walked over with two coffee cups.

“And you're exaggerating.” You poked his nose before picking up your fork, catching sight at the tan line on your ring finger.

Hoseok watched your smile drop a little, “Y/n, are you alright?” His face showed very evident worry.

You looked up, snapping out of your trance, “Yeah, just this dumb tanline.” You huffed, “It's so blatant.”  You held up your hand to Hoseok, although he knew about the line all too well.

“I can put a ring on your finger.” You choked on your coffee at Hoseok's blunt words, “Y/n!” He made a move to stand and help you but you shook your head as you coughed.

“People will think I'm engaged.” You regained composure, “They'll ask me all kinds of questions.”

Hoseok would be lying if he said that was a bad thing. This would keep any intruders into your relationship with him away. This would keep you closer to him. He shrugged, “Engaged or not,” He placed a quaint box on the table, “I already bought the ring so…” He pushes the box toward you with a cheeky smile, “It's winter now, so you can just wear it until it fades.”

You chuckle as you take the box, “This might be more romantic than my proposal.” You joked, “He spelled it out in roses with candles around it.”

“You hate roses.” Hoseok pointed out and you nodded with an eye roll, “You know what?” He grabbed the blue velvet box and went around the table. Before you could ask what he was doing, he knelt down on one knee, taking your hand, “Y/n L/n, will you stay with me?”

You giggled, “I would be honored.” He beamed at you as he opened the box to reveal and black diamond with two smaller traditional ones on each side with a silver band which he slid on your finger, “I used to dream about this in high school.” You admired the ring, “I had a whole dream board for our future wedding.” 

Hoseok chuckled at this, “You really loved me, huh?”

You frowned as he stood to go back to his side of the table. Without thinking you gripped his hand, making him turn back to you, “I'll always love you, Hobi.” The words jumped out of your mouth before you could even consider the weight they held and the terrible timing it was. Your ex wasn't even in prison yet. His sentencing had yet to come and here you were like a blushing schoolgirl pining after Hoseok all over again.

Hoseok, on the other hand, was over the moon. He knew it, but to hear you say it was a new experience in and of itself. You were almost there. Almost ready for him to have you. For you to have him. He saw the worry creep on you face and then dissolve when he gripped your hand back, “And I, you.” He simply said before kissing your knuckles and then returning to his seat.

When it came time for you to go via the driver Hoseok insisted on you having, he hugged you tightly, “Call me if you feel anything other than excitement.” He let out a shaky breath before letting you go from his embrace to grip your shoulders, “Text me whenever you can just how you feel, okay?”

You smiled at him reassuringly, “If I get a papercut, I'll let you know the moment I put a bandage on.” You proclaimed dramatically and Hoseok whined, “I will call you if I need to, okay?” He nodded, “Do you trust me?” Another nod. You cupped his face before bringing it down to kiss his forehead softly. When he lifted his face it was dusted with a light brush, “Have a good day at work.” 

Hoseok took the chance to kiss your forehead this time, “You have the greatest day at work.” He spoke softly and you nodded before exiting through the front door.

Coming back to work was always a sore spot for him, but now that he had you back, it felt even worse. He was already missing you. On top of that, Jiyeon had quit so he had to be his own secretary for a while. He wondered how Taehyung did it for so long. Due to this new workload, he had no idea what his schedule was.

Hoseok looked up as he heard a knock on the glass door of his office. He always kept the blinds down, so he blindly let the visitor in with a call. Namjoon emerged with an exasperated look on his face, “You forgot, didn't you?” When he received Hoseok's response if an eyebrow raise he sighed, “Our fully recovered CEO is having a meeting with all the department heads with our newly wrangled Behavioral Scientist.” An ignorant blink, “The dude is like your new right-hand man Mr. Director of Human Resources.” 

“Oh right!” Hoseok stood, “Our expert in body language for sitting in on interviews.” He nodded, “What's his name again?”

Namjoon shrugged, “Who knows, but CEO Kim said he read her like a diary she was so impressed.” He smirked, “Maybe he’ll smell what an HR nightmare you are right off the bat.”

Hoseok walked over to the door Namjoon stood in the way of, “Hey, hey, I'm a changed man, remember?” He walked out of his office with his colleague, “I have all I need at home.”

His friends teasing tone dissipated as he remembered the shaking girl he encountered just a week ago, “Oh, that's right, how is she?” Namjoon asked, genuinely concerned.

“Better.” Hoseok smiled at his friend, “She starts her new job today, and she's been doing a lot better.”

Namjoon nodded, “When we all met her, she did real well.” He sighed, “Not sure how anyone would ever want to hurt her, but that guy's as good as dead anyway.”

“That much I made sure of.” Hoseok confirmed.

“Jeez, you sound like Tae and Jimin.” Namjoon laughed.

“Just you wait until it's your turn.” Hoseok teased as they reached the conference room to be met with the other five of his friends which was weird since three of them were not higher-ups in the company.

“And I thought this was a director only meeting.” Namjoon mused.

“She said she wanted her favorite boys here.” Taehyung smiled, “This new hire seems to have her struck, said she sees em as another child already.”

“She's too caring for her own good sometimes, watch this dude be some discount medium who claims he can read aura's.” Yoongi scoffed.

“She's not one to be wowed by parlor tricks.” Jin pointed out.

“She has been on morphine for the past couple days though.” Jungkook pointed out.

“You guys give her no credit.” Jimin sighed, “She's still a businesswoman.”

“But she's also a human who extended Hoseok's holiday leave because so that he could stay with his angel.” Yoongi chimed back in.

“Well, I'm excited nonetheless.” Hoseok sat down as Namjoon did before hearing the door open.

CEO Kim walked in with a warm smile, “Hello, boys!” The old woman in her late 60's cheered and was met with a chorus of greetings, “Lovely of you all to make it here. I've been healing just fine before you ask.” She looked at Taehyung in particular, “Gonna take more than some kidney surgery to get me down.” She joked with a light giggle, “Anyways, I'm absolutely pleased to introduce our new addition to HR as the Employment Analyst," She looked out the door, “Come on in, dear.”

You walked through the door, palms already warm. You looked down for a moment, “Good morning!” You lifted your head only to be met with awfully familiar faces, “Oh my.”

“Y/n!” Jungkook was the first to chirp as the other men were completely floored.

The CEO smiled cheerfully, “You know her? Perfect!” She clasped her hands, “My dear here has had a rough adjustment, so do make her feel welcome!” You graciously smiled at the sweet old woman.

“H-Hey guys.” You twiddled your thumbs, “Fancy meeting you here.” You smiled weakly. 

“Y/n, here is a student and is here to help our HR find and keep only the best of the best.” The CEO beamed brightly, “Anyways, she will be working will be working for Mr. Jung.”

You looked at Hoseok and he gave you his signature smile. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.

After the meeting was adjourned, Hoseok made his way to you with the same smile he had before, "You're fantastic." He patted your head affectionately and you giggled.

"You're too much." You stuck your tongue out, "I'm going to go set up my office." You smiled before exiting the conference room with quaint smiles and bows to the remaining 6 other men in the room. The company was eccentric, to say the least, but at least you had familiar faces to rely on.

"You know, you are surprisingly relaxed." Yoongi mused, catching Hoseok's attention.

Hoseok was even then, only partly paying attention as he was caught up in his lovelorn bliss, "Well, of course, why wouldn't I be?" He sighed.

The other men exchanged looks, "Do you not know your reputation?" This snatched Hoseok back to Earth.

"Yeah, she's definitely going to find out," Jungkook added, earning a glare.

Even so, Hoseok knew the men were right. You would not be pleased to find out about his promiscuity, especially in the workplace. You would have every right to be angry, but he still hoped you would understand that he was only trying to fill a void he created by abandoning you. He was a new man.

"That, plus you have secretaries to interview today." Taehyung chimed in, "My darling was kind enough to call them in after Jiyeon called me, hysterical, before quitting." He shot a glare to Hoseok.

"Actually, I think y/n's first task is to interview said, ladies." Namjoon fought the emerging smile on his face as Hoseok nearly went pale.

Jimin spoke this time, "Hobi?" He caught the man's attention, "Run."

Needing no further instruction, he made a dash for the elevator.

"Oh, hello." You caught the attention of a beautiful chestnut-haired woman, "Can I help you?" You smiled at her as you carried a box to your office adjacent to Hoseok's.

She scanned your form before letting her guard down. You should've been offended by how quickly she wrote you off as a non-threat, but you let it go, "I'm looking for Jung Hoseok." She flashed you a smile, a very fake one judging by the stiffness in her face.

You shook off the insecurity planting itself in your psyche before it could latch, "He's in a meeting, but I'm a new worker in this department so I could-"

"They hired you?!" She quickly cut you off, "I didn't even get a chance to interview yet, and they gave the assistant position to you?!" She threw her hands up before her eyes landed on the ring you were, "Wow, are taken women his thing, or something?" She sneered. You felt your throat close in panic and rage all at once. You watched in hidden horror as her face seemed to morph into Minyoung's. 

You swallowed the lump in your throat and replaced it with a quaint smile, a very fake one, "Actually, I'm the new Employment Analyst." You quipped, "I believe I'm your interviewer in fact." The woman went pale, "I'm still setting up my office, but you are very punctual, I'll give you that." You smiled at her, "I am nothing if not fair, so if you would like to take a seat while I set up, I'll be right with you." You gestured to the chairs outside the door to your office and she took the seat slowly. You closed the door behind you, stalking to your desk to place the box on top of the mahogany only to slump down into a crouched position with an exasperated sigh.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath in, blowing it out through pursed lips to prevent yourself from hyperventilating, "Get it together." You curse yourself. It had maybe been 10 minutes and you were already hiding under your desk, "Fuck, why did I think I could do this?" You closed your eyes in defeat when the door slammed open, startling you.

"Y/n!" Hoseok's voice caused you to internally panic and hit your head under the desk.

"Shit!" You scolded the pain, "I-Is my interviewee still out there?" You wondered aloud as Hoseok rushed to your side.

"I sent them home." He sighed before lifting you to sit on your chair and wordlessly began to guide you through your breathing, just as he had a million times before, just as he had when you were still in high school and especially in the last month.

You worked through the breathing and felt yourself seethe. You were more frustrated than angry, but still angry. Why did this random girl affect you so terribly? Why did Hoseok send her home? Why couldn't you just keep it the fuck together?

"Well, I suggest you leave," You sighed out as your chest rose and fell at its usual pace, "I have more coming."

"You can just cancel them." Hoseok shook his head at the thought of you interviewing a shamefully specific demographic of women he hired, "I want to find the candidates on my own." 

You studied his face. His lips were pursed, eyes were looking at your cheek, not eyes, and his grip on your shoulder had noticeably stiffened. Your face scrunched in disappointment, "Why? It seems they all fit your credentials." You spat, more bitter than you intended before sighing again as silence befell the two of you. You shut your eyes for a moment to gather your thoughts before opening them halfway to look down at your hands clasped together tightly, "I can't do it again, Hoseok." You muttered softly, "I'm not stupid, I know what you do in this office, but I can't do that again."

He met your eyes this time, obviously worried, "What do you mean?" His brows furrowed.

"Be the afterthought." You bit out, "I will not compete with all these women and end up…" exactly like yourself. You swallowed your last words because they would hurt the both of you too much.

"Angel, I would never-"

"Just go, okay?" You forced yourself to say, not looking at him, "It's my first day of work and we've already breached professionalism." You breathed out with your lips pursed, "I have interviews to do." You looked at Hoseok and he didn't meet your eyes as he left, dejected.

The interviews went terribly for both parties you would say. Most of these women had no experience being an Administrative LLP Assistant and if they did, they walked out on their last jobs. A lot of the women were quite kind, after noticeably sizing you up, but then you had some women who thought they could interview you as well. It was awfully reminiscent of when you first encountered Minyoung. 

By the end of the interviews, you felt like your eyes were beginning to cross as your tongue began to sting. It wasn't a real sting. This much was confirmed when your neck also began to sting and you let out a shaky breath. You stared at the excel sheet of employee evaluations and found yourself wondering if you would be able to work at home.

You shook off the very fantasy since you barely had a home to begin with. You needed to look for a place. Your heart squeezed at the thought and you put your hand on your chest. You felt stupid for wanting to leave Hoseok, but you also felt stupid for wanting to stay with a man who had such a specific and insatiable taste. 

The day dragged on and you actively avoided Hoseok when your lunch rolled around. You opted for a granola bar at your desk and it was just as indignifying as you thought it would be. Your job turned out to be mostly excel sheets and productivity reports and it wasn't until Hoseok knocked on your door that you realized it was time to go home- Hoseok's home.

The car ride was painfully and noticeably silent in the beginning. You didn't look at Hoseok and he couldn't bear to meet your eyes as the driver even looked uncomfortable. It wasn't until you realized you were at Hoseok's place that you even moved.

You dragged your feet to the door as the day's event swirled in your head. The women reminded you scarily of yourself, pining after someone who would never pine after them. Some of them were rings too and you wondered if it was because their home life was like yours had been. Had they just wanted to feel desired for once? Who are you to judge them when your ex is piecing together the life your ex-fiance destroyed. How are you any better than them with Hoseok? 

Even if you love him, it doesn't mean he loves you or doesn't plan on finding more thrilling endeavors outside of the lovely little home he keeps you at just like Sookwang had.

The bile in your throat pushed itself against you at the very thought and when Hoseok opened the door, you ran to the bathroom, hand over your mouth.

He quickly ran after you only to see you on your knees in front of the toilet as you heaved a cried. Immediately, he held back your hair as you hurled your guts, thoughts, fears, and sadness out of your body after holding them in for a day. It hadn't been the first time you've thrown up with Hoseok present, so he knew exactly how to clean you up as you cried.

However, this time, you gripped his dress shirt, surely causing wrinkles, and looked at him, "Please don't leave me." Your bottom lip quivered, "I can't, I can't be alone, I'm so sorry." You cried into his chest as he rocked you back and forth, "You're-You're all I…" You let out another sob

"I'm all you have." He mused and you nodded, "Just as you are all I have." You hiccuped and he kissed your head, "I've loved you for years, I will not be stopping, whether you like it or not." He stroked your hair as he closed your eyes.

He should kill Sookwang. He's never been so sure of himself. Hoseok clutched you closer to him as you shook violently. He should kill Sookwang for not only hurting you but for making you so distrusting of everyone, even him. The love of your life. Sookwang instead would spend his life in prison- or lack of life. It was merciful, Hoseok should rip him to shreds and let you do the same to Minyoung. However, the only thing more important than doing that was having you as his, at last.

He was all you had finally. It would remain that way.

After an hour of breathing exercises and mouthwash, you were in your bedroom. You stared up at the ceiling and yet, all you could see was Hoseok's face. You cursed yourself for this. It was like you were back in high school again. You were embarrassed by how easily you fell for him again especially after what Sookwang did. You closed your eyes and moted how warm you felt just thinking about all Hoseok has done for you. 

You weren't an idiot. You had dated him before. You knew he was terrified of a commitment then, but now, it almost seemed as if he craved it. It was a complete turnaround. It wasn't healthy. Logically, you knew that, right? You knew that this connection was obsessive on a good day, but he made you feel so safe. Your first day at work went terribly and you had just wished to go home to Hoseok's loving arms. Instead, your mind had morphed him into Sookwang.

Hoseok was the opposite, however. Sookwang had been sheltered and starved, so he settled for you as a wife and other women as a lover. Hoseok, however merely settled for one night stands in search of stability. He was loving and attentive, maybe a little too much. Even so, he hadn't brought home any women, or left your side, in the past month. He only ever seemed to look at you while you tried to assess your situation. 

You weren't ready for a relationship, you thought. But how the hell do you know what's good for you? 

Look at your past logical decisions, such as getting engaged. Maybe Hoseok knew what's best for you. Maybe you knew that wasn't healthy. Maybe you didn't care.

If you were going to regret this, you were going to have to do it first.

You sat up, letting the covers fall off your body as you ripped them off your legs. Before you could even begin to dissect your mindset, your legs carried you in front of Hoseok's door. It was already in the evening. You wondered if he was going to make dinner or leave you alone for the night. Should you not bother him? You shook your head before bringing your wrist up to knock on the door.

It had been the softest knocks Hoseok had heard in his life. His eyebrows scrunched together. Had he forgotten the cleaning lady was coming today? He could've sworn she comes Tuesday mornings?

"Come in." He nodded towards the closed door as it opened ever so cautiously.

He immediately sat up as soon as he saw it was you, "Hey, Hobi." You smiled at him shyly. 

Hoseok visibly relaxed as he gestured with a flick of his wrist for you to come near him. You walked over to his bed, "Sorry to intrude." You offered wearily, as he guided you to sit next to him, "I just…" You drew in a breath, as his arm wrapped around your waist Before I say anything, I just need to know what you want." His head tilted to the side in confusion now laying down next to his seated form and you groaned in frustration, "Do you...want me?" You forced out and it seemed he finally understood what you were trying to figure out. He leaned over you with a smile.

"I love you if that's what you're getting at." Your breath hitched at his boldness, "Don't act like you didn't know."

It was your turn to be confused as the man of your teenage and adult dreams leaned over you with a satisfied smirk, "You only said it that one time and I didn't think that you…" You avoided eye contact, "Would want used goods." 

He gripped your chin in an instant for you to see his jaw clenched and stern eyes, "I wish you could see what I see." He closed his eyes, letting his irritation diffuse as he leaned closer to you, "What no one else deserves to see." He hovered over your lips.

You were hypnotized by the passion and found yourself left with no option but to grip both sides of his face and bring him down to you. His lips connected with yours slowly at first but it quickly grew into a frenzied expression of how starved you both were to be craved by the other. Your arms wrapped around his neck while his wrapped around your waist. He moved you to where he was laid in between your legs and you gasped when his pelvis had accidentally brushed against yours. 

Hoseok broke away from the kiss for a moment, lips swollen and chest heaving, "Fuck, baby, I better go get dinner started before we end up doing something that-"

You pouted at this, causing Hoseok to immediately halt at the sight, "Hobi," You whined as you gripped his bicep, "Don't you want me?" You batted your eyelashes at him as his resolve crumbled.

"More than anything, angel." He was quick to say as he dipped his head down to place light kisses on your neck.

"So show me." You breathed and it was like something snapped in him.

He gripped your hip with a determined squeeze as his mouth opened eider to harshly suck the skin of your neck between his teeth. You groaned at the sensation, heat quickly pooling between your thighs. The hand on your hip reached up as he began to unbutton the lavender blouse. He had never touched you like this before, so when the shirt left you open, only a bra of the same color shielding you, he had to pull back to look at you for a moment. He studied every mole, freckle, or mark he could see as he slipped the shirt from your shoulders. He kissed down your stomach as he made quick work of the slacks he bought you, nearly salivating at how close he was to your clothed entrance. 

You arched your back, obedient as ever when his hands caressed your waist, sliding behind to unhook your bra. He let out a shaky breath when your top half became full bare. His hands gripped them both, softly pinching both nipples as you let out a mewl that spurred him to lean down, taking one of the buds into his mouth, tongue encircling it as your back arched again while you let out a whine. The sensation of his mouth and hands shooting straight to the area where you wanted them most. He let his teeth graze the bud before sucking and you could no longer suppress the moan that was clawing at your throat. He let the nipple go with a lewd pop as he studied your body again before moving to caress your hips and thighs. He watched the flesh squish under his touch and you squirmed a bit, "So fucking beautiful." He breathed, transfixed by your nearly bare body.

"Hobi." You whined, as his eyes wen to your heated face. Your bottom lip was caught in your teeth as your thighs shifted beneath him.

"Yes, my love?" He mused as he slid the last piece of fabric you had down your legs, watching as your pussy became exposed to him. Your breath hitched when he spread your legs as his fingers went to spread you, "Do you want me to taste you?" He hummed, mouth mere millimeters away from your opening.

You pet out a breathy moan at the anticipation, "Yes, yes, please." You huffed out only for the very breath to be stolen as his tongue dove at your sex like a man starved. 

Hoseok had never expected you to be so needy, each time his tongue moved you would whine out, wanting more and more. Never did he fine eating someone out to be so erotic as he did with his hands keeping you in place as your upper body twisted in pleasure. You would squeak when his tongue would dance around your hole, tempting him to finally plunge it in. He felt how tight you were and was instantly addicted to the feeling of you around him. He fucked you with his tongue as he let you move your hips to meet the thrusts of the muscle. He almost brought a hand to play with your clit but opted to make you cum with his mouth alone.

You had never been eaten out like this before. You could hardly keep up with Hoseok or the sensations he gave you as he entered you with his tongue. Never in your life have you felt so euphoric, the sensation sent tingles down your body and straight to your clit which he flicked with a stiffened tongue before you could even blink. A long-forgotten coil began to tighten in the pit of your stomach as he spread you as wide as you could go, his hands on your knees as he sucked on your clit, tongue still ruthless as it explored your pussy. You could hear him nearly slurp. You normally would be embarrassed, but all you could feel was what Hoseok gave you, and you wanted more. 

As if he read your mind, Hoseok began a ruthless rhythm of long-stroke that brought you closer and closer each time until you let loose with a scream of pleasure, your body shaking as you came. Hoseok placed a kiss on your clit that made your hips jump, "Hobi, fuck me." You breathed out, chest heaving as you crept down from the enormous high. The man hesitated, fully intent on letting you rest and taking care of himself in the bathroom. He was ready to tell you this until you let out another cute whine, "Please, babe, I want you to make love to me." You whined out and how could he possibly say no?

"I can't say no to you, baby, that's not fair." He spoke, eyes lidded as he stripped himself at lighting speed, moving his length along your slit as he groaned lowly at the contact. When he pressed the head against your entrance and you moaned lightly he nearly blew his load. By the time he slid all the way in, he had to take a moment to collect his thoughts. He looked down at you, eyes barely open and mouth panting. He then watched himself as he slid slowly in and out, his hardened member eventually all the way in your tight walls, "You're so beautiful." He groaned as he set a slow pace, "I love you so much." He leant down to kiss you as he fucked you gently and when you moaned into his mouth he couldn't help but speed up.

"Hobi." You moaned out sweetly for him as he fucked you, "Feels so good." You gasped out as your hands went to press him closer to you as he ground deeper into, more desperate. You could feel the bed shaking as he sped up more and more, calculated thrusts now becoming sloppy as you could feel another orgasm on the edge of breaking free.

He could tell you were close to as you squeezed him, "You gonna cum again for me, angel?" You gasped, nearly squealing as you squeezed around him, cumming hard enough to send him over the edge, "Fuck, fuck!" He moaned in pure ecstasy as he came inside of you, riding out the highs you both shared.

"I love you." You mumbled through tired lips pressed against his ears. He slowly slid out of you and that's as far as you remember before passing out.

You woke up with soft lips against your shoulder as the early morning peeked through the curtains. Your eyes slowly opened as they flicked around to find Hoseok in your peripherals, "Oh, you're awake." He mumbled, mouth still trailing over your bare skin.

"Mmph." You murmured, turning over, "Good morning." You placed a lazy kiss on his toned chest as you nuzzled into him.

The sleepy chuckle he let out vibrated in his chest, "What do you say we work from home today, hm?" 

Your eyes snapped open immediately as you shot up, "Work! I forgot!" You exclaimed as your eyes darted across the room looking for a clock, "I can't just not come in on my second day I-"

"Baby-"

"I must look like such a slacker! I can't believe I-"

"Angel, I-"

"How did I not set my alarms before I just went to sleep all willy nilly?! It's mmph-" Soft lips landed on your own as you melted into the kiss in spite of your moment of panic. His lips massaged yours until he felt your naked form relax on his own. 

This was all he needed. He was all you needed. This moment was the epitome of what it meant to be reborn in the arms of someone else. It was always meant to be this way. He was an idiot for thinking you were anything less than his soulmate. He was a fool for looking for comfort when he should've been looking for you all these years.

Once he felt your body fully depend on him, he broke the kiss ever so slowly, "It's 6:00am." He mumbled against your mouth, "I'm offering to have us both work from home today, so I can let the office know I will be conducting your orientation off-site." The smirk that twinkled on the corner of his mouth did not go unnoticed by you before you nodded. 

You watched with twinkling eyes as Hoseok made the call. You laid your head on his bare chest as you heard the rumble of his deep voice making orders to accommodate for his absence, "Hobi," You murmured when he hung up the phone, "Were you ever expecting to see me again?"

The hand he had stroking your hair faltered as his heart sank at the mention of the past. He was an idiot to be scared enough to ruin things with you. He was a fool to deny himself the bliss of loving you back, "No, not at first." He spoke honestly, "But I missed you every day." You smiled at this while he stroked your hair, "Something was missing in my life, and I tried to find it in other women when I was too scared to look for you."

"Oh, I hated you so much." You stifled a laugh.

"You said you could never!" Hoseok huffed as you leaned your head up to look at his pouting face.

"Not real hate, babe." You smiled softly, "I mean heartbreak hate." You mused, "I never wanted to see you again, but I never stopped wondering about you, and when I moved to South Korea, and especially when I was with… you know, I let my mind wander to how we could've been." 

"Well, it's me and you now and forever, angel." He placed a kiss on your forehead, "Nothing will ever come between us again, not even ourselves." Hoseok spoke with determination you were smart enough to know the implications of. Not that you had plans to ever leave, but even if you had they would be for naught. You knew his power. You were sure he only scratched the surface with Sookwang. It should scare you.

"I know you won't let it, even if anything tried." You breathed, blissful as he pulled you in for a passionate kiss. It wasn't healthy how he thrilled you. How much you loved being so secure in his arms, even if he was also securing you within his clutches. Chains or not, they were much too comfortable for you to object. You had the autonomy you wanted. You had everything you needed at the snap of a finer. Sookwang gave you hell and Hoseok led you to the pearly gates.

You weren't dumb enough to overlook the resounding clink as you were locked in heaven with the man you loved. 

The very man who finally loved you back.

Ko-fi

Masterlist

[sserpente]

A/N: Requests from @bi-readytobakepie-cry-and-die, @walkinoxymoron,  @mysticalflowerroadprune, @thenocturnalsyren  and two anons. I have an order here, chips with extra fluff? Anyone? You asked for fluff, you’re getting fluff—and the chips, too. 🍟

Words: 2975 Warnings: pure fluff, sleep paralysis

You spun around when your attacker lunged, acting surprised. He had you cornered, with no way to run—or so he thought. It was a devilish smirk that curled your lips upwards when he aimed to stab the thin air surrounding your illusion as it disappeared right before his eyes. He screamed, anger and frustration getting the better of him. It was his last mistake before you pierced his head with an arrow. You used a small crossbow attached to your right wrist to shoot your enemies, usually refrained from fighting up close. You were simply not the type. Besides, you hated the feeling of blood that was not your own on your skin.

You had been hunting these people all the way to New York now. Cleopatra would be truly proud of you. But those artefacts were not only of personal value for you and your heritage but also extremely dangerous which in the wrong hands could cause a lot of damage—and the most selfish part of you, so you knew, wanted to keep them all to yourself.

There was only one of them left now and quite apparently, you had received some unknown help. You were not the only one hunting the man who was quite likely aiming to have Assassin’s Creed come to life as he climbed over every rock and piece of debris he could find to get away. Although you were grateful for their aid, you couldn’t help but wonder what it was they wanted from him.

Stopping dead in your tracks when he came to a sudden halt, you moved behind a metal barrel and observed how a woman with ginger hair and a black suit fired three shots. Not a single one missed its target. Dead. The spook was finally over. Now all you still needed was that contract hidden in one of his pockets.

“Hey, there’s another one!” The mechanical voice was coming from above you when you emerged from your hiding spot and attempted to approach the corpse. Looking up to find a man wearing a red and gold suit, you barely had the time to spin back around when another man on their team—short hair, with a bow and arrow as his weapon of choice—unceremoniously aimed at you.

“No, stop!” Your eyes widened, reflexes kicking in. You felt the familiar tingling in your body whenever you teleported, leaving an illusion behind and letting the archer’s arrow hurtling through the empty spot you had stood in less than a second ago. Rude… “I believe we are on the same side.” They jumped when you reappeared behind them.

-

You struggled to remember their names, purpose and story. The woman with the red hair was called Natasha Romanoff, Black Widow for short. Former assassin, she now worked with this secret organisation called SHIELD. There was Tony Stark—billionaire and Iron Man and Steve Rogers aka Captain America who spent seventy years frozen in the sea. The man who had almost killed you had you not been supernaturally gifted was called Clint Barton and sometimes Hawkeye. You were familiar with Thor of course. How could you not be? You had grown up reading about gods and goddesses… being one yourself.

“The question is… who are you?” Tony Stark had removed his suit by now and revealed an average-sized man.

“My name is (Y/N)—not a fancy superhero name, I know.”

“And you practice magic,” Thor tossed in with crossed arms.

“Magic? No. I cast illusions. My father was human, like most of you. My mother on the other end… are you familiar with the tale of Persephone and Hades?”

Tony Stark raised an eyebrow. “You’re telling me you’re a Greek goddess?”

“Half-goddess. I prefer the term hybrid.” You usually wore contacts to hide your true eye colour. It was much more saturated than others.

Alarmed, you turned when someone else entered the room. They had taken your crossbow from you just to be sure but to be fair, you could bring it back into your possession in the twinkling of an eye.

“Where have you been, Reindeer Games? We could have needed you out there.”

“Urgent matters.” A smooth, mysterious and dark voice stated simply—mockingly almost. While you sincerely doubted that his name really was Reindeer Games, for some peculiar reason you were dying to learn who he was. Raven hair, blue eyes and those sharp cheekbones… his clothing looked Asgardian, too. He was definitely not human. Neither were you, depending on how you looked at it.

Electricity rippled through you when your eyes met. The strange Asgardian made no move, whatsoever though, to introduce himself.

“You will be…?” You asked with a polite smile.

Natasha frowned suspiciously. “He is…”

“Loki,” he interrupted her hurriedly, dashing you a smile as he did. “Thor’s brother, I am afraid to say.” You laughed when the God of Thunder shot him a playfully hurt glance.

“Well, it is a pleasure to meet you, Loki.”

“She lived on the moon, didn’t she?” Clint murmured.

Tony pursed his lips. “Where did you come from?”

“Egypt. I spent the last six years in Egypt.”

“Right… and what is a Greek goddess doing in Egypt?”

“Half-goddess—and I told I don’t like being called that. I was working with archaeologists and securing sacred artefacts. You know… objects like the box of Pandora.” You winked at him.

The Avengers, so they called themselves, exchanged puzzled looks—almost as if they were in on a secret you were yet to learn about.

“I see. You best stay away from… well. (Y/N), Loki is…” Clint started.

“…determined to show you around.” The God of Mischief interrupted him sharply, directing all of his attention to you. “What is it you can do then?”

“I cast illusions.”

You smirked when his eyebrows rose in an impressed manner and he offered you his arm to make you decide in that moment that you liked him.

-

By now, around three months had passed since you more or less joined the Avengers. They had helped you return the artefacts to Egypt and Loki… Loki and you had found yourselves spending a lot of time together and getting to know one another. He was wonderful. Intelligent, witty, mischievous and thoughtful and even quite introverted when it came to talking about his inner thoughts and feelings. There was something he was not telling you though—something that Thor too was making the Avengers keep silent about.

Whatever it was… perhaps one day, he would be ready to tell you. You were not going to pressure him into anything. You had your own skeletons in your closet—which was why you were beginning to fall in love with him—and the reason your heart almost leaped out of your chest when Steve and Thor returned without him from one of their latest missions which had entailed the words venom, dwarves and drinking water.

You had been against them wandering off on their own and without any backup, especially if something otherworldly was involved. Thor was quite megalomaniac, so you had figured. His ‘that’s what heroes do’ attitude made you want to slap him every now and then. Loki never considered himself as a hero and for some peculiar reason the Avengers never bothered to treat him as such either.

“Where is Loki?!”

They were bruised, injured and covered in blood. You did not even want to imagine what they must have dealt with. The book you had been reading flew over the sofa as you hurried to confront them.

Thor shook his head. He was still out of breath.

“We don’t know,” Steve answered you instead. “He disappeared shortly before the explosion. He might still have been in the building.”

“The explosion?!” You shrieked. “Well, why didn’t you look for him?”

“The dwarves were still there.” Dwarves. If only they were harmless. They certainly looked the part—right until they tried to scratch your eyes out with their tiny and venomous claws.

“Okay, you two, into my lab. Bruce just got back from England concerning the venom, (Y/N), you calm down. Loki goes to ground all the time.”

“Why are you all acting like he does not matter? What is wrong with you, Stark?”

“What’s wrong? He is a fucking crim—“

“Stark!” Thor roared. Indignantly, you shook your head as they hurried out of the room. “Don’t worry too much about him, (Y/N)!” You heard him yell to you. “You don’t know Loki like I do!”

This was starting to get ridiculous. But you had no time to ponder over this—you were way too worried for him, right until something crashed into the living room and broke the glass table in front of the sofa. No, not something. Someone.

“Loki!” Thank the stars. He must have teleported himself out of there. He was covered in dirt and dust, a laceration on his forehead. His blue eyes met yours for only a brief second before the adrenaline in his body died down and he fell unconscious.

The venom. Loki was an Asgardian god. If the dwarves’ venom affected him so strongly… he was sweating, too. With all your strength, you heaved him on the sofa and slid a cushion under his head. None of the other Avengers would be back anytime soon anyway.

You left for only a brief moment, returning with a wet cloth to cool his skin and clean his wound. There was nothing else you could do for him except for watching over him to make sure he healed.

“Loki… get well soon, my king.” He had told you about his desire to claim the throne, to be the first choice for once. He certainly was your king. “Get well soon so I can kiss you.”

Smiling, you gripped his hand tighter, leaning against the sofa. You had always slept like this back in Egypt. You had worked with a young archaeologist only a few years younger than yourself. Your sleep paralysis—something you had not even told Loki about just yet made it hard to restfully slumber at night. She on the other hand had had nyctophobia—fear of the dark. It had been hard to leave her behind, knowing she had become something like a sister. Since then, sleep had rarely come to you… until you had met Loki and now knew you could always spend the entire night talking to him instead.

Holding his hand now and feeling his warmth and his presence filled you with joy. Before you even knew it, you had fallen asleep next to him, kneeling on the ground. Unbeknownst to you, however, the God of Mischief had still been awake the entire time and heard every single word you had said. Kiss me? He thought—the last one before he slid back into unconsciousness.

When he woke again, you were still there, holding his hand. He smiled. It was nice, knowing that somebody cared for him. It made the pain the venom caused as it cursed through his veins a lot more bearable. Tomorrow, he figured, he would be over the worst. And then his smile suddenly disappeared. She only cares for you because she doesn’t know what you’ve done, a scornful voice in his mind whispered.

Loki clenched his fists. He rolled his eyes when he discovered Thor sneakily peeking into the room.

“What happened?” He croaked. It was an unnecessary question, really. He knew what had happened. He was just too weak to nag ‘What do you want’.

“She fell asleep over three hours ago, Loki. I tried to wake her but she refuses to leave your side.”

Loki looked him directly in the eye, his heart skipping a beat. She refuses to leave your side. “Why have you been so keen on keeping a secret from her what I did in New York?” He asked, taking his chance now that they were alone. For once, there was honest curiosity in his voice.

Thor hesitated. Then, he shrugged. “Because you were.” It was all he replied. He understood then. Just this one time, his brainless brother understood why it was so important to him to keep from you what had made him, in the Avengers’ eyes, a villain. He just wondered for how much longer he could keep up the act.

With a gentle smile, Thor turned to leave the room. “I knew you would make it out.” He added before he disappeared. Loki rolled his eyes yet again, albeit amused.

Perhaps it was wrong. He would never find peace living in constant fear that you would find out on your own and hate him like all the other Avengers did. He took a deep breath when you opened your eyes—and for the first time in a long while, he was at loss for words. What should he first say to you? Should he thank you? Ask if you had had pleasant dreams?

“Good morning, my dear.” He eventually opted; to his utter shock, however, your eyes widened. You did not move, not a single inch and yet, your eyes proved you were awake. Did you already know? Had he scared you somehow, or done something in his half-unconscious state?

-

Anytime now they would appear—those pitch black monsters with the long claws and the terrifying red glowing eyes. You had seen them in a film as a child and ever since then, they had become the personification of your fear. Rejection, repulsion, hatred, loneliness… they all meant to grab you. Falling asleep, you had been holding Loki’s hand, so why had your sleep paralysis returned?

The sorrow, you answered yourself. You were worrying for Loki when you fell asleep. Was he still here with you, on the sofa? You could not see him. Instead, over the backrest, crawled the first monster. It stared at you darkly, making your eyes widen in fear and then, out of the blue, another one reached for you from behind, beginning to shake you. Shake you? That was new. They usually never managed to actually touch you, you always brought yourself to wake up in time.

“(Y/N)! (Y/N), are you alright?” Loki. Blinking frantically, you fought hard to move your limbs, to tense and relax your muscles repeatedly to fully wake up. When you finally did, you were met with a very concerned Loki. “What is happening to you? You started screaming at me.”

“I did? I’m sorry…” One deep breath, then two, then three. “I was… nightmare. Never mind. Are you feeling better?”

“A nightmare? That did not look like a simple nightmare.” Loki knew what nightmares looked like. He had them all the time, after all.

“Maybe not. But I don’t want to burden you with that. You seem to be having your own problems.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” He spat, sitting up and putting his feet on the ground fast.

“Loki, there is obviously something you are trying to keep a secret from me.”

“So you mistrust me?” He responded with a quiet voice.

“I don’t mistrust you,” you insisted, cupping his cheek. “I just feel like there is something you are not ready to tell me about yet and until then… it would be unfair to rant about my problems instead.”

Loki looked up. Regret was sparkling in his blue eyes—regret along with remorse. You do not even deserve her, the voice whispered.

“I am a criminal.” He suddenly said, the word murderer not quite leaving his lips.

“What? What are you saying?”

“A little over five years ago, I invaded this planet in an attempt to rule it. I was blinded by a promise which could never be held and betrayed not only Thor but also myself.”

“You did… what?” Your lips parted. I invaded this planet.

“It matters not. Thanos is dead now.”

“Thanos? Thanos made you do this?”

“No,” he snapped. “The sceptre, it… I killed many innocent people, (Y/N). It was only a small price to pay for the recognition I sought.” He looked you dead in the eye. “I regret making these sacrifices but at the same time… I do not.” He was torn. You could feel it burning in his stunning eyes.

“Why did you never tell me that?”

Loki scoffed scornfully. “I assumed you would despise me like everyone else if you knew. I took lives, (Y/N). I took lives for my own gain. I am not a hero, I never will be.” And he did not want to be, so you figured. You did not despise him. Quite on the contrary… you were only falling for him more and more. The pain that Thanos had inflicted on him still sat deep. He blamed himself, assuming it was no one else but him who deserved to be called evil and a villain.

Actions might comfort him more than your words could now. So you leaned in, placing your palms on his thighs for balance and tenderly pressed your lips against his. If anything, the God of Mischief was taken aback, still, the moment you joined for a hesitant kiss, his eyes fell shut. With a sigh, he cupped your face and pulled you closer, his tongue asking for entrance almost timidly. For now, explaining to him what sleep paralysis was and how it tormented you at night could wait.

“I don’t hate you,” you breathed out once you parted again, desperate for oxygen. Your lips were swollen—his were too, a little. “I think I am falling for you, Loki Odinson.”

His expression was hopeful, vulnerable even—so unlike his usual cool and confident demeanour. His smile, honest and raw, was contagious.

“I heard you,” he admitted. “I heard you promising to kiss me once I woke up.”

Biting back a joyful laugh, you kissed him once more.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story I would appreciate it so much if you supported me on Kofi! ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[hshq-scotlandyard]

THE RESULTS

THE OFFICIAL STANCE OF THE POLICE !

Prince Arthur II denied ever entering his father’s office on the day of the incident. He had, instead, commanded a few of his personal staff to aid him in gathering his personal belongings in other areas of Buckingham Palace. The guards at the Palace and stationed to watch over his father admitted to never having seen Prince Arthur II come within the vicinity of the office prior to the discovery of the body, other than when he clearly passed by the end of the hall, headed to his own room. HRH Catherine of Scotland heard the sound of Arthur I falling to the ground, as she was using the bathroom in the same area, and promptly headed to the office to investigate the noise. By the time she arrived, Arthur I was already deceased. HRH Catherine of Scotland promptly alerted the authorities.

Detectives believe that the assailant was an extremist who wished for the monarchy to be abolished, having found multiple online groups that were stoked to action by the recent clashes between Scottish/English forces. Authorities are currently assuming the former. The current unrest and chaos within London has made it difficult to locate the assailant, who escaped just before HRH Catherine of Scotland entered the scene. 

English authorities are trying to organise and ask for any help finding the regent’s murderer.

THE CULPRIT !

Prince Arthur de Iturbide II of Mexico murdered Arthur Windsor I.

Congratulations to the ones who guessed the murderer! And thank you everyone for playing! This was mega fun

He may have escaped the law… this time.

THE MOTIVATION !

Prince Arthur II has been planning his father’s murder since Princess Natalia was named heir to the throne. 

At first, it had been motivated by blind rage; then, it increasingly seemed more logical to do so. Prince Arthur II had been hard at work ensuring that the English nobility did not question the royal family, even after his sister had been named the new heir. He had also been the perpetrator of the Parliament explosion in 2020, though there were no casualties. The attack was a warning, and one that was inspired by his father’s actions against the Dutch. But it did not seem enough. Unrest raged on, and Prince Arthur II believed that his father would continue to undermine his political efforts and destabilise the country ever further should he be allowed to come close to any sort of power. Prince Arthur believed that his father had become the cancer of the nation, and his siblings unable to stop the spread of his influence. All other international parties were either resentful of England or too loyal to the old (ex-) monarch to offer aid and be rid of the despot entirely.

THE CRIME !

Enabling the Scottish and nationalist English factions to cause further chaos in England was the first step. By then, England was already at the breaking point. They needed someone to blame, and it was so convenient to paint Arthur I, the tyrant. He was most already high by the time his father’s conviction was announced, confident of what the outcome would be – not because he manipulated it, but because the sociopolitical conditions of the country might as well have dictated it. 

The second condition was the party. Though Arthur II had no hand in planning it; it was just convenient that it was at Buckingham Palace. It was also convenient that his father chose that same night to take part in the celebrations. Arthur II took this as a sign.

The anger and mortification he conveyed to others was only half true. It constructed the lie that he wanted to retire to his private quarters at just the right time, especially when his father had taken his leave. He instructed his personal staff to gather the rest of his belongings elsewhere: books, memorabilia, and the like, particularly in the library. He obtained a silencer from his private security detail, but needed to find the concealed weapon – unregistered, and received it as a gift from his less pristine connections – in his private quarters. His room also had a secret entrance into the hidden passages within the Palace, and he knew these well, having explored them at length as a child. He traversed them, hearing the guard, George Abbott, watching something on his phone through the wall as he passed by the area that would have been the waiting room beside the study. He waited until his father was alone in his office, and entered promptly. He shot the man first on his back, hitting his chest. Arthur I fell and hit his nose on the table’s edge, breaking it. The elder Arthur attempted to get away and alert authorities, especially upon seeing his son, and Arthur II coldly interrupted: “I hope you’re proud of me now, dad.” before firing a single bullet between his father’s eyes. He did not need to come close to his father and allow his shoes to be stained by his father’s blood – he had been hunting with Catherine since they were old enough to be allowed to hunt together, and they were both excellent (and competitive) shots.

Disgusted by the sight of his father and still somewhat tipsy, he removed the ring from his finger – which he almost never takes off – and allowed it to fall to the ground, not noticing that his father still had his. 

The office has two hidden doors: one that’s an exit to the passage (behind the trophy cabinet) and one that’s an entry point on the opposite side of the room. If Arthur II had returned to the hidden passages, he would have created a mark on the blood spatter on the wall, as well as stepped over the body. This would not do. Knowing that the guard was distracted, he opened the door carefully and slipped out. By the time the guard returned to his post, having finished smoking by the window in the waiting room beside the study, he didn’t know any better. Arthur II rounded the corner just as he was spotted by the maid, Alicia Greene. Her irrelevance to his current concerns caused him to forget they even interacted.

It was a fortuitous moment later, after Arthur II’s subsequent exit, that Catherine heard the noise. The ring was beside Arthur I’s body, and noticing the same ring on the deceased, she recognised it immediately as her childhood partner-in-crime. She picked it up, and the events continued as we know it at present.

RED HERRINGS AND VITAL CLUES !

Madelyn Desjardins

While Madelyn and her beau had a jealous reason to be rid of Arthur I (may he rest in pieces), they were also commoners. Killing a monarch would have been a sure death sentence without the right connections and without prior extensive planning.

Nicole and Natalia de Marquis (and Ennio Este? Arnauld D’Orléans?)

This has to be the most convincing one. We were setting it up the entire time and you got jebaited ! They are all innocent of (this particular) crime. Other crimes, though? Who knows

The Palace staff

Alicia Greene straight up lied. She watched Arthur II and Natalia grow up, after all, and still sees them as kids. She doesn’t know what exactly happened or who killed Arthur I, but she’ll do anything to protect her kids. George Abbott has worked at the Palace for three years, but in those three years, the Palace has seen its fair share of chaos and scheming that he’s learned to steer clear of the study, and Ian Ford probably didn’t give a damn, being loyal to Antonia. The cook and the gardener were innocent and corroborated these claims.

The Windsor siblings

While we were all alluding to killing off dear old dad, none of them are actually murderers

Apart from Arthur II : D

The Dutch?!

I wish

The cufflinks

These were Arthur I’s, which he took off for himself in frustration while he was calling his lawyers. The list of his clothing did not include them.

The wine

Madelyn drank some before leaving the scene. No scuffle ensued here, but Arthur I was struggling to uncork it, which would explain the opener.

The notepad and the laptop

Because the laptop has the most incriminating piece of evidence, we decided to save the best for last. To solve the password, you had to have access to the notes. Old people have a tendency to just write down their passwords, so we placed it there for good measure.