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[flowerandblood]

The Price of Pride (13/?)

[ canon • Aemond x Royce • female ]

[ warnings: sex content, unprotected sex, targcest stuff, smut, the angst, sexual tension, imprisonment, abuse of power ]

[ description: Prince Aemond finds a solution to the disproportion in the number of dragons between Dragonstone and King's Landing: he decides to find dragon blood and, like his half-sister, train dragon riders. He takes as his target the daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Rhea Royce, whom he abducts and imprisons in the Red Keep. Slow burn, darkish, insolent, arrogant Aemond. I have combined several requests here: (dragon blood female & prisoner female). ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

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They were betrothed.

He never thought that marriage would be something in his life that he would look forward to with contentment – he knew that his destiny would be to wed the daughter of some pathetic lord who wanted a bite of the cake that was the Crown and the Iron Throne.

He couldn't imagine himself in the role of a husband: a man courting the heart and love of his wife, falling asleep and waking at the side of some foreign woman who would suddenly invade his space.

He thought then with relief that indeed, in their wisdom, the measters had acted properly for centuries, giving spouses separate chambers so that they could live apart from each other in peace, except for their duties of bringing their inheritance into the world.

And then he abducted his cousin.

He enjoyed observing her from the distance as she practised archery – in the breaks between sparring with Ser Criston, he watched as she stood sideways to a target in front of her and with a calm, gentle expression on her face, pulled the string to her soft cheek, suddenly letting go, her arrow hitting the center of the target straight on.

He realised that he didn't feel the need to run away from her, as he did with Floris, because she never invaded his personal space – she never tried to follow him, she never begged for his attention, his word or his gaze – she simply existed and graciously allowed him to wander around her, which for him was a refreshing sensation.

He longed to know her, longed to be close to her, but on his own terms – the fact that he decided for himself when he approached her, when they spoke to each other, when they lied in bed together, gave him an surprising sense of freedom and lightness.

Another man might have taken her approach as indifference, but he knew it was otherwise – he could feel it in her fingers clenching on his bare, sweaty skin as he pounded into her with low grunts of pleasure, hear it in her sweet, helpless moans, see it in the hot, warm gaze of her doe eyes.

She spared him no tenderness when they were alone – on the contrary, she was sweet and smiling, beautiful in her wonderful nudity, making neither of them ashamed of their negligee or their desires anymore.

"What is it?" He asked, looking intrigued at the jug with which she had walked into his chamber, wearing nothing but her nightgown and a light blue robe thrown over her shoulders, smiling from ear to ear.

She lifted her chin high, as if proud of herself, a joyful contentment in her dark eyes from which he felt a pleasant warmth in his chest.

For some reason, she was never afraid of him or his cool demeanour, of what he would think of her or how he would react.

His little dragon.

He sighed and twisted in his place, putting the book he had prepared for her aside, lying on his bed in only his breeches, used to the fact that they both no longer even pretended that she was coming to him for anything other than to spend the night with him.

True, he still taught her, but usually only after they had satisfied their desires, lying in each other's arms, reading together short stories written in Old Valyrian.

He looked at her calmly as she approached his bed and reached for one of the metal cups, pouring into it a pleasantly scented, steaming liquid that had a light, brown colour.

"When I was a child I often had trouble falling asleep. My nanny would then bring me warm milk mixed with honey and ground grains brought from distant Essos. I tried to prepare it the way she did and recreate that taste." She said and took her first sip.

She smiled and licked her full, pink lips that gave him the sweetest kisses every night, her face expressing a kind of melancholy.

"I want you to taste it. It's delicious, it's sweet, it's warm, it soothes the nerves and doesn't dull you, unlike the poppy milk you drink." She said softly, handing him the cup.

He took it from her hesitantly and sniffed the contents first, wondering if she might have added poison to the contents – however, he decided that after all, she had tasted it herself first, and the drink did indeed smell good.

He took a tentative sip and swallowed, feeling the smooth taste of milk, honey and something else that melted pleasantly over his tongue combine into a wonderfully delicious whole.

He blinked, thinking he felt like drinking even more.

"These are very expensive cocoa seeds. I found out you have them in the Red Keep, the cooks sometimes add them to cakes. I ground them by hand for you. Do you like it?" She asked uncertainly, as if some part of her feared he would be disappointed and not share her enthusiasm.

"It's delicious. Very tasty indeed." He confessed, handing her the cup, and she smiled happily in the way he loved, her eyes shining warmly as she took another sip, handing the vessel back to him.

"I'm glad to hear it. If you want, I can prepare it for us for a good night's sleep. There are no side effects." She said lightly, and he hummed under his breath, taking another sip, deeper this time, and licked his lips, feeling the wonderful taste of the liquid spill over his palate, a pleasant warmth in his stomach.

"Come here." He hummed, putting his arm around her, and in some natural reflex she clung to him, cuddling her face into his cheek.

"We must decide who will lead you down the aisle." He said calmly, running his free hand down her back, the other hand passing her the cup.

She looked at him surprised and blinked.

"Isn't it obvious? My cousin, Lord Royce. He was like a father to me." She muttered, surprised by the question, swallowing a deep gulp of the liquid, passing the cup into his hand.

He looked away and swallowed hard, feeling a tightness in his throat.

"It's impossible, hāedar." He said coolly, drinking the contents of the vessel to the end – he felt her place her hand on his chest, looking at him in disbelief.

"Why? He despises Daemon after what he did to my mother." She said in pain.

He licked his lips and set the cup down on the table next to his bed, feeling his heart pounding like mad.

"He remains a vassal of House Arryn. He is the head of House Royce, which rules Runstone, and that means he won't be able to attend our nuptials. Even if he had received an invitation, he will not arrive." He said, finally looking into her eyes, meeting her horrified gaze full of pain and disbelief.

"He will arrive. Of course he'll arrive, it's my wedding." She muttered in a breaking voice, clasping her hands on his shoulders, stroking them as if to convince him and herself.

"This would mean opposing Lady Arryn's allies. Daemon is in Harrenhal and will burn them once he learns of their treachery. I am sorry, zaldrītsos." He whispered, and she rose from her seat and moved towards the door, startling him completely.

"Hāedar. Hāedar, come back here." He said, standing up behind her, grabbing her arm and turning her around before she could open the door.

"I don't need anyone. I'll walk down the aisle myself." She said coldly, not looking him in the eye, trying to pull away from him – he put his arm around her waist and her body slammed against his, her breath caught in her throat.

She pressed her lips together, her eyes red from the tears she refused to let flow.

"I understand your grief. My grandfather is on his way to King's Landing at my command. He will become my Hand. If you will allow me, I would like him to accompany you on this journey." He muttered, pressing his nose against her warm, soft cheek.

Don't go, he thought.

"He's a stranger to me. I don't want him or anyone else." She growled with rage, finally closing her eyes and bursting into an angry, mournful sob.

"Since he is my grandfather, he is also yours. Our father is dead. Our brother lies in bed, unable to rise. It must be him, hāedar." He whispered, stroking her cheek with his thumb, wanting her to finally understand that there was no longer such a thing as her family and his family.

Now there was only their family.

She swallowed hard, looking up at him in shock, her lips parted wide as if it took her a moment to realise what he was trying to tell her.

"Do you understand what I mean, zaldrītsos?" He asked, stroking her chin with his knuckles, and she nodded, snuggling into his chest like a small child.

He exhaled quietly, feeling relieved, enclosing her in the tight embrace of his arms, placing warm, loud kiss on the top of her head.

"– that's my girl – come here –" He hummed and caught her under her hips, lifting her up – her legs crossed over his back, her arms thrown around his neck as he carried her to his bed and lay down with her.

"– I – I'd rather not –" She mumbled in a breaking voice and he kissed her forehead, understanding what she wanted to say to him.

What she needed now was comfort, the tender embrace and safety of his arms, not for him to fuck her.

Though he would never say it out loud, he understood it better than anyone.

"– shhh – sleep – I won't take you, sweet girl –" He whispered into her ear, combing his fingers through her soft, dark hair – she snuggled tighter into his body at his words, her lungs leaving a quiet, sweet sigh.

They fell asleep in each other's arms with their legs intertwined, their faces sunk into each other's bodies in an embrace that was strangely tender and natural, as if they had spent their nights like this not for months but for years.

He dreamt he was a child – he was lying in his chamber the night he tamed Vhagar, howling in pain, feeling his freshly sewn eyelid stripped of its eyeball pulsate, all swollen, tears of horror, grief and sadness rolling down his face.

Where was his little sister?

Why was she not with him?

Why was he alone?

"Hāedar," he seemed to call out in a weak, squeaky, childish voice towards the door, "hāedar, I am scared."

"Lēkia."

He shuddered and pulled himself up on his bed, sitting up, panting loudly as if he had made some great physical effort, cold sweat on his back, his cheeks hot with tears. He glanced sideways, only after a moment realising that someone's hand was stroking his arm – he looked at her sleepy, sweet face, her pleasant, fresh scent filling his nostrils.

"Why weren't you by my side then?" He muttered, feeling himself quivering all over, picking at the cuticles around his fingernails exactly as his mother always did.

He couldn't remember why she hadn't come to him then.

He couldn't remember her face when she was a child.

Their moments together.

Why?

His not fully awake mind could not comprehend it, a heavy grief filled his heart.

She blinked and shook her head, wrinkling her eyebrows, clearly not understanding what he was referring to.

"What do you mean? When?" She asked, her gentle fingers cupping his cheek, her thumb stroking his wet skin seeing that he was crying.

"That night. When I lost my eye. Where were you?" He mumbled, looking at her reproachfully, and she swallowed hard, her brow arched in pain, her dark eyes big with sadness and affection.

"I was very far away from you then, brother, living alone in Runestone." She whispered, and he froze, suddenly remembering who she was, feeling ashamed.

He turned his head away and swallowed hard, laying on his side with his back to her, hugging his face to the pillow, wishing he could sink into the ground, make her simply forget this pathetic, childish outburst of hysteria on his part.

He felt her lay down behind him, a pleasant shiver ran along his spine as her fingers began to run up and down his arm.

"How old were you then?" She asked quietly, nuzzling her face into his hair, her breasts, her legs and womb snuggled into his back as her hands embraced his waist.

His palm involuntarily lowered to hers, his fingers running over her pleasantly smooth, soft skin.

"Nine. Maybe ten. I can't remember anymore." He muttered, and she swallowed hard – one of her hands entwined her fingers with his, the other rose up, stroking his chest, circling around the area beneath which his heart lay.

"Gods, that must have been so painful." She whispered, and he hummed under his breath.

"Mmm. This was the price the gods set for me for Vhagar." He said, and she twisted in her place, rising slightly, looking up at him over his shoulder, her warm breath enveloping his cheek.

"What do you mean?" She asked, and he sighed.

He'd never discussed this with anyone.

Not like this.

"They teased me, you know. Luke. Jace. Aegon. Because I was different. Because I didn't have my dragon. They gave me a big pig with wings and mocked me. They tried to stop me that night too. But they failed." He whispered, feeling a squeeze in his throat, his heart pounding like mad while his thumb stroked her hand.

She was silent for a long moment, but he could hear her uneven breathing, as if she was shocked by what she had heard.

Don't take pity on me, he thought.

Don't give me advice.

Don't try to be my mother.

"Did your brother ever apologise to you for it?" She asked quietly, and he burst into a sudden, short, low uncontrollable laughter.

"Aegon? A king would apologise to his faithful hound? That's what he called me. The hound that barks when he fucks his whore." He sneered and licked his lower lip feeling her embrace him tighter, her nose pressed into the soft skin of his cheek, making him close his eyes, delighted by her closeness and tenderness.

"Does it reflect badly on me that I now regret that your brother did not die in the dragon fire?" She whispered in his ear and he opened his eyes and sighed, his lips parted slightly in a grin of satisfaction.

"No, zaldrītsos. Your soul is pure. Filled with concern for your elder brother." He murmured with contentment, raising their entwined hands to his lips, placing a warm, long kiss on her skin.

She was on his side.

His little sister.

He felt the need to put his feelings into words, but was unable to get them out. Instead, he turned towards her and looked at her – her gaze was warm, full of understanding and care he so desperately needed.

He twisted with a soft purr on the bed and slid his arm under her body, embracing her at the waist, his other hand lifting to her warm, silken cheek. He smiled with the corner of his mouth when he saw her close her eyes, her long lashes glistening in the moonlight as she snuggled her face into his palm.

"Just a few more days, sweet girl. A few more days and everything will be as it should be. I have ordered a larger bed to be placed in my chamber so that my wife will spend all the nights of her life in comfort." He said lightly – she giggled and leaned in, placing a tender, gentle kiss on the tip of his nose from which he felt a pleasant warmth in his chest.

"All of them? Be careful what you wish for, brother. Desires sometimes come true." She said with a glint in her eye from which he grabbed her and turned her with him, forcing her to lie on her back, his lips finding hers in a loud, sticky, greedy kiss of their fleshy lips.

They just kissed lazily for a while, the rustling of their bedding and the quiet clicks of their saliva spreading around them like a whisper, their hands trailing tentatively over their faces, hair, necks and shoulders in gestures that were filled more with tenderness than desire.

He lay down beside her and sighed heavily, embracing her tightly, and her body clung to his instantly, her face sunk into his chest.

"Sleep."

He knew that not everyone in the keep was pleased with his independent decision regarding his betrothal. His mother accepted it, expressing neither objection nor her blessing, while her brother, and his uncle, was more harsh in his judgement.

"You need allies and a fleet, nephew, not a mistress." He told him when they were left alone, approaching him after the finished military meeting he and Criston Cole had chaired.

He looked away and licked his lower lip, then chuckled under his breath as he looked down at his fingers.

"My mistress is Daemon Targaryen's daughter and brings a dragon as a dowry for our army, which means more to us than an unstable pact with the Greyjoys. Meleys has fallen, as has her rider. Daemon is in Harrenhal. Rhaenyra is alone, and Sheepstealer is bigger than Syrax." He said calmly, and his uncle sighed heavily.

"It has come to our attention that three of the bastards have managed to ride dragons great and mighty. Capable of facing Vhagar." Said Gwayne, and he looked at him surprised, feeling his lip clench in rage.

Three?

"Perhaps you should take more than one wife then, like Aegon the Conqueror. Apparently a young girl called Nettles is regarded by Daemon as his daughter, though some whisper that not even the Targaryens would put their cock in their child. And so, opinions are divided on their relationship. Apparently it was because of her that Rhaenyra sent him back to Harrenhal." Said his uncle.

He closed his eyes and bowed his head, burying his face in his hand.

The news that their advantage in the sky was melting again made him furious, but it was the vision of his betrothed if she found out that Daemon had taken a young girl into his care that filled him with dread.

Was she capable of enduring even more humiliation?

"Be careful with your words, uncle. I warn you not to try my patience and forbearance again. You may leave."

Indeed, Gwayne no longer broached the subject of their upcoming nuptials in his presence, however, to his fury, he dared to approach his sister in public.

He stopped, seeing their silhouettes facing each other in the courtyard, his uncle's body taking a step too far towards her. He moved in their direction – his hāedar caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, her calm smile meant to assure him that she was in control of the situation.

He, however, was furious.

"Hāedar. Skorion massitas (what happened)?" He asked coldly, looking at her expectantly and she threw him a soft, amused look.

He knew she could easily see how tense he was, and her attitude was meant to make him cool down and not explode.

"Aōha kēpus jaelagon naejot gīmigon lo nyke gryves aōha riña iemnȳ nyke (your uncle wants to know if I am carrying your child). Nyke udlitan zirȳla bona gaoman gīmigon daor (I answered him that I do not know)." She said without hesitation, and he closed his eyes and turned his head away, feeling his jaw clench in rage.

Who was he to ask her such brazen, intimate questions, reprimanding her in front of others, demanding answers from her as if she were his subject?

"Henujagon īlva, hāedar (leave us, little sister). Jikagon naejot ñuha tistālion (go to my chamber)." He said matter-of-factly, and she nodded and left them alone without a word.

When he looked at his uncle, Gwayne sighed and raised his eyebrows, as if to tell him that he was to blame himself.

"You're straining my patience." He said through clenched teeth.

His uncle rolled his eyes.

"The whole court knows about what you are doing. What was inappropriate about my question? It is merely my pure curiosity as to when the heir to the throne will come into the world." He said lightly, and he grinned in a way that made Gwayne freeze.

"You'd better concentrate on watching over your sister, and my mother. I don't want any more siblings, if you are aware of what I have in mind, much less from an illegitimate bed. I, as her son, will not rebuke her that the Dowager Queen cannot afford to fuck her own sworn protector. Mmm, I leave this matter to you." He hummed and turned away, leaving his uncle with a look of disbelief on his face.

As he walked into his chamber he felt the frustration of seeing that, despite his command, his betrothed was not there – he sighed, pouring himself a bit of wine into his goblet, thinking that perhaps she wanted to take a bath first, as was her custom.

He had no objection to her coming to him still wet and hot, smelling of floral oils, tasting of pure sweetness under his tongue.

However, after the hour he had spent on the book dedicated to the Riverlands and Harrenhal he had lost patience, knowing it had taken too long.

She had never defied his orders before, nor did she seem to be upset with him, so he began to worry that perhaps something had happened to her.

That was why he finally went out into the corridor and walked a few steps to her quarters, opening the door wide – he stopped, looking at her in disbelief when he saw that she was lying on her bed, staring blankly ahead, dressed exactly as before, a small piece of parchment lying next to her body.

A letter.

Who had delivered it to her without his knowledge?

"Hāedar." He said, hearing the guards close the door behind him with a loud clatter of wood.

She did not move or look at him, as if she had not noticed his presence.

He approached her slowly and reached for the rolled parchment, seeing only a few words on it.

Congratulations on your betrothal Kepa

Kepa.

Daemon.

He felt a wave of heat and cold pierce his body at the same time, the sweat on his back and the constriction in his heart testified to the panic rising within him, which immediately turned into rage.

"Where did you find this? Who brought it to you?" He growled, walking over to her, turning her onto her back and pressing her to the bed with his palms.

"Fucking speak. Shall I kill all your servants?" He hissed coldly, and she swallowed hard, looking up at him at last.

"Lysa told me that one of the guards instructed her to give it to me. According to him, it was supposed to be a letter from you, an expression of your affection." She whispered, and he pressed his lips into a thin line, feeling that he was not breathing, but panting with rage.

"Lie." He hissed, and she shook her head.

"No. I know Lysa. She described his appearance to me accurately, and I know he is the man who keeps watch over your chambers. He has heard everything, Aemond. He has passed on to him what you teach me, what we say. That word, kepa, is his mockery of me. He knows that it was not he who taught it to me, but that I know it and I understand what it means." She muttered, tears of pain, sadness and grief one after the other running down the sides of her face, her full lips parted in a ragged, drawn-out breath.

She was broken.

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes, burying his face in her hand, trying to calm himself.

That there were spies in the Red Keep was obvious, he thought, however, that after what had happened to Jaehaerys the fucking Lord Strong had, as assured, made sure they were all caught.

It appeared that rats were still prowling around them.

"Come here. Come. We'll go to my chamber. You will look at the guards and tell me if any of them fit the description. Don't tell anyone about the letter." He said, grabbing her in his arms and lifted her up, holding her under her buttocks. She threw her arms around his neck and nodded, and he took the parchment in his hand and headed off with her to his quarters.

His guards gave them uncertain glances as they opened the door to his room for him, but they did not say a word. When he laid her down in bed and looked at her he saw that she shook her head.

"It's none of them."

So we can sleep soundly, he thought and sighed heavily, undoing the buckles of his tunic.

For now.

He grabbed the dagger lying on the table and slipped it under one of the pillows, just in case.

"Undress." He commanded.

Let them hear it, he thought.

Daemon and all of Dragonstone.

Let them hear about what he is doing to his daughter.

She looked up at him and nodded, following his lead. When he finally pulled off his breeches and removed his shirt over his head, he saw the blush on her face, as if the sight of his bare body and the fact that he desired her surprised her.

For him it had become natural – his manhood reacted to her proximity and the sight of her without the participation of his will, pulsing greedily in the desire to unite with her.

She raised herself on her elbows as he knelt on the bed before her, his hands loosening the ribbon at the end of her long, complicated braid.

"Untie it." He said, and she smiled sweetly, sitting down in front of him – his hands slipped her nightgown off her shoulders as her hands reached back, curl by curl untangling her hair, letting it fall freely down her back.

Looking at her, at her slightly parted, swollen, glistening lips, at the hot, soft gaze of her dark eyes, at her long lashes, at her smooth face, at her bared body, her shapely breasts and puffy nipples, he thought she was graceful and sweet.

That she was beautiful.

He raised his hand slowly, admiring her like a nymph attending to her daily routine, his fingers stroking her silken, plump breasts in a lazy, soft motion.

"– I crave you – as you can see –" He gasped and rolled his hips so that his erect, hard manhood rubbed tentatively against the space between her thighs – they both sighed as they felt the material of her nightgown was damp, and when he lifted it up he saw the entirety of her pink, glistening womanhood, leaking from her wetness like a stream.

They were silent, tensions all around them, his gaze fixed on what was only his, letting his thumb run over her soft, fleshy folds.

"– ah –" She sighed as he began to lazily tease her small, sensitive bud, the source of her pleasure from where she was melting before his eyes.

"– will you resist me? – will you scream? –" He asked, rocking his hips back and forth, sinking the tip of the fat, smooth head of his cock into her tight slit again and again – her thighs spread wide apart in response, her hands on either side of her head, her gaze locked on the spot where their bodies met, watching what he was doing to her.

"– no, my King –" She whispered, and he looked at her, feeling a wonderful shiver run through him.

My King.

Her words were a betrayal, but a sweet one.

"– your words are punishable by death –" He gasped, feeling his breath grow heavier – they both sighed as he sunk deeper into her warm flesh, each time with the movement of his hips sliding out almost all the way, hitting the same sweet spot deep inside her again and again.

"– punish me then –" She muttered, panting hard, his eye grew large, the need to follow her desires unstoppable.

"– mmm – indeed, I don't want any harm to befall my sister for her words spoken in… ecstasy –" He exhaled, her head tilting back with a sob of pleasure as he forced his way deep into her slick, hot cunt with one, fierce push, each following thrust just a loud smacking of their hips against each other.

"– ah – g-gods, oh, fuck, fuck, yes, save me –" She whimpered, throwing her hands over his shoulders as he leaned lower, imposing an aggressive, sharp pace on her, pounding into her like there was no tomorrow with the loud clicks of her wetness, crushing her body to the bed, which began to creak loudly beneath them.

He looked down, watching in awe as he opened her little cunt wide on the thickest part of his swollen erection, feeling the way her warm, throbbing muscles enclosed it greedily, sucking it inside, begging for his seed.

"– confess your guilt – confess your sin to your betrothed –" He breathed out, grasping her buttocks in his hands, shifting positions so that he lifted himself up on his knees, groaning in pleasure along with her as he felt her from a different angle, savouring the wonderful, ravenous squeezes her walls were giving him.

She looked up at him with effort, quivering and writhing beneath him, her lips parted wide in heavy breaths, her fingers clenched on the pillow under her head while their bare skin slammed against each other with sticky splats.

"– I'm not being faithful to King Aegon, but to his brother – ah – I'm letting him use my body in spite of – i-in spite of the fact that he's not my husband –" She mumbled out with difficulty, just as he being on the verge of fulfilment, sweat running down their hot, naked bodies, his cock all soaked from her wetness, engorged as if it was about to explode inside her.

"– these are indeed grave sins – do not fret – your brother will guide you – fill you with his seed so that you will be pure again – shhh, I know – I know –" He exhaled as she cried out loudly.

She came on his manhood so hard that tears ran down her cheeks – her cunt began to clench around it in spasms of her pleasure, her eyes closed, her eyebrows arched as if he had caused her pain.

He tilted his head back and sighed when, after a few sloppy, sticky, messy thrusts, he reached his peak deep inside her with a loud grunt of satisfaction, feeling strong, invincible, desired, loved.

"– lēkia –" She mewled, panting hard, and he lay down on top of her, hugging her close, her fingers quickly clenching on his back – he could feel her hard nipples, pressed against his bare chest, his cock and her walls pulsing for a moment longer in shared delight and relief.

"– protect me – protect me from him –" She mumbled out.

He swallowed hard and leaned in, placing a warm, tender kiss on the top of her head, his broad hand stroking her hair.

"I will take care of everything. Do not fret. Sleep now and rest." He hummed and she nodded, snuggling into him tighter.

He let her fall asleep in his safe embrace, he, however, looked ahead and thought hard about what he should do with this letter and the informations he had.

Should he kill his guard, or should he interrogate him, torture him to squeeze out of him who he was working with?

Would he be able to get through him to Daemon, to his weaknesses and desires?

Rhaenyra had more dragon riders.

Their advantage was melting once more.

He needed to retake Harrenhal from their hands as quickly as possible, to force the Vale and the rest of the Riverlands to kneel.

He only fell asleep in the morning from exhaustion, snuggled into her warm, soft body, her scent affecting him in the same calming way as the embrace of her arms.

He was awakened by her touch – he hummed, feeling her lazily stroking his hair, his face in natural reflex snuggled between her soft, warm breasts.

Every gentle movement of her fingers, her calm breath, the beating of her heart beneath his cheek was a completion of wholeness for him, something he shared only with her, a closeness that was nothing but a pure need.

They both flinched and pulled away from each other when suddenly the door to his chamber opened wide – he looked there and opened his mouth, furious, wanting to ask who had dared to step inside without permission, his voice, however, stuck in his throat when he caught sight of his grandfather's silhouette walking towards his bed.

Otto stopped halfway and sighed loudly, as if he was disappointed but not surprised – his hāedar quickly covered her breasts with the material of her nightgown, looking at him questioningly, not understanding why he remained silent.

"I was hoping, my grandson, that I would find you alone." His grandsire said serenely, raising one eyebrow in an expression of passive disapproval.

He licked his lower lip, glancing at her uncertainly, her eyes big with terror.

"Henujagon īlva, hāedar (leave us, little sister). Kesan māzigon naejot ao tistālion tolī (I will come to you room later)." He said calmly.

She nodded, quickly grabbing her leather tunic and breeches lying on the floor, stepping around his grandfather without a word, disappearing after a moment behind the door.

He sighed heavily and leaned his back against the bed frame, covering his hips with the fur, looking ahead with a dispassionate expression on his face.

He had done this on purpose.

Nothing his grandfather did was without meaning.

"I heard you wish to become a husband." He teased, putting his hands behind his back, calmly stepping closer to his bed.

"Have you come to dissuade me from that idea?" He asked, turning his head away, for some reason unable to look at him.

He felt humiliated because he saw him in a helpless position, his face cuddled between her breasts, her embrace that he so craved.

He saw his weakness.

"No." He said, surprising him completely. "I came to ask how you can be sure she's faithful to you and the Crown."

He snorted under his breath, grabbing a small rolled piece of parchment that lay on the table next to his bed and threw it in his direction.

Otto halted, and the expression on his face changed – his eyebrows straightened as if he was intrigued, but he did not reach for the note.

"Go on. Read it. She didn't hide it from me." He said defiantly, but his grandfather just looked at him, his gaze gentle.

"I don't need to. I know what it says."

He stared at him in disbelief, feeling his heart stop in his throat, the unpleasant tightness in his stomach making him run out of air in his lungs for a moment.

"Daemon never wrote to her." He muttered.

His grandfather hummed.

"I wanted to see how she would behave. To be honest, I'm positively surprised. I was certain she'd be hiding it for a while, terrified of what you'd do to her and her servants when you found out." Otto said lightly.

He pressed his lips together, feeling that inside he was boiling all over with rage.

"You bribed my guard to spy on me for you?" He hissed through clenched teeth, feeling like a small, deceived child again.

His grandsire laughed at his words.

"I didn't bribe him. I ordered him to watch over my grandson and keep me informed of what was happening in the keep in my absence. Did you think that I simply abandoned you? That I no longer cared about you?" He asked with furrowed brows, stepping closer to his bed.

He swallowed hard, looking away from his eyes, too piercing and wise, feeling like he was ten years old again.

He was silent.

"What happened to your brother. Did you have anything to do with it?" Otto asked finally.

He closed his eyes and shook his head, grinning broadly.

Of course he thought he had something to do with it.

"No. But I don't delude myself that you will believe me. My brother thought he knew everything better and didn't listen to the advice of those wiser than himself." He said lightly.

Otto hummed under his breath.

"Are you planning to follow in his footsteps?" He asked matter-of-factly.

He swallowed heavily, feeling his jaw clench as hard as if it was going to burst.

"I'm going to marry her. It's already decided."

"That's not what I mean."

"Then what do you mean?" He growled, looking at him angrily, impatient and embarrassed that he was having such a conversation with him while he was standing over him lying in his bed, bare.

"If you wish me to become your Hand, you must not make the mistakes of your brother. You must listen to the advice of people more mature and wiser than yourself." He said, and he felt the corner of his mouth twitch in a grimace.

"Listen to advices, yes – but do not think that I do not know you and your gift for manipulation." He said and turned his head away. "I know, however, how devoted you are to our family. Mmm, I wish you to be the one to reassure my betrothed – explain to her your intrigue and your reason for it. I expect you to take her father's place during our nuptials."

His grandfather was silent for a long time, looking at him thoughtfully.

"Yes." He said in a way from which he felt a cold sweat on his back. "I will gladly speak with her alone."

[whateveriwant]

could i request sumn real quick..

TF141 with a s/o who does archery, with those Japanese longbows (they’re called yumis, i think😭) ??

This was completely foreign to me so I hope I at least kinda did it justice 😭

Gaz

When you first told him about your hobby of choice, admittedly, he was unfamiliar with it

Archery as a whole was nothing new to him, but knowledge about your discipline in particular had entirely evaded him up until now

However, after learning more about it from you as well as researching on his own, he's now become your biggest cheerleader, literally and figuratively cheering you on from the sidelines

Whether you do it just for recreation or you do it for competition, he's always there to support you with 110% enthusiasm

He's like a proud dad whenever he gets to watch you in your element, always pulling out his phone to record you so he can show off to his mates later

Major cheeseball that he is, he's even gotten custom decals on his car to brag of your accomplishments, so that everyone can know about you and your unique skill

Soap

His interest was immediately piqued when you first brought up your incredibly specialized sport

You see, he used to do a little archery himself back in secondary school, and (not to brag) but he was actually pretty good at it

Of course, that confession gets your interest piqued, so you invite him to take some shots with your bow, which he readily accepts

He's positively preening as he nocks an arrow, confidence oozing from him as he takes aim… only to turn a shade of red just shy of tomato as he misses his shot by about 10 feet

He tries again and again, somehow getting worse with each shot, the frustration and embarrassment coming from him clearly palpable

Though you try to encourage him to keep going (after all, no one’s good at anything their first try), eventually, he timidly hands the bow back, saying he thinks he’s better off just leaving it to you

Price

He's a very physically active man himself, so learning that you're involved in a martial art was a major turn on for him

And him being in the military and thus heavily trained in all sorts of weaponry, the fact that it's a weapons-focused discipline was doubly appealing to him

From the first moment you brought your hobby up, he was practically begging to watch you shoot

It didn't matter if you had all the bells and whistles ready or not; hell, you could’ve been dressed in a flour sack aiming at tin cans in his backyard and he’d have still been over the moon

Wanting some privacy though, he took you to a range where you could show off your skills without distraction or disruption

And when he saw you take that first shot, hitting your target dead center, he would never tell you, but his pants got a little tighter after that

Ghost

While he finds what you do very intriguing, he wishes there was a more “real life” application to your sport

He knows how dismissive that might sound, but just think about it. In an emergency, are you going to whip out your two meter long bow to defend yourself? Exactly.

Ideally, he'd like to teach you how to use a gun. And you'll agree to let him… only if you can teach him how to use a bow

You might have some lighthearted bickering where he stubbornly insists that a gun is much more useful when it comes to personal protection

But well wouldn't you know it when one night he's awoken by the sound of someone trying to break into your flat, and what object should his fingers find in the dark? Yeah, I think you know

To you, your bow seemed like a perfectly good weapon when he used it to whack the would-be thief over the head…

Yeesh, now that earned you the side-eye of the century. But alright, he eventually conceded, maybe it does have its merits

[ltash]

Make a wish

You celebrated your birthday with Ghost and TaskForce and you wished for nothing but him.

"To love is nothing. To be loved is something. But to love and be loved, that’s everything."

After Captain Price and his team finished breakfast, you settled in the living room. You brought the tea trolley over and made them tea, handing a cup and saucer to everyone.

"Thank you, kid," Captain Price said as you served him.

You gave tea to Soap and Gaz too. "Ghost, you want tea?" you asked.

"Sure," he replied.

You handed him a cup as well. "Yer hoose is braw, and it's right lavish an aw." Soap admired.

"English Mctavish." Ghost facepalmed.

"I said your house is lavish and its nice." Soap explained.

"Thank you. My father built it. I'll give you a home tour once you guys finish your tea," you offered.

"She is a master in archery aye. She has horses too. She can shoot an arrow right at the aim while riding a horse," Ghost added.

"That is impressive, Nora," Gaz admired.

"Thanks. I will show you how I do it," you promised.

"Oh, I forgot," you said, suddenly remembering. "I did some shopping and the bags are still in the car. Let me fetch them."

As you made your way to your car, Ghost followed you. "The guns you bought, let me take them inside," he offered.

You opened the car doors and took out the bags while Ghost grabbed the gun cases. Together, you walked back inside.

You handed over the bags to each one of them. "Soap, this is for you. Kyle, that's one for you. This one's for Simon and Captain Price," you said, distributing the gifts.

"Thank you so much, lass," Soap said rummaging through the bag.

"Are ye pullin' ma leg? how much did ye spend on thae things?" He asked.

"Well! That is none of your business. Gifts don't come with a price tag." You folded your arms on your chest.

"Thanks, Nora, but you didn't have to put in so much effort," Kyle added, looking genuinely touched.

"Thanks, kid," Captain Price mentioned, nodding appreciatively.

"Don't mention it. I went shopping and thought, why not grab something for you guys?"

Ghost placed the gun cases down on the table. "She bought these too," he added.

Ghost opened the gun and sniper cases in front of everyone, revealing the impressive weapons inside.

"Whoa! A sniper! Are you kiddin' me?" Soap exclaimed, eyes wide with excitement. "Whit will ye dae wi' a sniper?"

"I like snipers, plus Ghost is here. He’ll teach me before he goes back. He taught me a couple of days ago," you explained with a grin.

"Wow! This is one o' the best snipers in the world," Soap said, admiring the sleek design. "Thank ye so much."

"Yeah, Ghost recommended it to me, so I got it," you said, glancing at Ghost.

Soap looked over at Ghost in disbelief. "Weel, LT himself disnae hae a sniper like this. It's much better than the ones he's got."

You smiled. "Well, now he has it."

Ghost shook his head. "No, I don't. And I don't want it anyway," he said quietly.

Soap chuckled. "Yer loss, LT. This is a beauty."

Ghost simply shrugged, the rare softness in his eyes replaced by his usual stoic expression.

"Why? It's a gift from me to you," you said, looking at Ghost.

"If you had mentioned it when you were buying it, I would have never let you get it in the first place," Ghost replied. "It's too expensive."

You shook your head. "Gifts don't come with a price tag. Captain Price, please make him understand."

"Take it, Ghost," Captain Price said, nodding.

"I can't, Price," Ghost insisted, shaking his head in disapproval.

"Okay, then throw it in the garbage, will you?" You snapped, shutting the sniper case with a bang. Your lower lip started quivering, and tears welled up in your eyes as you ran upstairs.

"You broke her heart, LT," Soap said, his voice filled with disappointment.

You closed the door and fell face-first onto the pillow, tears streaming down your face. It was so embarrassing and disappointing at the same time. Your sobs filled the room, muffled by the pillow.

A soft knock on the door interrupted your crying. "Open the door, love," Ghost said in a gentle tone.

For a moment, you hesitated, your emotions swirling inside you, but then you slowly got up and walked to the door.

You opened the door, still feeling annoyed and hurt. "What do you want?" You said, your voice tinged with frustration.

Ghost came inside and closed the door behind him. He walked over to your bed and sat down, he pat his thigh and opened his arms for you gesturing for you to come sit on his lap.

For a moment, you stood there, conflicted, but then you slowly walked over and allowed yourself to be enveloped in his comforting arms.

"You cryin', love?" Ghost asked softly.

You wiped your tears hastily. "No," you replied, trying to regain your composure.

"Hmm, I see," he said, his gaze understanding.

"Why did you embarrass me in front of your team?" You asked, your voice tinged with hurt.

"You got it for yourself, love. That's why," he replied simply.

"I can get another one for myself," You insisted.

"Okay, I'll take it, but only on one condition," he said.

"What condition exactly?" You asked, curious.

"You'll have to take mine. I'll teach you how to use it. It's smooth in my hands," he explained.

"Okay, deal!" You agreed, offering your hand to shake, but he surprised you by kissing your knuckles.

"Come, let's go downstairs," he said, taking your hand gently.

"Ghost!" You called out as he turned to leave.

He looked back at you. "Yes?"

"Do you still have your navy blue uniform, the one you wore when I saw you for the first time?" You asked, still holding his hand.

"Yes, but why do you ask?" he inquired.

"Will you wear it for me on my birthday? You look so good in that. I'll unwrap you as my gift," you said, giggling at the thought.

"Yeah, sure, but get ready to explain why I'm wearing it to my team, especially Price," he chuckled.

"Leave it to me. No worries," you assured him, and you made your way downstairs.

"Did you change your mind, LT?" Soap asked as you entered the room.

"Yes," Ghost replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

"Good," Soap said, nodding in approval.

Meanwhile, you glanced into Captain Price's eyes, seeing a mixture of curiosity and intrigue reflecting back at you.

You led them to the back of the house where your horses were stabled.

"Meet Arther and Elfie," You introduced Soap to your beloved companions.

"Such bonnie horses," Soap remarked, admiring their beauty.

Next, you demonstrated your archery skills, drawing back the bowstring with precision and releasing it with practiced ease. Captain Price watched intently, a glint of admiration in his eyes.

"Remarkable," he exclaimed, genuinely impressed by your proficiency.

Ghost retrieved his sniper rifle and handed it to you. "Try it," he encouraged.

You hesitated, feeling the weight of the weapon in your hands. With his guidance, you took aim, your finger hovering over the trigger. The rifle trembled slightly as you pulled, but you managed to hit the target, albeit not as accurately as you had hoped.

"It's not easy," you admitted, feeling a twinge of disappointment.

"But you did well, considering," Ghost reassured you, his tone encouraging.

You smiled gratefully, grateful for his support.

As the evening descended, the cake was delivered, marking the beginning of your birthday celebration. Your house help had meticulously arranged all the decorations and table settings before bidding you farewell for the night.

Meanwhile, Captain Price took the opportunity to discuss their upcoming mission with his team, their voices low and serious as they strategized.

Feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness, you retreated to your room to change into your birthday dress. The corset that came with it proved to be a challenge as you struggled to zip it up on your own. Frustrated, you knocked on Ghost's door, hoping for assistance.

He opened the door, and your jaw dropped at the sight before you. He had changed into the navy blue uniform, looking incredibly attractive in it.

"What happened?" he asked, noticing your expression.

You entered his room and closed the door behind you. "Simon, can you please help me zip my dress? I can't reach it," you requested, feeling a rush of embarrassment.

Standing in front of the mirror, you were almost ready, the dress clinging to your figure. He stepped behind you, his presence towering over yours. The corset accentuated your petite frame, making you feel even smaller in comparison.

His gloved hand brushed against the bare skin of your back as he took hold of the zipper, and you sucked in a breath at the unexpected sensation. Your heart raced as you felt the warmth of his touch, his closeness sending shivers down your spine.

He zipped up your dress smoothly, his voice breaking the silence. "You're good now," he said softly, his words lingering in the air between you.

"Thank you," you murmured gratefully as you turned around. He put his index finger beneath your chin and tilted your head up meeting his gaze.

"Ready to be be my good girl tonight. Will ya?" His masked lips touched your cheek.

You blushed and ran towards the door. Standing at the doorway you peaked a last glance at him. You exited Ghost's room and returned to your own.

As Ghost stepped out of his room, he encountered Soap making his way upstairs.

"Going on a mission, LT?" Soap teased, noting Ghost's uniform.

"Yes, birthday mission," Ghost quipped in response.

"Seriously! Why are you wearing your uniform?" Soap inquired, his curiosity piqued.

"Because she asked me to wear it," Ghost explained simply.

"Hmm, I see. She likes you in it," Soap remarked before continuing downstairs, leaving Ghost to ponder his words.

They all waited for you downstairs, their anticipation palpable in the air. With a final glance in the mirror, you made sure everything was perfect before slipping on your heels and descending the staircase.

As you reached the bottom step, you were greeted by their warm smiles.

"Here she is," Captain Price announced, his voice carrying a note of pride.

"Wow! Lass, you're looking so beautiful," Soap complimented, his eyes twinkling with admiration.

"Thank you," you replied, feeling a blush creeping up your cheeks at his kind words.

You couldn't help but notice Ghost's gaze fixed on you, practically staring. His intense scrutiny made you feel vulnerable, as if he was seeing right through you. Yet, amidst the intensity, there was a glimmer of admiration in his stare, a silent acknowledgment that spoke volumes.

"Make a wish, lass," Soap chuckled, gesturing towards the candles on the cake.

Closing your eyes, you made a silent wish. A wish for Simon to be yours forever, for his safety, and for him to return to you unscathed from every mission.

With a deep breath, you blew out the candles, the room erupting into cheers and the chorus of "Happy Birthday."

As you opened your eyes, you felt a rush of warmth and gratitude wash over you. It truly was the best day of your life after your father's death.

Captain Price stepped forward, presenting you with a small box. You opened it eagerly to reveal a beautiful, delicate metallic quartz watch nestled inside.

"Thank you! It's so precious," you exclaimed, touched by the thoughtful gift.

As you all enjoyed the cake and then indulged in dinner, Captain Price suddenly cleared his throat, directing his attention to Ghost. "Simon, why are you wearing your uniform?" His question caught Ghost off guard, but before he could respond, you jumped in to explain.

"Actually, I asked him to wear that for my birthday. I was curious to see him in uniform," you said, offering Ghost a reassuring smile. His eyes crinkled from behind the balaclava he was wearing, a silent acknowledgment of his amusement.

"Alright, gentlemen, want something to drink? Please, help yourselves," you announced, rising from your seat and making your way to the bar. You took out the glasses, giving them a moment to process the exchange.

Soap and Ghost then took the dishes to the kitchen while the rest of you settled in the garden, enjoying the pleasant evening. Soap, with his characteristic sense of humor, regaled you all with his silly jokes, eliciting laughter from all of you.

"Hey LT, what has five toes and is not your foot?" Soap said.

"What?" Ghost asked.

"My foot!." Soap said and burst out laughing.

You couldn't control your laughter too. Soap was so funny.

"Your turn LT". Soap pointed towards Ghost.

"What do we call the fish who wears a bow tie?" Ghost asked.

You looked at each other's faces.

"Sofishticated." Ghost said.

Nobody laughed.

"What? Wasn't it funny?" Ghost said.

He was met with silence.

As the night grew late, you found myself sitting beside Ghost. His hand resting on the small of your back while everybody was busy talking.

He turned to look at you. Your blue eyes met with his caramel ones.

You stood up and went to stand at the door, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over you.

"Aye! Come join us," Ghost called out, noticing your presence.

"No, you enjoy yourself. I'm going to bed now," you replied, turning around to head upstairs.

But before you could take another step, Ghost approached you and grabbed your wrist. "Hi, Lieutenant," you teased, your voice soft and playful.

You placed your hands on his chest, tilting your chin up to look at him. "Hell, if you put a bullet through my heart, I will spare you my life," you retorted, a smile playing on your lips.

You took the whiskey glass from his hand and placed your lips at the same spot he drank from and chug it at once.

You turned to go upstairs, but Ghost surprised you by grabbing you around the waist, causing you to squeak in surprise.

"Is everything alright there?" Captain Price's voice rang out from the garden.

"Yes, everything is fine, Price," Ghost replied calmly, his gaze locked on yours.

With a swift motion, Ghost lifted you into his arms and carried you upstairs, his strength both surprising and comforting.

"Your room or mine?" he asked with a playful smirk, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Pic credit:

IG: Vehenan Virabelasan

[octopiys]

Okay I just saw someone’s Olympic x cod au (and it was so cool) so now I’m asking everyone what their Olympic x cod head canons are.

OOOO HI ANON

Okay this is actually really cool

First thought was that Soap and Gaz would be synchronized divers. (I love diving, I did it as a kid but couldn't afford to keep doing it) I think they're built properly to do it, and I think when they win their first gold they'd be over the moon, cheering and shaking each other desperately because they can't believe the news. Yes, they'd be on the same team, as Scotland is a part of the GB team.

I honestly feel like Ghost would do rings acrobatics (I think it's acrobatic gymnastics or artistic gymnastics?) He's got wide enough shoulders, and what he struggles in is his weight class and his height that work against him, but his muscles make up for it. (HAVE YOU SEEN THEIR ARMS AND BACKS??? WILD)

Price is a bit interesting. I'll say he coaches Ghost in rings, because that's what I think he'd do if he wasn't competing. He's also got ties with both the Russian team, and the US team, but one of the Russian coaches dropped the Olympics before Russia was no longer allowed to compete, and is frequently spotted on the sidelines near Coach Price. There were rumors in the early 2000s, when both John and Nikolai were competitors, that they would trade each other's team plans and secrets due to their.... ehem, close companionship.

Alternatively, I think Gaz could be on the cricket team. Idk he probably played it as a kid, and would just end up sword fighting his cousin with the bats, and he's not actually really sure how he got on the team, in all actuality, but he's one of the best by far.

Alternatively, Soap might do volleyball. He just seems like he'd play volleyball. Didn't even realize he qualified for the Olympics until he got back home and saw it on the news: "Local Glasgow teen qualifies for the 2024 Paris Olympics" followed by "Unable to reach for comment". He's in the Olympics quite a few times, one of the youngest qualifying volleyball players in Europe when he first started off.

Alternatively, Ghost might do archery, get famous for splitting his arrows twice in a row one game. He gets made fun of, afterwards, by a mohawked Scot on his team just a few years younger than him, who repeatedly calls him Merida. It... doesn't really help that the stadium fluorescents make his hair look more ginger than usual.

Price and Nikolai do shooting. I feel like Price will be that Turkey guy who gets famous for being wildly comfortable (minimal gear, short sleeve, and kind of bored) during his competition, along with his god-given boonie hat. He's won gold every year since 2004. Nikolai sticks to his own challenge, coming in at a close silver, and ended up taking a break after 2016, when an accident on the range was the likely culprit to the abrupt pause in his career. But, he's still spotted like a celebrity at every Olympic games..... is that a Team GB shirt he's wearing?

I feel like Alex would do rowing (men's single scull), and not be terrible at it. He's got one gold and two silvers, before community work he did overseas took his leg. He then keeps it up, if possible, and joins the paralympic rowing (para-rowing) team. He does significantly better in this category, and gets gold 3 paralympics in a row. He still does charity work in the middle east with his wife,

Farah, who either does fencing, or boxing. I can't decide. She would be incredibly powerful in fencing, deadly accurate, and makes Alex thank God that she doesn't have actual access to swords. Her rounds are extremely fast, but she's amazingly skilled, having been placed on the team when she was just fourteen.

Roach would do water polo, or maybe rings with Ghost. That's how they meet each other, and theres no malice in their relationship at all. The media loves it, especially after his wipeout in 2016 because there was an unforseen obstacle (bug) on his ring, thus giving him the nickname Roach.

Rodolfo would be a gymnast too, either pommel horse or parallel bars. He's one of the tallest competitors in that category, at a shocking 5'8 (173cm) and is beloved by every Olympic fan in Mexico. (his job is pommel horse. his job is parallel bar)

Alejandro would also do gymnastics, but he'd probably do pommel horse or the horizontal bar. He's known for his fiery attitude, once making world news for almost fucking up an American competitor from Texas when he made a few comments after Rodolfo suffered a bad case of the twisties two seasons ago.

Graves is a newer competitor, the same one from Texas. He's not as well known, been around since the last Olympics, but he's got an interesting floor routine that will earn him a gold this year. However, he doesn't place in the all around competition, just falling short of the Mexican team, and one guy from GB. Better luck next year, Phillip.

[lunarw0rks]

something cute & wholesome for our chaotic bby soap <33 him and the reader being in a relationship whenever she has a mischievous idea, he supports it without thinking twice. mm and maybe one day she’s playing with this archery set and he’s helping her with her aim, she accidentally shoots an arrow wrong and it goes flying through the window of price’s office 🤣 price slams his door open and he just stands there with the arrow in his hat

☾𓂃❛🍰❜┊ run for your life

warning(s): fem!reader, a lil suggestive joke, just a crack fic, no use of y/n ♡ masterlist // requests // ask box

the most startling quality price possessed? how he never yelled.

at recruits, at his men, at anyone. not unless he was barking orders, and most fearsome — even when he was infuriated. his stare was enough to back the strongest of men into a corner.

the scot in front of you was focused for once - a truly rare sight.

❝johnny,❞ a smirk spread on your face; yet another dubious plan flooding your brain. paperwork was boring, and your daily chores were finished. ❝wanna do something?❞

the folder in his hand landed on the desk before he had jumped to his feet as if he had been yearning for a more stimulating activity. ❝aye, how could i say no? what is it this time? throwing little paper balls at simon?❞ he questioned, following you down the corridor to the mischievous location of your plan.

❝not this time. it's something i've wanted to play with for a couple days, just haven't had time.❞ you lead him to the common area, where you got an archery set.

soap's mouth contorted into a dirty-minded smirk, a cocked brow. ❝i knew this day would come, i'm irresistible.❞

that comment only earned an elbow to the ribs and an unimpressed glare, not you confessing your undying love for the former class clown. you scoffed and motioned to the bow, a widened gaze until he had the same amount of excitement as you.

now, instead of a lustful smirk, it was a deviant one. ❝you're saying you want to play with that here?❞ he questioned with some faux seriousness before the act ceased

❝i'm in.❞

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

after what seemed like minutes of bickering, you finally got the bow into the 'correct' position, though the form was questionable when you were too busy cackling.

❝alrigh' now... imagine the face of someone you hate. and it can't be me.❞ soap rasped into your ear, an uncomfortably close hold on you, purely to mess up your precision.

you tightened your lips into a line, shaking your head at his childishness. it was only because he didn't get to go first. ❝johnny if you make me miss, it will be your face in my crosshairs.❞

you pulled back the string with force, aiming for the line of plastic cups you had set up. it was a simple shot, but knowing the man you chose as your practice buddy — it would be anything but a simple task.

just as you released the string, soap poked your side, causing an instinctual flinch on your end. instead of a straight shot into the styrofoam cups, the arrow curved and went through the window overlooking price's office. the small shatter was enough to make you wince and drop the bow, and then him. it was the most terrifying sight of your life.

price, a small arrow that went through the fabric of his boonie hat. and that damned fatherly scowl.

johhny's eyes darted from you, to him, then back to you. unfortunately, this hadn't been a first for either of you. it had become a routine at this point. ❝i'll go left, you take right.❞

you nodded, bracing yourself to sprint the opposite of the direction soap claimed. ❝run.❞

[mee3pp]

Okay sweeties hear me out, The 141 x The Percy Jackson Universe. Lemme know if I should elaborate more on this idea?

- Demigod!Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley as a son of Apollo the God of Archery and poetry (and more) or nemesis the Goddess of Revenge and retribution. His choice of weapon being a Celestial bronze dagger or a bow and arrow.

-Demigod!John Price as the son of Athena the Goddess of wisdom and knowledge. His weapon of choice would be his knowledge most the time but ofc he has to have an actual weapon and I think he’d have a spear and a shield.

- Demigod!Johnny ‘Soap’ MacTavish as the son of Ares the God of war of Hephaestus the God of fire, Volcanoes,forges and black smithing. His weapon would be just a plain old celestial bronze sword and possibly a shield.

- Demigod!Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick as the son of ??, he is unclaimed so far so it makes him resentful of the Gods as all his friends were claimed the instant they came to CHB. His weapon of choice is a bow and arrow but he’s better at healing than fighting.

[dcdreamblog]

A few decades ago while I was visiting Coast City, I found an interesting partial poster in a head shop. It was advertising an archery exhibition by "the Green Arrows of the World" in Star City at the Civic Auditorium.

The painted illustration has a fellow in what looks to be the pre-beard Green Arrow costume, and several men in "ethnic" variations of that costume in various bow-drawing poses.

The bottom of the poster where presumably the date and time of this event would have been printed was missing. I purchased the poster at a very reasonable price, the owner of the shop disclaiming any knowledge of how he'd acquired it, though he was quite voluble on the Rolling Stones concert one I also picked up.

I've often wondered since if there was ever a Green Arrows of the World event since I've never heard of non-USAn GAs otherwise, or if it was someone's fun fantasy project they got printed. Any thoughts or insights?

THIS poster? (Side note, this poster was done by truly legendary pop artist Jack Kirby who was probably most famous for his work at Marvel Comics but he also did a ton of miscellaneous work related to real life superheroes too) This exhibition was done during the early days of GA's career as you can see by the age of Speedy (Now Arsenal/Red Arrow) in the artwork. In short it IS the genuine article and the Green Arrows of the World was not only real but is STILL an extant organization. It consists of...well what it says on the tin. Green Arrow-esque heroes from around the world. There's been a lot of ink used about the prominence of archery in the heroic tradition (The book "Brave and the Bowmen" by Andy Diggle comes most easily to mind) with GA being its most obvious standard bearer in the modern day. Its membership has been fairly steady since inception including: Green Arrow and Speedy, naturally (USA)

Ace Archer (Japan)

Phantom (France)

Bush Bowman (Kenya)

Arabian Archer (Saudi Arabia)

Britannia Bowman (UK)

Troubadour (Spain)

Shark Sharpshooter (Samoa) Verde Flecha (Mexico) Archer of the Alps (Switzerland)

Emerald Bowman (India)

and Alba Archer (Scotland)

Now even those of you reasonably familiar are scratching your heads at most of these names but I promise this comes directly from the minutes of their only recorded meeting stored at the Moira Queen Memorial Library at Star City U. It's just that most of these heroes were fairly low key. Archer heroes and the urban vigilante type that they're usually part of tend toward low prominence and quiet careers because they're usually limited to action in singular cities or even neighborhoods. Most of them either did their time as small time protectors and then retired or are still fighting the good fight on a smaller scale. The Green Arrows of the World is a collective resource and support organization, sort of like Batman Inc in miniature. No one is quite sure who runs the organization's modest budget but lines have been drawn between it and Star City billionaire Oliver Queen whose philanthropy and focus on community organization projects is well known. They check up on one another, support one another where they can. There's only ever been one in person meeting of the organization, which this poster is from the public facing portion of, a charity drive run through the Queen Foundation for support of the then recent Boxing Day Tsunami. They're not open to public donation and are a rather private organization but spreading the word like this is part of my job. If the poster you have is different I highly, HIGHLY encourage you to turn it in at the museum of your choice. You may be holding an artifact of a much forgotten organization of heroes who really deserve the spotlight.

[charliemwrites]

what if the pets wanted to do a semi dangerous sport like archery? is that just an instant no because they could get hurt but maybe with enough asking the keepers let them try it out?

Hmmm I think Johnny would agree almost instantly because, like, it’s Johnny. He likes blowing things up. Shy thing should get to shoot arrows or throw axes or something!

Simon and price would take a little more convincing. Part of learning, they know, it getting hurt and messing up. Injuries are inevitable in any sport and that’s antithetical to their whole purpose of keeping the girls. That said, if they present their cases well enough, they can be persuaded to let Feral or Shy Thing try a more dangerous sport.

[mist-touchedxiv]

Chapter 7

Emerging from the flames of a must unfortunate home came one of the most fearsome sights on any battlefield with the Garleans. Fiery debris slid off the armored hide of the Reaper as it pushed through a wall like it was nothing more than a beaded curtain; the cackle of the Mi'qote woman echoed through the empty street.

"Gods DAMN, you really are an imbecile! You should've kept moving on, vagabond. A few bruises on some nobody, a little something to whet our appetites and we could've just moved on," she taunted from the magitek armor as she languidly stretched in the pilot seat. "But now? Now we have to get rough." To accentuate her point, she let loose a photon stream with a cacophonous staccato at the Viera, who dove out of the way behind a metal container. Arrows weren't going to do much to an armored monstrosity as that. The Mi'qote was an experienced pilot and likely wouldn't allow herself to be vulnerable to arrows, even the praeternaturally skillful archery of the Viera.

"You could save everyone a lot of grief and turn yourself in. A pretty boy like you..." She licked her lips. "Could fetch quite a high price..." she purred as she leaned behind a shield that took an arrow from Loksen with a solid thud. "More than we could squeeze from these bumpkins. You gotta be faster than that," she added with a laugh as she launched another volley of photon stream into the container he hid behind, easily chipping away the metal as he shifted behind the available cover.

Once the burst ceased, Loksen dashed from behind cover and closed the distance with the magitek armor, sheathed sword in hand. With surprising agility, the mech hopped away and launched another burst of strafing fire. A flash of steel and Loksen managed draw his blade and deflect one of the projectiles that got too close as he rolled out of the way.

"Quick little bunny, aren't you," sneered the Mi'qote. "We have the firepower, so just come quietly!"

Loksen's blade gleamed in the firelight as he turned it over on his hand. Retrieving his flask of sake, he took a deep draught then spewed the liquor onto his blade and sheathed it while lowering his stance.

"Real hard arse, ain'tcha," said the Mi'qote with a smirk as she looked at his unusual katana. "We may have to take your head and your steel. Nice piece of work. Probably get a nice-"

Taking a deep breath, the Viera suddenly surged forward with thunderous bang that turned him into a streak of fire that slid to a stop behind the Reaper. Loksen paused a moment in the follow through, holding a now burning blade.

The Mi'qote blinked in surprised, momentarily stunned before trying to bring the Reaper around to blow away the annoyance. Except, she found that the magitek armor's legs had been cut clean through and came crashing to the ground, the cuts glowing red-hot from the slash. As she struggled to extricate herself from the incapacitated Reaper, she found the flaming tip of Loksen's blade at her throat. Looking up, her eyes met the practically glowing icy eyes of the Viera as intense aetheric pressure seemed to emanate from him and with a sigh, she accepted her defeat.

[captain-krow-drozdov]

Two For The Price Of One

(Linked Universe/BOTW Wild/Link AU)

BOTW Link Has Two Braincells Souls

1. The Hero That Died 100 Years Ago (Link)

And

2. The Artificial Sheikah Soul From The Shrine Of Resurrection/The Player (Tech)

Upon Finding Out From The Old Man That Having Another Person In Your Head Isn't The Norm They Decided That Link Gets To Keep His Name And The Artificial Sheikah Soul Will Now Be Dubbed Tech (Once Joining The Chain Link Picks Up The Nickname Unity And Tech Picks Up The Nickname Wild).

Unity/Link Still Has Amnesia But Ends Up Gaining A Lot Of Their Memories Back Pretty Quickly After Finding All The Picture Locations And Wild/Tech Literally Just Got Here When They Woke Up In The Shrine So It Was A Learning Process For Both Of Em.

Unity/Link Is Good With Swords, Shields And Most Weapons Whereas Wild/Tech Is Good With Archery, The Sheikah Slate(Mental Connection Go Brr) And Stealth. Unity/Link Has The Heros Spirit And Wild/Tech Is Just Here For The Vibes And To Be A Chaos Enabler. (Unity/Link Was A Domesticated Chaos Gremlin By The Time He Died And Wild/Tech Is Going To Un-Domesticate Him If It's The Last Thing He Does)

They Are Unfortunately Both Idiots/Chaos Gremlins And Socially Awkward And Will 100% Play Mental Rock Paper Scissors The Loser Has To Deal With Socializing.

Wild Ultimately Looks The Same But Also Has Some "Something Supernatural Is Going On There" Vibes Like Sharper Teeth, The Fact That Their Eyes Glow/Eyeshine, Scary Good Night Vision, Always Cold, Movements/Vibe Just Off Enough To Trigger Some Primal Fear In Strangers, Their Blood Has A Faint Glow To It And When Wild/Tech Is In Control The Blue Glow In Their Eyes Is Brighter And More Noticeable.

Mentally However, Unity/Link Looks Like He Did Back When He Was A Knight Before The Calamity Hit And Wild/Tech Looks Like A Sheikah Recolor Of Unity/Link But They Have Ancient Technology Markings Near Their Eyes And Where Any Visible Veins World Be As Well As Blue Fire Eyes That Glow In The Dark Similar To Guardians/Ancient Tech.

At This Rate Unity/Link & Wild/Tech Are On "Do Not Separate" Levels Of Chaotic Head Roommates. They Can Actively Switch Out Who's Driving The Body At Will And With Enough Focus Can Copilot The Body.

They Are Actively Keeping Score Of Who Is Closest To Figuring Out That There Are Two People Behind The Mental Wheel Of The Champion Link (Four And Zelda/Flora Have The Highest Scores).

{I Offer Incorrect Quotes For The General Dynamic/Vibe Of These Two}

~

Wild/Tech: If you See Me Talking To Myself, Go Away! I’m Self-Employed And We’re Having A Staff Meeting!

~

Unity/Link & Wild/Tech: Am I a Boy? Am I A Girl? It Doesn't Matter. I'm Going To Burn Your House Down.

~

Unity/Link: Name A More Iconic Duo Than My Crippling Fear Of Not Being Worthy Of Being The Hero And My Anxiety. I'll Wait.

Wild/Tech: You And Me!!!

Unity/Link, Tearing Up: Okay.

~

Unity/Link, Trying To Put His Knight Training To Use: Ok We Need A Plan...

Wild/Tech, Currently In Control Of The Body Pulling Out A Bomb Arrow: We Have A Plan. The Plan Is Burn Everything Until We Are All That's Left Standing!

Unity/Link, Fighting And Losing To His Pyromania Demons: That'll Work =)

~

Unity/Link: Wild/Tech...

Wild/Tech, Bloody And Bruised From A Recent Tumble Down A Mountain Due To Ignoring Shield Durability While Shield Surfing: Oh No, 'Wild/Tech' In B-Flat.

Wild/Tech: You're Disappointed.

~

Wild/Tech: So That’s My Plan.

Unity/Link, A Trained High Ranking Knight: Are You Alright With Constructive Criticism? I Don’t Want To Sound Mean.

Wild/Tech: No, Go Ahead, I Want To Hear It.

Unity/Link: It Fucking Sucks We Are Going To Die.

Wild/Tech: That’s Not Very Constructive Of Your Criticism.

~

Unity/Link: I Prevented A Murder Today.

Wild/Tech, Who Watched The Whole Exercise Of Self Restraint Go Down: Really? How’d You Do That?

Unity/Link: Self Control.

~

Wild/Tech: I CAN'T DO IT UNITY/LINK!

Unity/Link, Laughing: I CAN'T EITHER!

Wild/Tech: I CANT FUCKING DO IT ANYMORE

Unity/Link: WELL I'LL TELL YOU WHAT WILD/TECH, YOU CAN GIVE UP NOW, OR YOU CAN FIGURE IT OUT. BECAUSE I CERTAINLY CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT YOU, AND I KNOW YOU CAN'T DO IT WITHOUT ME.

Wild/Tech: . . .

Wild/Tech: I Appreciate It,

Wild/Tech: BUT LOOK WHAT WE'RE DEALING WITH MAN-

Unity/Link: Wild/Tech-

Wild/Tech: YOU GOTTA DRAW THE LINE SOMEWHERE!

Unity/Link: Wild/Tech We Gotta-

Wild/Tech: YOU GOTTA DRAW A FUCKING LINE IN THE SAND DUDE. YOU GOTTA MAKE A STATEMENT.

Wild/Tech: YOU GOTTA LOOK INSIDE YOURSELF AND SAY 'What Am I Willing To Put Up With Today?'

Wild/Tech, Motioning To Calamity Ganon: NOT FUCKING THIS!

[papu-creations]

R I V E N

B A C K S T O R Y

Riven grew up in the heart of drow cruelty, where loyalty to Lolth was synonymous with survival. As the youngest daughter of a house, she was groomed from a young age to follow the vicious, oppressive traditions of her people. Her natural talent for archery quickly set her apart from other aspirants of war and treachery, but it wasn’t just her skills that made her unique. Riven was different from birth. Her eyes and her extraordinarily pale skin, stood in stark contrast to the dark complexion of the drows, made her a target of suspicion in a society where conformity equated to power. As she grew older, she increasingly felt the weight of this difference. The teachings of Lolth, built on deceit, domination, and manipulation, never resonated in her mind. While her sisters reveled in intrigue, Riven found beauty in the precision of her shots and the silence of a well-placed arrow, but saw no honor in killing for pleasure or ambition.

Her disillusionment peaked during her initiation into Lolth’s priesthood, a rite of passage she could not escape. During the ceremony, while her sisters offered their unwavering allegiance to the Spider Queen, Riven heard a whisper echoing in his headhad : “You do not belong to this.” Torn by this revelation, she realized she could never devote herself to Lolth. Instead of swearing her oath, she fled the chaos of the ceremony, an unforgivable act of treason. Hunted by her own family and marked as a traitor, Riven sought refuge in the dark tunnels and forgotten caverns of the Underdark.

For years, she lived like a shadow, surviving. It was during this isolation that she honed her craft, not for power, but for protection. She opened herself to new paths, crossing the lives of hermits, refugees, and even outcasts from other subterranean races. One day, she discovered the ruins of an ancient temple, buried deep within the Underdark. Its walls were carved with strange engravings, seemingly from a long-forgotten cult of light. This sacred place awakened in her a sense of peace she had never known. It was here that she realized her role was no longer to run, but to fight the darkness, not just the evil of her own people, but the threats that loomed over the surface as well.

Now, Riven walks the surface world, a land unfamiliar to her, searching for her place among the other races. She aids those in need, acting as a silent protector from the shadows. Despite her troubled past, she no longer fears her heritage. The tattoo that adorns her face and neck reminds her daily of the price she paid for freedom. Yet she wears this mark with pride, for it stands as a testament to her defiance against a fate she refused to accept.

[dailycharacteroption]

Retrograde Revision 3: Archer

(art by jeffchendesigns on DeviantArt)

Green Arrow, Hawkeye, the Peter Jackson version of Legolas, many versions of Robin Hood… All are known for being legendary archers, no, more than that, utterly superhuman in their skill with a bow. From archery techniques that look good on film but are poor practice in real life to truly impossible shots, there’s a lot to be said about the unrealistic but nevertheless awesome-looking feats that these archers get up to.

Love them or hate them, such incredible skill in archery is the basis for today’s archetype, the archer fighter!

As the name implies, these warriors specialize in the bow, and are so skilled as to perform some incredible shots with them.

By stereotype alone, it’s often rare to see ranged-focused fighters, with bows seemingly more regulated to rangers, hunters, or other classes that don’t automatically get better armor, but the base fighter alone gets so many combat bonus feats that they can be among the best archers in the game, and this archetype only makes them better, giving them more to do with a bow and arrow than just dealing damage each round.

As ranged experts, these archers are skilled at noticing distant targets, as well as compensating for distance and wind to strike from further away without a loss in accuracy.

An archer’s precision with their arrows is so great that they can learn to perform various combat maneuvers from a distance, such as targeting an object to knock it out of a foe’s hand or damage it, fire a distracting shot that barely misses to feint foes, or later on, they can deliver shot to send a foe stumbling back, pin their clothes to nearby surfaces to “grapple” them, or shoot their leg out from under them to trip them.

Naturally, their ability to aim and deal damage with a bow only grows stronger as they master it.

They also learn to keep their wits about them and strike when the opportunity arises, preventing foes from striking while they aim their shots.

Fighting from range means often being fought back at range, and these warriors use their keen eyes and understanding of trajectory to dodge incoming fire.

Some of the most powerful of these archers can unleash a hail of arrows in a cluster, like a one-person volley, raining down arrows with surprising accuracy against multiple targets.

Near their zenith, their reflexes against ranged attacks grows so great that even those that strike home only graze them. What’s more, they can even catch incoming arrows and bolts out of the air.

The most powerful of them, naturally, pick a bow of some kind as their subject of their weapon mastery, becoming true legends with such a weapon.

This archetype is a perfect example of what a lot of fighter archetypes, especially their early archetypes are: specializing in a particular combat style even more so than they already can being a fighter. Being able to perform combat maneuvers at a distance allows them to inhibit foes in addition to just damaging, making them better at supporting melee characters in the party while also not having to worry about the initial drawback of reprisal in the form of attacks of opportunity if they lack the proper feat (though said feats are useful for making you better at said maneuvers.

Speaking of feats, there’s a surprising amount of variety in archery-themed feats, allowing some variance with the builds. From the overwatch style letting you punish multiple foes for their actions, to clustered shots letting you hammer past the DR of foes, to empty quiver style letting you be mixed ranged and melee without ever switching away from your bow. Additionally, though the nonmagical alchemical arrows are a somewhat lackluster option at higher levels, especially for their price tag, specific magical arrows can go a long way towards the “archer superhero gadget arrow” vibe if that’s what you’re going for.

Being such a skilled archer can have so many origins stories, from a talented and skilled soldier to a hunter to a performer perfecting their prowess for the spotlight to even those that use archery as a meditative martial art. No matter their origin, all can agree that awareness and focus are the roots of their profession.

Local sulfur deposits in the kingdom of Brakiss have given rise to the invention and popularization of firearms. Local archers have had to up their game, honing their skill with the bow to uncanny levels to compete with the new technology. When a pro-firearm noble turns up dead with an arrow in his back, the race is on to hunt down these expert snipers, or to prove their innocence.

Castle Tormaigg has been long abandoned, but it remains as it was in its heyday, a masterfully constructed fortress. A kobold tribe has moved in, and is currently renovating the interior into a gallery of deathtraps, guarded by expert kobold marksmen perched atop the parapets.

The race for martial superiority between warring nations is an endless one. The magic-rejecting Flightviper lizardfolk clan, known for their skills with archery seek the secret of their elven neighbors arcane archer death arrows to add to their already impressive mastery of the bow. The question is not whether they will be able to overcome their superstitions of arcane magic, but rather, what havoc could they create with this newfound power if they do.

[the-ghost-bracket]

Pat Butcher propaganda:

"just so so silly, regularly calls people a wazzok to the point where other people have started doing it because of him, he gave a bow and arrow to a child before he explained the safety rules and payed the price, tried to drive himself to the hospital with an arrow clean through his neck, didn’t realize his wife was cheating on him with his best mate until 40 years later when he was talking about her to another characters, i am madly in love with both him and the captain"

"just a silly guy. excellent father figure to all of his immature ghost children"

"Before Pat joined the ghosts they drifted through each day not really interacting but he came up with the idea of clubs so now they have film club, music club, what I would wear today if I could club, if I could invite four people living or dead to my party who would they be and why club, improv club and food club. and he got the captain to play twister."

"He's such a lovely person, but I would love him to win based on how he died. See, he was a Scout Leader (I was a Scout, too, at one point) and he was doing archery with the kids when one of them accidentally shot him through the neck. So as not to traumatise them, he pretended everything was fine, told them to stay calm and then got into a golf buggy and drove away to die without them seeing. I just think that's admirable.

He's also the one often holding the rest of them together."

[atvace]

Lady Dior and the Seven Dilfs

Chapter 4: First Order of Business

Masterlist

Ghost, Soap, Gaz and you eventually took turns in aim training, knife throwing and handgun shooting. it was actually quite fun. A little about your before-military-background, you used to shoot water guns when youre 3, BB gel guns when youre about 7 and youve won arcade games for your little niece when youre 14.

a lot of arcade games. your younger cousins always look up on you whenever you won them prizes from huge plushies, Hotwheels, even legos.

speaking of guns, you've surfaced to the depth of the internet back when you were young. having to use your mother's iPad to access such gores and disturbing content. Adapting to the FBI, forced to eliminate people off, you had absolutely no problem.

Empathy and sympathy is out of the window. your past relationship with you ex boyfriends left you quite heartless. you got scammed in Roblox once, it is merely a canon event. the homeless guy you give your spare change to molested a school girl once and you beat him until he lost vision. world hasn't been treating you well, and you just go with the flow and give zero fucks to nearly anyone.

"nice shot, (y/n)." Gaz rests his hand to your back. you sighed proudly, "Thanks, Gaz!" you nudged his side. "You got any question, (y/n)? you said you're a little less experienced with sub machine guns." Soap stored the unused MSMC.

Back in your FBI days, handguns are the most effecient weapon you can handle. It's been a while since the last time you were using the automatic rifles because your all-gun training was when youre in early 20s. you never liked heavy machinery gun because theyre too hefty for you to bring anywhere.

you prefer something quiete, small but fast. you prefer sniper as long ranged, revolver or a usp for mid combat and knifes for close. In your horse riding phase, you possessed an archery skill. you were slightly above average but stopped after your arrow accidently killed a wild bunny.

"I genuinely think they are too heavy for me. in what I observe in myself, I think im far much better using snipers, handguns or knifes." You reloaded your empty mags of revolver. "Lads," Price peeked his head out as the four of you turned to the source of the voice. "Lets do some deathmatch."

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"Okay the goal is basically deathmatch." Price gave everyone a compass to keep track of where we going. "but, all of you will be using either the paintbal or" he paused for a moment. "an airsoft."

You raised your eyebrow with a questioning look. "what about the mission?" Price looked at you while wearing a sunglasses and a fisherman hat, "Oh, Laswell contacted me and she said we should take our time training. the mission takes place in a deserted island. That is why I decided to play a game of deathmatch." He smiles.

"any questions?" Prive crosses his arm. "Where are you gonna wait?" Soap tilt his head, "duh" he pointed his thumb to the white single chair beach bench behind Gaz. "and youre going to..?" Gaz unfinished question turned into a hum, "I'm gonna chill. you kids go fight. also, dont aim for the head." Ghost, Gaz and Soap sprinted at the last words. leaving you and Price alone.

"(y/n), why dont you go with them?" Price walked over his bench and sat like a retired dad. "Um.. captain," you held your fingers together. "Yes, (y/n). I'm all ears." Gaz took out a newspapers and widened the main page. "By any chance, do you have a..." you cringed at your request.

"combat bow? yellow lid below the wooden table under the ventilation." Price flipped a page, which cause your eyes to spark. "Howd you know?" You smiled at him. "I bought that for you the time your demotion letter were sent to me. archery was in your resume." He sipped his lemonade, still reading the newspapers.

you instantly love him. his gesture of kindness tattooed your head, you have to give him something special for him one day or another. "what are you waiting for, go get it." He flips the paper again. "Thank you!!" you got to your feet towards the airsoft shed.

upon arrival, you saw Gaz, Ghost and Soap chattering together with weapons in their grasp. all of them were in full airsoft gear and it was your first time seeing them in full combat attire. you felt butterflies in your stomach when they walked pass you.

shooking you head, you manage to get in the shed and find the box Price told you to get. you opened it and revealed a beautiful matte black curve bow with strong wires perfectly fit for field combat. but below the shaped foam, you noticed there was another bow.

it was a compound bow. with an armguard, quiver and a few customizable arrows. but what caught you is two kunais and some static ropes. you smiled to yourself and quickly geared up.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"I bet you don't last 5 minutes, Jhonny." Ghost mocked. "How do you know, I do cardio at least twice a week." Soap clucked his airsfot shotgun. "How are you going to last more than that in forest when you barely awake 2 minutes in bed." Ghost places his airsoft m4 to his shoulders. Gaz looked at the both of them terrified.

"Hey guys, sorry I took long." the three of them shifted their gaze at you, frozen in place. "I was actually struggling but Did i wear my harness correctly?" you turned your back facing them. the way the straps makes your thigh squished and your ass popping makes all of their jaw dropped.

"remember to stay focus, brothers." Price coughed loud enough for them breaking their gaze. "I-I mean.. you look good (y/n). I- Its just-" Soap flick his shirt as a fan as you walk towards them. "Is it hot in here?" Gaz did the same, waving his hand to his burning face, "Are you hot, (y/n)? I mean you are hot- I mean-" he snickered to himself as Ghost playfully smack the back of his head. "Mouth."

you tied the rope to the round hole in the edge of the kunai, tightening it. "Holy shit, are you going to kill us for real?" Gaz watched you taking out a real knife. "Oh, fuck. no I'm planning to climb the trees with these."

you chuckled at him the re-adjusted the strings of your bow, making sure its not loose. "are you sure youre going to wear that?" Ghost pawn himself to you, looking down to your bow then your shoes. "Oh, this?" you furrowed your eyebrow and look straight to his eyes. "No, the boots." He sternly replied.

you wore a black sleeveless turtleneck and a tight black gym pants. Soap told you wearing these wont affect much training in the range but for outdoors, I think (y/n looks fine.

You are wearing a Bershka buckle heeled Boots in black. you swifted your foot to the side, showing the shine of the leather to him then scoffed. "At least I want to be stylish when defeating you. humph," you walk past him but he stopped you by placing his enormous hand to your stomach level.

"I know its painful wearing heeled footwear, (y/n)." you look at him SURPRISINGLY soft. "As long you are comfortable, you can use anything you want. just remember, theres no fashion standards in here. Please make yourself pleasant." he finished and joined the others to the starting line, leaving you flabbergasted.

'THE COLD CASPER IS TELLING YOU TO MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME. THE COLD CASPER IS TELLING YOU TO MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME. THE COLD CASPER IS TELLING YOU TO MAKE YOURSELF AT HOME.' its not a flooded thoughts anymore, its a fucking tsunami.

"alright, sergeants. get into position." Price stated, still in his beach dad mode. you clung the bow to your back feeling soap's eyes at you. "You seriously gonna use that thing?" He chuckled. "I like my fighting style similar to my money," you draw a smirk "Old money."

"ready?" you stanced ass up, of course theyre gazing at you. "set," you draw sketches in your mind what to do next. "Go!" you lunged your knees so fast it left a hole in the ground. you felt yellings from behind, mostly Gaz and Soap's

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT SHES FAST" you cant tell if thats Gaz's or Soap's. you were far beyond allready. with your tied knifes, you jumped and throw one of it towards a huge tree and swing towards those steady large stem, climbing it.

the heels you wore made you climb the trees easier. it spikes your weight to the brances and makes you jump easier. even though you feel a slight pain in the joint in every step, you gaslight yourself that you are fine.

from tree to trees you go. you have the lower body power of a God. in distinction to thousands of miles walking around a shopping centre from around the world, your legs can kick nearly 100,000franklins. not a world record, but still something youre proud about.

you tried to look around for your first victim, but your focus was striked as a paintball went close to your side, painting blue at the branch you sat on. "You missed!" you yelled at whoever shot that to you and quickly jump to another tree

you guess that was Gaz but he was nowhere in your sight. you gambled your guesses that Soap mightve been close to Gaz because the two of them are most likely too noisy to be hidden. hunting Ghost would be the hardest for you but you want to at least beat someone.

as you were on top, you took your bow and get the arrow into the sight, aiming to the grown. you saw Soap creeping around tall grasses from an approximately 40 meters north-east in your position. you shot your plunger arrows towards Soap's shoulder and he screamed in high pitch.

"Fuck! good job, (L/N)! wherever you are.. oh there you are" Soap waved his hands at you which you returned. "I was about to aim to your heart but I'm afraid you might fall for me, Scrub daddy." you winked at him and jump to another tree, searching for Gaz.

Gaz, from another slight distance got scared from the scream and quickly scattered. you were to quick to guess where he went, but your focus broke when a splatter of paint went through your side hitting a tree. "Fuck." you quicken your pace to find a safer spot to camp.

you heard a low grunt from somewhere and assumed quickly that was Ghost. not wanting to waste anymore time, you swung yourself throught the branches from one and another, still getting shot at from behind. this time, Gaz spotted you.

Seeing a bush of plants, you rolled yourself mid air and down to the ground swiftly equip your bow to shot. refusing to make any sound, you stood still waiting for Gaz to approach you first. "(y/n), i saw you~" Gaz whistled and nerved his gun.

From the source of his voice, you knew he is around front-right side of your spot. you observe how the wind blows and the sound of leaves brushing againts each other, you pulled the arrow close to the side of your ear, aiming and gambled on how he made sounds.

one snap of a twig, you swifted your left hand and release. "OW JESUS FUCK" Gaz's claim gave a wave of relief in your heart. you pushed the bush away revealing Gaz holding his thigh with a plunged arrow sticking out.

"You okay, Gazzy?" you cooed and leaned to the tree. "Fuck you're so good, (y/n). good job." he laughed and walk towards Price's previous spot. "hm, kinky." you walk the other direction. he probably came at your statement.

You jabbed the Kunai side by side, creating a rope trap for Ghost if he ever cross the path. You knew hes not easy to caught but the least you can do is having something to watch your back. proud of your (not) good idea, you climbed a tree and hid.

not too long after, you heard rustling from across your tree. taking your chances, you aimed at whatever made that noise. and there you can see it, the top of his helmet. You gave him a warning shot by aiming inches from his head.

you peered your gaze down to your trap, biting your lip when the trap you set was disabled. "Fuck, he knew." you hissed and looked back at your compound sight.

you lost him after. you stood lazily on top of the branch and tried to look around. not long after you felt a piercing gaze from the right side of your view. you shot another arrow to a suspicious bush. but suddenly a paintbullet striked at the side of your face hitting the tree, but you anchored your body to the side too heavily.

you dodged a bullet, thats one realisation. second, you lost balance and fell. "(Y/N)!" Ghost's source of voice is nowhere to be seen but you feel yourself falling to the ground.

you landed nape first and you laid down in silent. "Fuck." you grunt in pain, crawling to the clostest bush you can find just to be hidden from plain sight. unfortunately, it has thorns but you were too lightheaded to feel more pain. you pull out your bow again and aimed towards your guesses for Ghost's bearing.

feeling your head dizzy, you accidently released your arrow and you fell to your stomach, now exposed to the forest and the person you shot. to your surprise, you saw Ghost standing in the distance, with your plunge arrow right in his heart.

at least thats what you saw before you blacked out. "Bloody fucking hell, (y/n)" You feel a soft touch to your shoulders and your back is met by a fleshy feeling. you assumed that someone placed your head to their lap. "Holy shit," Gaz's voice lingered around the air as you just painfully still there. "Did she hit her head? yes she fuckin did oh my God" you could hear Soap opening a zipper.

"I lost my vision," you said laying still in assumeable Ghost's lap. "She lost her vision?!" Gaz crawled to your side. "How many fingers am I holdin?!" He hold out two fingers. "....ten" you muttered. "Oh shit she did-" Gaz said as Soap poured out the contents of his bag.

"Fuck I forgot my portable medkit." He curses. "This will do," you feel yourself ascending to the air as Ghost picked you up, not bothering about the arrow that plunged in his chest. "Gaz, Soap, clean her shit. now." He tosses you to his shoulders unintentionally bared your ass out which made the other two stared. "Eyes down, sergeants." Ghost hissed at the two as he ran out of the forest.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

"You're not going to die, (y/n)." Price said patching up your back. you got a twig and a few cut thorns sticking in your back. you got blacked out for a few moments because your head was thrashed to a nearby rock. "But captain technically I'm dead now.." you muttered and whinced in pain as he pull the last thorn in your back.

"Why are you dead, (y/n)?" Price dabbed rubbing alcohol to a cotton to your back. "My skin is all bruised up now... my years of bodycare routine is wasted." You pouted to him. "(y/n), you'll be facing worser gushes than this. you have to manage, alright?" he wrapped a bandage over your stomach and back. "even with scars, you are still a beautiful girl."

you got back outside the field to see Gaz, Soap, and Ghost surrounding a table. you peered over to see and your eyes widened in horror. you compound bow broke into pieces as the only thing keeping it together is the strings. "Oh my God I barely used that" your knees weakened and Soap caught you on time.

"its alright, We'll tell the factory to make another." Soap patted your head and leered to your exposed bandages. "You good? I mean these" he poked your back and you stood at your feet. "Oh those are fines just a small cut." you place your hands to your hips and swayed to the side, "I'm hurt but I still look hot." you blew a kiss to him which he sneered.

"Alright, folks. Let's talk about illegal smuggling." Price place himself between you and Soap as Gaz and Ghost across the three of you. "Yippie!" you clasp your hand excitedly and watch Price scroll open the map. "(y/n), thats...not something to 'yippe' about.." Gaz frowned. "I'd like to have a coquette war crime." you sway your hair.

"Laswell detected an illegal drug smuggling and suspicious movement in the east. unfortunately they have a hostage." your smile dropped. "An Iranian prisoner is loose and assumeably made a new base undergound Verdansk," Price marked a specific land in the map with a red ink. "the hostage is an 18 years old daughter of the legislation supreme court"

when Price was explaining the mission, Ghost stared at you with an empty expression. his eyes look dull and dark. you noticed this but tried so hard to not exchange look with him.

you knew this is would be going down, you overheard Kate Laswell talking about it to your former chief, Artofay. It was bigger than what Price is explaining right now but you conclude hes just simplifying things out to make the mission more pivot. if it weren't for the demotion, you're probably at a spa right now getting ready to slay this mission over.

maybe in another universe, Leon Kennedy was your husband and you didn't get demoted. another probability that you are 141's intel for Verdansk but instead you're here being in the same team and deployed on field.

"I want everyone to be careful because we have no idea what drug they have," Price pointed the Verdansk city and Urziskan city. "there could be an injection drug, an epi-pen drug, gas drug. Verdansk is the orginate of the underground black market. I want to hear no report about any of you getting drugged." Price's tone turned sharp and serious.

"Pack for a week, we'll leave tomorrow by dusk." "Yes sir." we said in unison. "Gaz, I want you in the front line with me, Soap you will be a recon, Ghost as a watchtower and (y/n)," the mens tilts to you. "No heels." you gasped in offended.

"What?! thats bullshit." you protested. "you're bullshit," Ghost spat out. "Ghost!" Price beats the potential arguement. Gaz and soap looked at each other knowing its not the right time to talk or joke about it. "(y/n), I understand how much...vogue meant to you. but we will be going to a possible hostilities," Price softly explain to you like you are 5. "I'd like for you to wear something...safe." he finishes.

"Captain, I refuse." This time you stated coldly. "I'd like to prove it to you that I'm a woman whose capable of engaging any sort of combat in any sort of attire," You took a deep leap of faith. working in heels wasn't just a bragging thing, but its your signature way in doing your job.

Its also another way for you to remember that you mothet is always watching you. Heels meant more than fashion to you, you hold on to her decaying memories by wearing them nearly every occassion. Your mom is a huge poignant figure in your life and you'd force yourself to remember her as much as you can for the rest of your life.

but the men you're dealing now, they ain't shit. this is why you prefered working alone or with girls back in the FBI. but you don't expect the world to revolve around you, it's not how it works. really sucked to be integrated with a group of people who doesn't understand you except yourself.

that's where you have to save yourself, because who will?

"If you know about the compound bow, then I assume you know the reason behind the heels, right captain?" you smiled softly, yet cold. your eyes like siren, gazing to him for ruth.

he finally sighs in defeat, "Only if you bring a back up shoe. you know what? dismiss. 6PM in my office though." he rubbed his temper, which made Ghost iritated. "Thank you, pops!" you hugged him tightly enough to make him croaked and walk away happily leaving the four behind.

"Captain." Ghost looked to Price drawing dissapointed in his gaze. "Ghost." Price is too tired to argue with the skull man allready, Soap held Ghost's shoulder and sighs. "..Jhonny," The british tilt his head down to his mohawk. "Nah, man. let her be." Gaz commented at the telepathy phenomenon.

"Bloody fucking hell all she had to do was listen." Ghost grunts and anchored his fist to the table. "You doubt too much, Riley." Price exclaimed. "Do you not see she fell from a tree because of those damned heels?" Ghost pointed back to the forest they were practicing at. "Riley, she shot an arrow to your heart with a compound bow like a cupid, don't get me started." Price took out a cigar and lit it up.

Gaz and Soap wheezed at the fact you technically won the friendly deathmatch but stopped when Ghost glared at them. "Have a little faith, believe her for once." He huffed out the nicotine air. "Just because shes new in here, you shouldn't forgot where she came from. She goes to hell like a vacation," Price shooks the cigar, letting the ashes fall to the ground.

"The Devil wears Prada, Riley."

[irithnova]

Mongolian Archery/Headcanons

- In the Middle Ages, Mongolian archery held great military significance. The earliest recorded bow shot was made in 1226 as a stone inscription, by Yisüngge, Chinggis Khan's nephew, achieving a remarkable 335-fathom (about 575 yards) shot.

Stele of Yisüngge.

- Mongolian men were trained from a young age to become excellent marksmen, and archery played a crucial role in their military prowess.

- According to the Franciscan friar John of Plano Carpini, Mongols started shooting from the age of two, and they displayed excellent marksmanship skills from childhood to adulthood.

- Mongolian men dedicated much of their time to crafting their own arrows, which had diverse heads made from materials like bone or iron.

- The powerful tension of the bow caused it to spring back when unstrung, a challenge often mentioned in Mongolian epics as the heroic test of stringing a powerful bow.

Traditional Mongolian Bows and Arrows:

- Under the Qing Dynasty (1636–1912), all bannermen were required to undergo archery training. The military compound bows were typically about 1 1/4 meters (four feet) long, but longer bows up to two meters (six feet) were used for hunting.

- A grown man was required to handle a minimum pull weight of about 37 kilograms (80 pounds), while those participating in the imperial hunt needed to manage around 60 kilograms (133 pounds).

- Training included shooting from a standing position and also while galloping on horseback. Archers held the reins in their left hand or mouth while using their right hand to pull back the bow.

- The bows were constructed using a core made from goat horn or deer antler, covered with wood (larch, elm, or bamboo), and wrapped in animal tendons. The bows were powerful and required skill to string properly, making this task a distinguishing test of a hero's strength in Mongolian epics.

- The bowstrings were made of silk threads or leather wrapped in tendons, and arrows were crafted from materials like pine, birch, or willow. Arrowheads were made from deer antler, bone, or iron.

- Well-constructed compound bows and arrows were highly prized and fetched high prices. While powerful war bows were used for large game, simpler bows made of strips of fir or larch were used for small game.

Traditional Archery Techniques

- Mongolian archers used a unique technique of placing the arrow on the right, or outer, side of the bow. The arrow was held with the thumb and forefinger, and the bowstring was drawn with the thumb, protected by a heavy leather or polished stone ring.

- To release the arrow, the archer rolled the string off the ring. Skilled archers were trained not only to shoot from a standing position but also while galloping on horseback, using their right hand to draw the bow and holding the reins in the left hand or mouth.

Archery Competitions and Targets

- Archery competitions were an important aspect of Mongolian culture during religious rituals and Naadam games.

- In military competitions, the targets were made of sheepskin stretched over wooden frames or wooden balls placed on poles about 1.7 meters (5.5 feet) high. They were sometimes called "mangas" or monsters, as the Mongols found it disturbing to target human or animal figures.

- In Naadam games, archery was practiced using large, blunt ivory heads. The most common target was a pyramid or line of sur, made of leather straps rolled into a cylinder and filled with oak bark or leather, which the archers were required to knock over.

Decline and Revival of Archery

- By the late 19th century, firearms became more useful in hunting and warfare, causing a decline in archery competitions.

- Among the lamas of Khüriye (modern Ulaanbaatar), archery was replaced with shooting astragali (shagai) at a distance of 3 meters (9 feet) using horn or ivory bullets (ankle of sheep and goat) flicked by the middle finger from a wooden plank. This is because, due to their religious beliefs, they could not touch a weapon.

This is my own shagai set by the way!

- In the early 20th century, efforts were made to revive archery as a sport. In 1922, the army Naadam in Mongolia and in 1924, the Sur-Kharbaan (Archery) games in the Buryat Republic became annual events, marking the resurgence of archery as a recreational sport.

Changes in modern Archery

- In modern times, traditional Mongolian bows are still used in Mongolia, with archers using the traditional thumb technique.

- However, among Buryat and Inner Mongolian archers, European-style professional model bows and Western shooting styles have been adopted.

- The National Holiday Naadam rules now involve each man firing 40 arrows at a distance of 75 meters (246 feet), and women shooting 20 arrows at a distance of 60 meters (197 feet).

Headcanons

Mongolia obviously takes great pride in his cultural heritage and traditions. Archery is an integral part of his history and has been for centuries. It’s a skill that takes years to perfect - to become proficient one needs to develop both physical and mental control.

I think making bows would be a hobby of his! Not only does it keep him connected with his culture and history - as I previously mentioned, it's a skill. Bow-making/archery not only is a creative hobby, it's a physical and mental one too because of the patience and precision that is needed to create the bows/arrows, and of course, the archery itself is a mental and physical challenge!

The process of making his own bows can be both therapeutic and challenging at the same time. It requires a lot of patience and attention to detail while working with natural materials that may require specialised tools not commonly found today.

Nevertheless, he finds it to be an incredibly fulfilling experience to create something entirely by hand that is also functional and aesthetically pleasing. He enjoys painting/putting designs on them and he has quite a diverse set.

So really, bow making and archery for him:

Helps him stay in touch with his culture and history

A creative hobby

A hobby that requires mental fortitude/patience

A physical hobby

He's glad to have finally seen a resurgence and celebration of archery in his country after the rise of firearms kind of depleted it's use/popularity. It is now seen as a recreational sport in Mongolia and he treats it as a recreational sport too.

He takes pride watching participants demonstrate their skills during the Naadam Festival and other competitions where they strive to shoot targets from quite a distance away with incredible precision. The sound of the bowstring when an arrow releases - that twang sound- never gets old for him!

When he watches the younger generation take up archery, it does indeed remind him of his own experiences learning the skill as a child too.

I must say, he's still got a few tricks up his sleeve when it comes to horseback archery - even after all these years! At times, he still participates in local competitions just for fun (jock™)- he loves the the thrill of hitting a target while galloping alongside a horse.

It's definitely not something you can master overnight. Horseback archery requires an immense amount of control as well as skill from both the rider and the horse. Nevertheless, given his background as someone who understands strategy and has trained with bows since ancient times- participating is always an exciting prospect.

Sometimes he gets the chance to assist in judging in some archery competitions, which he always enjoys. He also enjoys reading about archery from different cultures too!

Of course with all of his responsibilities, he doesn't do this as often as he would like. However if you ask him about it, he'd probably do a bit of an info dump on you.

In essence, archery provides the perfect balance of discipline, creativity and physicality that he personally finds very fulfilling. Plus, it’s just plain fun!