#bigbang x oc

[j-a-nuary]

Date Roulette: Jiyong

Wednesday

Intro Week Start

Seungri Week Start

Daesung Week Start

Taeyang Week Start

Seunghyun Week Start

Jiyong Week Start

Previous

Next

=====

Warning level: suggestive

=====

Seunghyun had refused. He refused a lot of things. The only thing that I was truly annoyed with however was his refusal to tell me about how his conversation with Jiyong had gone last night. I knew that Jiyong wouldn't be able to resist telling me all about it though. He'd probably start by acting like I'd personally betrayed him too.

Such were the vague thoughts circling through my slowly waking mind.

But then I was pulled against a bare chest, and a hand started tracing up my side. His fingers skimmed along my skin, leaving the faintest touches behind like ripples.

I hummed, enjoying the attention washing over me.

The hand paused.

I made a whining noise in my throat.

The hand landed firmly on my hip, a throaty chuckle sounding behind me as lips met the skin on the back of my shoulder.

"You're awake."

It wasn't exactly a question, so I didn't exactly answer it.

Instead I turned, maneuvering so I could swing one leg over Seunghyun's hip. I ran my hand through his hair, stopping to grip the hair at the back. I directed his mouth to my own.

He laughed, letting a few kisses lane before turning onto his back.

I tried to follow him, such as it was, but he held me off.

"Hyun…" I whined, nuzzling against his shoulder.

"Baby, I have to leave before everyone gets up."

=====

Seunghyun slipped back out of the glass doors, trying to avoid the cameras in the hall. Somewhere, deep in my stomach, a stone dropped into the previously calm water. A feeling like shame rippled outwards, threatening to spill out.

I'm being kept secret.

I resisted the thought, deciding to get up and see what today's plan was.

As soon as I stood, I was taken over by dizziness. I immediately sat back down. Glancing around, I spotted the wine glasses that had been left on the vanity. I took a minute to steel myself before slowly making my way to the vanity. Lifting both glasses, I felt myself sway slightly.

It took another rest at the vanity, a second sitting on the closed lid of the toilet, four wine glass-fulls of water, and a round of catching up on texts before I could rouse the ability to get dressed.

From: Hugeboy I was thinking about you~ From: Hugeboy I keep thinking about you (♡◇♡) From: Hugeboy It makes me want to text you |ω･) From: Hugeboy You're always so busy (´Д` ) From: Hugeboy I'll see something and want to send you a picture but I feel like I'm bothering you orz

There were a few messages from Soo-ah as well. They were mostly a series of links to apartment listings, but she also included a photo of herself visiting Ttungbo in the kennel.

I spotted an expensive pair of sneakers sticking out from the bottoms of some baggy jeans behind her. There was no doubt in my mind that they belonged to Bobby.

=====

"Glasses day?"

I groaned, hoping the tone was enough to answer Daesung's question. Shuffling to the breakfast bar, I posted up on one of the stools and bent forward to lay on the counter.

"Ay, bendita…" a hand gently patted my hair, "drink too much last night?"

I turned my head so I could blink up at Daesung.

"What?"

He gave me a smile before turning towards the fridge. Opening the door, he bent at the waist as he spoke up again.

"Taeyang mentioned that he thought you and Jiyong went for drinks or something. Said," he stood up and turned towards me, a small hangover drink in hand, "you were acting weird. Here."

He cracked the seal, opening the bottle before placing it on the counter next to me. Task done, he turned and started opening cabinets.

I struggled to decide which end of the conversation to tackle first. A phrase about eating frogs floated through my mind.

Pushing myself to sit up, I pulled the drink closer.

"What else did Taeyang say?"

I chugged the bottle, hoping it would somehow soften whatever was said next.

He hummed, pulling a pan out and clicking the range on.

"That you seemed glad to be interrupted."

How diplomatic. I set the now empty bottle aside, leaning forward onto my elbows.

"He's not wrong."

I picked at my nails, not really wanting to go much further. Still, I knew it was somewhat unavoidable. The proximity of everyone, the nature of people… it would probably be better to just have a conversation than to let things get all clouded and smoky with assumptions and half…

Smoky.

My nose twitched.

Looking up, I saw Daesung standing in front of the stove top. He was staring at the pan in front of him, but obviously not seeing it.

"Dae," I called him quietly.

No response.

"Daesung." I was more firm this time, "the butter."

He shook his head, coming back to himself.

"Shit," he grabbed the pan and lifted it off of the range. He set it aside, onto an unlit section, before turning to face me.

I shook my head, "turn that off."

"Right," he turned back and fumbled with the knob until the flame disappeared. Kitchen no longer in danger of burning down, he set his sights back on me.

Thus commenced the staring match. I was willing to let it stretch as long as possible, but I could see him getting twitchy after a few seconds.

Sighing, I leaned back on the barstool.

"Just ask, Dae."

"What happened with Seungri?"

I stared at him. Did he really not know? And what was the point in knowing?

After a moment, I shook my head.

"Ask something else."

Daesung had the decency to look ashamed. He nodded to himself for a moment before taking a breath to speak.

"Did Jiyong…" he paused, apparently struggling to come up with the right words.

"It's not the same," I interrupted him, "it's more… just… confusing."

"Confusing," he echoed me.

"If I could explain it, I would."

Shaking his head, he turned back towards the stove.

"You don't have to explain," he pulled paper towels from the cupboard and started cleaning the burned butter from the pan. "As long as he didn't… hurt you."

I tried to decipher the vibes of the kitchen. He didn't sound too upset. That was part of it but he was being cautious too - understandable, given the topic.

I didn't exactly want to contribute to what I was interpreting as him being concerned, but I also didn't want to keep everything to myself.

"Not physically anyway," I said it quietly, giving him the option of pretending he hadn't heard, "and not on purpose, I think."

Daesung sighed, shoulders slumping. He kept his attention on the food he was preparing this time when he spoke.

"That doesn't exactly inspire confidence, pet."

I shrugged, laying down to once again press my cheek onto the cool stone of the counter.

"This is just how I have to live for now."

I let my eyes close, warding against the building ache in my head and slight nausea that was creeping its way through my gut.

Daesung let me indulge in the self-soothing that was laying on the counter in silence. I listened to him move around the kitchen, soaking up the sounds and smells of his breakfast. Sizzling, crackling, tapping, scraping… I didn't have the neurological predisposition towards ASMR, but this must have been pretty close.

A distinctly ceramic dragging sound and slight thunk sounded like it was directly next to my head.

"Eat."

I peeked a single eye open. My sight was greeted by a plate of toast. Not just any toast though. Daesung had cut the center out of the bread and fried it with an egg. I closed my eye again, smiling.

"You're wonderful," I mumbled as I forced myself to sit up. "A delight, even."

=====

"Do you mind if I just…" I indicated the mouse in the staffer's hand.

She nodded, rolling her seat back a little to make room.

"You're familiar with it?" She asked.

"I'm more familiar with CAD," I mumbled, focusing more on the screen in front of me, "but SketchUp is fine."

"I thought you were an accountant."

I swapped the sofa and loveseat for a sectional and a shelf, creating a half wall to clearly define the spaces for eating and lounging.

"After I switched majors, yeah."

She fell silent, her assigned purpose for the day made obsolete.

The idea for this experiment was to test compatibility through interior design. I thought that's what it was anyway. We were each paired with someone who understood the software, given a blank rendering of an apartment, and told to fill the digital space to our liking.

Somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered if there was another date on the line. They hadn't really thrown something like that in since the musical with Seunghyun. Had it not scored well with test audiences?

"Ugh," I couldn't stop the sound from exiting my mouth.

"Something wrong?"

I looked at the staffer, brain drawing a blank on how to explain the noise away.

"Oh," I was not off to a great start. "I just… um…"

"The color? Here," she rolled closer and took the mouse back. She shot me a brief smile as she moved. Conspiratorial, almost. Knowing.

I gave her a smile that was half grimace. Why was she covering for me? Was it a skill that all entertainment staff had? Or was it that often mysticalized feminine bond?

"Do you often work like this?"

She glanced up at me, quickly settling her eyes back on the computer screen.

"Not really," she tilted her head, making a few adjustments to the furniture on screen. "This is my first time, actually. What do you think?"

She indicated the screen.

I was blasted with dusty pink shades to go with the green options I had chosen. I made an effort to reign in my facial expression.

"Maybe a cream color instead?"

She nodded, and turned back to make the change.

"So what sort of work do you usually do?" I asked.

It was nice, talking to a normal person for a moment. I didn't have to fake my curiosity, or cover up what I already knew.

A bit of musical theater popped into my head.

Getting to know you. Getting to know all about you.

"-artments for rich types."

Shit. I had totally spaced out on her answer.

"What about you?" She asked.

"Oh," I shrugged, "I mean… I was doing the teacher thing for a while."

She let a small laugh out through her nose. I couldn't tell if it was in derision or just because of how common of a story it was.

"Stereotypical, right?" I joked.

Another nose laugh.

"But I finished studying and taking the KICPA test while I was doing that. So now…" I shrugged, "I'm not really sure."

"That's pretty specific," she replied, "how can you be unsure? Like this?"

I looked at the screen again. This time I was met with a much more calming, to me anyway, color pallette. Deep greens, warm creams… something out of a young adult novel about elves.

"I like it."

"Picasso."

We both broke down in giggles at that.

=====

Apparently, Seunghyun and I shared a "sense of movement." At least, that's what the expert said.

The six of us sat in an office, being shown each others' designs, while a not-quite-yet-elderly man explained the ways I was similar - or dissimilar - to each of the boys.

Daesung and I both had designed spaces that looked a bit like hobbit holes. Both of us shared an affinity for books and something like organized clutter. Where I had plants, he had an aquarium, both being examples of bringing nature inside.

Seunghyun and I shared ideas about how to move through the space. We had all been given the same floor plan, so I had thought we would each design something fairly similar in that way. But apparently Seunghyun and I were the only ones who had lent much thought to what it would be like to physically inhabit the space.

Taeyang shared my affinity for plants, but that was just about the sum total of our matching. Where I had placed a bookshelf intended for board games, he had put an upright piano. I supposed that made sense.

Jiyong was clearly a minimalist, but we apparently both intended to host others in that imaginary apartment. His design was probably best described as being sterile, but accommodating. Extra seating in the dining area, that sort of thing.

Seungri's design… well…

If you had asked me to design a space intended to be secretly unwelcoming, I might have done something like his. He had a sideboard positioned in such a way that I could easily imagine guests bumping their hip on it as they passed. The entire thing was, in a word, haphazard. It may have just been because he didn't take the task seriously, but it unnerved me.

Where the expert saw a lack of design smarts, I saw an apartment that was built to keep guests off balance.

Maybe that was a less than generous way of thinking about it, but I didn't think so. Regardless, possibly for the sake of the cameras, the other boys teased him about his perceived shortcoming.

I declined to join in the "fun" with them. Maybe a month ago I would have teased him as well but, knowing what I knew now, I couldn't force myself to make light of it.

Instead, I just nodded, acting like the designer was offering some enlightening explanation. A treatise on the connection between personality and decorating.

"So, in conclusion," the man clasped his hands together for just a moment, "I'd say that you three…"

He gestured at Seunghyun, Jiyong, and Daesung in turn.

"... are the best matches for Miss Luna here. Just," he shrugged, "in different ways."

"We already knew that," Taeyang laughed.

"Did we?" Seungri asked.

I wanted to hit him. Good lord how I wanted to hit him and hit him and hit him and hit him and h…

"You don't agree?" The expert asked.

"I think opposites can attract each other," Seungri shrugged. He turned to me. He addressed me, directly, for the first time in… how long? Two weeks? Three?

"We got along pretty well at the beginning, right?"

Silence filled the room as I pointedly ignored him. I could feel his eyes on me. I could feel the others getting more and more tense. I saw the expert's eyes flicking about the room, landing on each of us briefly before moving to the next.

I chose to trust the editors to take care of it.

"That can be true," Jiyong finally broke the silence, "but some people can be too different."

"I don't think we're that different."

There was a smile in his voice - a smile that I refused to look to confirm. I didn't know what fucking game he was playing, but I refused to play it with him.

"Isn't that a contradiction?" Taeyang asked. "Saying opposites attract, and then saying you two are similar? What's this guy saying?"

Taeyang laughed. I couldn't be sure, but I thought it was a practiced sound - disingenuous, but not obviously so.

"The whole point of the exercise was to find compatibility," the expert reminded us. "If you're unhappy with the results, you should reflect on why it came out that way."

=====

An envelope was waved, a staffer announcing that there was another date on the line. Someone suggested I choose my favorite apartment design. Someone else said that would be too much like a spoiler for my final choice.

More suggestions, more rebuttals.

I backed out of the decision-making process, citing the aforementioned spoiler concern. Instead, I sort of… disconnected. Standing to the side, I was aware of the people around me. On autopilot, I rocked on my heels, waiting for a decision to be made.

In true Kpop reality television style, it came down to rock-paper-scissors.

Taeyang excused himself from the trial, saying it should only be the top three - as decided by the design expert. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I made a note to thank him for that. Not so much for removing himself, but for creating a situation where Seungri didn't really have the option to participate.

It took six rounds, but eventually, Jiyong approached me. He grinned, offering me his hand.

"It's fate," he winked as he said it.

I blinked, coming back to myself. I felt a bit like I was waking up - groggy.

"Is that it?"

The question came out quieter than I intended. My gut twisted briefly, a bit of self-loathing triggered by the demure sound of my own voice. Oh well. It would probably play well with some part of the audience.

He tilted his head, smile not faltering thanks to years of idol training. I could see it in his shoulders, though, his chest angling silently to put more of himself between me and the others.

"Of course, my love.”

=====

“I have to admit,” Jiyong said while waiting for his manicure to set, “I convinced production to switch what they had planned for the date.”

He had suggested that we go to a salon he knew to have a combination of getting ready and getting pampered.

“What had they planned?”

“The premier showing of that movie,” he paused, checking his nails. “I don't remember the name. The post-rebellion mega-corporation one.”

I nodded, ignoring the minor heat-spike of my own nails curing under a lamp.

“The one that people said looks like Black Knight, right?”

Jiyong hummed, “with Woobin? Yeah.”

I nodded, humming a small acknowledgment as I watched the nail technician apply starry stencils to my nails.

“Did you choose a color?” The technician asked.

“A deep pink would look good,” Jiyong suggested.

The technician stood, hand already reaching for the pink and red section of the display.

“I want green,” I called out.

The technician paused, glancing between Jiyong and me.

“Like an apple,” I insisted.

She still seemed unsure.

I grit my teeth to stop myself from saying something mean.

“That would be cute too,” Jiyong nodded.

Finally, the technician moved. She passed the reds, purples, and blues, coming to a stop where the greens and yellows were kept. Quickly selecting two bottles, she returned to her seat across from me.

“It's good that you two share tastes,” she commented. “Which one do you prefer?”

I blinked in the direction of the bottles, not fully absorbing the difference between the shades as I fought back a swirl of rage. I couldn't even pinpoint exactly which part of the interaction had annoyed me. The way Jiyong had spoken up - expecting his opinion to matter? The way the technician had clearly waited for him to approve of my choice? Sure, he had insisted he was paying, but these were still my nails. My nails, on my fingers. My body.

I realized I had been staring at the bottles for too long.

“The lighter one,” I decided just to be done with it.

“And for the accent nail?”

I actually did put a little bit of thought into that. I lifted a hand, looking over the stencils.

“You know those blush nails? Or aura?”

The technician nodded.

“That,” I laid my hand back onto the cushioned rest in front of me, “with the same green.”

=====

“How are you feeling?”

The manicures were done. I was sat in the passenger seat of a car that had previously thrilled me. But right now, it just annoyed me. It was ostentatious. It was meant to impress, and I had fallen for it.

“Fine,” my voice sounded empty, despite the overly practiced upward lilt.

“Good,” Jiyong busied himself with pulling out of the parking space, “I thought you might be tired.”

Here it is.

I was sure we had finally reached the point where he'd interrogate me about being with Seunghyun last night. The revelation of whatever they had discussed.

“I planned something a little quieter tonight,” he explained, “just in case.”

=====

I tried to ignore the semi-quiet of the restaurant. Jiyong must have done some form of reflecting on our past conversations because he at least didn't reserve the entire place. Still, it was clear that he wanted us to be alone. Thus, we had an entire room to ourselves.

I could tell from the layout that it was at least two sections. Perhaps three, depending on if the fireplace warranted its own division.

In light of everything I had come to know about Jiyong, I knew that this was probably the best compromise he could come up with. I, having repeatedly asked for normalcy, had the comfort of knowing there were other patrons elsewhere. He, wanting complete privacy, at least had the comfort of being out of view of the others.

“I feel like I should only whisper,” I whispered, “it feels like a library or something.”

Maybe I was playing up the naivete, but I knew the conversation was coming eventually. It was now my main mission to make it through the meal and back to the house while avoiding it.

Jiyong smiled. For a second, I saw the way he had looked at me while helping me get ready for the theater. The smile was all soft edges.

“Should we play a game?” He whispered back.

A thousand texts messages, cocky voices, and snapchats floated into one cohesive phrase in my mind.

If this motherfucker said twenty questions I would simply leave.

“What sort of game?”

His smile shifted somehow, going from soft to mischievous. I prepared myself to relive the cliche.

“Whoever stops whispering first loses.”

I glanced towards the decorative folding screen. behind it was the arched doorway that led to the bar and main entrance. The game was just stupid enough to appeal to me.

“What about when the waiter comes?” I asked, careful to keep whispering.

Jiyong pursed his lips, thinking over what sort of rules there should be. After a few seconds, he nodded.

“Okay,” he spoke even softer than before. “We must whisper when we're alone, but with others, we can speak normally.”

I nodded in agreement, “okay. Penalty for losing?”

Jiyong shrugged, “just a favor for the winner.”

I squinted at him. He looked only mischievous, not malignant. A puckish man that might play a joke but wouldn't full-on attack me.

I nodded.

“Okay,” I whispered.

=====

It was clear neither of us was planning on losing.

The meal passed quietly. The post meal drinks were near silent. The meandering walk around side streets was as hushed as a church.

“Are churches quiet?” I asked. Even my whisper sounded loud after an extended moment of silence.

“What?”

“I was just thinking that this is as quiet as being in church,” I shrugged, “but I don't go to church. So I don't know if that's true or not.”

He hummed, thinking it over before answering.

“It depends on the church,” Jiyong explained, “and what part of the service it is.”

That made enough sense. There were about four thousand different flavors of church. Some were bound to be silent.

I let maybe two more minutes of quiet pass before whispering again.

“I don't think either of us is going to give up on this bet.”

Jiyong stopped walking. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he was nodding slowly. He pursed his lips as he watched me stop and turn to face him.

“I think you're right,” he softly agreed.

“Should we call it a draw?”

Tilting his head, that mischievous grin spread across his face once more.

I squinted at him, waiting for his answer.

Staring at each other, I couldn't help but think of the silly editing that would no doubt happen for this moment. The thought made it difficult to resist glancing at the staff member holding a camera.

“No,” Jiyong whispered.

A split second later, he darted towards me. He wrapped his arms around my waist and lifted. Spinning once, he set me down with a victorious look on his face.

“That's not fair!” I complained, “you surprised me! Squealing doesn't count!”

“But you're not whispering now either.”

“You cheated!” I forced myself back to a whisper as I protested.

“This would have gone on forever if I didn't do something.”

He leaned forward, tilting his head with that practiced cuteness that all idols have. Camera training on bold display.

Camera… right.

I pulled away from him, smoothing out my outfit.

“Alright,” I said. My normal speaking tone still sounded so loud, but I ignored that. “What do you want for winning?”

Jiyong hummed, dramatically drawing the droning sound on. He took a step away from me in the direction we had been walking.

“You didn’t have anything planned?”

He turned to face me again, holding his hand out towards me.

I paused, just long enough to make him speak up again.

“Hold my hand while we walk.”

“Is that your request?”

Jiyong laughed, dropping his hand for a moment while he shook his head.

“It is a request, but not my prize,” he lifted his hand again, “will you humor me while I think?”

=====

My hand was still in his when we arrived back at the house.

I went to drop the hold when we approached the door, which, of course, only spurred him to grip my hand tighter.

“Wait,” he tugged me back from the door, to the side of the front stoop with a little less light.

“What?”

The rest of the walk until now had been quiet. It had been nice. I had asked a few times about what he wanted, but he had only said that he was thinking and would tell me when we got back to the house.

And here we were.

Jiyong dropped my hand, but only so he could quickly unplug both of our lapel mics.

“Ji-yah…”

He shook his head slightly, fingers quickly tugging the batteries out of the mic-packs.

Once he was satisfied with our relative privacy, he turned to face me. He tucked both of my hands into his own. Clearly, he wasn’t above pleading.

“Sleep with me.”

I felt my face twitch, opening my mouth to say… something.

“Not like that!” Jiyong quickly defended himself.

I narrowed my eyes but waited for him to explain himself.

“I just mean…” a less confident man would have stammered, “like before.”

I thought back, remembering falling asleep on his chest at the hotel. It had been nice, feeling the rise and fall of his body as he breathed slowly next to me on those few nights. Still…

“We’ve talked about this.”

For a moment, just long enough to make it impossible to brush off as nothing, anger rolled over his face. His hands, still gripping my own, tightened.

I could feel the pace of my heart pick up, my nerves tingling with alertness. With fear. I opened my mouth, unsure what was going to come out.

“Oppa…”

It wasn't a word I used often. I knew that many men disliked the way it sounded on a foreigner's tongue and that some others liked it a bit too much. But at that moment, I only remembered that it was the only way I could break my ex out of his ramping anger. My chest tightened, waiting, hoping, for it to have a similar effect on Jiyong.

It did its work.

My hands were dropped, and that look on his face quickly transformed into a much more familiar one of regret.

“My love…”

“I'll go in first.”

I couldn't let him talk. He was too good at talking. I knew he was. Given the time to talk, he'd convince me. By appealing to pity, sympathy, or something else, he would convince me. So, I pushed past him and made my way inside.

=====

There were some bodies in the common areas of the house, but I didn't take enough notice of them to match them to names. Within thirty seconds, I was pushing my bedroom door shut and locking it for good measure.

Then there was nothing. My body still wanted to run, but there was nowhere else to go. This was the safest place that was immediately available. There was a locked door between me and everyone else.

I glanced at the sliding glass door.

Scrambling over the bed, not taking the two extra seconds to simply walk around it, I rushed to make sure that it was locked as well. For extra security, I pulled the curtains shut tightly.

One locked door in either direction. I was invisible.

It still didn't feel like enough.

Which was how I found myself, fully clothed, sitting in the center of the giant tub. It was empty. But the bathroom provided an additional locked door, and something about the tub created a feeling of security.

I pulled out my phone and stared at it. Soo-ah would answer, but would she understand? Mino would definitely answer and probably offer to come get me - regardless of if it causes more problems later on. Seunghyun… were we really close enough for me to call him about being scared of one of his members? Would Daesung be able to resist telling the others what happened?

Shaking slightly, I kept running through possible contacts for a few minutes before finally deciding.

The phone rang through to voicemail.

“Damn it.”

I hung up, slouching over until my head hit the bottom of the tub.

Who else? There had to be someone else that I hadn't thought of yet.

My phone rang, surprising me so badly that I fell over from my kneeling position. Without even looking at the caller ID, I picked up.

“Hello?”

“Who are we damning?”

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

Pearl of The Realm | Sneak Peek

Story Warnings: arranged marriage, canon-typical sexism, smut, 18+, loss of virginity, oral sex (f receiving), fingering

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

A/N: This story has some wonderful art done by @aegonx which will be available to view alongside the full fic when HOTD Big Bang is in full swing 😙 in the meantime, enjoy the teaser!

He knew that he would eventually have to marry someone, but it did little to take the sting away from it. Often, while his mother talked at him, he looked down at his boots, shifting his weight from his right, to his left, and to his right, again, batting little thoughts in his head.  What his mother didn’t know is what those ladies at court said about him while they supposed his back was turned. That he was of a violent disposition with a quarrelsome temper, one wrong movement or something as simple as a word spoken out of turn and he would dare not speak to the person in question for however long he deemed fit. That women thought of him as incapable of feeling something as beautiful as love, or even affection, given the sullen look he always wore, with barely-contained anger lurking beneath and an unexpressed pride in his position.  Aemond would never show that such words would have any effect on him with earnest. Sometimes it is better to not say anything at all, he concluded. This method had so often proven successful, it seemed little use to him to stray from it now.  He merely hoped that this woman his mother spoke of with such respect, was not one of the ladies at court. 

Coming to @hotd-bigbang in November '23!

[deviltsunoda-writes]

flowers / fernando alonso x ofc! kpop idol

summary; nobody expected fernando alonso to date a kpop idol

note; i am back in my kpop groove again fml

972,204 likes

kangjuni: JUNI EP ALBUM [Flowers]

2023.02.15 7PM (KST)

#JUNI #주니 #Flowers

#YGENTERTAINMENT #엔터테인먼트

View all 7,776 comments

Liked by charles_leclerc and 742,928 others

kangjuni: JUNI EP ALBUM [Flowers]

2023.02.15 7PM (KST)

TRACKLIST POSTER

#JUNI #주니 #Flowers

#YGENTERTAINMENT #엔터테인먼트

View all 4.553 comments

user: Fernando and Charles??

user: Huh?

charles_leclerc: It was a pleasure to work with you Juni!

Liked by scuderiaferrari and 2,234,837 others

kangjuni and charles_leclerc:

JUNI EP ALBUM [Flowers]

2023.02.15 7PM (KST)

'NOW (feat. Charles Leclerc)'

#JUNI #주니 #CharlesLeclerc #NOW #Flowers 

#YGENTERTAINMENT #엔터테인먼트

View all 30,444 comments

user: They've gotta be together

user: 올해의 노래!

user: Charles x Juni my parents

user: Y'all are forgetting that there's an 11 year age gap between them

user: Nah forget Charles x Juni, Juni x Fernando is where it's at

Liked by astonmartinf1 and 71,077 others

fernandoalo_official: your touch makes me feel like i'm floating forever

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user: Fernando soft launch??

user: Interesting…that's the English translation of Forever by Juni…

user: If he's happy, I'm happy

Liked by __youngbae__ and 2,532,083 others

kangjuni: Flowers; a letter. 

To Teddy, Kush, Vince and Hunseol. Thank you for working your magic on this album. It has been an absolute pleasure to work with you all, and hopefully we can do it again in the future! When I approached you three with an idea, I had no idea it would turn into something this big. 감사합니다!

Ducky, my big bro! Working with you is like a dream come true, ten year old me would be over the moon.  Jay, even though we've known each other since 2005, it has taken us this long to actually collaborate. Can you believe it? Charles, you're one of the most talented people I know, never let anyone take your spirit.

To my brothers, Seunghyun, Daesung, Jiyong and Youngbae. Look at us now. I'm so proud of what we've achieved, and what we're going to do in the future. The first day I met you all, I had no clue how I was supposed to work with four boys, but I'm so glad I stuck it out. Seunghyun, our wine dates kept me going through this creative process - the hangovers not so much. Daesung, my smiley brother. You cheer me up even in the darkest of times, though I do wish you'd wear more than just socks when you play the drums! Jiyong, like you've led BIGBANG through hard times, you've helped me so much personally. Thank you for all your advice, though it really should be me advising you! And Youngbae. You helped me with this album, even when you were completely sleep deprived from dealing with my nephew. Thank you for letting me crash on your couch, steal your food and steal your son when I'm craving auntie/nephew days.  I love you all so incredibly much. BIGBANG is forever. 

To my fans. This album is for you. It's a love story, a romcom, the perfect glass of wine, a warm bath on a cold day. Thank you for supporting me from day one.

And finally, to my husband. Nando, this album wouldn't have happened without you. You've supported me through everything - my brothers joining the military, hiatuses, creative slumps and crazy fans - and I don't know what I would do if you weren't firmly in my corner. You've given me a fair few heart attacks throughout our relationship, and you continue to do so, but that's what I love about you. 

Always yours, 

Kang Juri. 

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writer's note; i am incredibly proud of this one

[lya-dustin]

Shock and Delight

Or the Aemond x Aemma (oc) Bridgerton!AU no one asked for x this week's prompt from @hotd-bigbang (September 22nd: "All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad." (Moby Dick))

Please do not ask when i am returning to my other wips as i have no control and by the looks of it just started a new one.

The household of the Princess of Dragonstone is always a sight to behold at court. Whether it is by its sheer size ---the Realm's Delight in her piety has had a child for each of the Seven and her mother’s heart welcomed Lady Laena's daughters as if they were her own bringing her up to the unholy number nine---, the cohesion of it or its variation in coloring, you find yourself looking at them.

Unfortunately, their good looks, dragons, and enviable familial bond do not make up for the fact that, in comparison to Queen Alicent’s four children, they are rather ordinary. Yes, dear reader, that observation includes newborn Princess Visenya.

One has to wonder if their rank in the succession and dragons will be enough to find them all good matches now that the eldest two are to join the violent and bloody melee that is polite society.

--- the Morning Scandal

“I told you the printing press was a bad idea.” Daemon comments as the week’s scandal is read to him by his wife and niece.

“You sound like Otto.” Rhaenyra said refusing to take down her idea of a free ---but moderated--- press. “Besides it’s not hinting at It, the printer checks with me before letting things like these harmless little paper circulates around the world.”

“If the scandal sheet is as harmless as you say, then why are you going all out on the twins’ debut, sweetheart?” he asked looking smug at knowing it got to her.

No one could see them as ordinary, if people know they are not as special as they appear they will begin doubting the place they have in life. They would see Rhaenyra was an ordinary woman and wonder why ordinary bastards were called so and hers cannot.

The myth created by their culture protected them, if the smallfolk believe the gods spat the Valyrians onto land and gave them dragons and dreams to conquer the land they would not dare to harm her family.

Aemma, the elder of the twins and her heir, could not be seen as an ordinary girl. Not when her crown would pass on to her and give them the boost needed to push for absolute primogeniture as Queen Alysanne and Prince Aemon had hoped to do so only to have his own fucking father deny the legality of his will by calling the Great Council.

People will contest her father’s will; Otto Hightower was not wasting his time hoping to change her father’s mind as Alicent did and was doing everything to have enough allies for when the time came.

“You saw Maester Orwyle and Lord Beesbury’s letter, he is dying, and it won’t be long before Otto shoves me out the way to put Aegon on my throne. If Aemma weds the right man, we can prevent needless bloodshed and make sure we keep on this path of peace.” Gods, Rhaenyra hated how much she sounded like father these days. It was as if the roles were now reversed ---only she knows Aemma wouldn’t be so naïve as to give up her maidenhead to the only young man who treats her as a person and not a meal ticket.

Jace could only marry a Celtigar, a Velaryon or someone with Valyrian coloring to secure his place as future Lord of the Tides. Despite truly being Laenor’s son, her sweet little boy did not look the part. Something that could be remedied if he wed, say, Vaemond’s sweet girl, Daena.

Aemma needed to have an advantageous marriage. She needed a lord with a title, wealth and something to get the Greens to rethink their plans. Rhaenyra could have her wed to Aemond knowing her father will say yes, but there is a possibility that her little brother, like her late first husband, prefers roast duck.

Even Mysaria cannot find a woman in his past or present save for the whore Aegon hired when he was three and ten. Poor boy must have been traumatized, as if him losing his eye and that clusterfuck afterwards hadn’t been enough.

Nothing wrong with his preferences if it was true. Rhaenyra enjoys a good goose from time to time as does his mother, she just didn’t want to damn her daughter to her life. Her sweet Aemma deserved a man who would love her as a husband should.

Unfortunately, the younger generation was plagued by an unholy number of heiresses and hardly any heirs. The Princess of Dragonstone could count on her hands the number of men young enough to wed Aemma without being old enough to have courted Rhaenyra.

“I thought you wanted her to marry someone of her choice.” Her husband reminded her, they had agreed no arranged marriages for their children.

“I do, as long as he fills all the requirements we need.” His wife assured him and pretended not to see the scandal sheet go under the rest of the news printed on this morning’s newsletters. He thinks she doesn’t know he reads it while in the privy, but she does, just as she knows who writes it.

“You are a madwoman, Nyra. How will you manage to find this mythical creature?” the Rogue Prince asked. This was the same man who managed to find two women perfect for him ---after the convenient death of his first wife--- through blind fucking luck.

“All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad.” Rhaenyra laughed and asked him not to speak of this once the children came in and sat down to break their fast as they always do.

[acob]

The year is almost over.... and honestly guys this has been my biggest year yet #epic so why don't we go down and count down and look down the craziest moments of 2023... are you ready for this epic nostalgia filled tour, cause I sure am argagagagaga

-

1) Ya

[serenaew]

Coming soon: Nocturne for flute solo

-- Cover art reveal --

Y'all know I'm impatient, and I need some positive energy so...

I'm excited to announce my most recent "filk" project:

Nocturne for flute solo

inspired by EtherealTrail's Snape/Reader fanfic

Remedial Venom

created for

Snape Bigbang @snapebang

and to be revealed on June 19th, 2023!

Here a sneak peek to the cover art:

Bonus: background highlight:

Acknowledgements:

Lindsey Bugbee's (https://thepostmansknock.com/) Medallion worksheets + Lovely Calligraphy Drills

Myriam Frisano's (https://halfapx.com/) flourish workshop and

Julia Winkler's (https://www.sushimoon.com/) Swinging Serifs workshop, both on

Lettering Online Festival 2023 (https://www.herz-kiste.ch/lettering-online-festival-maerz-23/)

Coming June 19th!

Stay tuned!

[emilykaldwen]

High in the Halls

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (OC) Written for the @hotd-bigbang

Rating: Mature

Summary: Aegon Targaryen, the last true Valyrian Warlord, rattles at the machinations of his mother who tries to play Andal politics when he wants nothing more than to be left alone. A chance meeting of a maiden in distress in the Riverlands changes everything.

AKA the Old Valyria AU!

Notes: This is chapter one! Of what will probably be two chapters? I just didn't have the time to finish this, I'm so sorry.

Art by: @the-common-cowgirl / Beta: @vampire-exgirlfriend

Read on AO3

Author's Note: It's the old Valyria AU I've been hinting at for ages! It was a rough summer y'all, and this thing got finished while I was dying from Bronchitis (but before I got Covid) so I wasn't able to finish it. But this is absolutely a universe I want to have fun in and play with from time to time. I hope you enjoy it with me!

Sunfyre’s scream pierced the air, sending seagulls frantically fleeing from the battlements of Dragonstone, crying out as they took to the sky in an explosion of gray and white. The deep pink frills along the back of the dragon’s neck stood high, his head rearing back, snout vivid and wet with the blood of the sea beast he had dragged ashore for him and little Dreamfyre to feast on. His little sister’s dragon was twice the size of a horse, and the dead beast was at least two of her. The pair of them crouched around the great beast on the black sand beach, the waves crashing and little flits of multi-colored light caught in the air every time they broke against the rock of the harsh inlet.

Syrax hissed in response, her head rearing back in offense at being denied, but she eventually turned away, for Sunfyre was twice her size, and the smaller dragon was no match.

Aegon’s half-sister, on the other hand…

“Where is father?”

Aegon tilted his head, looking over his shoulder to where Rhaenyra, stood in the archway that led down to the stables. Her long, silver hair was tied back in a thick braid that fell to her waist, woven with charms that tinkled when she turned her head. The harshness of the style made her look more like Lord Viserys than her own mother, Lady Aemma, whose features were soft like his own mother.

He stayed silent, dragging his thumbnail along the near imperceptible groove of the stonework he leaned against. Did she think he was a servant? Did she think they were as close as their sire liked to pretend they were?

She arched her brows when he didn’t answer, her black boot tapping on the black stone. Before Aegon could open his mouth, there was movement behind Rhaenyra, heavily accented Valyrian answering for him.

“Helaena had another dream last night.” Lady Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes as she approached, silent maidens swathed in red following her. She was father’s second wife, taken in marriage when Lady Aemma could bear no more children. Even after all these years, she wore her long green gowns in the style of the continent: square necked and deep sleeved, a heavy, gold chain looped about her waist, her auburn curls held back a net of onyx and emeralds. Next to Rhaenyra in her dark gray riding leathers chased with crimson, Aegon thought his mother looked like a queen.

Rhaenyra ran her tongue over her teeth behind her lips, nodding curtly, and spun away with a swing of her long hair and vanished into the stronghold, vengeful and beautiful in the low light. Helaena’s dreams had changed fate for their family and Aegon did not know if it were better or worse. Some days, in the black of night, he wished he had gone down with the rest of their people in ash and flame. Others, he relished the freedom from politics that had plagued his earliest years. The fearful whispers of assassins, the way Uncle Daemon raged that they did not need to taint their blood to gain the Hightower gold—these things haunted him.

Mother pursed her lips, watching Lady Rhaenyra leave before her large, dark eyes met his.

“You cannot hide from me forever,” she told him in the common tongue. Aegon scoffed and looked back out at the rocky outcropping below where Sunfyre and Dreamfyre continued to devour the salt beast. He didn’t move as she approached, startling only a little when her hand combed through his shoulder length curls. “We must talk about this.”

“Must we?” he snipped, refusing to look at his mother. He kicked the toe of his boot against the stone and resisted crossing his arms to rest his head against them like a petulant child. Aegon was, in fact, acting a little like a petulant child, but he’d grown exhausted of the conversation that had circled for the past three years. “Go speak with Aemond about it. He’ll be more than glad to cross blades with Daemon and Rhaenyra- ow!”

His mother pinched and pulled at his ear to pull his face towards her and Aegon jerked from her grasp instinctively. Alicent Hightower’s lovely features were severe, delicate brows furrowed, pouty mouth pressed into a firm line.

“You are Viserys’ eldest son.”

“And Valyrian law dictates that Daemon inherits as his dragon is older-”

“Valyria is gone,” Alicent spat, her voice grating like the screech of kitlings or claws against stone. “If by chance you’d forgotten in your cups of strongwine, foolish boy. Valyria is gone, to fire and ash these past three years. Their laws of inheritance do not matter. The custom here, Aegon, is that of the eldest son. Sons before sisters, and all before uncles.”

“Then disown me,” Aegon snapped, pulling from his mother’s grasp before she could claw at him further. “Aemond will become your eldest and he shall eagerly fight with Helaena at his side. She could present it as a vision: Aemond inheriting Dragonstone with their children to carry his legacy on.” He clapped his hands together, smiling, although the gesture held no true joy. His smiles rarely did.

Aemond would relish at the opportunity to prove himself, to be more than what his position allowed him. Ever since their first son, Maelor, had been born, his younger brother had strutted about, speaking of his virility, dangling his son, and then soon after, their daughter, Daenys, in front of their father who so loved his grandchildren. Filling the hole that Rhaenyra left when her new family moved out of the fortress to the island of Driftmark, Viserys had indulged his grandchildren and Helaena was expecting her third soon.

The space between them grew as his mother drew back, her mouth pinched so tight that her lips had gone pale. Aegon loathed the way her gaze scraped at his insides and he resisted wrapping his arms around himself protectively, instead focusing on maintaining his languid, distant posture. To show weakness within the obsidian halls of Dragonstone was to be a death sentence. His mother was not of Old Valyria, but of these strange shores that he was more familiar with than the Freehold. She chafed at the ‘strange customs’, sick at the prospect of her children intermarrying with one another to keep their Valyrian blood pure. She misliked his lack of ambition, or how he preferred to spend his time in the brothel in the little fishing village while Lord Viserys lamented not being able to introduce him to the Ruby Palace and the most divine pleasure slaves the Freehold could have offered.

Lady Aemma misliked his father speaking so, although she was better at hiding her frustrations with her tender, tired smiles. His mother also did not care for the time Aegon spent in Lady Aemma’s solar, where they indulged in honey cakes together and she expected nothing from him, letting him lay his head in her lap while she combed her fingers through his hair when his mother’s anxieties turned her vicious.

If his own mother despised so much of him, then why was she so insistent to have him named heir?

“Aegon.”

He could not bear the anguish in his mother’s voice or on her soft features; the way it coalesced with the frustration like how the blood from the carcass on the beach turned the foaming ocean surf as pink as Sunfyre’s wings. Her shoulders that had bowed in on herself straightened, her breathing evening, and her delicate hands smoothed along the richness of her gown. “We will not indulge in such foolish things,” she said with an abrupt shake of her head. “You will be married at the end of the season.”

It felt like she’d punched him in the throat, the air rushing from him like a wheezing carcass. “I have no sisters to marry,” he rasped out, the blood rushing in his ears. Sunfyre’s call from below was a questioning one, and he saw his dragon lift his bloody face to peer up at him.

“One of the River Kings has need of a son in law,” she explained. “He is well known to our family, with only a daughter and the other river kings are circling. In exchange for you to protect his holding and claim his title upon his death, he will ensure that his armies are yours when the time comes.” She sniffed, twisting the ring on her right hand. “Which will be sooner, I think, than we all expect.”

Well known to their family? The Hightowers. The power that family held was ancient and worthy enough of Valyria, their origins a tightly guarded secret, but his father had said the Hightower blood was a special thing, and how lucky he’d been to snap up the daughter of so much power.

Aegon felt strangled and overheated, a pain coursing through his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Does he know?” There was something guttural and full of warning running through Aegon’s words, and it vibrated through him. For a moment, he thought he tasted salt and metal, satiating and repugnant along his tongue, and he spat on the ground to rid himself of the taste of his dragon’s kill.

She sniffed again. “He has allowed me freedom to do with my other two children as I please, and Daeron is eager to become a Maester and not claim a dragon for himself. He will serve you well when his education is completed.”

Something cool and wet slapped against Aegon’s cheek and he blinked, tilting his head up as a fine rain began to fall. His mother hurried back inside, arms wrapped around herself, but Aegon ignored her insistent call to follow him. He stood there letting the rain hit his too hot, too tight skin, wondering if it would sizzle the way it sizzled against the dragons. A fine hiss of steam had surrounded Sunfyre as he continued to eat, Dreamfyre tucked beneath his wing, protecting her in the ways that Aegon was unable to protect Helaena himself.

Of course Daeron didn’t want a dragon. He knew nothing else but what he learned of on the ground.

“You’d barter me to some little king for the power of my dragon!” Aegon shouted, his voice heavy with rage, an anger that he’d rarely let loose coming to the forefront like the storm surge. The heat in his throat was a dragon’s flame - he’d spit fire if he could.

Rage was Aemond’s domain, was Rhaenyra’s, was Daemon’s. But Aegon was just as fearsome when he chose to be.

“Aegon-”

“You had no right!” His hands ached for something to throw, to bend and break and shoving over the brazier on his way inside would have to suffice. The coals hissed and bounced along the stone, the metal clanging loudly along the ground. Mother jerked away at the sound like something skittish, a doe perhaps, or a mourning dove, dark eyes wide at the display. Perhaps she did have reasons to mislike him. “You had no fucking right. Daeron, you can barter around, but I, in case you’ve forgotten, am a Warlord. My mount is not some overgrown horse, but fire incarnate, and should I ever so choose, I could turn your precious Oldtown to ash, and the rest of this land if the whim took me.” His nostrils flared as he breathed, wishing he could snag his mother and shake her until sense rattled in her head once more.

But she misliked him enough that he didn’t, the notion settling like a stone in his gut as he skirted her and followed the ghost of his elder sister. Mother shouted his name, but he ignored her, striding down the dim corridors that snaked through the fortress. Torchlight illuminated the slick walls and made the obsidian shine like some living, slimy thing.

Trilling, melodious and haunting, echoed down the corridor, but Aegon could hear the shifting in Sunfyre’s tone. ‘Bite? Attack?’ the sound seemed to question. The Dragonkeepers along the dock gripped their pikes, shouting for Sunfyre to settle, to calm, but the golden dragon would have none of it. He called, concerned, and it grated and echoed along the cave that housed the stable, boiling saliva and blood dripping from his maw and onto the black stone. Another cry shook dust from stone as Sunfyre made as if he were to scramble his bulk up onto the dock. The Dragonkeepers shouted once more, Keeper Arrax looking at him imploringly.

Aegon met his gaze briefly before approaching, tugging his riding gloves on from his pockets. “Lykirī!” he called up to him, but there was little command in the words. Sunfyre rumbled low in his throat, eyes flicking above Aegon and past him for whomever had caused such upset within his rider. It was only as Aegon lifted a hand to his bloody maw to scratch gently along his nostril, did Sunfyre relax, albeit with extreme annoyance at not having anything to attack.

The dragon snorted and settled, lowering himself enough that Aegon could make his way up the curve of his wing to the saddle. There were no words exchanged. None were needed. Him and Sunfyre were as one; the envy of the last Dragonlords.

The further west Aegon flew, the lighter the clouds became. There was something deeper within that, he was sure, and he could only imagine what poetic waxings his father would engage in had Aegon asked. Aemond would huff and let out the most annoyed of sighs and simply say, ‘Clouds move, you nitwit,’ and whatever obscure and esoteric insults from the books in their father’s library.

The breaking of the clouds revealed the lush green of what his mother’s people called the Riverlands. He’d flown over Crackclaw point and up the river that flowed into the Bay of Crabs, the great mountains of the Vale majestic and snow capped in the distance. The rolling green hills and dense forests were cut through with snaking slashes of blue and marked with weirwoods like drops of blood unfolded beneath him, a tapestry of a world he did not understand. His memories of the Freehold were fuzzy. The villa they’d lived in had been large, and he remembered the palanquin draped in the blacks and reds of their house as he made his way to the Dragonmont to claim Sunfyre. And then Helaena’s dreams had entranced their father and here they came.

Dragonstone was more home than Valyria had ever been, but even so, the obsidian fortress in the shadow of the mountain felt like a cage.

Out here above the Riverlands, Aegon breathed in the crisp air, the scent of the storm they’d passed through untainted by the smell of sulfur and salt that permeated the air of his home. These creatures of mud and root were meant to be subjugated. They were unworthy of the gift of flight, Aegon’s blood was a pure, magical thing, not something to be bartered to such a thing.

But his mother was of these people, and he loved his mother. Her blood flowed through him. She was just as fierce as his sister even if she lacked wings. His Uncle Daemon sneered and called him and his siblings half-breeds, shocked that they were able to claim dragons as they did.

Aegon shook his head, damp hair stuck across his forehead, and urged Sunfyre lower to better make out the land before him. Here, he could see the frightened sheep moving in a great herd as the shadow of the winged predator loomed over them. Sunfyre rumbled his desire and he tugged on the reins.

“You’ve had your fill,” he reminded the dragon, and the beast grumbled his annoyance. They swooped lower now, so Aegon could make out the details of the sheep and their startled herders, and hear the distant barking of the herding dogs that accompanied them. Aegon turned south, crossing over the Trident and soon they came upon Castle Derry nestled in the hills. His brow furrowed and he circled about it curiously. Was this where his bride resided? On the shores of the Ruby Ford?

Aegon flew further out still, towards the lush wood, settling his dragon down by a grove of bone white weirwoods, their crimson stained faces bearing witness to his sulking and self-pity. The forest floor was damp and gave beneath his boots as he approached the heart tree. The smell of petrichor clung in the air from the storms that had passed through; the scent of rich earth, of the pine scent of the evergreen trees that hugged the red grove a physical thing.

It was only the red sap that gave the look of bloody tears against the bark. That’s what the maester had said. Helaena, who received dreams from the gods, said they were the tears of those their visions could not help. Even though theirs were Valyrian gods - the fourteen flames that dragons like Syrax and Caraxes and even little Vhagar bore like badges of honor. Aegon had never felt close to the gods of his people, for they were angry beings that threw the Freehold into a melted, smoking husk and destroyed everything that they’d come from. The places in his hazy, childhood memory, the people who had visited, who had bustled in the forum below, were all gone, as were the multitude of dragons that had filled the sky from the other families, not to mention so many along the empire, and the many who had been unclaimed, roosting in the fissures of the volcanos.

Sunfyre rumbled behind him and Aegon waved a hand. “Go on,” he told him, Valyrian words feeling strange to speak in front of the tree. Sunfyre gave him a long look, as if assessing Aegon’s intent before his legs bunched up and he took off with a gust that nearly pushed Aegon from his feet. He ran his fingers through his hair before resting his hand on the pommel of his sword and looking around. Mayhaps he’d go for a swim. Climb a weirwood and fall asleep in the boughs. He could pilfer some clothes and dye his hair and vanish into the mists of the Riverlands, become something new and unseen. He could -

The scream that ripped through the forest was full of terror and anger, the words distant and shrill, but he could just make out the ‘NO!’ through the cacophony. Alarm took over and Aegon’s head whipped around trying to figure out what direction it came from. Another scream for help and he shifted direction, darting through the weirwood grove and bursting into the firs and evergreens of the rest of the forest.

‘Don’t stop screaming,’ he thought to himself, blood pumping in excitement for a fight. A dragonlord’s first weapon was fire and wing. His second was the blade, and Blackfyre hung reassuringly at his side - the gift his father had bestowed upon him on his twenty-second nameday. Next to fucking and drinking, he relished most the clang and scrape of metal against metal.Aemond could roll his eyes at his lack of finesse, but Aegon loved a good fight; blade, teeth, a punch to the face, all were ideal.

He slowed on approach, darting behind the thick trunk of a red oak large enough to seat his whole family for a meal. There were four men just past the trees by the stream, their horses lingering, pawing at the ground, perhaps from Sunfyre’s presence earlier. Three of them wore simple brown tunics and leggings, tabards of black and yellow with a sigil of eerie yellow eyes peering back at him. Aegon knew little of the houses of the area to know which this was. From the finer cut of cloth the fourth man wore, he was their liege. Tall, with dark blonde hair and broad shoulders, the leader of the group was clad in a tunic of black, his tabard half black, half yellow, edged with golden cording.

“Hush now, you’re safe,” he crooned to the hissing, spitting maiden clutched in his arms. She was a slight thing, her kirtle a deep, forest green, the skirt split over a pair of leggings, elegant embroidery visible across her gown. Aegon’s eyes darted around, looking for her horse, but none was to be found. A noble lady from the looks of it, but the oddity of her being alone in the forest was not his priority.

“Let me go!” she snarled, eyes wide and frightened, and she reached up to claw at the man’s face. Her little hand struck true, raking across his handsome features, and he yelled, striking her hard against the face in retaliation and sending her to the ground.

Sunfyre growled low in Aegon’s chest and before the man could reach for her again, he made himself known, unsheathing the Valyrian broadsword idly, clucking his tongue against his teeth.

“Is this how you Westerosi whelps treat your ladies?” he asked, brow furrowed in feigned confusion as his lilac gaze darted from man to man. “I confess, I’ve only been here for a little time, but from what I’ve been taught, there are laws among your people that frown on such things.” A lie of course; he could care less what laws Westeros had, but the woman was distressed, and he was doubtful any of these men owned her. Why he cared about her distress at all was something he would dissect later.

Aegon’s gaze raked over the men before lingering on the maiden still on the ground. The damp of the earth soaked into her skirts, her copper curls a frizz around her soft, tear streaked face. The ring her assailant wore had cut into her mouth, streaks of blood welling up and smeared across her chin. Her eyes met his in that singular moment, so vivid and bright, an endless blue. Aegon forgot to breathe at the sight of that frightened gaze that looked at him so full of terrified hope, his stomach twisting and pulling, wanting to drag him towards her.

How could he deny such a desperate plea? How could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that?

“Be gone with you, stranger,” the leader of this little band sneered, unbothered by the glint of Valyrian steel in the shafts of light that struggled to cut through the trees and clouds above. Aegon’s gaze met his and he smiled, lazy and unbothered. The creak of leather signaled the unsettled movements of his companions.

“Prince Ed,” one of them said, all nervous hesitation that pleased Aegon. “He’s one of them.” Fearful and othering, but he should fear him. Aegon was not some mortal clawed from mud. He was nearly a god himself, and the dragons were of the gods. Sunfyre purred deep in his chest, feeling Aegon’s amusement. He knew the dragon was approaching, and Aegon could buy himself some time and entertainment. Three against one wasn’t terrible odds. He’d been in brawls like that before, but rarely with a blade, and the swordmaster’s cautious words ran in the back of his mind to be cautious of how he picked his fights.

Sunfyre would be there before things got too out of hand.

The prince narrowed his eyes in Aegon’s direction and took in the languid stance and the Valyrian steel blade. There was a flicker of unease on his face before he set his jaw. “Are you sure?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t think they touched the ground, let alone come down from their mountain, too busy fucking their sisters and fathers and probably their dragons.”

There was a nervous titter of laughter from his group and Aegon joined in, his own manic giggling not quite reaching his eyes. He moved deliberately yet continued his easy stance before he stabbed forward, a flash of polished steel to slide across the arm of this prince of mud. Aegon smiled as they shouted and pulled their blades.

“She’s mine now. Be off with you. I would spare her from witnessing your rolling heads.”

The supposed prince spat at Aegon’s feet, drawing his inferior blade. “A daughter of the Riverlands will not be taken by an inbred Valyrian bastard,” he declared with all the mock chivalry and hot air that he’d been blowing. As if Aegon hadn’t just come upon them attacking the maiden. She’d been backing slowly away as Aegon had held their attention but she froze now as the man’s gaze shot at her. “Marvyn, grab her. I’ll slay this imp abandoned by his beast.”

He was brave. Aegon would give this so-called prince that much. Brave and exceedingly stupid, which often went hand in hand; Aegon would know, having been called such by his mother. The clang of steel against steel rang through the clearing and the shriek of the woman joined them as she lobbed a rock at Marvyn in her attempt to evade their reach. His opponent relied on strength, on the advance and powerful swings, and Aegon knew the type. He ducked low and got behind the oaf, kicking the man in the ass and sending him stumbling forward. With the space cleared, Aegon turned and shoved Blackfyre through the back of Martyn and removed the blade without catching any bone. Blood sprayed against the damp earth as he fell to his knees and Aegon spun the blood streaked blade, eyes on the third who had hold of the maiden’s arm, and back to the prince.

Aegon smiled brightly at him, all teeth and mirth and the feral edge of the dragon beneath his skin. “Shame about Martyn,” he said with a pitying shake of his head. “But at least it’s a first course.”

Above, a great, winged shadow appeared, blotting out the watercolor sun and casting them in momentary dim. The gust of wind from Sunfyre’s wings shook the tree, a few small branches falling to the ground from sudden and turbulent wind.

“Prince Edmund,” the other man’s voice cracked with fear, and his wide, sunken eyes focused upon the forest canopy, hand still clutching his sword and the other dropping from the maiden’s arm. Another shriek filled the sky and the trees filled with the frightened lowing of woodland animals fleeing, the birds shaking the remaining branches as they took off.

“Don’t be frightened,” Aegon laughed, shaking the damp curls back from his forehead. “Sunfyre is just having a little fun before he feasts. We’re both rather famished.” He opened his arms wide, the blood dripping from the dark steel of his blade. The clearing was quiet except for the low wheezing of Marvyn’s death rattles. He looked to the frightened man who was backing away before his gaze traveled back to this prince, taut and tense and gripping his useless sword with both hands. “What was it you were saying about inbred Valyrians abandoned by their beasts? There were four of you, weren’t there?” Aegon looked around again, and there was neither hide nor hair of the fourth companion, who seemed to be the only one with good judgment.

Sunfyre’s cry shook the forest once more. The horses had already fled in fear.

“Just leave,” the maiden said, finally finding her voice as she stumbled to her feet, her eyes like blue fire as she glared at the leader of her assailants. “Leave and take the gift of your life.”

She trembled with fear but her fists were curled into her skirt, her shoulders squared as she stared the man down. Her voice lilted, softly and strangely, neither melodic nor grating, but something altogether new to Aegon. The common tongue was not her mother tongue, and it gave a dulcet quality to her tone that those brutes lacked.

Aegon’s smile broadened, his teeth flashing as he looked at the prince. “Begone, you mud stricken thing.”

The two men fled, leaving the corpse of their friend behind, and Aegon watched their figures disappear into the trees. Sunfyre’s melodic trill echoed above and he chuckled, reaching down to wipe his tunic on the corpse of the man he’d stabbed. No need to stain his own clothes with such inferior blood. Sheathing his blade, Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys, the last Dragonlord of Valyria, straightened before the maiden he’d rescued. He knew she would be in awe of him, perhaps even frightened. That was certainly alright. He would reassure her, comfort her, and promise that he would bring no harm to her.

“My lady,” he said with the utmost courtesy. She stood there, several feet away, her arms wrapped around herself, her brilliant blue eyes wide and wild. There was a gentle, cracking sensation between his ribs as he took her in properly. She was a mess from head to toe, the skirts of her riding clothes soaked and stained. She was slight, shorter than he was, and fear had given her soft features a delicate quality that drew from how pale she was, how stark the blood and dirt looked across her face.

It took everything in him not to just reach for her and lick the blood away from her swollen mouth. To swallow her fearful cries away and replace them with precious little moans. She looked like she would make sweet sounds. The fight had his blood pumping with fever and the thrill of the win only increased the potency. He meant what he said: she was his now. He’d claimed her and sealed it through combat.

“Come,” he said, fingers wrapped around her wrist. Aegon was startled at how fragile the bones felt beneath his touch. He made sure he was gentle with it, not wanting to frighten her further. “We’ll fly back to Dragonstone and you’ll be given all that you desire.” The slap of her little hand against his cheek surprised Aegon more than it hurt, but still he reared back at the sting of it, looking down at the maiden with wide eyes. “I saved you!”

“From men who wanted to steal me to make me a bride against my will! You’re trying to do the same thing!” She yanked at the hold he had on her wrist, but he would not let her go, not now that he had found her.

“I’m not going to make you my bride,” he snapped, bewildered at the very thought of it. “You will be my concubine. Then if you prove yourself, I might wed you.” Bride? What a silly idea these Westerosi had. Not that the idea of tying this girl to him wasn’t appealing. To drag her at the foot of the Dragonmont, to sip wine and taste the blood on her mouth with the blood on his, it was an appealing vision. And it was his own choice, not one where he was sold for his precious dragon and his mother’s clawing attempts to change the succession. If Alicent Hightower wanted him to marry a Westerosi so much, Aegon had found his own choice.

From the furrow on her brow, to the flush that filled her lightly freckled cheeks, it was too late to realize those words would not entice her. A sharp pain radiated from his shin from where she kicked him.

“I will not be your concubine, you stupid dragon whelp.”

“You are precious when so angry,” he giggled with amusement and dodged out of the way of her attempt to rake her nails across his face. Abruptly, he released her, and the girl went stumbling back, breathless. He lifted his hands in surrender before clasping them behind his back. “I won’t touch you-”

“Go raibh maith agat,” she muttered and Aegon blinked.

“Did you sneeze?”

She huffed. “I was saying thank you. I will not have uppity Valyrians accuse me nor my people of being discourteous even as you are high handed.”

Aegon snorted. “It was your Westerosi brethren that sought to kidnap you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Her eyes were nothing short of vivid; such a brilliant, cobalt blue like the endless sky, rimmed red from tears and smudged black from lack of sleep. The softness of her vulnerability at his statement was unmistakable and she did not have a snip or barb for him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and did not meet his gaze. At a loss for words now after she spent so many. Gods, she was a mess. Dirt on her cheek, her soft, molten red hair a mass of curls tied in an unkempt braid. Her wool kirtle was no better, torn along the sleeve and neckline, though it did little to detract from how fine a garment it was—or had been.

The twist of pressure in his chest was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and Aegon did not know where to put it.It snaked through the pulsing arousal through his blood, the aching desire he had for her. “How long have you been out here?” he asked her, voice gentler this time, as if she were a skittish mare.

She desperately looked around, her lower lip trembling before her teeth caught at the ruined flesh. Blood welled up in the wound once more from the broken clot. The desire to lick it rose in him once more. Instead, Aegon tugged his handkerchief from inside his sleeve and handed it to her. The linen was carefully embroidered with golden beetles by Helaena, who’d been bedridden during her last pregnancy.

It hung between them, Aegon’s outstretched hand with the offering. Tear filled eyes met his before flicking down, eyeing his hand with all the wariness of a little rabbit before she whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, just as softly, if a bit ashamed. Aegon looked down at the corpse that still lay near them and he carefully stepped between it and her gaze, gently herding her away from the sight and towards the weirwood grove he’d come from. He let her lead the way, keeping a distance between them, his eyes darting about for either horses or those fools. Sunfyre warbled above them and Aegon knew he was keeping an eye out before the ground shook at the dragon’s landing. The maiden stumbled and Aegon caught her elbow before she could fall.

She did not jerk away from him this time and he did not grab her roughly, the idea of further scaring her making him uncomfortable.

“What is your name?” It was a polite question and one Aegon should have asked her before telling her he was going to carry her off to Dragonstone. No matter; he could make up for it now.

She did not look at him and Aegon noticed how she trembled, likely from the come down after the fight. His own hands were shaking lightly, but he’d been well trained to manage it. He cursed under his breath and looked towards the clearing where Sunfyre landed. There was a cloak in his saddlebag he could give her.

“Abrogail.” Aegon looked at her, dark lashes shading her eyes, her pink tongue darting out enticingly to wet her lips as she dabbed at her mouth. “My name is Abrogail.”

Oh. “That’s… that’s a lovely name. Abrogail.” It even tasted lovely on his tongue. “I’m Aegon. Targaryen. Of House Targaryen.” How foolish he sounded.

Her mouth twitched with a promise of a smile and warmth bloomed in his chest. “I gathered as much… Aegon.” Gods help him, he loved the sound of his name on her tongue. Adjusting his course of action seemed to be working as the tension eased a little in her slim shoulders and her sweet face. The pulse of desire flooded through his veins once more and Aegon exhaled, looking up at the red leaves and white boughs of the weirwoods they had come to. The light was dimming as the clouds grew heavy with moisture and Aegon could smell the oncoming rain; petrichor and ozone and the promising crack of lightning. Could he make it back to Dragonstone to stay the night?

“Are you far from home?” he asked, the words ashen in his mouth. It was the right thing to do, even when all he wanted to do was bundle her up and take her away with him. She was meant to be his now. He had claimed her, won her in combat.

“Not overly far,” she said with a strange tone. Aegon looked down at her. Abrogail’s gaze had darkened, turned inward in her contemplation. “I left for my own reasons… and I find myself without my horse. I am not,” she paused, pushing a finger into his chest with fierce, flashing eyes, a kitten arching her back, “Saying I would come with you as your concubine.” She spat the word out with a wrinkled nose.

Aegon grinned at her, all bright teeth and amusement, a mad sort of giggle spilling from him. “Oh, you’ve made yourself quite clear, my lady. I promise not to make you my concubine, but I can offer you a ride away from here.” ‘To Dragonstone,’ he thought. She was escaping something, she said, and he could provide her anything she could want. All he’d ask for in return was a taste.

Abrogail tilted her head, rosebud mouth pursing in her wariness but the curiosity was easing her features.

Several tastes, perhaps. If she insisted on looking so appetizing.

“Your dragon?” There was a nervousness in her tone, but oh, that curiosity. Aegon nodded and held his hand out to her.

“Come,” he said softly. “You can meet Sunfyre.”

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think! If you're looking for more Aegon and Abby, check out The Maiden and the Drowning Boy! and of course, be sure to check out the other stories being posted for the big bang <3

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

BOOM! (1/3)

Part 1: The Cowgirl & The Oilman

Stunning, wonderful, perfect art by @lya-dustin

My submission for the 2024 @hotd-bigbang

1928. Targaryen's, the foremost business conglomerate in Europe, is seeking to establish a foothold in the United States - and the mass of wealth and resources it offers. Viserys Targaryen has dispatched each member of his family to a different city to oversee the company's expansion into various new industries. His second son, Aemond, has chosen Dallas, Texas as his destination to take advantage of the continued prosperity of the oil boom. But getting Targaryen Oil & Petroleum off the ground may be harder than he anticipated, all thanks to the determined efforts of a single, stubborn, spellbinding cowgirl.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Nameless Female Character

Warnings: Language, Aemond is a cunt but so is the OC so it evens out?

-

The birds did not chirp. No squirrels were scuttling around, and no deer creeping through the undergrowth as they emerged from their dens. Even the cicadas were quiet, observing the mournful procession below them.

A beat-up truck hauling a rickety trailer kicked up dirt as it drove away. East, she knew. In a few miles, it would turn south. Then, there would be paved roads. Traffic lights. Other cars with roaring engines and blaring horns. Civilization.

Around these parts, ‘civilization’ meant one thing: Dallas.

The family inside the truck, the Cordrys, had been able to afford a new two-story house with the money the oil company gave them. They even had enough left over to buy a second if they wanted. But they wanted to stay together – family is family, after all. Instead, they would send Buck, their eldest son, to the university that opened in Dallas some years ago. He hadn’t yet decided whether to be a preacher or a lawyer.

The young woman watching them leave from atop a nearby hill dearly hoped he would be a preacher. Buck was always good with words, which would suit either profession, but he was also kind. She had never met a lawyer herself, to her knowledge. But given that it was a lawyer who negotiated the deal for the Cordrys to sell their ranch, she decided she didn’t like lawyers.

Lawyers had come for her home, too. Vermillion Ranch apparently sat on very valuable land, not that her ancestors knew it when they first settled there over 100 years ago. All they knew was that it was the prettiest piece of land for miles and miles. Still was.

Her Papa loved that land so much that when the lawyers came to buy it from them, he’d chased them off with his shotgun. He hadn’t been so proud or happy in years, but it cost him, leaving him so exhausted that he hardly got out of bed for a week. So, when the lawyers came back, she’d taken up the shotgun and did the scaring herself.

They hadn’t been back in a while, but she knew they’d try again soon.

She would never let them have the land, even if they offered her all the gold in Fort Knox.

Loral, her beloved horse, knickered as she chewed at the shoulder of her shirt, breaking her from her thoughts just in time to see the Cordrys’ car fading in the distance, little more than a smudge of dirt against the sunset as they passed by a half-built oil derrick.

“Come on, girl,” she said, patting Loral’s neck. “Let’s go home.”

-

Within minutes of stepping off the Gay Abandon in what locals called the “Free State of Galveston,” Aemond Targaryen decided he hated Texas. 

From what little he had seen of the United States, he could confidently say he hated most of the country, with only a few notable exceptions. But this place? With its cacophony of warring jazz music and industrial clanging, undercut by overloud radios and the people shouting to be heard. With the skyline jumbled with shoddily rebuilt slums, sprawling stone factories and warehouses, and brightly painted beachside resorts teeming with people that would look much better suited to Los Angeles or Miami. With the stench, a horrid combination of fish, brine, booze, and oil.

Perhaps “loathe” was a better word than hate for this city.

At least he didn’t have to stay long. 

A car was already waiting for him at the dock to take him to the train that would deliver him to Dallas. The moment the chauffeur was back in his seat, he opened the glove box to reveal an amber bottle of ‘moonshine,’ which he then offered to Aemond in a truly incomprehensible accent. How the man hadn’t already been arrested for so blatantly defying prohibition, he didn’t know.

Yet another reason to hate America - the continued illegality of alcohol.

Though he’d yet to find a city where liquor couldn’t be found with even the mildest of efforts, he still refused to indulge. He could not risk arrest just for the brief escape a good glass of wine offered. There was too much riding on his new task.

Targaryen Oil & Petroleum Inc.

As of now, it was only a packet of legal documents and an office somewhere in Dallas that Aemond hadn’t yet laid eyes on. But given a year or two and no small amount of hard work, it would be one of the most profitable ventures in the history of Targaryen & Sons. After all, it had by far the best potential of any of the other new projects. Texas was at the heart of the booming oil industry, and as the world’s demand for electricity, cars, aeroplanes, and more grew exponentially, so would the market for so-called “black gold.”  

Much of the state's southern half had already been claimed, but the north had begun showing new promise. All Aemond had to do was buy a few hundred thousand acres of land from the farmers there and start drilling.

He would win, he had no doubt.

Not that it was truly a competition. Or at least, his father had not called it such. Still, how could it be anything but? The old man sent each of his children and two eldest grandchildren to the New World with one task: make money - lots of it.

Aemond’s elder brother, Aegon, had purchased a film studio in Los Angeles to invest in the new talking pictures. His sister, Helaena, was in New York, where she bought some magazine about nature, or geography, or something similar. His younger brother, Daeron, had gone to a city called Detroit to manufacture automobiles for racing. Viserys’ grandsons, Jacaerys and Lucerys, followed Aegon to Los Angeles to pursue aviation engineering and radio broadcasting, respectively.

All respectable prospects, but not nearly as lucrative as oil was. In truth, the only competition Aemond faced was from his elder half-sister. Rhaenyra had also gone to New York to start an investment bank. She would surely do well, especially with the support from her husband’s shipping empire. But Aemond knew she would soon lose interest and pass her responsibilities onto someone else so she could indulge her own interests - namely parties and men.

Targaryen Oil & Petroleum would prevail in the end, and Aemond could return home as the heir apparent to Targaryen & Sons.

All he had to do was spend a year or two in this hellhole.

-

“You have gotta settle down, girl,” she grumbled as she wiped the sweat from her forehead with her Momma’s old handkerchief. She glared at the massive mare who had been giving her nothing but trouble for the past six months, holding tight to her leads, only letting go when the new stall door was closed and double-latched. “Lumber’s expensive. We don’t have the money to keep this up, and we’re all outta spares.”

There were seven stalls in the horse barn. Only two were occupied, and only those two still had doors. The mare had broken five of them. Not to escape the barn or the ranch. No, she never went anywhere. She did it just because she was cranky, and she could. The cowgirl also suspected that the horse was somehow amused by it.

“But you like making me suffer too much for that, don’t you?” An exaggerated shake of the mare’s huge head certainly seemed like a gleeful yes. She sighed. “That’s what I thought.”

With the horses tended, she made her way to the house to fix lunch for her and Daddy before riding out to meet the herd. She was only halfway across the yard when she heard a far-away engine growing louder and louder. It couldn’t be neighbor - they were all gone now. That only left a few options, and none she was too pleased about.

Each step up to the porch creaked as she climbed toward the house. Maybe she could use some of the salvageable wood from the latest destroyed stall door to replace them, even if the color wouldn’t match. Paint was just as pricey as lumber. 

“Daddy! You up?” She only poked her head through the door, not wanting to get barn muck inside the house. Momma's strict rules still applied, at least to her. “Daddy!”

His grumble sounded an awful lot like the cranky mare’s. “I’m up! How can I not be with all yer hollerin’?”

“It’s almost lunch, Daddy. You need to be up!”

“Fine, fine. I’m up!” He tried to snark back more, but it quickly became wracking coughs. Daddy was sounding real bad again, and even if it wasn’t the usual day, maybe it was Doc Spooner in that car coming to check on him.

The car had gotten close enough that she could start to make out its shape within the cloud of dust it kicked up. A shiny bumper and bright green paint. Not a car she recognized. “Hey, Daddy, is the doctor comin’ today?”

“Not today, hun. It’s Tuesday, ‘member?”

“How ‘bout Pastor John?”

“He’s down in Waco for the rest of the month! Why you askin’ anyway?”

Then who the hell was in that car? She had an inkling, but she was sure the last time Daddy got the shotgun out would be the last time they’d be bothered about this. “Car’s coming up the drive. You wanna handle it?”

She hoped he would. But to her disappointment, he shouted back, “Too damn tired! You take this one, hun.”

So, she shut the door and leaned against it, watching that shiny green car pull into the ranch proper. Chickens scattered away from it, even though they weren’t anywhere near its path. The goats and sheep meandered to the edge of the yard, not wanting to be disturbed but unwilling to wander too far for fear that one of the dogs would come after them. Meanwhile, the dogs barked ferociously at the mechanical intruder but didn’t so much as stand from where they rested in the shade of the house—lazy good-for-nothin’s.

The car finally stopped. It was even fancier than the cars the other lawyers came in, with brass polished to look like gold on bits that were usually chrome. If it wasn’t absolutely coated in dust, she might even like it. A man in what looked to be a green police uniform came out the driver’s door. Very fancy, then, if the lawyer wasn’t driving himself. 

When he emerged from the back seat of the car, the man nearly took her breath away.

He was tall and thin as a beanpole. But he didn’t seem delicate. Maybe that had more to do with his suit - deep blue pinstripes with what surely must be padding in the shoulders. Most of it was likely due to the sour expression on his handsome face. Not handsome like farmhands or cowboys were handsome - gruff and rugged - but like how movie stars were handsome - softer and refined.

Or at least, he would have been if he weren’t sunburnt to all hell and sweating like a whore in church.

This man was not from around here, and as far as she was concerned, he could fuck right off. Of course, he didn’t. He just walked right up the porch and took off his hat, revealing his slicked silver hair.

“Who are you?”

He raised a brow as he looked her over, head to toe. Judging by the slight sneer pulling at the corner of his mouth, he wasn’t impressed with what he saw. “My name is Aemond Targaryen.” Lord, he even talked fancy, with a soft, pretty voice and some kind of accent she’d never heard before. Though his sharp tone left something wanting. “May I ask for your name, miss?”

“No.” Handsome as he was, it didn’t change that she wanted him gone as soon as possible.  “What do you want?”

His nostrils flared as he took a deep breath. “As I said, my name is Aemond Targaryen, proprietor of Targaryen Oil & Petroleum. Have you heard of our business?”

She certainly had. Not only had it snatched up the land from most of the farmers and ranchers in the area, but it had also started buying land from other oil companies, too. Undoubtedly the worst of all of ‘em. And Mr. Targaryen himself was now standing on her porch, looking down at her as if she was a piece of shit on his shoe. She clenched her jaw to stop it from dropping open and pointedly stayed silent.

“Well, we are relatively new.” He glanced off to the side, his distaste for everything around him as clear as day. “As the name “Oil & Petroleum” implies, we are in the oil business. I’m - ”

“No shit.”

He looked at her like she’d just shot him. “Pardon me?”

“I said, ‘no shit.’” She gave him her best, over-sweet smile.

“Yes, well…” His hat creaked as he clenched it in his fist, his jaw so tight she half expected it to snap. “Our petroleum geologists - very smart people who study oil - have determined, or found, that there is a large deposit beneath this land,  meaning that there is a lot of oil deep underground. Oil is used to power electricity, cars, and many other things, so it would be very good for everyone if we could get the oil out of the ground. We do this by drilling. Do you understand me so far?”

Uppity bastard. Did he really think she was so dumb she needed all this explained? “Oh, I understand you just fine.”

“Very good,” he praised, as if she were a child who’d taken her first steps. “Now, to be allowed to drill for oil, you must -”

“I’m not selling my land.”

The last dregs of false politeness faded from his voice. “I’m sorry?” 

“I am not selling my land.  Not to you or anyone else.” Even if it meant her only neighbors would be oil derricks and lawyers circling like vultures.

“You haven’t even heard my offer yet.”

“Don’t need to.”

“Miss, based on the value of the land and the oil under it, I am willing to pay you forty dollars per acre.” He stepped closer, forcing her to crane her neck to keep looking him in the eye. Very pretty eyes, even if they were filled with frustration. “Given the size of your property, that comes out to over forty thousand dollars. Do you know how much money that is?”

She shrugged as she crossed her arms, raising her brows in mock awe. “Sounds like forty thousand dollars.”

“I -” He shook his head, so visibly exasperated that she had to stifle a laugh. With his skin as red as it was, he looked like an angry tomato. “That is a life-changing amount of money, surely.”

“I don’t want my life to change.” Other things, sure. Of course, she would love it if her neighbors came back or if she didn’t have to listen to the grinding of metal from one of the derricks whenever she was on the west side of the property, but those were just minor annoyances. 

“You could go wherever you want, do whatever you want, yet you would rather stay here?” 

Looking him dead in the eyes, she nodded. “Yes, sir.”

He laughed bitterly, shaking his head.

“Something funny ‘bout that?”

It took him a moment to reply. “I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to offer -”

“I understand you completely, Mr. Targaryen. You ain’t the first lawyer to come try to convince me and my Daddy to sell.”

Perhaps it was a mistake to mention her daddy. As soon as she did, Mr. Targaryen’s exasperation disappeared, and he was once more calm and smug. Still looked like a tomato, though. “Your father is here? May I -”

“No, you may not.” She pushed away from the door to block him from moving closer. No way in hell was she letting this ass anywhere near her daddy. “I promise he wants to talk to you even less than I do. Now shut up and listen.”

To her surprise and satisfaction, he did.

“You really think everyone else sold their land but me because the lawyers never came my way? Oh, they came my way. Over and over again until Daddy got so fed up, he took his shotgun off the mantle. They all stopped comin’ pretty soon after that. You are, in fact, the eleventh lawyer to come here and try and buy my land. Surprising, ain’t it? I can count higher than ten. I also know how oil drilling works. I s’pose you didn’t notice when you were drivin’ out here, but there are oil fields all around me.”

She stepped toward him, throwing an arm out to point to the nearest one, its steel towers rising from the earth like black weeds. Mr. Targaryen barely glanced at it, his eyes remaining on her as he stepped back, maintaining the distance between them. 

“So I know exactly what you’re gonna say to try to convince me to hand over the deed, and I’ll tell ya right now, it’s not gonna work.” When she took another step forward, he did the same. So she did it again and again, until one more step would send him tumbling into the dirt. “So get off my porch, get off my property, and go straight to hell with your forty-thousand dollars. This land is worth at least 90 bucks an acre, and you goddamn know it.”

She didn’t wait for his reaction before turning and storming into the house, regardless of Momma’s rules, the door banging shut behind her. But she stayed just inside the house, her back pressed against the door as she waited for him to leave.

It was a while before she heard the porch steps creaking again, and longer still before a car engine hummed to life and drove away. He’d hung around, for whatever reason.

Daddy was waiting for her when she went to the kitchen, his handkerchief already tucked into the collar of his shirt. “Who was that man you were yellin’ at, hun? Gotta be either a lover or a lawyer for you to get that mad.”

“Lawyer,” she answered. “A new one. Wanted to buy the land.”

“He give you a good offer?”

She laughed as she opened the icebox to grab the meatloaf from last night that would fill their sandwiches today. “Lowest one yet. Think he thought I was dumb enough to not know the value of my own land.”

“It’s still my land for a little bit longer, girl. Don’t go getting ahead of yourself.” She knew he was joking, but it still stung. He’d been doing that a lot recently, making light of the fact that the doctor had told them he couldn’t be cured and would likely be dead within a year.

“Don’t talk like that, Daddy. Please?” 

“I know. I’m sorry, hun,” he sighed. The jokes helped him feel better somehow, she knew. But they made her feel so much worse. “Now come on, you woke me up for lunch, so where is it?”

-

Aemond was once more in the back of his car, dust obscuring the view as he returned to that ranch – Vermillion, according to the faded sign on the side of one of the barns.

After his last visit, he’d pored over every paper in the Targaryen Oil & Petroleum offices, searching for a way to alter his plan without having to acquire the land. It was possible, but it would slow down development and cost him far more than he’d initially planned to invest. Purchasing the land at the price that stubborn cowgirl claimed the land was worth was the frugal option.

Or at least, that’s how he justified the decision with his investors and executives. It certainly factored into his decision to return, but was far from his central motivation.

The cowgirl had pushed back at him, and he refused to concede to a half-wit hick with illusions of superiority. If she wanted to be stubborn, so would he.

So, he once more stepped into the rocky, dirty, foul-smelling yard surrounding the dilapidated farmhouse. Ranch house? Either way, it should have long since been condemned. The wood paneling was saggy and greying, the roof messily patched, and the steps onto the porch groaning like a rusted wheel. And when he pounded his fist on the front door, he half-expected it to fall off the hinges.

Miraculously, it didn’t. But neither did it open.

Instead, a remarkably gruff voice called from inside, “Who’s there?”

Thank God, it wasn’t the cowgirl. She had mentioned a father, who might be far more amenable to selling, but she had also mentioned something about a shotgun that made him hesitate before calling back. “My name is Aemond Targaryen. Do you have a moment to speak?”

There was no answer other than the sound of shuffling feet and something pounding on the floor.

Then, the door opened to reveal a massive man, his years of hard labor evident in the width of his shoulders and stern set of his brow. This was the kind of cowboy who inspired the legends that had spread around the world. But he was also undeniably weak and ill. His skin was thin and sallow, his broad shoulders slumped, and his eyes sunken and shadowed with fatigue. He leaned heavily on a wooden cane, a compass fixed to its head, and its wood mottled yellow and brown and charred in spots. Aemond did not doubt that if he took the cane away, the man would collapse.

Still, the cowgirl had talked about this man scaring away other oilmen with a shotgun, and he didn’t want to risk the same fate.

“Good morning, sir,” he said, dipping his head. He’d allowed himself to be too terse with the girl. Perhaps a more genial approach would help him find success with her father. “I’m very pleased to meet you. May I ask for your name?”

“No.” The word was deep and rasping, followed by a wet cough. “You the man that pissed off my little girl couple days ago?”

Aemond gave a strained smile. “I did have the… pleasure of speaking to your daughter, yes. My apologies if I left her angry following our conversation. I’m afraid I have not yet become used to the heat here and allowed it to affect my mood.”

“I’m not the one you should be sayin’ sorry to.” The man thumped his cane a few times, then turned away.

Damn it, not again. “Sir, I – ”

“She’s in the horse barn,” he called over his shoulder. “Go bother her. I’m too old for your bullshit.”

-

When she’d heard an engine outside, she assumed it was Doc Spooner coming to check on her Daddy, even if it was a little earlier than normal. It wasn’t until the door to the barn opened that she knew it was someone even more unpleasant than the grumpy old Doc.

“What the hell are you doin’ here?” She asked Mr. Aemond Targaryen as he walked into the barn, nose wrinkling in disgust. This time, it was justified – she was in the middle of mucking the stables, a shovel full of shit in her hands.

He forced a smile. “First, I wanted to apologize for my behavior the last time I saw you. I offended you, and I deeply regret it.”

If he hadn’t seemed so genuine, she might have just flung her newest load of shit in his face. Instead, she dumped it into the wheelbarrow beside her before putting her shovel down. “Thank you. I appreciate that.”

For a long moment, they just stared at each other.

Her Momma’s voice echoed in her head: a little kindness goes a long way, hun. But why should she be kind to a slimy, good-for-nothing oilman who was probably only saying sorry to butter her up so she’d sell him the ranch? Still, Momma’s angel was firmly planted on her shoulder, and she’d never been able to say no to her.

“I’m sorry too,” she sighed, crossing her arms. She felt like a scolded schoolgirl again. “You were rude first, but it was tacky of me to be rude back.”

Again, silence fell in the barn, only broken by an impatient grumble from the old mare. Mr. Targaryen immediately turned to her, his eyes going wide at the sight. “Who is this?”

“The Jacksons just called her Ol’ Gal,” she explained, stepping forward to try to stroke the horse’s nose. “I’ve been doing the same.”

He just hummed as he came closer, looking at the mare like she was the most interesting thing he’d ever seen. “The Jacksons… they owned Live Oak, yes?”

Ah, so he’d been the one to buy it. She missed that place. The Jacksons always hosted the nicest picnics. Mrs. Abbie Jackson made the tastiest green bean casserole in the county. “Yeah, that was them. When they sold, no one wanted to take Ol’ Gal. Too old ‘n too ornery. They were gonna take her to auction, but I knew the only folk that would buy her then wouldn’t treat her right, so I offered to take her.”

“That was very kind of you,” he murmured, stepping closer to her stall. Somehow, the mare didn’t startle or even stamp her hooves.

“I don’t think she’d agree with you. She’s been madder than a whole nest of hornets since she got here.” And had cost her five stall doors and a dozen fence posts, not even counting the time it took to care for her when she fought every bit of it. “Hey, I wouldn’t get too close. She’s prone to bitin’.”

“I’ll be fine,” he replied, not even looking at her.

In all honesty, she wasn’t gonna be too mad if he lost a finger, or at least a couple knuckles. But he would very much mind and, as a lawyer, would probably use the accident to force her to sell Vermillion. “No, really, she’ll – ”

Lean into his hand quite happily, apparently.

“How the hell did you do that?”

He smiled smugly, shrugging as he continued to stroke her snout. “My father keeps horses. I had a fondness for the older ones that were largely ignored in favor of the new acquisitions, and they had a fondness for me.”

“Funny, I thought animals were better judges of character than that,” she mumbled. Oh shit.

His smile was gone, and he dropped his hand from the Ol’ Gal. His eyes, which had seemed to see her as a person, again looked at her like she was the very shit she was shoveling. “Apologizing was not the main purpose of my visit.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured.” The voice of her Momma was screaming in her ear, begging her to apologize for her unforgivable rude words, but her pride shoved it down, down, down, until all she could hear was the hum of cicadas and the faint swishing of Loral and Ol’ Gal’s tails. “What is it you want, then?”

He crossed his arms behind his back. “After some new research, I’ve determined that my original estimate of the value of your land was, as you said, incorrect. I am now willing to pay you ninety-three dollars an acre, bringing the total value of my offer to more than ninety-six thousand.”

Offering her so much money pissed him off, judging by his clenched jaw and strained voice. It didn’t amuse her as much as it did the first time. Still, she wasn’t going to give in just for more money. “My answer is still no. Hell no. Fuck no. Whatever no you need to go away and never come back.”

Something snapped for him, and he surged forward until their chests were nearly touching. He craned his neck to look down at her, fury burning like the summer sun in his eyes. “You stupid little cowgirl. Are you so stubborn that you’ll tell me no just to what? Feel powerful? Feel like you’re somehow superior to me? It’s a fucking joke.

“I’m offering you the chance to become a person. To live in real, modern civilization.” He laughed, cruel and humorless. “But you’d rather stay here? In a house that will fall apart the next time there’s a strong breeze, and spend your days shoveling shit? My God, you’re hardly better than the animals you keep.”

Oh, how she wished she was a horse, if only so she could trample him under her feet. Or one of her cattle, so she could gore him with her horns. Even if she was one of her dogs, she could shred him apart like he deserved.

But she was just what he said, a stupid, stubborn cowgirl.

She turned away from him, opening Loral’s stall to saddle her as quickly as she could. She needed to get away, or she was going to do something she would regret. Likely hurt him. Possibly cry. Either way, she refused to do it.

“Where are you going?” he asked once she was in the saddle, clutching the reins so hard they dug into her skin.

“I have chores to do.”

He stepped in front of Loral, arms out to try and prevent her from riding off, but Loral sidestepped him with ease. “I’m not leaving until I get my yes.”

“Then I guess you better follow me. Or you can always go sit with the dogs where you belong.”

Without waiting for an answer, she spurred Loral into a gallop and left Aemond Targaryen behind.

-

When the cowgirl and her horse faded into the distance, Aemond screamed. He didn’t care if her father or his driver heard him. He needed to scream. What had he done to piss off God enough that he would put this girl in front of him?

Behind him, the old mare snickered, banging her legs against her stall door.

“How do you endure her?” he asked. God, he really had lost his mind if he would stoop to commiserating with a horse. At least the horse seemed to dislike the cowgirl as much as he did – he had one ally.

If he was going to succeed, perhaps he needed an ally, even an equine one. After all, horses had helped win the Great War, and this girl certainly felt like his personal war. Very well, then.

He had the mare – Ol’ Gal needed a proper name – saddled in mere minutes. Then, he was off, chasing after the most infuriating woman he’d ever met with the determination of a general.

Whatever it took, he was getting his yes.

-

Author's Note: yeehaw motherfuckers

[lolahauri]

✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Requests are always open, and you can send as many as you want, as detailed as you want! I just get to them whenever i can/feel like it.

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Boundaries: Flirting, nicknames, tmi, spam are all okay.😛Just don't copy or repost my stuff. Translations or taking inspo is fine w cred. <3

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DNI: MAP, ZOO, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Minors!!!, Discourse Blogs. ❤️🖤🤍💚

Things I Won't Write: ❌

Sex Crimes of Any Kind, Super Violent/Xtreme Kinks, Inflation, Feederism, Abuse, Puke, Shit, DDLG, Age Play, Raceplay, Wound Fucking, Gore, Vore, Misgendering/Detrans, CBT, Sounding, Fisting, Gunplay, Drugging, Stepcest etc...

Things I Will Write: ✔️

Genderbent Characters, Mild Yandere, Daddy/Mommy Kink, Cheating, Mild BDSM, CNC, Dubcon, Monsters, Hybrids, Sex Pollen, Legal Age Gap, Power Imbalance (Prof/Student, Boss/Employee), Feet, Armpits, Piss, Breeding, Mild Blood/Knifeplay, Cock Warming, Dry Humping, Voyeur, Public Sex, Orgy, 3somes, Sex Toys, Overstim, Edging, etc... etc... :P

Trans Reader, Tall/Short Reader, Chubby/Curvy/Fat/Buff Reader, Other Specific Characteristics. ✔️

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / OC x Reader / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on! (you can request other characters from these fandoms, but it might take me longer!)

Adventure Time/Fiona & Cake: PB, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona.

Attack On Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin, Ymir. 

Avatar: Jake, Neytiri.

Batman Begins Trilogy: Batman, Catwoman, Bane, Joker, Scarecrow.

Beauty & The Beast: Belle, Beast/Adam, Gaston.

Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast.

BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Penny, Amy.

Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite.

BNA: Michiru, Shirou.

Bob’s Burgers: Bob, Linda.

Breaking Bad: Jesse, Skylar.

Call of Duty: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria, Farah.

Creepypasta: Jeff, Jane, Ben, Toby, EJ, LJ, Slenderman, Splendorman, Clockwork, Kate, Masky, Hoodie,

Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabi, Edie, Lynette, Carlos, John.

Dirty Dancing: Johnny, Baby.

Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Zeebo, Wiploc, Valerie.

Elemental: Wade, Ember.

Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta.

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve.

Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.

Futurama: Leela, Fry, Amy, Bender.

Good Pizza, Great Pizza: Alicante, Octavia, Dr. Keh, Nasir, Flash, Cicero, Kimmy Slice, Dr. Price.

Grandma's Boy: J.P, Samantha.

Gravity Falls: Ford, Stan, Soos, Melody, Giffany, Bill.

Jane The Virgin: Jane, Michael, Petra, Luisa, Rose, Rogelio, Xiomara.

Jurassic Park (1993): Ian Malcolm, Ellie Sattler.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna.

King of the Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luane, Nancy, Dale, Khan, Min, John Redcorn.

Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy.

Little Mermaid (2022): Ariel, Eric.

MHA: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Shigaraki.

Miller's Girl: Cairo, Johnathon.

Moon Knight: Moon System, Layla, Khonshu.

Mulan: Mulan, Li Shang.

National Treasure: Benjamin, Riley.

Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Bowser, Waluigi.

Norbit: Rasputia, Norbit.

Princess & The Frog: Tiana, Lottie, Naveen, Shadow Man.

Ratatouille: Colette, Linguini. 

Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson.

Resident Evil: Karl Heisenberg, Carlos Oiliveria, Lady Dimitrescu.

Rick and Morty: Rick, Jerry, Beth, Doofus Rick.

Riverdale: FP Jones, Hiram.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: Kim, Ramona, Gideon, Wallace.

Scream 5: Amber, Tara, Sam.

Serial Mom: Chip, Beverly.

Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Shallow Hal: Rosemary, Hal.

Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V.

SheRa (2018): All Adults.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock, John Watson.

Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Huntress, Trapper, Wraith, Trickster, Pearl, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Patrick Bateman, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven, The Artist, Amanda Young.

Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew.

Spongebob: Dennis, Man Ray.

Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo.

Steven Universe: Garnet, Amethyst, Peridot, Lapis, Jasper, Blue Diamond, Rose, Greg.

Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans (Except George & Evelyn)

Stranger Things: Robin, Billy Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper.

Supernatural: Sam, Dean, Castiel.

Super Store: Amy, Jonah, Dina, Garrett, Cheyenne.

Tangled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell.

The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler.

The Breakfast Club: John Bender, Allison Reynolds.

The Nanny: C.C, Fran, Maxwell.

Total Drama Island: S1 Contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley.

Triple Frontier: Frankie, Santiago.

Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee.

Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie.

YOU: Beck, Joe, Peach, Love.

Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie.

~

Abel Morales (A Most Violent Year)

Astarion (Baulder’s Gate 3)

Babbo Natale (Violent Night)

Barbie (Barbie 2023)

Basil Stitt (Lightning Face)

Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs)

Bruce (Beyond Therapy)

Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Praire)

Charlie Dompler (Smiling Friends)

Chel (Road to El Dorado)

Dale Kobble (Longlegs)

Dan Conner (Rosanne)

David Levinson (Independence Day)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Doug Remer (Baseketball)

Duke Leto Atreides (Dune)

Fezzik (Princess Bride)

Francine (American Dad)

Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia)

Jack Harrison (Translyvania 6-5000)

Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)

Jon Arbuckle (Garfield 2024)

John Doe (John Doe Game)

Jonathan Levy (Scenes from a Marriage)

John Wick (John Wick 4)

King Baldwin (Kingdom of Heaven)

Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto)

Laurent LeClaire (In Secret)

Linda Gunderson (Rio)

Llewyn Davis (Inside Lleywn Davis)

Master Chief (Halo)

Mike (5lbs of Pressure)

Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops)

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch)

Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina)

Outcome-3 (The Bourne Legacy)

Orestes (Agora)

Paul Blart (Paul Blart: Mall Cop)

Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River)

Peggy Bundy (Married With Children)

Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby)

Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Prince John (Robin Hood 2010)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick)

Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Shiv (Pu-239)

Stanley Ipkiss (The Mask)

Star-Lord (Guardians of the Galaxy)

Summer Field (Time Cut)

Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House)

The Janitor (Willy’s Wonderland)

Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980)

William Tell (The Card Counter)

[asa-do-your-thing]

The Shadows of The Lost Court

Dark!Aemond x F!OC - 18+ MINORS DNI Word Count: 8.6k TW: dubcon, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon-Typical Behavior, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Shameless Smut, Angst, Fellatio, Misogyny, Internalized Misogyny, Non-Consensual Drug use, Religious Imagery, Symbolism and guilt

Art made by the lovely @nyctophilic0vitnir - thank you so much sweetheart! <3 And thank you so so much @ewanmitchellcrumbs for organizing this @hotd-bigbang , you are amazing!

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Elisabeth shuddered and stopped, turning around, coughing to try and relieve her dry mouth. 

She knew. She knew… She knew something. Something was following her. 

Leaning against a grubby, crumbling wall, Elisabeth tried catching her breath. There was nothing there, neither on the left, nor on the right. Only cobwebs; cobwebs, moss and the smell of decay.

 ‘Is The Stranger a something or a someone?’

Tonight was different. The milk came sooner than usual.

Elisabeth struggled - where some people love the rush and the calmness afterward, she hated it. Hated the way it made her sick. Hated the way it lamed her tongue; hated the way it hid her. She knew better than anyone that her doses were calculated. Maester Rithyr must have gotten the order for her to be silenced, not addicted. That wouldn’t look good. 

Elisabeth peered out of a window, only to see thick tendrils of fog curling up from the ground like ghostly fingers. The dim light filtering through the mist gave everything a spectral, otherworldly hue. She took notice of how broken everything looked: shattered windows, splintered doors and debris scattered across the dusty floor. She sighed heavily as she rearranged her long, dark brown hair under its veil, trying to keep it in place amidst all the chaos. And then, she heard him again - his footsteps echoing through the ruins.

The sound made her feel uneasy; it was too quiet, too lonely. For a moment she wondered if she was in trouble or hurt. But then a chill ran down her spine and she realized that perhaps it wasn't just the desolate ruin around her making her feel so cold and scared.

“You swore to obey me. You swore before the gods, you brutish whore. After all I’ve done for you…”, the voice echoed around her.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

He was closing in on her. The staircase seemed to be miles away, yet still, she pushed herself away from the moss-covered stones and cautiously started walking. Elisabeth grunted, her legs burning. It was as if she was walking against a current of water, one that swept her slowly closer to him. She stepped over a rotting tapestry and tightly clung onto the handrail of the staircase. 

‘Why would The Stranger think of me like that? Is it time for me to… die?’

Carefully descending down, she peered up the stairs. The window let in cold, humid gusts of air and Elisabeth was sure that she could see his dark robe in the shadow. Knowing that the Queen’s Ballroom had no other exit, she trudged past it, stopping to catch her breath along the way.

Out. Out of Maegor’s Holdfast, her mind urged her. But where would she go? As soon as the Kingsguardmen saw her, they would gently escort her back into her chamber. That’s the way it has been for a long time. Biting her lamed tongue, she quietly walked down to the entrance and glanced out. No one was there. No one, except for the occasional rat that scurried through the lower bailey. 

“I saw the way that the Strong bastard looked at you. You were with him, weren’t you? Was it not enough to tell him about our political strategies, but to also give him your useless cunny? Do you even know the shame you bring onto this realm?”

Her breath hitched as she saw him closing in on her, his dark cape billowing in the light wind. Glancing up at the serpentine steps, she felt a thick raindrop splashing down onto her. That was just what she needed - collapsing on the slick stairs, The Stranger close behind her. No, risking embarrassment by climbing over the ledge into the Godswood was far more appealing to her. 

“Leave me be! I beg of you!”, she whined, her lungs on fire.

'I cannot do this anymore, not long, anyhow, my feet... my lungs... The Stranger... Death...', she thought, unable to focus on anything else than him.

The Godswood was an ancient and sinister place, a twisted forest lurking within the heart of Maegor's Holdfast. Towering weirwood trees with their deathly white trunks and faint streaks of crimson formed a menacing roof above, and the loamy earth seemed to swallow her every step. Elisabeth took a raspy breath, feeling the icy, dank air fill her lungs. The stench of decay surrounded her, the smell of putrefaction and rot. Rain drops pelted down onto her skin, the soil beneath her feet sodden.

Elisabeth moved with a sense of urgency, her feet burning as she weaved through the dense trees. The pattering of rain on the leaves above offered her some concealment as she made her way between the shelter of one tree to another, hoping to avoid detection by her pursuer. Suddenly, a twig snapped behind her and she whirled around, only to hear the sound of footsteps growing louder and louder.

Her heart in her throat, she ducked behind a gnarled oak tree, taking cover from the ominous presence that was closing in on her. She could feel every drop of cold rain as it streamed down her face and hair, running down her back and soaking through to her skin. Each breath was ragged and tumultuous as beads of perspiration bubbled up on her forehead. Elisabeth shuddered uncontrollably in the frigid air before finally forcing herself to keep moving forward through the relentless downpour.

Elisabeth could hear the sound of her own heart pounding in her chest as she tried to make her way through the Godswood. She was shaking with fear, her breaths coming in short, shallow gasps. She knew that The Stranger was close behind her; she could feel his presence like a dark cloud looming over her.

She stumbled over a tree root, nearly falling to the ground, before weakly righting herself and continuing on. Her hair was plastered to her face and neck,  her clothes were soaked through. However, insignificant concerns like the dampness penetrating her to the core were overshadowed by her urgent need to elude her relentless pursuer.

Abruptly, a chilling sound pierced the silence, causing her blood to freeze in her veins. It was the eerie scrape of something sharp grating against the gnarled bark of a tree, almost like the sound of a blade being sharpened before an execution. Her heart raced as she whirled around, and there, amidst the gusty winds, stood The Stranger, his ominous dark robe unfurling like a spectre from the shadows.

"You can't escape me."

Elisabeth recoiled in terror, her wide-eyed gaze darting around frantically, searching for a possible escape route. However, the Godswood resembled an inescapable labyrinth of winding trees and dense underbrush, leaving her utterly trapped.

The Stranger took a step forward, his eyes fixed on her. Elisabeth saw the hunger in his gaze, the hunger for her soul. She knew that she was doomed. With a cry of despair, she turned and ran, darting between the trees as fast as she could. The Stranger was right behind her, his footsteps pounding on the wet ground.

She could feel his breath on the back of her neck, cold and ...familiar? Shaking her head quickly and looking up into the sky, she saw the towers again. She probably ran around in circles, her dazed mind tricking her into thinking she had been trapped in a forest.

Frantically sprinting out of the oppressive Godswood, she sucked in a deep breath of fresh air as her gaze fell upon the dilapidated Outer Bailey. The once-glorious stone walls loomed ominously over her, crumbling inward from age and neglect. Threadbare tapestries hung limply in the breeze, swaying like ghosts in an abandoned graveyard. Gaping holes in the walls revealed chipped statues that had been carved centuries ago, still standing guard despite their years of neglect. In the far distance, the towers soared into the sky, dark voids against a backdrop of gray clouds.

Elisabeth inhaled deeply as a thick, unsettling aroma engulfed her. The scent of lavender and jasmine combined with the decaying smell of rotting fruit and mildew. In the distance, Elisabeth could hear the faint sound of buzzing from unseen insects lurking beyond the shadows. She stumbled forward, mesmerized by the air that was heavy with an ominous foreboding.

At last she reached the entrance to The Sept - an imposing structure made entirely out of pale stone blocks that glowed in the fading light. Stone steps rose up to meet two large wooden doors while several small windows peeked out like watchful eyes looking down on her every move.

Elisabeth, feeling the stinging of her lungs, ran into the Sept and fell down on her knees. She laid atop the golden seven-pointed star on the floor and looked up at the statue of the Mother, trying her hardest not to look at the Stranger. To calm her head, she closed her eyes and took deep breaths, running her dry, cracked hands over her burning calves. The tears continued flowing over her pallid face, running down into her dirty gown. 

‘What is happening to me? Why on earth would the Seven punish me so?’

She remembered her wedding. It was magnificent, aye. But then again, it had to be. After Joffrey’s death at Princess Rhaenyra’s wedding tourney, she was quietly whisked away from the Stormlands and settled into the Red Keep as a way of keeping the Lonmouth’s - and to a greater extent the Baratheon’s - good graces, so as not to let them favour Princess Rhaenyra’s claim in the case of King Viserys’ death.

The time until the courtship was quiet, that much Elisabeth still remembered. She grew up alongside Princess Helaena - Helaena being three years older than her. Endless hours of handiwork, study and prayer had shrouded her in relative solitude, so when she turned four and ten, she was shocked to be invited to the Royal Table more often and to be invited for strolls with Prince Aemond. Back then she had still been Lady Elisabeth, not 'Princess Bess'.

Later she understood why the engagement happened. Prince Aemond had to marry to secure the crown’s security and to show the green faction that they had gotten the Stormlands support.

She often asked herself why they had chosen her over the Baratheon girls. They were more comely - Elisabeth's stature was short and plump, giving her the appearance of a child much younger than her age. Her brow was rounded, her cheeks plump and her eyes large with dark, scared pupils. Her Monmouth blood - the one that made her relation Joffrey so beautiful - must have passed her by. Her long, dark hair was thick but formless, hanging in her face without curls or ringlets. It was clear to her that Aemond was not interested in her, not in the romantic sense at least. 

As days turned into weeks, Elisabeth discovered that Prince Aemond was the first man with whom she could engage in conversations almost as equals. His cold, yet encouraging words had ignited a spark within her, urging her to delve deeper into her thoughts and ideas. Over time, an unexpected fondness began to blossom in Elisabeth's heart for him. In his unique manner, he exuded a charming gloomy aura that drew her in. Many hours passed in their quiet companionship, their noses buried in books, immersed in shared moments of silent contemplation. Their intellectual pursuits were often overseen by the watchful presence of Princess Helaena, serving as a discreet but ever-vigilant chaperone.

But now, as she lay on the floor of the Sept, she wondered if she had made a grave mistake somewhere along the line in her life. Should she have taken her vows? Life as a septa would’ve suited her far more than whatever tragedy her current situation had turned into.

Aemond had changed since they were wed. Princess Helaena said that that was the case for most men, yet somehow, a small glimmer of hope still arose that it might have been different. He had become more... mean. It was as though he was a different person entirely.

Although... he had always been the quiet sort. The kind of man that you could hear exhaling slowly whenever he heard a foolish remark, the kind of man that judged everyone for everything, the kind of man that doesn't even think himself superior - he believes it.

Elisabeth couldn't help but think of the Stranger. It was a foolish thought, she knew. But in some ways, Aemond reminded her of the mysterious figure. Both were dark, brooding, and unpredictable. 

Elisabeth had always been on edge when Queen Alicent was around; her hawk-like gaze followed her every move and her scornful words cut deeper than any blade. Every time Elisabeth tried to be independent or think for herself, the Queen would chastise her that those were qualities meant just for Husbands.

After months of having to constantly please the Queen and ignore her own wants and needs, Elisabeth felt like a teetering ball ready to burst with the slightest push. She was too afraid to say anything, though, in fear of making things worse.

Then arrived the fateful day of her wedding, a lavish spectacle replete with tournaments, sumptuous feasts, and exhilarating hunts—a grand display of House Targaryen's power and influence. The exuberance of the festivities infected all who attended, making it effortless for others to revel in the celebrations.

However, beneath the surface of the revelry, Elisabeth harboured a mixture of anxiety and excitement, uncertain of what her future held in store. In the midst of it all, Prince Aemond had become a steadfast presence in her life, forging a deep connection with her. He seemed to grasp the essence of her being, affording her the precious gift of solitude for introspection, or so she believed. He made sure to squash her hopes.

For most, that had been a grande and joyous event. For Elisabeth, it was the start of her misery, though she did not yet know the full extent. As the Queen had instructed her, she treated everyone courteously, demurely.

That she did, or at least she thought that she did. Her husband disagreed, though. As soon as they were escorted into his chamber (he had wished for the doors to be closed), he spun around and pushed her against a wall. Aemond asked with a steely voice, towering over her, if she had been cavorting with the Velaryons, the way she had smiled at them, the way Jacaerys’ lips lingered on her hand as he greeted her.

Aemond questioned if she thought him to be blind. Elisabeth whimpered and gulped, trying her hardest not to hold Aemond's hard gaze, when she explained that she was told to be courteous to everyone, only to be cut off, when Aemond had pushed her even harder, making her yelp in pain, her shoulders burning from his strong grip. He ordered her to hush and questioned her why she would associate herself with usurpers, bastards and sodomites. 

What followed was of no particular interest to her, not anymore, anyways. Someone outside of the chamber, presumably Maester Myntheon, cleared their throat and told them to settle any disputes after the ceremony. Aemond had quickly slipped off his breeches - the fact that he didn’t even care enough to fully undress stung her after it had happened - and made sure to get her naked as soon as possible. 

She laid there, freezing, looking up at the tapestries next to their bed as he quickly stroked himself. ‘Do not do anything, lest he should think you a whore’ ran through her mind so often, that she almost thought that a small version of Alicent sat in her brain, spewing her nonsensical rules over and over so she could drive herself insane. 

“Open up.”

When Aemond saw her puzzled expression, he sighed, shook his head and gently pried her legs open, pulling her down the bed so that she was close to the ledge, closer to him and his half-hard member.

“I need to get to your cunt. Don’t make this more difficult for us than it has to be.”

Elisabeth felt her face heat up, and even though the room was dark, she could feel a heavy blush take over her neck and cheeks. She opened her legs wider and tried to steel herself for what was to come, but all too soon Aemond was pushing himself inside of her. She gasped as he entered her roughly, not giving her time to adjust. He kept thrusting into her with more force than necessary, making it hurt even more than it should have. Did he know it hurt? Did it hurt him?

She tried to cry out but he put a hand on her mouth and told her he was almost done. Tears started streaming down Elisabeth's face as Aemond kept going for what seemed like an eternity until finally his body went limp on top of hers. He rolled off of the bed without saying a word and left the room without so much as glancing at Elisabeth again.

Elisabeth lay there in shock, touching herself gingerly where Aemond had just been. For the first time ever she felt ashamed of herself; despite all that had just happened she still felt pleasure deep within herself that made her feel worse than before - something no one had prepared her for or warned about prior to this momentous night.

Was she a wanton whore? Was.. was Alicent right?

That was that. After that, he visited her fortnightly, stated his needs and left again. Although, Elisabeth noted quickly to herself, he had gotten gentler after seeing her bruised cunny. Proving she was a virgin had been no great feat. Her fear had made her so stiff and dry that there were multiple splotches of blood on the bed sheet, so many that even Alicent deemed to congratulate her. That was also the time where Alicent had started giving her milk of the poppy and after that, Elisabeth could not remember anything reliably. 

Even if she could, she noticed it was not the time to reminisce anymore. His eyes were dark and bright at the same time, void of feeling even while raging with anger. The candles flickered nervously on the altars as he stalked into the room and slammed the door shut behind him. Slowly turning around, she tried looking up at him despite her shaky vision. He was tall, wearing a cape with a large hood that covered his face.

If he wouldn’t … glide and give off a sense of dread, one could almost think it was Aemond himself. Yet, the way she knew him, he would not have spent such a long time chasing her and taunting her. He made it clear enough to her, she didn’t matter. 

“Have you come to confess? To repent?”

The Stranger offered her a hand, which she eyed cautiously. 

“Have you come to take me? Or are.. You taunting me?”

He laughed ominously. “You know me, I could never taunt you in a sept. But… taking you? That is a very bold request, Lady Wife.” 

Lady Wife? Elisabeth shivered and groaned, taking his cold hand. She was not instantly taken away to the realm of the dead, which made her glad and worried at the same time. 

“Wh… why..? And… why Lady Wife? I’m Elisabeth, don’t you know?” 

The Stranger helped her up and held her for a while until she gained complete function over her legs again. Letting her go, he stepped away again and looked around the Sept. 

“You're quite perplexing. You've yet to respond to my allegations, and instead, you've led me on a convoluted journey through the Red Keep, Bess.”

Calmly folding his arms behind his back, he strolled through the small hall, making sure his eyes were firmly on her shaking form.

“You even took me here, just to ask me to be with you, despite your previous reluctance. Has something changed, perhaps due to a newfound perspective from The Maiden?”

Elisabeth cocked her head to the side, trying her hardest to identify the figure in front of her. Why would… why would The Stranger care for her relations with Princess Rhaenyra and her sons? 

Why would… why would he want to engage in an amorous congress with her? Was that a cruel way the gods were testing her? 

“Well… You chased me… I thought you meant harm to me…” 

The figure hummed and it almost looked like his face turned into a doleful expression. 

“I could mean you harm depending on the answers you shall give me. We are in a sept - if you lie, you are damned. Do you know that?”

Elisabeth took a few steps back and lowered her eyes again. So it was the Stranger. He was asking about her sins so that she might repent before he took her away. That realisation hit her gut like a punch. Tears started welling up in her eyes. 

“I… yes, I do, but believe me, I-”

“I shall decide for myself if you are innocent, Lady Wife. Spare me your tales of woe.”

Closing the distance to her again, the figure gently took her chin into his hand and forced her to look up into his eyes. He quickly smoothed her hair and wiped the tears from her face.

“Before I ask you though, I need to take you. I need to take what is mine; you have ignored me long enough and now that you’ve asked me, I would be a fool not to take you up on your offer.” 

Elisabeth whimpered and stood rooted on the spot. If it weren’t for the weird pull in her stomach, she would have pleaded, would have fled. But something… Something about the way the figure touched her so gently, so caringly, made her heart leap in ways that have seldom happened. Nothing made sense anymore. 

On one hand, she wondered why on earth the Stranger wanted to take her, yet on the other, she knew that what the Gods willed was destined to happen. And if that wasn’t the Stranger? Well, but who would it be? A dream figure? But why would she dream of such things? Was she so depraved and craven? Maybe she was. In that moment, delirious and flush with adrenaline, she threw all concern out of the tiny window of propriety that she still had in her foggy mind. 

Placing a trembling hand around the Stranger’s waist, Elisabeth nodded lightly. 

“Take me then, if you must,” she whispered. The Stranger smiled in response and embraced her tightly, pulling her close to his chest as he kissed the top of her head.

They stayed like that for what felt like eternity and Elisabeth swam in a sea of emotions like never before. She could feel his heart beating against her own, slowly but surely drawing them closer together. 

He smelled familiar. Something in her mind told her she knew him; the smell of leather, dragons and sweat. Could it be...?

At long last, the figure pressed his cold lips onto hers, almost possessively. Even though it had been one of her first kisses, he guided her strongly, making sure that she couldn’t doubt him or his intentions.

Bess tried her hardest to banish the thought of Aemond in her head. No, it couldn’t be - Aemond never kissed her. It had to be the Stranger. Was that the metaphorical kiss of death? 

Answering her doubts, the Stranger slowly started to undress her, as if he was uncovering a precious gem. His hands moved with a slow and patient rhythm, almost like a ritual or dance as they explored every inch of her body. He caressed her curves and memorised every quirk on her figure until Bess had no more will left in her to resist.

For a moment it felt like time had stopped. As if the entire world was focused on them and their lovemaking; their own little bubble of pleasure and passion that nothing could penetrate. Aemond let out a low moan of pleasure as he drew his lips down Bess’s neck, relishing in the taste of her skin against his tongue. She shuddered beneath him as his fingers slowly moved ever lower, exploring each inch of her body without an ounce of inhibition or shame. She gasped when she felt his tongue swirl around one sensitive spot near the base of her spine before finally coming to rest between her legs, ready for exploration…

Elisabeth found herself melting beneath Aemond’s touch as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through her body in response to his ministrations. His fingers seemed to know exactly where to go and what buttons to press – it was almost like he was born again.

It was almost like Elisabeth had been born again. The grogginess in her mind had subsided almost as soon as she had felt the pleasure; so had the illusion of the Stranger. But then again, her Aemond had never been kind, gently, loving in bed. He had always been rough with her, pulling her hair if he got too excited. And this man…Her Aemond had never touched her the way he did right now. Was she still dreaming?

Aemond stepped back, the space between them electric with passion and anticipation. His smouldering gaze locked with hers, and she felt a rush of heat that paralyzed her body and mind. Even though he had desired her since the day they were married, he thought she despised him, yet now in a sept the intensity of his longing was palpable. The air around them was thick with desire.

"I need you to taste me. I need to see you naked, on your knees, here, in front of the gods. Elisabeth, I finally want to claim you as my own, as my wife, and not as a piece of meat I spill my seed into every fortnight."

Despite all of her hesitance and apprehension, Elisabeth obeyed without any objection; he was still her lord husband and adhering to her spouse was the utmost important action she could take as a dutiful wife.

With trembling, cold hands she took his long, hard member and guided it towards her mouth. Was that her punishment? But for what? She had done nothing to warrant this perverse humiliation, but as he placed a hot, determined hand on the back of her head, she knew that she hadn't had much of a choice.

Gently, Elisabeth opened her mouth and engulfed Aemond’s cock. She could feel him shudder at her touch, and the heat that emanated from his body caused her pulse to race. His breathing was ragged as he gasped her name again and again, urging her on.

With a gentle hand, she guided Aemond’s hips closer to hers before taking him deeper into her mouth. The sensation of his velvety smooth skin against hers was electrifying. Her tongue gently danced around him, exploring every inch of his manhood until he could no longer hold back the intensity of his pleasure.

Elisabeth felt embarrassed and exposed; this seemed like something she should never be allowed to do in front of the gods. But the sheer pleasure that it evoked in both herself and Aemond kept her going. Gods, it felt so wrong yet so right at the same time.

"Fuck. Yes, Bess... You belong to me... Not to The Strong bastards, not to Aegon, not to anyone else... You're... fuck... mine..."

Aemond's hands tightened around her head, making sure she was as deep as her mouth allowed her to be as he released a long moan before spilling himself inside her mouth. It was hot, salty and Elisabeth tried her hardest swallowing it without looking up at him.

With a throbbing head, she released him and covered her face in shame. She knew the milk was dangerous - yet making her dream of death and running through the Red Keep? Taking Aemond's cock like a... a dirty Harlot?

That was more than she could take. Now he knew that she was a weak person, that there was only a weak will buzzing around inside her. The last thing she needed now was the usual gloating expression on his face - his unbearable questioning. 

“I’ve done all you wanted. Ask me your questions, so that you might finally understand that none of this was ever my will,” she said as she wiped her mouth, her voice brittle.

Aemond gave her a cold look of confusion and cocked his head to the side, closing his breeches and slipping his doublet on again, after he had caught his breath. 

“What wasn’t your will? Giving yourself to me here?” 

Elisabeth sighed. "You're my husband. Your wish is my command."

Aemond, in his usual fashion, looked away from her in shame, flaring his nostrils.

"Alright then. If it is your wish again to make me feel like the worst human being in the world, then I shall do so too. I thought I could take you to your chambers again, get you a hot bath... Alas, my Lady Wife, you asked for the interrogation yourself."

He walked over to the Statue of the Mother and gave her a cold look, his tousled white hair gently floating down his back. His eyepatch made him look even scarier than it usually did.

"I've heard rumours that you've taken moon tea. Do you want to avoid giving me an heir? Swear on the Mother."

Elisabeth shivered and slowly dressed herself again, making sure not to break eye contact with Aemond. The milk made it's presence - or rather, abscence known again - it made her desperately queasy. The aftertaste of Aemond's spunk in her mouth certainly did not help.

"I swear on the Mother I haven't been taking Moon... Tea."

Aemond raised his eyebrow in a quizzical manner.

"Then what is that concoction that Maester Rithyr brings you? I can't imagine it being a skin cream."

If looks could kill, Aemond would've joined the Stranger's embrace right then and there.

"Do not mock me, Lord Husband. You and your filthy snake of a mother know exactly what it is he brings me," she seethed, her voice thick with venom. "It is exactly the thing that made me think you were the Stranger chasing me through..."

Anger was not the only thing that bubbled up inside her. Retching, she emptied her stomach onto the marble floor, the large marble hall making the splattering sound of her vomit uncomfortably loud.

Aemond's eyes blazed with fury, one hand pulled back in a fist ready to strike. But before he had the chance, Aemond's gaze fell on her frail, sweaty body next to a pool of her own bloody vomit and his arm fell limp. He was held in place by the sight, unable to move or even blink as his anger turned into fear.

"Bess, gods, tell me what it is he gives you! Come clean to me, you foolish girl!"

Elisabeth flinched and wiped her lips, groaning weakly. Aemond had not seemed like someone who would lead her into danger or punish her for being honest - if he wanted to be so cruel, he could've hit her when she cursed his mother. She took in a deep breath and tried to rid herself of the sour taste in her mouth, then nervously patted her clammy palms on the stained fabric of her dress. Leaning against the statue of the Father, she felt a little bit safer.

"From the moment we were wed, your mother has given me milk of the poppy. Told me you'd stop trying to give me an heir if I continued to act the way I did."

Coughing, she shook her head and gave Aemond a cold look. His face was unreadable - no reaction was a reaction, Elisabeth noted and took a deep breath before continuing.

"The people in front of our door at our bedding ceremony told her of your indignant attitude to me and my inability to give you an heir after that. She... She thought I was denying you and that you were too courteous to take what was yours."

Elisabeth heaved once more, so Aemond propped her up and held her hair back. As she vomited, a worrying amount of blood appeared - it was nearly just that. Frowning, Aemond used a piece of fabric from her dress to clean up her lips afterwards.

"Please continue," he whispered into her ear, his breath hot on her skin. She felt a tear roll down her cheek and wished she were in bed with a warm blanket instead of being forced to confess. But the more she said, the better chance she had of avoiding drinking that awful milk again.

"She was always displeased with me and she did not hesitate to tell me so. She told me the Daeron's future wife - a certain Clara Lannister," she gave him a sharp look putting a finger to her lips, signaling to him that it was a secret and that he didn't hear it from her, "would have made a much better wife to you than I have. She's even more pious, meeker, prettier..."

Aemond huffed. "Clara's a feeble twelve year old hussy and she has wrapped the court around her pretty little fingers. I still cannot quite comprehend why my mother would try... try to drug and shut you up."

Elisabeth raised her eyebrow and gave her husband a sorrowful look. “You remember why, don’t you my Lord Husband? You were displeased that I was fraternizing with the Strong bastards. You said to her that I wasn't serious about state affairs. You told her you couldn't go through with our marriage vows and that I was too...” A tear slid down her cheek as she shook her head. She wanted to avoid any more tears rolling down, so she looked up in an effort to stop them. "You called me Bess just as the others did to show how much of a simpleton I was and you continue doing so! You would've beat me senseless if I'd have called you Monny!"

Aemond let out an exasperated sigh before taking a seat next to Elisabeth on the cold marble floor, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders in comfort and pulling out a handkerchief from underneath his cloak which he tenderly offered for for her to clean herself off with.

“It’s fine,” he said gruffly. “We all make mistakes.” He put a finger under her chin and lifted it towards him so she had to look him in the eye. “I thought you hated me after our marriage ceremony, and I foolishly told my mother about it in a fit of anger.” Despite his words, there was something uncomfortable in the way his gaze held hers.

Elisabeth erupted into desperate sobs, pounding her fists against his chest with each cry. The dried blood that stained her hands flaked off like dust as she grabbed him in despair. "How could you do this to me? We should have talked it through, together! Instead of understanding why I had changed after our marriage, all you ever did was lash out at me and let your mother drive me to the brink of madness - treating me like a stranger and I can barely recognise myself anymore! If I didn't love you so much, I would hate you right now. But even then, my heart still aches for you... Oh gods, Aemond..."

The strain of her confession was too much for her. Elisabeth tipped forward, still gripping onto Aemond’s tunic with her bloody hands, as she lost consciousness in his arms.

Aemond caught her, gently placing her down onto the floor, then stood up and looked around the sept. He felt torn; part of him wanted to believe what his mother said but the other part of him knew it couldn’t be true. He had made a horrible mistake by allowing his pride and anger to drive him to such lengths, and he now he had to face the consequences alone. With a heavy heart, he summoned some guards who helped move Elisabeth’s lifeless body to his chambers where she could rest peacefully and recover from her ordeal.

Aemond was left with an overwhelming feeling that something fundamental in his life had shifted during that conversation in the Sept — not just between himself and Elisabeth but also between himself and his mother — an unspoken understanding that things would never be the same between them ever again. As he walked off in a daze towards his chamber, thoughts of revenge raced through his mind as he planned how best to confront her about it all — but for now, all he could do was hope that Elisabeth would recover quickly enough so they could make sense of everything together.

He was determined to take care of Elisabeth and as he watched her sleeping in his chambers, the rage that had been building up inside him slowly melted away. He brushed a strand of hair off her forehead and sighed resignedly — he had no control over what happened next, all he could do now was to care for her. As best as he could, Aemond pulled the blankets over her body to keep her warm and placed a pillow underneath her head for extra comfort. He sat by her side all night, silently willing for herto open her eyes so they could talk this out together, but it seemed like she wouldn’t wake up anytime soon.

The hours dragged on and his frustration only heightened with every minute that passed until finally Aemond couldn’t take it anymore. He ordered one of the guards to stay with Elisabeth before storming off in an attempt to clear his head. As he walked through the corridors of the castle, images of their conversation in the Sept replayed in his mind but try as he might, Aemond still couldn’t make sense of it all – what did this all mean? Could they ever go back to the way things were before?

Aemond was prepared to take matters into his own hands, he always was. He thought that this evening would end in him seeking a divorce or a mistress at court, arguing with his senseless simpleton of a wife, yet nothing could have prepared him for the confrontation he would have with her. 

Storming up the steps up to her apartments, he quickly shooed away Ser Criston Cole and opened the doors. He followed the light through the Entrance Hall up to her solar, where Alicent sat quietly on a settee, getting her feet rubbed by a lady in waiting. She raised a questioning eyebrow. 

"Whatever's the matter, Aemond? Is Helaena all right? Did Aegon do something?" 

Aemond's nostrils flared with fury as he fought himself to remain silent. How dare no one tell him - Elisabeth's husband - that his own wife had become a shadow of her former self, her mind so clouded with drugs she was practically a ghost? He could feel the rage building in his chest, threatening to escape and take over.

"Milk of the Poppy. Have you lost your damned senses?"

Alicent flinched a bit at his dangerously low, cool tone and sent her lady out. He could not make out her facial expression - it could have been anything from boredom to indifference - which angered him even more. Trying not to act too rashly, he tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword. 

"Say something! And don't you dare deny it, I know it was you! Maester Rithyr told me everything", he lied effortlessly. He knew he had to - everything else would put Elisabeth in great danger.

Alicent lowered her eyebrow again, donned her slippers and stood up. Her face changed into a caring and hurt one, leaving Aemond a bitter taste in his mouth. 

"Wasn't it you who told me she was cavorting with Jacaerys? Didn't you complain of her disobedience, my dear?"

'So it is my fault now', he thought and took a deep breath, stepping closer to her and grabbing her tightly by the shoulders.

"What I wanted was for you to give her spiritual guidance and help in transitioning into her role as a princess. Why-"

"You cannot turn Mice into dragons, Son. Everyone knows that Bess doesn't fulfil your needs and our doubt will only be confirmed if she continues to be barren."

Alicent interrupted him icily and tore herself from his grip, sitting back down. 

"I have received a raven from Boros Baratheon, he said his daughters had only just flowered. What do you think? Or would you rather prefer Clara Lannister? I could..."

Aemond was taken aback, this conversation had gone way beyond his expectations. How could his own mother suggest such a thing? He knew he had to put an end to it before it was too late.

"Stop right there, Mother", he said sharply interrupting her mid-sentence. "Contrary to popular belief I like Elisabeth a lot and do not wish to take another wife."

He glanced coolly around the chamber and smiled unsettlingly.

"You must forget yourself, dear Mother. Helaena is Queen Consort now so it should be in her responsibility to judge on these issues and you know how much she likes Elisabeth. And besides, if the court would know of your... hysterics, who would continue to take you seriously? You know how your dear father, the Hand, dislikes your moody tendencies."

His words must have struck a chord - Alicent paled significantly and shrunk in her seat, clasping her hands on her lap.

Aemond continued with a calm, yet terrifying tone:"I don't wish for you to continue giving her the drug. I think the milk of poppy may be causing her infertility and I won't let that happen. You barred me from having heirs - who knows what you did with Helaena or you will do with that Lannister girl? It's almost treasonous, you know."

Alicent was desperate and scared, she picked at the skin around her nails to distract herself from what she knew would be a losing battle.

"My son-", her voice was small and trembling. She wanted to argue with him but his implacable gaze made it difficult for her to even look him in the eye. He had always been so strong willed, just like her own father. She had never been able to get through his hard shell of pride and arrogance, no matter how hard she tried.

"I only wish the best for you and our kingdom," she said softly trying to reason with him but he merely scoffed in response.

"Then how can you suggest me taking another wife? It would do more damage than good." His words were cold and final - this conversation was over before it began. Aemond stepped away from her and towards the door, pausing momentarily as he grabbed the handle."Remember our discussion mother", he said sternly before leaving the room without another word.

Aemond stepped out of the chamber, feeling a mix of anger and disappointment. He had hoped that his mother would be able to understand his point of view, but it seemed she was too entrenched in her own ideas about Elisabeth's faults to do so.

He walked down the corridor that led to the castle courtyard, trying to clear his mind of all thoughts. But as he walked, he couldn't help but think about how much he had changed since he had been married with Elisabeth. He had never imagined himself being such a cold and vengeful man, no.

The thought brought a sharp pang of guilt - what if word got out that the heir presumptive to the Iron Throne was considering taking another wife? It could cause widespread scandal and potentially put him at odds with some powerful houses. He shook his head in dismay, knowing that this wasn't an option for him - not now, not ever.

Aemond made his way to the training yard to clear his mind. He picked up a sword and began to practice with it, swinging it in powerful arcs and thrusts as if he were fighting some invisible enemy. His body moved in sync with the blade, becoming increasingly faster until sweat was dripping down his face from the exertion. The familiar movements soothed him - they allowed him to forget about the pressures of court life for a time, giving him respite from all of its trifling problems.

Once he felt sufficiently calm, Aemond returned back to his chambers and changed into some clothes more suited for the upcoming feast. As he finished dressing, he noticed something odd - there was a faint light coming from his bedroom. He rushed over to see what she was doing, hoping that she had woken up again, which she had, indeed.

Elisabeth looked up at Aemond with an anxious expression on her face before hastily turning away from him. "I don't wish to cause trouble," she muttered quietly before standing up and making her way toward the door without another word. "I shall just... retire to my chambers, Lord Husband."

Aemond watched as she stood up, feeling confused and slightly hurt by her actions - why was she so distant? What had happened happened to her?

"Elisabeth?"

He said her name softly, stepping closer to her and taking a gentler tone. He had meant to apologize for his earlier words, but something else came out instead.

"I wanted to thank you, for telling me the truth yesterday. I know it must have been difficult for you. I spoke with my mother and she will never give you milk of the poppy again if she values her life and social standing."

Elisabeth's dark eyes widened as she stared at him in shock. She had completely forgotten the events of the previous day and that Aemond had cared for her after her hallucination - another one of the side effects of the milk. His kind words made the feelings of guilt and confusion wash over her anew, and it was hard not to be taken aback by his unexpected familiarity with her. If she wouldn't have felt that painful yearning in her soul for more of the drug, she would've believed that she was still dreaming.

"L-lord Husband? How...? Why...?"

He smiled, realizing that she must'nt have remembered what had happened yesterday.

"It doesn't matter now," he said kindly. "What matters is that I would like for you to join me at the feast this evening, so people can see how beautiful and intelligent my wife truly is."

Elisabeth gave him a weary look before returning his small smile. She quickly glanced at her reflection in the mirror, before blushing self consciously.

"I give thanks to the Father for leading you to discover the truth... Before we go, can I take a moment to change my clothes?", she questioned quietly, gazing up into his eyes. Once they had filled her with unease but now caused her heart to flutter with a hint of love.

Gently laying a kiss on her forehead, Aemond motioned for one of his loyal servants to come forth. He commanded them to fill the grand bath with steaming hot water and to bring a most exquisite dress for her. "Let me be the one to tend to you my darling. I must have you look as though you are mine," he uttered in a commanding yet affectionate voice.

The servants quickly scurried to do his bidding, bringing forth everything Aemond would need to make Elisabeth beautiful. They filled the bath with fragrant herbs and oils, as well as a variety of soaps and lotions for her to use. They also brought forth an exquisite gown of rich green silk and delicate lace, complete with matching slippers.

Elisabeth silently slipped into the soothing hot bath while Aemond knelt down beside her and began to lovingly bathe her body. He took great care not to scrub too harshly on her bruises and scrapes, something that she had not expected from him. The heat and his gentle touch made her trust him more with every second. "Lord Hus- um, I mean, Aemond, might I ask you soething?"

Aemond squeezed out the sponge in his hand and gently caressed her body. He truly missed out on all of this due to his anger against the Blackss, he noted grimly in his mind and gently started brushing her long, dark hair.

"You may speak freely, Elisabeth."

Elisabeth flushed and hastily sought to conceal the exposed parts of her body, aghast at being presented thus before her husband. "I had been given milk of Poppy yesterday, which has stripped my memory," she ventured nervously, attempting to tread carefully knowing full well his notorious temper. She hoped that whatever grievances between them had subsided in his mind and uttered in an almost meek voice, "Could you tell me what happened? I..."

"Elisabeth, you do not need to be so shy and meek around me," Aemond said soothingly. "I know that is not your true temperament. I will try to reign in my anger more if it makes you feel better." Reaching for a cloth, he dried her body before helping her out of the tub and into the dress they had brought for her. As he arranged it around her frame, Aemond thought about what he should tell herknowing that avoiding certain topics would not help them move forward any better. He gathered his thoughts before finally speaking gently yet firmly.

"I do think it's best for us both if I... do not recapitulate everything, my darling." He tied the ribbons at the back of her dress and gently guided her to a seat, giving her a few pins and such so that she could arrange her hair. His member twitched slightly as he thought back to her, naked on the marble floor, her lips flush against his skin. "You hallucinated something about The Stranger, ran around the Red Keep and then you confessed to being drugged by my mother. We then reached an understanding and I carried you here," he said matter-of-factly, trying his hardest to banish the thought of her full, naked figure from his mind.

Feeling a little flustered, Elisabeth swiftly pulled her hair into a loose bun on her head, letting one or two strands flutter down onto her chest. “Oh, I'm sorry to hear I subjected you through this, I thank you for listening to me and for forgiving me," she said softly. After finishing her hairdo, she stood up and bowed towards Aemond. “Thank you, my Prince, for everything. Shall we go and have dinner?”

When the doors to the Hall opened, a hush fell over the crowd and all that remained was an eerie stillness. With an air of grandeur, Prince Aemond Targaryen strode in, his purple eye sweeping the room like a hawk, the other hidden behind his leather eyepatch. But what shocked the court even more was who he had with him. Princess Elisabeth Lonmouth walked tall and proud beside her husband, having not been seen much since their marriage six months ago. She appeared almost otherworldly with her petite stature and unusual looks, her dark hair waving languidly as a gentle breeze wafted into the Hall. Her chin was raised high and there was no hint of submission or fear in her presence.

The star of Aemond Targaryen had risen again - ready to face the Dance of the Dragons with Elisabeth by his side.

[lolahaurisfw]

✎ Introduction ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

Here i'll only be taking requests for fluff, platonic, and angst! Reqs are always open like usual too, and you can request as much as you want and as detailed as you want! i just get to things when i can/want to.

Anon's: None Yet

Other Accounts: @lolas-favfics @lolamultifandom @lolahauri @chowderpop

AO3: Here

BlueSky: Here

-> MASTERLIST <-

DNI: Map, Zoo, Pro-Para, Pro-Ana, TERF, Zionist, Bigots, Discourse Blogs. Block me if you don't agree. ❤️🖤🤍💚

What I Won't Write:

Smut. (Go to my other blog)

What I'm Willing To Write:

Reader Who Is: Tall, Short, Fat, Chubby, Curvy, Buff. Trans/NB.

Reader Who Has: Depression, Anxiety, DPDR, ADD.

Fluff, angst, platonic, hurt/comfort.

HC's, one shots, short multi-chapter fics, imagines/drabbles.

Canon-friendly, AU's, Canon Divergence, Out of Character.

Ch x Ch / Ch x Reader / Ch x OC / Poly Ships of any kind.

F/F, M/M, F/M, GN/F, GN/M, Poly Ships of any kind.

Fictional Other (F/O) Imagines: +18, no names, they/them only.

Now that that's out of the way, here's the list of fandoms and characters i'm familiar with and will happily take requests on! (you can request others from these fandoms, but it will prob take me longer)

Adventure Time/Fiona & Cake: PB, Marceline, Marshall Lee, Winter King, Candy Queen, Simon, Ice King, Fiona.

Attack On Titan: Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Sasha, Levi, Hanji, Annie, Historia, Reiner, Erwin, Ymir. 

Avatar: Jake, Neytiri.

Batman Begins Trilogy: Batman, Catwoman, Bane, Joker, Scarecrow.

Beauty & The Beast: Belle, Beast/Adam, Gaston.

Bee & Puppycat: Bee, Deckard, Cass, Toast.

BigBang Theory: Raj, Leonard, Penny, Amy.

Bistro Huddy: All Staff Members.

Black Dynamite: Honeybee, Black Dynamite.

BNA: Michiru, Shirou.

Bob’s Burgers: Bob, Linda.

Breaking Bad: Jesse, Skylar.

Call of Duty: Konig, Ghost, Mace, Keegan, Krueger, Valeria, Farah.

Creepypasta: Jeff, Jane, Ben, Toby, EJ, LJ, Slenderman, Splendorman, Clockwork, Kate, Masky, Hoodie,

Desperate Housewives: Bree, Gabi, Edie, Lynette, Carlos, John.

Dirty Dancing: Johnny, Baby.

Earth Girls Are Easy: Mac, Zeebo, Wiploc, Valerie.

Elemental: Wade, Ember.

Encanto: Isabela, Bruno, Dolores, Julieta.

FNAF Movie: Vanessa, Mike, William/Steve.

Frozen: Elsa, Anna, Kristoff.

Futurama: Leela, Fry, Amy, Bender.

Good Pizza, Great Pizza: Alicante, Octavia, Dr. Keh, Nasir, Flash, Cicero, Kimmy Slice, Dr. Price.

Grandma's Boy: J.P, Samantha.

Gravity Falls: Ford, Stan, Soos, Melody, Giffany, Bill.

Jane The Virgin: Jane, Michael, Petra, Luisa, Rose, Rogelio, Xiomara.

Jurassic Park (1993): Ian Malcolm, Ellie Sattler.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Sukuna.

King of the Hill: Hank, Peggy, Luane, Nancy, Dale, Khan, Min, John Redcorn.

Life Is Strange (2015): Maxine, Chloe.

Lisa Frankenstein: Lisa, Creature, Taffy.

Little Mermaid (2022): Ariel, Eric.

MHA: Dabi, Hawks, Aizawa, Shigaraki.

Miller's Girl: Cairo, Johnathon.

Moon Knight: Moon System, Layla, Khonshu.

Mulan: Mulan, Li Shang.

National Treasure: Benjamin, Riley.

Nintendo: Link, Zelda, Peach, Daisy, Rosalina, Luigi, Bowser, Waluigi.

Norbit: Rasputia, Norbit.

Princess & The Frog: Tiana, Lottie, Naveen, Shadow Man.

Ratatouille: Colette, Linguini. 

Regular Show: Mordecai, Margret, Eileen, CJ, Benson.

Resident Evil: Karl Heisenberg, Carlos Oiliveria, Lady Dimitrescu.

Rick and Morty: Rick, Jerry, Beth, Doofus Rick.

Riverdale: FP Jones, Hiram.

Scott Pilgrim vs. The World: Kim, Ramona, Gideon, Wallace.

Scream 5: Amber, Tara, Sam.

Serial Mom: Chip, Beverly.

Silverado: Slick, Rae, Mal, Paden.

Shallow Hal: Rosemary, Hal.

Shameless: Lip, Fiona, Kev, V.

SheRa (2018): All Adults.

Sherlock (2010): Sherlock, John Watson.

Slashers & DBD: Brahms, Ghostface, Michael Myers, Jason Vorhees, Pyramid Head, The Spirit, Huntress, Trapper, Wraith, Trickster, Pearl, Jennifer Check, Stu Matcher, Billy Loomis, Tiffany Valentine, Patrick Batmeman, Thomas Hewitt, Vincent Sinclair, Eric Draven, The Artist, Amanda Young.

Spiderverse: Miguel, Jessica Drew.

Spongebob: Dennis, Man Ray.

Squid Games: Gi-Hun, Sae-Byeok, Ali, Sang Woo.

Stardew Valley: All Adult Humans (Except George & Evelyn)

Steven Universe: Garnet, Amethyst, Peridot, Lapis, Jasper, Blue Diamond, Rose, Greg.

Stranger Things: Robin, Billy Eddie, Chrissy, Hopper.

Supernatural: Sam, Dean, Castiel.

Super Store: Amy, Jonah, Dina, Garrett, Cheyenne.

Tangled: Flynn, Rapunzel, Mother Gothell.

The Batman (2022): Batman, Riddler.

The Breakfast Club: John Bender, Allison Reynolds.

The Nanny: C.C, Fran, Maxwell.

Total Drama Island: S1 Contestants, Chris, Chef, Blainley.

Triple Frontier: Frankie, Santiago.

Turning Red: Ming Lee, Jin Lee.

Twilight: Edward, Carlisle, Alice, Charlie.

YOU: Beck, Joe, Peach, Love.

Young Sheldon: Mary, Connie.

~

Abel Morales (A Most Violent Year)

Astarion (Baulder’s Gate 3)

Babbo Natale (Violent Night)

Barbie (Barbie 2023)

Basil Stitt (Lightning Face)

Beverly Goldberg (The Goldbergs)

Bruce (Beyond Therapy)

Charles Ingalls (Little House on the Praire)

Charlie Dompler (Smiling Friends)

Chel (Road to El Dorado)

Dale Kobble (Longlegs)

Dan Conner (Rosanne)

David Levinson (Independence Day)

Din Djarin (The Mandalorian)

Doug Remer (Baseketball)

Duke Leto Atreides (Dune)

Fezzik (Princess Bride)

Francine (American Dad)

Fujimoto (Ponyo)

Georgia Miller (Ginny & Georgia)

Jack Harrison (Translyvania 6-5000)

Jackson Rippner (Red Eye)

Jon Arbuckle (Garfield 2024)

John Doe (John Doe Game)

Jonathan Levy (Scenes from a Marriage)

John Wick (John Wick 4)

King Baldwin (Kingdom of Heaven)

Kitten (Breakfast on Pluto)

Laurent LeClaire (In Secret)

Linda Gunderson (Rio)

Llewyn Davis (Inside Lleywn Davis)

Master Chief (Halo)

Mike (5lbs of Pressure)

Moe Doodle (Doodle Bops)

Nani Palekai (Lilo & Stitch)

Nathan Bateman (Ex Machina)

Outcome-3 (The Bourne Legacy)

Orestes (Agora)

Paul Blart (Paul Blart: Mall Cop)

Paul Cable (Last Stand at Saber River)

Peggy Bundy (Married With Children)

Peter Mitchell (3 Men & A Baby)

Poe Dameron (Star Wars)

Prince John (Robin Hood 2010)

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd (Top Gun: Maverick)

Rose Tyler (Doctor Who)

Shiv (Pu-239)

Stanley Ipkiss (The Mask)

Star-Lord (Guardians of the Galaxy)

Summer Field (Time Cut)

Tate Langdon (AHS: Murder House)

The Janitor (Willy’s Wonderland)

Thomas Magnum (Magnum, P.I 1980)

William Tell (The Card Counter)

[j-a-nuary]

Date Roulette: Jiyong

Tuesday

Intro Week Start

Seungri Week Start

Daesung Week Start

Taeyang Week Start

Seunghyun Week Start

Jiyong Week Start

Next

=====

Warning level: suggestive (higher end of suggestive)

=====

I woke up with my head smushed against Jiyong's shirt, and his arms wrapped tightly around my body. Which is to say: I woke up confused. I remembered everything, but I couldn't really make sense of it.

I was not the type to back down from a building argument. At least, I tried not to be. And kissing him again? I knew how I had gotten there, but in the light of day I just couldn't make the logic work out the same as it had last night.

But I could work that stuff out later. Right now, I had to peel a human banana clip off of myself and track down a production… assistant? Director? It occurred to me that I didn't actually know what Chul's job title actually was.

Again, not a priority at the moment.

I shook my head, trying to knock loose the cobwebs that had accumulated in there overnight. I immediately regretted the action as an invisible band tightened itself around my temples.

Muffling a groan, I rolled towards the edge of the bed, finding my escape from his clutches easier than I had expected.

Jiyong only let out a soft whine, but stayed asleep. I grabbed one of the pillows and pushed it towards his arms. He readily accepted it, pulling it into his body in a stranglehold.

=====

Once I was above deck, I located a staff person that I vaguely recognized. I had seen her around a few times, typically with an assortment of cords in her hands.

This morning however, she was leaning against a railing. In one hand she had some sort of snack bar, in the other she seemed to be scrolling through sns.

As I approached, she gave me an apologetic look - covering her somewhat full mouth and bowing. I waved a hand and shook my head, hoping I was coming off as nonchalant and not grimacing too much from the growing dizziness between my eyes.

"Sorry for interrupting," I started, "I just wanted to know if Chul is around."

"Mm," she paused, finishing chewing before continuing, "he's still downstairs. I guess he's got motion sickness pretty bad."

"Ah," I frowned, "I was hoping to talk to him before everything really got started today."

"Hmm…" she looked a little unsure.

"Please."

After a second, she nodded. "I'll show you," she offered.

I followed her back below deck.

=====

The room was smaller. Substantially so. Obviously meant as staff quarters.

It annoyed me, but I figured I'd gone on enough anti-capitalist tangents before. Besides, if Chul wasn't feeling well there was no reason for me to bring more negativity to him.

I also had something more urgent to address.

Chul looked like shit. He was rumpled. Hair stuck out at odd angles, wrinkled clothes, and that wince of illness. He was busy shaking some tablets onto his hand.

"Hey," I took a seat on an empty bunk, "anything I can do to help?"

He shook his head, wincing again.

"I've got dramamine and pain killers," he huffed, "I'll live. What's up?"

I sunk into myself slightly, feeling a little guilty that I was - once again - coming to him for a favor.

"I…" I paused as another staffer came in for a moment. They grabbed a bag and left without a word. Wordlessly, Chul handed me the bottle of pills. Taksen. I took two, nodding in thanks as he handed over a bottle of water as well.

I waited an extra second after swallowing the pills before starting again.

"I'm worried about this week."

Chul nodded, silently urging me to continue.

"I woke up and…" I blinked, brows dipping as I thought it over again, "I can't make sense of last night."

"Yeah," he agreed, "I didn't expect you two to get over things so quickly."

"Exactly!" I nodded - ignoring the headache, "it's like Ji… he just knows how to get past my guard somehow."

Chul hummed, a thoughtful look taking over his features.

"But… what does this have to do with me?" He asked.

"I… I don't know. I just wanted…" I frowned. What did I want? Someone to keep an eye on me? Someone to talk to?

"I just wanted to know if I was crazy or not for thinking it was strange."

He laughed. Not at me. More of a what can I say sort of laugh.

"The whole thing is strange. Has anything happened to you this last month that isn't strange?"

I rolled my eyes, huffing at him and crossing my arms.

"Okay," I conceded, "but this is extra strange. I couldn't stand his jealousy, but one conversation later I let him sleep in my bed?"

Chul lifted an eyebrow, teasing me.

"Shut up," I snapped, "nothing happened. Just sleep."

He shook his head, raising his hands as if showing his innocence.

"But it's still weird!" I pushed. "I remember the conversation. That one bit shouldn't have been enough."

He sighed, shrugging.

"This whole thing between you two has been a roller coaster. Maybe this is just another up."

I groaned, but didn't speak. He had something close to a point.

"You just have to survive a few days. Tomorrow is a group day, then Sunday as well."

"You know that this won't just end on Sunday," I grumbled.

"True," he leaned forward, patting my knee reassuringly, "but we can worry about that next week. For now, let's just focus on today."

"Fine," I agreed, "but just…"

I stumbled over my words again.

Luckily, Chul knew what I was getting at.

"Hey, I can always make up some technical interruption if you need me to. Not forever, but for five minutes at least."

I nodded. Standing up, I placed a hopefully not overly familiar hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you Chul," I squeezed his shoulder slightly, "seriously."

He nodded.

=====

I had hoped that Jiyong would be gone by the time I returned to my cabin. Or at least still dead asleep. Instead he sat up when I entered, pouting over my pillow at me.

I froze, just for a second. Thankfully, he seemed sleepy enough to have missed it.

"You left me alone," he croak-whined.

"I figured you could use the sleep," I shrugged. I sat on the edge of the bed and hauled my backpack from where I had stashed it on the little armchair yesterday.

His pout stayed in place as he shoved the pillow behind himself and lifted his arms towards me.

"Come back to me, my love."

I cringed at the endearment. It sounded hollow somehow.

"Luna?"

I looked up, meeting his gaze. His eyebrows were drawn together, and he appeared to be giving me a thorough looking over.

"Hmm?"

He didn't immediately answer. Instead, he sat up and leaned forward. Supporting himself on his knees and one hand, he reached forward and pushed the hair out of my face.

"Are you not feeling well? I'm sure I have medicine or something with me."

I shook my head, pulling away from his hand.

"No," I turned my attention back to my bag, "I already got something from Chul."

Jiyong crawled forward, invading the space next to me.

'What did he give you?"

I shrugged, still searching through my bag. "Just something for my headache. You know how it i- Ah there it is!"

I held my toothbrush aloft in triumph.

Jiyong smiled, presumably at my antics, but continued his questioning.

"But what specifically?"

"Why does it matter?" I retorted, moving towards the ensuite so I could finally brush my teeth. I laughed at Jiyong's expression, now looking extra concerned. "I doubt he'd try to drug me or something."

"Of course," he nodded slowly, "he'd have to be a psycho to do something like that."

He moved awkwardly, getting himself untangled from the bed so he could follow me.

"Still," he took up residence behind me now, sneaking a hand around my stomach as I brushed my teeth, "it might react poorly with that tea."

I rolled my eyes at him through the mirror. I felt crowded, but resisted the urge to push him away. Maybe it was the… was this a hangover? PMS? Regardless, there was an uncomfortable feeling lingering through my body that I couldn't help interpreting as danger.

Jiyong took my lack of rejection as encouragement. He hooked his chin on my shoulder and lifted his free hand to brush my hair back from my face.

"I want to make sure that you're safe, my love."

That was going to get real old, real fast.

I shrugged myself from his clutches, spitting and rinsing my mouth before speaking.

"It was just Taksen," I turned to face, fixing what I felt was the fakest smile I had ever worn onto my face, "I'm sure I'll be fine Ji."

=====

We had lunch on the boat, a vegetarian take on naengmyeon.

"You know," I broke a not quite awkward silence as we ate, "I used to hate soup."

Jiyong looked up from his dish, frowning slightly.

"I'm sure they could make something else."

"No," I shook my head, "this is fine. I just was against soup on principle."

Jiyong blinked, squinted, and finally placed his elbow onto the tabletop and his chin into his palm.

"On principle."

It wasn't exactly a question, but it was clear he wanted further information.

"Well," I lifted my spoon, observing its contents closely. After a moment, I downed the liquid before continuing. "Soup is different back home." I held the spoon up, now watching the way the sunlight reflected off its surface.

Jiyong patiently watched my antics.

"Mostly it just seemed like someone made a meal and then," I shrugged, "decided to put it in water."

Jiyong looked down at his own bowl, brows drawing together as he considered the food before him.

"How is that different than this?"

I shrugged again. "Soup here seems to be done on purpose."

His frown deepened for a moment. Then, after shaking his head, he burst out laughing.

"What?" I asked, unable to remain serious in the face of his outburst, "what's so funny?"

"I just," he shook his head again before leaning forward and resting his chin in his palm, "never know what you're going to say next."

A month ago - hell even a week ago - I would have expected that sentiment to be accompanied by a frown. Disapproval of what and how I choose to be. Now however…

He seemed to have forgotten his food, simply gazing at me with something like wonder writ across his face.

"Eat," I nodded towards his bowl.

His smile deepened. Shaking his head, his lips parted to speak.

"I-"

"Don't tell me you're full by watching me," I cut him off. "You need to eat."

He let out an abrupt laugh, but lifted his spoon regardless.

=====

I wasn't sure if it was exactly typical for yachts to pull up on Sindo. From what I could see, the boat that we were on was the only non-ferry visible. There was some discussion between pier staff, show staff, and even Jiyong himself at one point, before we were able to fully… park? I made a mental note to look up proper boating terminology.

Something about the way that Jiyong returned from the conversation sent a flag up in my mind. He looked sheepish, but happy - victorious, but a little shy. He had a bounce in his step that translated to his silly straw sun hat flopping slightly as he approached.

He looked like a dad on vacation that had just gotten a bargain.

"Is everything okay?" I asked as soon as he was close enough to talk to.

"Yes," he quickly answered. "I just have to, ah…" that slightly embarrassed look replaced his smile for a second.

"You didn't bribe them, did you?"

He laughed, but didn't answer. Not directly anyway.

"The manager's wife is a fan," he explained. "I just offered to sign a picture."

I squinted at him, trying to play up my disapproval.

"Jagi~," he stepped closer and wrapped an arm around my shoulder, "I got us a spot, right?"

I pursed my lips, letting out a "hmmph" noise.

"I did well," he wiggled my shoulders back and forth, teasing, "right jagiya?"

"I guess it's okay," I gave him a sidelong look, "as long as we're not breaking a law or anything."

A slightly confused look took over his features for a moment as he tilted his head.

"I don't think so," he murmured, "even if there is one, it will only be a fine."

I sighed deeply, remembering a phrase that my friends back home and I used to say pretty often: 'Punishable by a fine' just means 'legal for rich people.'

=====

We navigated renting some scooters, including two bigger ones that were more like golf carts for the staff and their gear, and headed out. It was already near noon when we had arrived, so we stopped in a small cafe for something to eat before heading towards Modo.

It was something like a break, but not really. Jiyong had suggested we share a scooter, but I had wanted a little bit of extra freedom.

"Think of the show," Jiyong pouted.

"I am," I countered. "Just imagine how fun it will be for the audience when I inevitably run off on my own and you have to chase me down."

I heard Chul snort out a laugh somewhere off camera at that.

"My love," Jiyong's pout deepened, "think of the way their hearts will flutter when you put your hands around my waist."

I shook my head, rolling my eyes for good measure.

"That's actually dangerous. If anything I'd have to grab your hips or shoulders," I shrugged. "Holding your waist messes with your center of balance."

The pout was gone. In its place was a blank stare, seasoned by a few blinks.

In the end, I allowed him to "convince" me. Truth be told, I was beginning to have a headache again, and I figured I might be better off if I let him "drive". I also begged another painkiller off Chul, who made a point of holding the back of his hand to my forehead and squinting at my eyes and hands.

"Do I pass the inspection?"

Chul's eyes narrowed, "for now. Here."

With that, I was handed a tablet, a bottle of water, and a helmet before settling in behind Jiyong on the little moped.

=====

The air on my face felt nice, doing a little bit to clear the ache in the center of my forehead. It also helped that most of what I could smell was salt, mud, and algae. I breathed deep, shutting my eyes to block any potential motion sickness from compounding the horrendously loud pounding of blood in my ears.

I was a little disappointed at missing most of the view while we rode. I had searched the island online when the plan was initially proposed and knew that I was surrounded by greenery and farms. I hoped I'd be able to see them on the way back.

At first, I was a little bitter about going to Modo with Jiyong. It was on my list, buried in my liked photos on my private Instagram. Somehow, I doubted Jiyong knew that though. Much more likely was the chance that he simply looked up day trips on the islands and things to do.

Not that that was a bad approach. I had simply been spoiled by Seunghyun and Daesung's attentiveness.

I allowed myself a moment of malcontent before convincing myself not to let petty details ruin Baemikkumi for me.

Getting an afternoon snack also helped. I excused myself to the bathroom after ordering, taking an extra moment to pat some cool water over my face and neck. The day was hot, extra humid due to being on the series of islets.

It also gave me a moment to respond to messages that I had been ignoring.

From: Hugeboy Any clarity on that mysterious situation you were in? σ(^_^;)? From: Hugeboy Ah… I know you're probably just busy but still it feels a bit… From: Hugeboy I want to call you From: Hugeboy But I don't want to be a bother From: Hugeboy I miss you ｡･(つд`｡)･｡ From: Hugeboy Maybe I should be embarrassed about saying that From: Hugeboy No! I don't care if it's embarrassing! From: Hugeboy I! Miss! You! ♡♡♡♡♡ (*T^T)

I couldn't help but to half smile, half pout, at his messages. Reading back over them I couldn't help but feel a little bad about not having responded. Still, I supposed I had a pretty good reason. At least on Sunday.

To: Hugeboy Would you believe me if I said I miss you too? To: Hugeboy I had a sort of… medical issue?? To: Hugeboy Nothing serious. Just stress. To: Hugeboy Honestly, I think I'm still recovering.

For perhaps the second time ever, he didn't instantly respond. Well, that's only fair. I checked my other messages.

From: Zico You know what I'm going to say, right? ㅋㅋㅋ From: Zico I think he's really lost it this time From: Zico Seriously… are you a witch or something? ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

That last message had been accompanied by a blurry video of what appeared to be Mino. He sat with his phone in his hands, staring at it with an obvious pout on his lips. I couldn't truly make out what he was saying, but I could tell it was something like:

"... doesn't… nothing…"

A few seconds before the video ended, a new message came in from Zico.

From: Zico

I would ask why Mino just texted me asking for advice on playing it cool, but I think I already know the answer.

I snorted a laugh and quickly typed a reply.

To: Zico Why should he start now?

To: Hugeboy I like that you're embarrassing~~ ♡ To: Hugeboy Better to be embarrassing and real than to be cold and uncaring From: Hugeboy Fine! I miss you more than makes sense (*T^T) From: Hugeboy When can I see you? To: Hugeboy I don't know. I'm sorry. From: Hugeboy It's not your fault ＼(_ _) To: Hugeboy Still… To: Hugeboy I have to go. I'll message you again soon I promise.

With that, I clicked my phone back to locked, and headed back outside.

=====

Jiyong insisted we rehydrate, a set of iced teas mixed with fruit juice already on the table when I returned.

"Making sure to take care of me?" I teased him.

"I always take care of you."

At Jiyong's suggestion, plenty of photographs were taken. Primarily of me. I did offer a few times to take pictures of him, but he'd simply shake his head and say he had enough photos of him to last a lifetime.

That seemed both reasonable and a little unfair. Not to him. He was right. Nobody needed more photos of him. But it was unfair to put me in the spotlight with so little warning.

Once we were in the park, it was every few minutes with him. He'd point at something and ask me to pose next to it. As if I knew the first thing about posing.

I tried to push the negativity out of my mind. For years I had been the photographer for my friends. Ninety percent of the photos that existed of me were mirror selfies, or taken using a makeshift tripod and the timer function. I took a moment to be grateful for the influx of proof of life provided over the last few weeks.

Besides, the picture of me being held in giant metal hands did come out nicely.

=====

Just a short while later, Jiyong was sulking.

Well, not actually. He was playing it up for sympathy, scowling as the yacht pulled closer to the dock on the mainland. I pretended that I hadn't noticed.

"It's a shame," I said as casually as I could.

I was rewarded with shining puppy eyes from Jiyong.

"We didn't even get a chance to go into the ocean water this whole time."

Jiyong grimaced. Obviously, this was not what he had been hoping to hear. No doubt he would have liked for me to say I wished we could spend another night on the boat. Or perhaps that I didn't want to return to the house.

Truth be told, I was itching to get into the giant tub in my room. I couldn't wait to stretch out in a familiar bed again.

But the summer sun was still well above the horizon, so I was willing to bet that the approaching dock was not the end of the day.

=====

We ended our day at a bar masquerading as a barbecue restaurant. Nothing fancy, thank god. Just a little meat, a few vegetables, and a small gas fire to cook them over.

And soju.

Of course soju.

I contemplated the mushroom tipped shaft before me, pretending to ignore the shot that Jiyong had placed beside my plate.

"Come on," he whined slightly, meat tongs now back in hand. "Don't make me drink alone."

I sighed, biting the earthy brown cap off the skewer in my hand before turning to down the drink.

"That's my girl."

I made a point of rolling my eyes at his words. He just laughed and tossed back his own drink.

He's in a good mood. We had been in that weird confrontation for so long that I had forgotten about this version of him. Relaxed, happy, not mistaking jokes for attacks - this was the version of him I had fallen for in those early days.

"Hey."

I blinked, shaking my head slightly as I came back into the moment. The cup next to my plate was full again. I reached out to take it, but two fingers fell across the top to stop me. Looking up, I saw Jiyong watching me with that soft look he had been wearing for the last two days.

"Where'd you go?"

The seat I was in didn't really have a back to it, otherwise I would have leaned back. As it was, I supported myself with an elbow on the edge of the table.

"I was just thinking. About the beginning."

A moment of silence passed between us then. For me, it was reflective. For him… well…

He shook himself out of it and set the food aside so it didn't burn. After making sure everything was safely set, he sat down facing me. He shuffled to the edge of his seat and reached forward to grab the legs of mine to pull me closer.

"What?" It felt like a reasonable enough question.

"It can be like that again, jagiya."

He picked up my hand from the table, winding it into his own. His thumb brushed over my fingers for a moment before he pulled my palm to his cheek. Quickly, he pressed a kiss against my hand before securely holding it against his skin.

"I can make it like that again," he stared, an intensity that made my skin flush but also crawl.

"Ji," I tried to pull my hand away.

"No," he renewed his grip, pressing another kiss against my fingers before continuing, "I'll do whatever I need to do to make you realize that it should be me."

I experience an odd mix of reactions to that. My neck tensed, hairs prickling up off my skin as if his words had sent a cold breeze across my back. I felt goosebumps raise over my arms.

On the other hand, my stomach swooped and fluttered. A warmth spread down from my gut, part of my body clearly reacting well to the earnestness of his words.

"Just let me prove it to you this week."

=====

I silently wished that we had taken one of the company cars to the pier yesterday. Not necessarily one of the giant vans, but just something with another driver. A chaperone.

As we hadn't, I was stuck in Jiyong's car with him. Not that I thought he'd do anything too scandalous. There were still cameras in his car after all.

No, it was a more internal issue than that. With an external cause. That I was internally incapable of solving.

Jiyong's hand was on my thigh.

Which was fine. It was fine. It was a respectful enough distance between my knee and my hip. It was simply resting there, largely inactive save for a few swipes of his thumb over my skin. It was fine. I could deal with this.

Except for that gut churning warmth from before that was still sitting behind my waistband. Except for the tell-tale sensation of my body preparing itself for something that it was not going to get.

But it was nice. In a way.

I glanced at Jiyong, which may have been a mistake. I don't like to think of myself as being shallow but good lord the budding tension would be easier to prune back if he wasn't so fucking pretty.

=====

Finally we were back home, as much as that word meant anything anymore.

I was glad to be back in the house. I tried to remember where I was in my cycle. Had I last had my period during Seungri's week? Maybe it had been Daesung's? It wasn't totally out of the question that my hormones were simply amped up.

It usually wasn't this noticeable though. I was overtly aware of the wetness between my legs. Every step I took was accompanied by a naggingly persistent glide of self-lubricated flesh.

In a number of different situations, it would be titillating. In this one it was almost concerning.

"I'm going to head to bed," I was perhaps a bit curt with my words, but I was aching to get into the bathroom and clean myself up.

"Are you feeling okay?" Genuine concern filtered through Jiyong's words.

Maybe I wasn't doing as good of a job covering as I had thought.

"I'm fine," I cleared my throat. Doing my best not to meet his eye, I came up with a weak excuse. "I'm just tired from traveling and everything."

In the periphery of my vision, I was aware that he was nodding. I pretended to focus on putting my shoes away neatly.

"Jagi," his hand found my wrist, "I…"

I forced myself to meet his eye. He really was so fucking pretty.

I wasn't aware that my mouth had opened until I felt his thumb brush over my bottom lip. When had his hand reached my face?

Against my better judgment, my tongue dipped out - primarily to wet my lips, but incidentally lapping at his skin.

He even tasted pretty.

This close, I could see the blemishes underneath his makeup.

"Oh you guys are back."

Jiyong pulled away from me, scalded by embarrassment or annoyance.

Taeyang stood in the openway, in all the glory of what I was sure was one half of a matching couple's pajama set, holding a glass of water. His eyes shifted between the two of us. There may as well have been chemical formulas flying around his head with how hard he was staring at us.

Good lord I was glad to see him. His presence had been exactly the shock I needed to escape whatever was going on with me. Hormones, alcohol… whatever it was, I was glad for the distraction.

"I'll go first," I mumbled, carefully avoiding touching either of them as I moved.

=====

My body bounced with the force I had thrown myself at the mattress. The inspection I had given myself in the shower had confirmed what I already knew. I debated texting Daesung, weighing the chances of us somehow getting caught. Typically I'd have no problem staying quiet, but with how amped up I was… there was really no telling.

Though I had teased him about tying him to the bed. What better time to try it than ri-

My thoughts were cut off by a tapping at the glass doors. Scrambling for decency's sake, I retracted my hand that had been making its way between my legs of its own accord. I tightened my robe around myself before pulling the curtain aside just enough to see who was there.

I was greeted by raised eyebrows paired with one hand holding a bottle, and the other holding a pair of wine glasses. The eyebrows jumped comically. Laughing, I took a step back and unlocked the door to pull it open.

"I thought you might need to debrief."

I shrugged, making my way to the seat by the vanity.

"It's legitimately strange how well you know me sometimes."

Seunghyun just smiled as he toed off his shoes and slid the door shut behind him. After being prompted by a pointed nod from me, he made sure the curtains were back in place as well - a shield for our private conversations.

"I heard he took you on a boat," Seunghyun stated it like a fact, but I could tell he wanted confirmation.

I hummed, watching him uncork the bottle and pour us both a glass. His fingers were deft and swift. They moved with confidence through the series of motions.

"-by? Yah…"

I shook my head, pulling myself back to the moment.

"Sorry," I frowned, "what were you saying?"

He chuckled, holding a glass out towards me. I stood to take it, standing perhaps a little closer to him than was absolutely necessary.

He held his glass towards me. Raising my own, I lightly tapped it against his.

He gave me a pointed look.

"No," I said, "you should drink first oppa."

He raised an eyebrow at that, but he also raised his glass. After allowing him to take his time to taste the wine and swallow, I spoke up again.

"How is it?"

"Jammy," he said after considering his words carefully, "a little tart. Not bad."

I hummed.

He had to have known what I was doing. No way was I subtle about it.

He didn't stop me though.

I couldn't really make out such details that would lead to the descriptor of "jammy", but I could taste the remnants of sweetness and sourness well enough on his tongue.

After a moment I pulled away. Lifting my hand, I thumbed away an invisible droplet from his lips. The thumb was then placed against my own, my tongue coming out to taste it in a much more acceptable adaptation of the earlier moment with Jiyong.

Trained as they were on his face, it didn't escape my eyes the way Seunghyun's attention was locked onto the movement.

"Put that away before you cause trouble," his voice sounded strained when he spoke.

"Hmm…" I smiled up at him, "don't want to."

He took a moment to carefully place both of our glasses further back on the vanity. Straightening up afterwards, he took another moment to look me over. One of his arms looped around my back, pulling me close as his eyes ran over my face, neck, and assorted other spots of exposed skin.

Eventually, his eyes landed back on mine.

"How are you feeling?"

What a loaded question. I had already been fighting a losing battle against an unexpected wave of arousal when he showed up. I was a little embarrassed that all thoughts of Daesung had been pushed from my mind until this exact moment. That of course led to a brief detour into shame. That particular spiral was then cut short by how good Seunghyun's fingers felt on my skin when he reached up to brush my hair from my face.

His stern features were soft. It was a look that I kept seeing from him more and more often. A look I could see myself getting used to.

A look that simplified my answer.

"Good."

He nodded, serious as ever.

"A little more…" I tilted my head, thinking of how to describe it, "awake than I expected," I admitted.

There was a moment then. We both seemed to be waiting for something, but I didn't know what that might be.

It turned out to be my tongue. Once again, I slid it over my lips. More from nerves than anything else.

Seunghyun dropped his head slightly to press his lips against mine.

I hoped he wouldn't hold the sound I made against me. It was embarrassing enough just to have such a strong reaction to him. My head spun, thinking about the ups and downs of our dynamic over the last month. Or maybe it was from the kiss itself.

We had kissed before. Obviously. But this was different. This was a fight against a riptide, and I was more than willing to drown.

"Baby," Seunghyun was mumbling against my lips.

I groaned, annoyed at the attempted interruption.

"Baby."

He forced us apart this time. It was like he was determined to ruin the vibe.

"What?" I couldn't help the annoyed tone that slipped into my voice.

Confusion flashed over his face for a moment before he hardened his gaze.

"What happened?"

I blinked. I was not following his train of thought at all.

"What… you mean with Jiyong?"

He nodded, solemnly watching me.

"Nothing," I shrugged. "We went on a boat, we went to a sculpture park, we…"

I cut myself off. Did it really matter? A momentary lapse in judgment in a yacht hot tub with a man who was functionally my ex?

"Baby," softer this time, "you don't have to hide anything from me."

"We…" I huffed, then started again, "I…"

Seunghyun maneuvered the both of us, moving so he could sit at the vanity and pull me onto his lap.

"Take your time."

I let him pull me into him. Resting my head against his shoulder, reveling in the feeling of his hands soothing down my back. Breathing deeply, I could smell some faint cologne struggling to cover up that ever present tobacco scent that clung to him.

"It's stupid." I was pouting again, but trying not to let it color my voice too much. I'd much rather go back to the kissing than talk about how Jiyong could seemingly climb inside my skull at will.

"What is?"

"Me," I moved against him, getting my head into a more comfortable position. If that position also put me in closer reach of teasing his neck and ear… he didn't seem to notice, "probably."

"We both know that's not true," he laughed.

I didn't protest, but I didn't agree either. Instead, I simply sighed heavily, trying to sneak my lips onto where I could feel his pulse in his neck.

"Baby," he gently admonished me. His hands pulled me upright to meet his eyes again. "You know I'd love to keep going, but you also know this is a coping mechanism."

I rolled my eyes, "don't pretend you know me better than I know myself."

That got a reaction out of him.

His hand raised, tightly gripping my chin so there was no way I could look away again.

"Listen to me baby," his voice had gone deep with the intensity of his message, "I would have no issue fucking you until you couldn't walk, if that's what you truly wanted."

Another embarrassing sound eked its way up my throat and out from between my lips.

Seunghyun paused his lecture to kiss me, rougher than I had expected. He bit my lower lip, pulling a groan from me as he pulled back.

"However," he shook my chin slightly, demanding my attention raise from his lips to his eyes again, "I will only do so when I am one hundred percent certain that it is what you want and not just a distraction."

What was there for me to do besides blink? And after that, what option did I have but to start crying?

"Baby," he dropped his grip from my chin and tugged me against his body in a tight hug. "Oh, sweetheart, don't cry. I'm sorry baby. Please don't cry."

"I… I just don't understand…" I sobbed, embarrassment no longer a concern. "How…. He… Ji…"

"Deep breath baby," he crooned into my ear. He started rocking slightly, obviously going all out in his attempt to comfort me. "Breathe for me. You have all night to tell me what happened."

I'm sure all eloquence was lost as I tried to explain through unintelligible sobs and the deep breaths that Seunghyun would occasionally remind me to take, but eventually I was able to explain my concerns. At least to the point that Seunghyun eventually started telling me that I didn't need to explain anymore.

"It's okay, baby," his voice was low, quietly reassuring me, "I understand."

"The worst part is I don't even know why I care," I whined, "I just want him out of my head."

By now, we had made our way onto my bed. Seunghyun laid on his side, arms pulling me protectively into his chest while I had rambled out my complaints.

"Just being around him is like getting drunk," I mumbled. "I feel defenseless."

"You-"

A knock on the glass doors interrupted him. He frowned, looking down at me questioningly.

"Did you invite Daesung down?"

I shook my head, nerves twisting my gut.

"Maybe he want-"

My text tone interrupted me. Shuffling to free my hand from between Seunghyun's and my bodies, I turned to grab it from where I had dropped it on the mattress earlier.

From: Llyong Boho Awake?

I shut my eyes, holding my phone up for Seunghyun to see. I felt the soft vibration of another message coming in while he looked at the screen.

Seunghyun's jaw tightened. He took the phone from my hand and sat up.

"Don't…"

He leaned down to press a kiss against my forehead.

"I'm not going to message him. Just wait here for a moment, okay? I'll tell him you're sleeping."

I nodded, wondering why he looked so tense.

He stood up and ran his hands through his hair a few times. Back and forth, messing it up and then smoothing it back. After a second he undid the buttons of his shirt, all of them undone before he misbuttoned one near the middle. He paused for half a second. Nodding to himself, he then took his belt off. He let the leather strap land on my floor before he turned his attention back to me.

"Unlock your phone."

I pressed my thumb against the fingerprint reader and handed it over to him.

"Thank you baby. Pull the blanket over yourself, okay?"

I did as he asked, going as far as turning to face away from the sliding doors so Jiyong wouldn't see my face.

I heard the plastic rattling sound of the curtain runners, followed by the whooshing noise of the sliding door opening.

"What do you need?"

"What are you doing here?"

The crunching of gravel, followed by the whoosh of the door. I assumed Seunghyun had stepped outside.

It was a little disappointing to not be able to hear the conversation. However, I could appreciate not being drawn into it at all.

After maybe fifteen minutes, there was that whoosh yet again. I felt my body tense up.

"Baby?"

I relaxed, turning over to look up at Seunghyun. He gave me a small smile.

"He went back upstairs."

I nodded, "you didn't have to do that."

He placed my phone on the bedside table before unbuttoning his shirt again.

"I know, but I'd rather I deal with him than make you do it."

He moved as he spoke, draping his shirt over the seat by the vanity before turning back towards me. He nodded at the space next to me on the bed.

"Can I?"

Rather than answer, I simply opened my arms towards him.

His smile was wider this time, as he bent down to crawl up the mattress and over my body.

Supporting himself on his knees and forearms, he brushed his nose along my neck. It was followed by his lips pressing against my jaw.

"Hyun…" I sighed out his name as what had started as me baring more of my neck towards him turned into a stretch.

"Yes?" He asked, pulling away to watch me.

I traced my fingertips over his ribs and onto his back, pouting slightly. "Don't stop."

He moved, working one of his knees between mine and coming in for a kiss.

Just shy of my lips, he spoke again.

"I'm still not going to fuck you tonight."

I whined, digging my nails into his back to further express my annoyance.

He laughed, leaning onto his side slightly so he could run a hand down the side of my body.

"If you need me that badly," he paused to kiss my cheek lightly, "there are other things I can do."

His fingers paused, dipped just slightly under the waistband of my pajama shorts.

"Would you like that baby?"

[aphroditelovesu]

⤷✿.｡Since you voted yes to commissions, so here we are. I was a little unsure about the price, so I researched and tried to make it as fair as possible. I hope you agree with this! ❤️

Also, this is completely optional! If you don't want to, you don't have to request a commission! All the other requests works the same way!! ⤷♡.+ n a v i g a t i o n.

⤷♡.+ Status: OPEN.

What I would write

I write for any gender, both character and Reader/OC, be it female, male, neutral transsexual. Any.

Yandere!Character x Reader, Yandere!Reader x Yandere!Character, Yandere!OC x Reader and Yandere!OC X OC.

Dark!Au, Gore, Disorders, Smut/NSFW, explicit language, soft!yandere, alternative AU, Horror, Age gap (depends on how much).

Romantic, platonic and general Yanderes, as well as more specific themes; example: yandere x depressive!reader.

Stockholm syndrome.

Pregnancy, childbirth and death in childbirth.

Non-Con, Dub-Con, BDSM.

Fluff; non-yandere.

Monsterfucking, specific kinks.

Angst.

What I DON'T write

Any kind of NSFW content with children, anything with children will just be platonic.

I don't write NSFW with characters that have a childish appearance or personality, just platonic.

I don't usually write ships because I consider it something personal, but I can do it if someone wants to.

Age play, scap.

Minor x Adult (only platonic).

Prices (in $ and R$)

Headcanons

2,00 $/R$ 2,00 for 500 words;

6,00 $/R$ 6,00 for 1000 words;

12,00 $/R$ 12,00 for 2000 words;

NSFW content adds an additional charge of $3,00/R$3,00.

Imagines, Scenarios, Reactions, Oneshots, Prompts

3,00 $/R$ 4,00 for 500 words;

10,00 $/R$ 13,00 for 1000 words;

18,00 $/R$ 18,00 for 2000 words;

20,00 $/R$ 20,00 for 3000 words.

NSFW content adds an additional charge of $5,00/R$6,00.

My list of current fandoms, but I can always add more:

Anime

Attack on Titan, Amensia, Death Note, Demon Slayer, Diabolik Lovers, Fruits Basket, Haikyuu!!, Hakuoki, Hunter x Hunter, Jujutsu Kaisen, Kamigami no Asobi, Naruto, Mirai Nikki, One Piece, Blood of Zeus.

Books

Percy Jackson, Harry Potter, A Song of Ice and Fire, Pegasus and The Flame of Olympus (series), IT., A Court of Thorns and Roses (ACOTAR), The Bridgertons, Twilight, The Lord of the Rings, The Cruel Prince: The Folk of the Air, The Bridgertons, Twilight.

Games

Genshin Impact, Detroit Become Human, Mystic Messenger, Time Princess Dress Up (TP: characters), Yandere Simulator, My Candy Love (Amour Sucré), Arkyos Angel, A Plague Tale.

K-Pop

BTS, BLACKPINK, GOT7, EXO, BIGBANG, TWICE, AESPA, Stray Kids, ITZY, Hyuna and Dawn, Red Velvet, NCT, Monsta X, Taemin, Dreamcatcher, LE SSERAFIM, (G)I-DLE.

Series/TV Show

Game of Thrones, House of the Dragon, The Originals, The Vampire Diaries, Teen Wolf, Supernatural, Outer Banks, Friends, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, Euphoria, Reign, Bridgerton, The Flash, Supergirl, Outlander, American Horror Story, Wednesday, Riverdale, Chilling Adventures of Sabrina, The Sandman, Lucifer, Winx Club, Ragnarok, The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power, Invisible City (Cidade Invisível), Shadow and Bone, Adventure Time, The Witcher, Rebelde MX (RBD), Heartstopper, Hannibal, Criminal Minds, The Last Kingdom.

Movies

Disney Universe, Marvel Universe, DC Universe, Maze Runner, Halloween, Friday the 13th, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, A Nightmare on Elm Street, Transformers, How to Train Your Dragon, Miraculous, Ever After High, Monster High, Barbie Universe, Christmas Movies, Maze Runner, Avatar, Twilight, Star Wars.

K-Dramas

My Demon, Bussiness Proposal, Doom At Your Service, Hometown Cha-Cha-Cha, Crash Landing on You, My Name, Mr Queen, King the Land.

Mythology

Greek, Egyptian, Norse Mythology and Brazilian Folklore.

Historical Characters

Alexander the Great, Cleopatra, Caesar Augustus, Julius Caesar and etc...

Additional Information

I accept payment via PayPal and Pic Pay only (PayPal = Ko-Fi)

Payment must be made before I start and I will always send you updates if you ask me.

I write in English and Portuguese.

I have a deadline of 5 to 10 days to complete your commission, however, if something unforeseen happens and it ends up being delayed, I will inform you.

If I write more than what was asked, obviously there will be no additions.

If you are interested, DM me with details and feel free to ask me anything.

[in-a-mountain-pool]

The Dragon Boy - Chapter One

Aemond x Fem!Dragonseed OC Kaelys Waters

pronouns: She/her (afab)

rating: Teen and Up Audiences

warnings: Angst, Romance, Major Character Death

word count: ~3600+

summary: Chaos unfolds after the battle at the Gods Eye. After his defeat, Prince Aemond Targaryen is declared dead, laying at the bottom of the great lake. Upon hearing the news, Kaelys Waters, a Dragonseed from Aemond’s past defects from the Blacks, and stumbles upon a mysterious enigmatic dragon with a broken wing. Tending to its wounds and reminiscing of her childhood infatuation, she mourns the passing of the Prince Regent. Love deepens amid a whirlwind of emotions, culminating in a heart-warming tale of love transcending magic and curses, uniting two souls against all odds.

Originally posted on AO3

A/N: Hi everyone! Here it is, this is my submission for @hotd-bigbang! I'd like to give a huge thank you to @ewanmitchellcrumbs for putting together this wonderful event, and for being so understanding of my chaotic writing process! It was an absolute pleasure getting to work with @cyeco13 , who has produced some of the most gorgeous artwork for this story (I literally teared up opening her messages!), thank you so much for capturing Aemond and Kaelys so perfectly.

Thanks for reading! To begin with, this was intended to be a one-shot but due to some circumstances beyond my control, I have decided to break it up into two chapters. Chapter two will be posted this time next week!

As always likes, reblogs and comments are not a requirement, but lovely to come online to.

The nights were cold in the Dragonpit, without the loving embrace of a mother or a father to shield you from the harsh land of Westeros, where frigid winds would pierce through like icy daggers. You had been there as long as you could remember, your earliest memories buried under years of neglect, left outside the pit in nothing but a tattered moth-eaten shawl. In a twist of fate, the Dragonkeepers had taken you under their wing, the first girl in history to be welcomed into the ancient order of guards. 

You, a nameless orphan, were christened Kaelys, and raised as their own. But life had been hard and food scarce. Amidst crumbling stones of the pit, life was a relentless test of your mettle, a crucible of endurance. As the only girl, the other boys of the order would revel in their power and torment you relentlessly. They were the bane of your life, their taunts and physical assaults a painful reminder of the harsh realities that defined your existence.

In the dead of night, when the hunger had finally become unbearable, on stumbling feet you’d crept into the Red Keep, hugging the stone walls, searching for a scrap of whatever you could find. Within the fortress, an eerie stillness reigned supreme, a collective hush falling over the walls as if a great secret dwelled inside. Company was sparse this late at night, save for the sporadic appearance of a Goldcloak on patrol. During your tutelage you had mastered the art of silence, moving with a grace so profound that even the most vigilant of men might mistake you for a shadow in the night. You’d had to, growing up around the majestic and terrible beasts of the House Targaryen.

The only light you had seen in the imposing halls had been a small crack under a great set of wooden doors and the smell of old parchment. Curiosity got the better of you, and you gently pushed forward to take a peek…

Inside was a small boy with silver hair, a boy you recognised… 

It was him.

The boy without a dragon. 

Prince Aemond Targaryen. 

When the door creaked your heart froze as the child whipped his head around with an almost otherworldly reflex. 

Aemond stared at you for a moment, his head tilted over slightly to the side. The boy's violet eyes held a quiet curiosity, gazing at you in the same manner you’d seen him study the dragons inside the pit. 

In a small yet commanding voice, he called out to you, standing up slowly from his solar. 

“... Who goes there…? What might your name be, girl?”

Not a word left your lips, your face panic-stricken and pale as the moonlight creeping through the bay windows of the library. 

A quiet but exasperated huff left his cat-like mouth, and a look of dissatisfaction decorated his delicate features. 

“That’s not very polite, is it? You should at least tell me your name. I promise, I won’t tell on you.”

Aemond attempted to make eye contact with you to no avail, met with a wall of silence. A soft scowl fell over his face, like he’d perhaps thought something might be wrong with you. Or like you were a puzzle that he wished to solve. 

Finding your courage you shifted out of the shadows, eyes searching the halls around you for the slightest movement in the dark. 

“... Kaelys, My Prince. ‘My name is Kaelys.” You croak out in a pathetic tone, giving a rather poor curtsey, copying the movements you’d seen his sister, the Princess Helaena practice to the knights at the tourney months earlier. 

You wobble slightly as you ascend from the floor, the scrap of your dress hem catching under your sandaled foot. 

The boy smiled and chuckled before you, nodding with a little grin like he’d finally made some progress. His curiosities were still present as he beckoned you into the warm library and eagerly offered you a seat beside him. 

“Well, good evening, Kaelys. … Why, if I might ask, are you here in the Keep, all alone?” Aemond whispered, leaning forward to inspect you.

“... ‘was hungry, my Prince. P-please, don’t call the guards. I’ll leave quietly. Quiet as a mouse! ‘Won’t even know I was ‘ere!” You uttered fearfully, your hazel eyes locked to his, begging him silently.

Lilac eyes widened and peered into yours once more. 

“Hungry…?” Aemond asked, like such a thing was unthinkable to him, brought up amongst such riches. After a moment, his eyes fluttered and his bottom lip trembled.

“I won’t call anyone. No Guards. C-Come with me.” Aemond extended a pale shaking hand to you, waiting for you to take it. 

“T-The kitchens should have some supper for you. I’d certainly be more comfortable with you not being out here… all alone in these halls.” 

“Kitchens?! I- can’t! If I’m seen there I’ll get the lashing of a lifetime!” You whispered frantically, staring down at the boy’s hand, elegant fingers reaching out to you. 

How could you touch him? It felt wrong when you were so grubby and dirty, to mar something so fair and beautiful as him, like you might leave an immovable stain on his perfect skin.

The words tumbled out in a way most unnatural to you. What was it about this boy, a Prince no less, that made you feel you could trust him? You seldom ever spoke, not even to your mentors. You had only ever felt safe with your dragons. 

“T'aint proper. The Dragonkeepers stay in the pit. We eat in the pit. Sleep in the pit. I’m… not a Lady. Not Royalty.” You mumble, gesturing to him and looking down at his velvet boots next to your dirty feet, remembering your place. 

Not once did he ever lower his hand, almost as if he was trying to tame you like a wild animal, like one of his family’s dragons in the pit. He approached you with caution, but with an unmistakable respect and patience that made your heart anxious. 

“Kaelys…? Do you have any place to rest your head at night?” Aemond questioned you in a gentle tone, peering into your tired eyes. “Does someone look after you?” 

“Mother and Father are dead. Left me outside the Keep. Dragonkeepers feed me, but… we’re often hungry.” 

Aemond seemed stunned into silence. The realisation that the tiny girl in front of him, of no more than 12 years, was alone. Truly alone. The longer he was silent, the more uncomfortable he became. The thought that a girl, so young and vulnerable, had already lost everything she’d ever had or could ever hope to own. She’d never really had a chance, and it just wasn't right.

The boy straightened up and stood taller, a determined resolute look in his pointed features. 

“You’re coming with me. And before you say another word, I’m not going to tell on you. In fact, I won’t tell anyone. Not a soul.” His tone had changed, much softer and caring than it had been moments before.

You had heard stories about the young prince. He was lonely, and studious, the polar opposite of his raucous brother, Aegon. Perhaps he had just wanted a friend? Underneath the silver hair and the riches of his house, he was a lanky sort of boy, on the cusp of something greater than himself. So unsure, and so desperate to connect. 

Ever so cautiously, you reached out to take his hand in yours. Next to him, your hand looked so careworn and grubby, unworthy. He saw the dirt under your fingernails, and the weeks of grime on your dress, yet he never faltered in his grip as he discreetly led you deeper into the Keep along lonely corridors to his chambers. 

Once inside you couldn’t believe your eyes. You’d never seen such grandeur, the table filled with foods from all over Westeros, and all for the supper of one boy. There were meats piled high, roasted beef and potatoes, boiled vegetables and breads. Decadent sweets glistened in the candlelight, with mounds of delicate lemoncakes, sugared biscuits and candied fruits.

His room was filled with treasures and trinkets from all over Westeros and Essos. A dothraki sword adorned the wall above his bed, and a coin collection was scattered across his bed, with gold, silver and coppers of all shapes and sizes dotted about like stars upon his midnight blue blankets. Large shells almost as big as your head decorated a large desk near the balcony desk. You’d later discover they had been taken from a bay in Volantis by his Father, and he’d been drawing them in a notepad. Marble carved dragons were placed in order of size along his mantle, with random shards of dragon glass decorating his chaotic but organised desk. But best of all was a worn plush of Balerion the Black Dread, shoved underneath his pillow, sewn by his wet nurse when he was a child.

As Aemond stepped inside, he reluctantly set down your hand, keeping a gentle eye on your expression. Your eyes were wide with wonder taking in the lavish food he readily offered you like it was nothing.

“... D-Don’t worry, Kaelys. That food is mine, mine to give you. Made by the finest cooks in the Keep.” Stumbling a little, he stepped behind you, and it took you a moment to realise that he intended to pull a chair for you to sit on. 

Almost like he would a real Lady. 

“Here. We- we can eat together, if you like? Like friends do.” 

Slowly he started to make up a generous plate for you, with a selection of meats and vegetables to give you back your strength. With a shaking hand, he placed it in front of you, nodding and digging into his own.

Through a mouthful of food you finally start to speak once more, stealing timid glances at the young Prince.. 

“... Friends? D- Do you have many friends… that you play with?”

A heavy silence fell upon the room as the boy drew into himself for a long while, the only noises the clatter of silverware and the late drafts of the night. Aemond spoke in a careful manner as to try to not let his feelings betray him. His voice began to break and the awkwardness began to seep out of him, reminding you he was just an adolescent boy, with the weight of a dynasty upon his shoulders.

“No… I rather suppose I don’t. In truth, It is… hard for me to make them.”

You felt a deep need to reach out and support him, or to at least make him feel less alone, the boy who’d let you into his world. 

“Me too. I don't have any friends neither.” You whisper, brushing the pad of your index finger against the back of his hand… And then rather unexpectedly, Aemond laughed, making you retreat once more.

“Either… You don't have any friends, either.” He chuckled again, covering his cat-like smirk with his fingers. 

Sensing your displeasure and discomfort he gave you a soft look and pushed a lemon cake towards your plate, resting his chin on his hand as he studied you. He watched you for a while, as you picked at the crystallised peel in awe, giggling when your face puckered at the foreign sour sensation of the citrus in your cheeks. 

Your eyes danced around the room as you ate, falling upon the small collection of little wooden knights left haphazardly before the roaring fire. You didn’t have any toys. You hadn’t ever been allowed to be a child.

“Would you- would you like to play with them? I can teach you all about my knights!”

Aemond's face lit up with unabashed excitement, youthful enthusiasm radiating from his every pore as he eagerly settled onto the floor beside the knights. In that moment, his age became evident in the meticulous grace with which he handled the toys, delicately extending them towards her, all the while tenderly bestowing each with a name. The boy spoke passionately, more animatedly than she had ever seen him in the dragon pit. 

“This here is Aegon the Conqueror. Do you see? Each knight has their own dragon, and they ride together into war.” 

As Aemond rambled on passionately , you couldn't help but find yourself joining him there in the warmth of the fire, legs crossed and shyly tracing the beautiful handmade figurines like they were made of glass. 

“... She is beautiful. The big one.” You gesture bashfully, a rare smile gracing your face as he offers you the wooden toy. “... Vhagar.”

Aemond’s eyes widened, aglow with an innocence and wonder only a child’s eyes could muster.

“Yes! You know of Vhagar? And do you know why she is so special? 

“She’s the oldest dragon in the whole world.” You say almost instantly, staring at the wooden dragon in admiration. “She was Queen Visenya’s dragon.”

Aemond’s eyes flickered with a glimmer of surprise, as if your knowledge of Vhagar had caught him off-guard. 

“Yes, she was!” He admitted, his words imbued with a quiet reverence. “She still soars above our world to this day, a testament to her indomitable spirit. And, you know, one day, I’m going to be the one to mount her and take to the skies.”

Aemond'sAemonds gaze fixed on you, a mischievous sparkle in his eyes, as if he had entrusted you with a treasure trove of secrets known only to a select few. 

“... Do you want to know another secret?” The boy asked with a small grin on his face, handing you yet another dragon.

Aemond drew in a deep breath, and his face lit up with a soft blush as he spoke the next words.

"I have a special wish, you know," he confided, his eyes locked onto Kaelys, eager to gauge her response. A hint of uncertainty lingered in his gaze, but his sincerity shone through. 

"I want more than just a dragon, Kaelys. I want you to be my best friend."

And with that declaration, a unique bond was sealed. From that day forward, together you had embarked on clandestine adventures within the labyrinthine walls of the Red Keep, where you uncovered hidden nooks to play and whisper secrets to one another. Conversations had spanned countless hours, a symphony of dragon tales, and epic tales of knights and princesses that seemed to breathe life into the ancient stones of the castle and the dragon pit.

In each other, you had found your first and only true friends, kindred spirits divided by society. And when he’d finally claimed Vhagar, she had become your whole life, bringing you both even closer together. 

He’d shown you what it meant to have a family.

… But if only you had known then, the horrors that would soon come to pass, dressed in colours of green, gold and black.

War had come to Westeros.

It had felt like the end of days, a tragedy painted with vicious strokes of fire and blood. The very ground beneath your feet had shaken, the winds had howled as dragons danced above the skies of the Riverlands in violent flashes of greens and reds, and clashes of razor sharp teeth. Brothers and sisters rode into war for a cause that no longer made sense, as kin marched upon kin, and dragons raged against dragons. History was dying, old magic was fading, all because one man, one King, had made a choice born from love. 

But how could love ever endure in a world such as this? How could you fight for a Queen who ordered the death of an innocent child? Or a King that paraded the head of such a gracious beast as Meleys through the streets of Flea Bottom? How could hope live on here at the end of all things, where flames paint the skies, and babes were torn from their mother's arms? 

… Helaena’s arms. 

Since you’d heard the news from the other Dragonseeds’ on the battlefield you wouldn’t dare speak his name out loud. Bile would rise in your throat at the mere mention of him, the One-Eyed Prince, the Kinslayer, all of these names they’d given him, to the boy with violet eyes who’d captured your heart all those years ago.

He had met with his Uncle, your Mentor, above the God’s Eye only a week before. The village folk spoke of a fierce battle, with dragonfire so hot and so ferocious it was like the sky itself had been set aflame, and the Doom of Valyria had raged once more. The two beautiful beasts were said to have torn each other apart, Caraxes the Blood Wyrm sinking her teeth into Vhagar’s neck, before being disembowelled and crashing into the great lake below.

He, had always been so careful, even as a child, it was no wonder he’d chained himself so securely to the saddle. Daemon had known this and used it to his advantage. It had been you who had told Daemon so, you who had taught him how to tie the chains to keep him safe. Neither man nor dragon could have survived such a fall. Even a Targaryen Prince.

And now he was gone, it had felt like you might as well have drowned with him there in the God’s Eye. When your tears had fallen, you had insisted you had cried for Daemon, though the others who truly knew you had known better. 

The smell of the summer flowers in the Godswood had filled your dreams, the sounds of children’s laughter, the warmth of his hand in yours. Braiding hair as white as snow, the flash of lilac in the candlelight of the Red Keep at night. Since you’d departed for Harenhal as a Dragonseed of the Black’s, you’d carried a piece of him in the pocket of your riding jacket, a small wooden carving of Vhagar he’d had made just for you. Every night you’d gripped it tight and wept for the loss of her… and her rider. 

For you, the war was over. There was nothing left to fight for. 

No one left to protect.

Under the moonlit sky, you rode through the darkness, leaving behind the tumultuous Black's encampment. The biting cold couldn't compare to the numbness that gripped your heart. The horse beneath you felt unfamiliar, its warmth offering no solace compared to the fiery passion and adventure that once accompanied your dragon, Bhaesys.

The battlefield had claimed her, just as it had claimed Vhagar and him. 

Daemon, the architect of destruction, had torn apart not only your dragon but also your life, leaving the House of the Dragon in ruins and the land scarred with suffering.

With no clear destination in mind, you rode relentlessly for nearly a month, only to find yourself at the God's Eye. The vast expanse of tranquil waters reflected the sun's rays, masking the grim reality that all was not well in the world. Despite its majestic appearance, the God's Eye was a tomb, a silent witness to the ravages of war.

It became evident that you couldn't bear the weight any longer—the months of conflict, the years of hardship and camaraderie. Your love for him hit you with an intensity that felt like a physical blow to the gut. 

He was gone, forever. 

The memories flooded your mind—the sound of his voice, the echoes of laughter in the Red Keep's libraries, the sparkle in his violet eyes as you soared through the skies together.

Violent screams, unrecognisable even to yourself, reverberated across the still lake. Tears streamed down your face as you collapsed to your knees at the water's edge. Nettle's words echoed like a death knell, the cruel truth seeping into your soul: 

"They couldn't retrieve a body." 

He would never receive the burial befitting his noble lineage, never rest in the Great Sept with his ancestors.

Clutching the small wooden carving of Vhagar, you gripped it so tightly that it pierced your skin. Anything to distract from the sharp, agonising emptiness in your chest. The God's Eye, once a place of beauty, now mirrored the desolation within you—a stark reminder of the irreparable loss that had befallen your world.

It was night before you could wretch yourself away from the water’s edge, taking refuge in a large cave in the woods nearby, overlooking the Isle of Faces. Stepping into its deep interior, you were met with a pervasive dampness and bitter cold that clung to the air, accompanied by a low, wispy draft that whispered tales of undiscovered mysteries, cautioning against the disturbance of ancient stones better left untouched.

Guided by an inexplicable force that seemed to emanate from the recesses of your very heart, your feet carried you further into the cavern's depths. The very essence of the cave resonated with age and magic, invoking echoes of legends that spoke of the Children of the Forest and ancient tales of the First Men that had woven themselves into the fabric of these lands.

As you delved deeper, the surroundings cloaked you in an intensifying darkness, each step marked by the crumbling of wet gravel beneath your feet. Until suddenly, a strange warmth in the air began to prickle at your skin, humid and dank in a way that clung to you. 

This was no ordinary hollow. 

The pervading silence, almost otherworldly in its nature, gave way to an unsettling deep rumbling that resonated through the core of the earth beneath your feet. Turning a corner, the growling intensified, growing deeper and louder until a sudden realisation dawned upon you - a recognition etched in the core of your being.

The feeling was unmistakable, a sensation so familiar to you from a lifetime spent in the depths of the Dragon Pit.

Awe and trepidation mingled as the truth unfolded…

You stood in the majestic presence of a dragon. 

[lya-dustin]

I have been struck with another idea. An Aemma x Aemond fic that combines the @hotd-bigbang prompt(September 22nd: "All my means are sane, my motive and my object mad." (Moby Dick)) and s1! Bridgerton.

Here's a preview

Gif by @didanagy

The household of the Princess of Dragonstone is always a sight to behold.

Whether it is by its sheer size ---the Realm's Delight in her piety has had a child for each of the Seven and her mother’s heart welcomed Lady Laena's daughters as if they were her own bringing her up to the unholy number nine---, the cohesion of it or its strange coloring, you find yourself looking at them.

Unfortunately, their good looks, dragons, and enviable familial bond do not make up for the fact that, in comparison to Queen Alicent’s four children, they are rather ordinary. Yes, dear reader, that observation includes newborn Princess Visenya.

One has to wonder if their rank in the succession and dragons will be enough to find them all good matches now that Princess Aemma and Prince Jacaerys are to join the violent and bloody melee that is polite society.

--- the morning scandal

“I told you the printing press was a bad idea.” Daemon comments as the week’s scandal is read to him by his wife.

“You sound like Otto.” Rhaenyra said, refusing to take down her idea of a free ---but moderated--- press.

[darkwolf76]

HoTD Big Bang Spring Prompt: The Lake

Here is a little drabble contribution toward the @hotd-bigbang Spring Prompt Challenge, featuring my OC, Lady Deidre Strong, from my ongoing multi-chapter fic Children of Bone and Blood.

Pairing: Criston Cole x OC

Criston Cole knew he was a sinner. His sins had stained his white cloak with blood, as they had stained his soul and heart with bitterness and anger over the years, faults that had only led him to sin further, and ultimately fail as a knight, a sworn shield, a lover, and a father.

He wondered how his tale would be written in pages of the white book by the new Lord Commander: as a tragic figure, a good and honorable knight whom had been corrupted by the vices of anger and wrath but had tried to do what he believed what was right until the end, flawed as he had been? Or as a villain, corrupted and twisted from the beginning, breaking his vows by spoiling both the princess and her lady, then carelessly abandoning them both to serve the queen with malice and hatred in his heart?

He did not know, nor did he care much, for he was leaving Ser Criston Cole behind him. The mists of the lake swirled and closed in around the boat as the green clad ferry man rowed them across the now calm waters of the God’s Eye. Sitting across from him, Deidre reached down and ran her fingers over the plane of silver, the disturbance creating ripples alongside that of the boat. “May the prince find peace in the Gods’ waters,” she murmured quietly, like a prayer, “If only for Elyssa’s sake.”

Criston flexed his fingers in discomfort at the mention of Deidre’s Blackwood daughter. He should have done more for the girl. But there had been little he could do to contain Aemond’s fire near the end, and the girl had seemed willing enough to the prince’s advances. Criston studied the fingers of his still present hand curling into a fist and the bandaged stump where his sword hand used to be. He could still feel the ache of the hand, an ever-present ghost. There were no new beginnings without sacrifice in the eyes of the Old Gods, a sacrifice bone and blood.

Deidre’s slimmer fingers came into view as they wrapped around his arm in comfort, below the stump. “Does it hurt much?”

Criston’s brown eyes shifted back up to meet her green, so tired and wary, but still filled with concern and love for him after all these years. “It’s more strange than anything else. But I’ll get used to it.” He gave her a small smile, all he could muster after everything they’d been through. “Better to lose my sword hand to sate the appetite of the dragon king than my head.”

Deidre nodded in understanding, her eyes getting a far away look as she studied his features, Dornish sun-kissed skin, dark hair and eyes, and he knew whom she was reminded of. His heart constricted in his chest as he thought of their daughter. “What does the king intend to do with her?”

“I do not know. But her soul is now entwined with the beast she rode, hiding somewhere in the Dragonmount. The Gods may still have a purpose for her yet before she returns to them.” Her words held hope, but the grief that marred her face stirred up Criston’s own, along with old regrets that would never fully fade.

“I’m sorry, for everything.” Criston reached his remaining hand to cradle Deidre’s face. He traced his thumb over her cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

The former Lady Strong and Blackwood shook her head, covering his hand with her own. “All of that is done. Lady Deidre Strong and Ser Criston Cole are dead to the realm, and we are together now, as we should have always been.” The two lovers leaned forward and shared a kiss as a flock of ravens appeared overhead, calling a greeting as the winds shifted the mists to reveal the verdant green of the sacred isle. Their green ferry man waved to another figure in green on the shore as they made their approach, the silent faces of the old gods watching from the trees beyond the beach, calling to them. Criston Cole was a sinner, but with his bloodied cloak shed, perhaps the gods would now grant him another chance, to repent, and to truly live.