#blue lion ice

[seaside-m3lody]

Headcanon: the Red Lion can blast fire but when it connected to Keith’s mind, it saw how Keith’s dad died and went ‘fire? who’s she? never heard of it’

[thirstywaffles]

Jadis doodles 👉👈

[brazilian-whalien52]

Realize it's kinda unfair considering that some has more popular titles in the genre than others

[fellstcr]

⚔️ // she sang an old hymn inside of hallowed halls. her voice , a soft soprano that echoes throughout the temple to any keen listener who happens to pass by.

open !

[2000skid4ever]

It feels so weird to see ice age in a Disney crossover theme park building mobile game. (It also features lion king, star wars, emperor's new groove, nemo, and others fun fact)

[supernightboy08]

My favorite Talking Animal movies:

1. The Lion King (1994)

2. Madagascar (2005)

3. Ice Age (2002)

4. Kung Fu Panda (2008)

5. Puss In Boots The Last Wish (2022)

[godzilla-and-aang-monsters]

Wairarima

Altura: 110 metros

Longitud: 275 metros

Peso: 62 toneladas

Primer Avistamiento: Monte Roraima [Tierra: Teratoverso]

Controles: Tierra Control [Camuflaje] Energia Control [Contraataque potente]

Guarida: Monte Roraima [Tierra:Teratoverso] Desierto Si Wong [Avatarverso]

Aspecto: Smilodon + Diego de la Era de Hielo +León

Aliados:

Humanos: Aang, Katara, Soka, Iroh, Zuko

Kaijus y otras bestias: Anguirus, Baragon, Rodan, Godzilla

Enemigos:

Humanos: Ozai y Azula

Kaijus y otras bestias: King Ghidorah, Mapinguari

[tarkstony]

going back to fe3h and i think the golden deer can now, officially, join the black eagles in the favorites club

[ahsterism]

tag drop pt. 10: misc cartoons

[zoe-oneesama]

I finished "Kira Kira Pre Cure A La Mode" like a month ago, and I have brain rot that makes a Miraculous Ladybug AU out of anything with an animal theme so here we go. I would label this more as a crossover tbh and even thought of my own rules to make it coexist in the Miraculous Ladybug Universe.

Ko-fi | Patreon

To start, they break a few Miraculous Rules: the Miraculouses themselves have no resemblance to the animal they're imitating, and their powers are closer to their Pre Cure ones, which are baking/cooking based. And the reason I have for this is that these are technically not Miraculouses and technically not kwamis.

They aren't the "Miraculous of [x]" representing a concept, they're actually fairies who desire to be heroes. As such, they're actually at odds with Kwamis and there's a bit of a feud between them - the Kwamis have always worked alongside humans and see the Fairies as reckless and violating nature's laws, while the Fairies see the Kwamis as hording all the fun and not even trying to bridge the gap between them.

I imagine akumas would start showing up in Japan in Ichigozaka, bringing out the six PreCure Miraculouses, and they'd eventually follow them back to Paris to have a showdown with Hawkmoth AND the existing heroes. While the kwamis and fairies are having it out, the humans are meeting in the middle.

Ichika uses Whipp to become Crème Fouettée (Whipped Cream), a Bunny Hero with the ability "Batter Up", which captures the enemy in a giant cake. It has the side effect of being able to extract an akuma, but it can't purify it.

Himari uses Flann to become Swirl Caramel, a Squirrel Hero with modified clacker/rope darts as a weapon and the ability "Cherry Bomb", which is pretty self explanatory.

Aoi uses Aisuu to become Glace Bleue (Blue Ice), a Lion Hero with the ability "Gelato Shake", which encases her fist in a block of ice for even more painful punchs.

Yukari uses Cookie to become Kitty Macaron, a Cat Hero with a spiked yoyo and the ability "Cat Scratch" which inflates the size of the yoyo and increases their strength, making them able to scratch through anything.

Akira uses Chocco to Chien Rouge (Red Dog), a Dog Hero with the ability "Chocolate Armose" which creates a chocolate shield.

Ciel "uses" RinRin to become Blande Volante (Flying Bands), a Pegasus Hero with the ability "Kiracle Rainbow", which fully purifies the enemy and all of the damage caused during a fight. (If you know you know)

[fernsnailz]

it's time... for the TEAM DARK FEST! 💥💥💥💥

me and @serpentineshine are hosting a little tournament to finally determine who the best Team Dark member is! this week there's gonna be goofs, bits, and even a special prize for the winner 👀

however, the most important prize of all is what awaits at the end of the festival! ...but that's a secret right now.

💥 cast your vote below! 💥

(oh also if anyone makes any propaganda for their fav character. tag me i wanna see)

video transcript below the cut! ⬇️

A blue announcement screen with scrolling text reads “SPECIAL FENSNAILZ ANNOUNCEMENT.” There’s a looping animation of Squeak the cat in the middle. It disappears, cutting to a shot of a studio space.

In the studio, SNAIL, SHINE, SQUEAK, and a VASH PLUSH all sit at a desk with a large CRT TV on it. Squeak and Vash are on top of the TV, and shelves with various items line the walls. Everyone seems to be unaware that the camera is rolling - Snail is reading the script, Shine is drinking from a mug, and Squeak is licking her butthole. Vash remains motionless.

Snail notices the camera zooming in, and throws away the script in a moment of panic. Shine and Squeak sit up to face the camera as well.

SNAIL: Coming at you pre-recorded, it’s Snail, Shine, and The Beasts!

SHINE: We’re here today to announce a special tournament we’re hosting: the TEAM DARK FEST!

SQUEAK: Eep!

VASH: weemp womp :]

SNAIL: You know ‘em, you love ‘em-

SHINE: Or hate them.

SNAIL: It’s all about TEAM DARK this week! Fellas, turn on that TV!

The camera cuts to a close-up of the TV as the screen flips on. Three shitty photos of each Team Dark member appear on the TV under the question “Who is the best member of Team Dark?” Every Team Dark member’s name is misspelled underneath the photos.

SHINE: Time for the ULTIMATE question: Who is the best Team Dark member?

SNAIL: Oof. We’re turning them against each other, huh? That’s dramatic.

SQUEAK: Meep! (HOLY SHIT)

The camera zooms out to a wide view of the studio, but zooms out much further than needed for a split second. For some reason, this is all being filmed on a green screen set, and the shelves behind the cast seem to be edited in. Not only that, but this studio is either widely over-staffed or widely under-staffed, because the boom mic is held by seven Chao stacked on top of each other. The camera zooms into a closeup of Snail before much of this information can be processed.

SNAIL: Well, it’s obviously Shadow. I told him if he won, I would get him ice cream after soccer practice!

The camera pans over to Shine.

SHINE: No way, vote for Rouge! She can carry like. Nineteen mountain lions. Give or take

The camera pans over to Squeak and Vash. Squeak points at a crude drawing of Omega that seems to say “VOTE OMEGA.” It is upside down. Vash holds a cute little sign that says “I <3 OMEGA” that he likely made himself.

SQUEAK + VASH: ?????????????? (we didn’t hire anyone to translate this part.)

Back in a wide shot, Snail and Shine stare blankly at Squeak and Vash. Squeak licks her butthole again. Vash is now Real. Someone off-screen sneezes very convincingly.

SHINE: This poll will run for ONE WEEK before we announce the winner! So little time…

SNAIL: Everyone make your vote count! The winner of this festival will have a special page in my… 

An image of a porcelain snail appears over a white background as an echo-y human voice says “SECRET UPCOMING PROJECT.”

VASH: bweep bwaa :] (Yay! Prizes!)

SHINE: The final verdict will be decided by Twitter AND Tumblr, so commit as much voter fraud as you please!

Squeak bites Vash and he screams. They both fall off the TV and make a surprising amount of noise. Snail and Shine stare in shock.

SNAIL: See you in seven days! And hey, if you want to participate… tag me in any propaganda you make to fight for your favorite Team Dark member!

Squeak and Vash explode.

[fellstcr]

⚔️ // as  the  heat  from  the  afternoon  sun  bore  down  on  byleth’s  back  ,  she  busied  herself  with  the  last  of  her  building’s  decor.  letting  loose  the  long  ,  heavy  breath  born  of  hard  work  and  exertion  ,  she  wiped  the  sweat  from  her  brow  and  stepped  back  to  admire  the  sight  before  her.

         a  medium  sized  building.  one  that  now  bore  the  banners  of  faerghus’  blue  lions  ,  and  her  own  crest  of  flames.  they  fluttered  in  the  wind  ,  blue  ,  silver  and  gold  ,  marking  the  entrance  to  what  would  ,  in  time  ,  be  a  school  well  worth  the  title  that  of  its  namesake.  ...and  the  memory  that  birthed  its  inspiration.

                               the  blue  lions  academy.

             inside  ,  it  was  small  and  modestly  furnished.  only  enough  so  that  it  would  be  comfortable  for  herself  and  her  two  students  ,  but  harbored  within  it  the  potential  for  expansion  with  the  growth  of  her  flock.  a  simple  place.  but  ...  one  that  would  very  well  become  a  second  home  away  from  home.

           in  such  a  small  ,  rare  moment  as  this  ,  byleth  allowed  herself  to  bask  in  the  pride  that  swelled  within.

           it  was  a  small  step  forward.

           but  ,  hopefully  ,  it  would  be  the  right  one.

[on-leatheredwings]

Meeting the Family

based off this! but can be read alone.

Yandere! Fem! Reader / Yandere! Bruce Wayne

> romantic with bruce, platonic with the boys. the boys could be read as pre-yandere if you wish. > tw/cw: reader is a yandere, yandere-typical thought patterns, implied drugging, mention of self-harm, implied drugging > request: thoughts on co-conspirator!reader meeting the boys? > a/n: Hmmmm, i feel it’d be a meeting of interrogation where they see you’re clearly unstable !! > word count: 1.4k

You walk towards the threshold of a Wayne Manor sitting room. You have this hallway nearly memorized. You’ve viewed it through your 24/7 surveillance cameras and glanced upon it during your visits, but never has this hallway seemed so daunting until now. Luckily, your lover is nearby to reassure you. Bruce slips his hand into yours, and you inwardly swoon. You share a warm glance with him.

“They’ll adore you,” he says. You let a smile peek through your anxious expression. “I know I do.” At such sweet words, you feel your cheeks heat. Ugh, this man, you think affectionately.

Your Sunday best is the armor you don to meet Bruce’s children. It seems like you won’t even be able to meet them all – only the ones in town. “They just want to interrogate me,” you whine, letting yourself be pulled towards the impeccably decorated room.

“They just want to get to know you,” Bruce returns, humming. You can’t retort because already, you are in full view of his brood. The three of them look up from their phones and books. You swallow, under the scrutiny of two pairs of blue eyes and one pair of green.

“... Hi,” you say, waving a stupid hand. One smiles in return, thank goodness.

“I’ll just let you all get acquainted,” Bruce says, retreating. You swerve to him, blinking dumbly. That was not the agreement. The agreement was that Bruce moderate the discussion– and he’s gone.

He leaves the sitting room, and leaves you in the lion’s den to fend for yourself. And boy, do the lions pounce. 

The eldest, Dick – he’s positively godsent. He’s the first to shake your hand, immediately going into a friendly babble about how you’re all Bruce ever talks about and how he’s been excited to meet you. And thank God for that, because it manages to ease the tension you still have in your shoulders. He introduces himself and his brothers, melts the ice by teasing them as he does it. He offers you a seat across from them, offers you tea and cookies. He shares an anecdote of Bruce’s less polished moments to make you laugh. 

You soon realize he was a sleeper agent. He was merely buttering you up, lowering your defenses with well-placed platitudes and good-natured jokes.

It’s Tim who begins the true assault.

“So,” Tim begins over a cup of tea, looking upon you owlishly. “Isolation for 10 long years… How was that?” You blink, startled, before smiling weakly. At least no one was treating you like glass. Sometimes, that made you feel even more like a freak.

You try to give him a Sparknotes recollection, but it doesn’t satisfy him. At his badgering, you do relent more details. You are slipping your innermost thoughts without much of a fight, to your surprise. Dick’s empathetic gaze and Tim’s enraptured attention have you spilling dark thoughts it took you months to even tell Bruce… 

It was long. It was traumatic. Mind-altering. You have breakdown after breakdown. Self-harm after self-harm. There is a part of you you can never get back… So, 'how was it?' Why, just awful, thanks for asking!

Dick comforts you with “you’re so strong,” as Tim nods. He seems happy with his findings. It seems like you have piqued his academic interest – you can basically see the gears churning behind his mind, the factoids he’s storing for later. For what, you don’t know, but you’re glad to help. Throat dry, you down the rest of that blasted tea, but the boys aren’t quite finished.

Damian, however, is brutal in his questioning, sparing any of the pleasantries or dithering his brothers employed. He asks rapid fire about your past outside of your years in isolation. What was your childhood like? Your relationship with your parents? Did you ever graduate high school? College? What was your major? Do you like animals? His father houses two dogs, a cat, and a cow – you do know that don’t you? 

“What are your intentions with my father?” At that, you flinch.

“Nothing… nefarious, to be sure,” you say, sweat beginning to bead on your temple. It’s true! Aside from all the dastardly actions you wanted to inflict upon Bruce in the bedroom, nothing nefarious!

“And his other suitors? They don’t bother you?” 

At that, your smile wilts. Not from any offense… you simply don’t enjoy the reminder that others do seek Bruce’s affection. 

“They… don’t worry me,” you say succinctly. Dick doesn’t think you realize how your smile has grown sharp. Damian doesn’t let on whether he approves or disapproves of the answer. And Tim simply watches.

“And my father’s controlling and possessive tendencies? You’re fine with that? What would you do if you caught him in a lie? Or if a woman he was involved with confronted you?”

You gape like a fish. Man, what a character this one was. Damian blinks slow and catlike, before he sniffs. “I’m asking for one of the siblings who couldn’t be here today.”

“Um…” you return, discombobulated. You shoot off your answers as rapid-fire as he posed them. “I haven’t noticed any tendencies. And I can handle myself! If he lied… I’d hear him out. He probably had a good reason, of course.”

“What if it was infidelity?” 

You glare at them. “I’d get rid of her.” Why do they keep bringing up other women? 

At the boys’ silence, you realize your mistake. You wave your hands and bluster, “Not like– not like get rid of her– I would just tell her to… Leave. And I’d be… angry… at Bruce.” God, you don’t feel like you’re doing too well in this interview. You hiccup, filling your cup some more. What is in this tea? Man, it’s delicious.

“... Interesting.” 

“What if Bruce left you out of his own volition?” Tim points out, drawing your attention.

Your head snaps to him and you stare… That possibility had never even crossed your mind.

“He wouldn’t,” you say, confused. At raised eyebrows, you say, “I mean. I-I don’t think he would.” You have faith in Bruce. It’s been five months now, and your relationship has gone swimmingly. You had your insecurities… but Bruce had kissed all your worries away by now. Your fingers dig into the cushion of the couch. 

He wouldn’t leave. He couldn’t. He had already reassured you, and been so kind, and wonderful, and shown you what love was like– he couldn’t just leave you now–

“But what if he did?” and this time, the question comes from Dick, who, if you recall, hadn’t asked a single question yet. He looks serious, unlike his casual air from before.

You keep the desperation out your voice by keeping it chillingly level. “Then I’d convince him otherwise.” Good answer, good answer, you applaud yourself. All the boys nod, looking upon you with varying degrees of interest, curiosity, and understanding.

“Then… I suppose we have just one more question,” Tim says, plucking the kettle of tea out your hands. You pout.

“Thoughts on having children?”

At the question, your brows shoot into your hairline.

“... Are there not enough of you already?” you blurt.

To your relief, they all relax.

-

After that strange encounter, Bruce shows himself and sees you out. The walk outside is quiet. Comfortably quiet on your end. You hope you did good… no, you reassure yourself. Fuck it, you did great.

“So… how were they?” 

You glance at his face, and are surprised to see thinly veiled concern behind his smile. “Did any of them say anything… strange? And… did you like them?” You laugh, before floating up to kiss Bruce between the brows. Flight powers came in handy for stuff like that.

“They were wonderful,” you say cheekily. “Something they clearly get from their father.”

-

bonus!

Bruce re-enters the foyer. He shoots off a text, lamenting. If you hadn’t had him bug his own home, he could’ve spoken to the boys freely. He could’ve had Jason hide nearby, instead of having to listen in on Damian’s phone.

Bruce: Did that satisfy your curiosities?

Several ellipses in bubbles pop up, before his phone rattles with their responses.

Damian: Frankly, she comes off as airheaded and naive, but at least she seems to have some semblance of spine.

Jason: She’s crazy. Didn’t we tell you to stop sticking your dick in crazy

Dick: Well, I think that makes you guys a perfect match!

Tim: bruce i’m sorry, you cannot fix her. however, i would like to study her. and possibly, make her worse

Bruce sighs, albeit smiling. By all accounts, you seem have gotten their general approval.

[erisvansserra]

Follow You

Fenrys x Reader x Azriel

Summery: 30 years ago, Y/N fell through a portal and woke up in Prythian naked an afraid. She counted herself lucky that she was found by the shadowsinger and his high lord, who took her in and gave her a home. Despite their hospitality she dreamed of her home and the mate she left behind, Fenrys, who searched for her until one day.. he finds her.

Part 1 Part 2

A/N: OMG thank you SOOOO much for all the love! This chapter is going to be a LOONG one because I wanted to give you guys more Fenrys and y/n! enjoy!!

Warning: a little smutty

80 years before the fall.

Cold wind bit at your bare neck as you exited Rowan's war tent, he sat down besides the opening, polishing a sword casually, his eyes transfixed on the process.

"Good morning" you greeted, stretching your arm above your head as you surveyed the war camp before you. Men, horses and a sea of tents lay at your feet creating an electric atmosphere that you reveled in before a fight, however you weren't going to war this time. "Morning y/n" Rowan grunted as he flipped the sword in his hand, studying his work before he started buffing the handle "it's starting to snow, put on something warmer" he continued his eyes still homed in on his hands. You furrowed your brow and looked down at your cousin, his long white hair whipping around the back of his neck as the wind tangled in his locks. With a flick of your fingers your power surged forward, ice covered Rowan's sword, encasing it in a blue frosted glow. " I was born with ice in my veins" you say smugly, your eyes traveling past him to the training pit to the east of his tent " you forget I don't feel the cold like you do" you state as your eyes land on a tall male you have never seen before. His golden hair shone brightly in the sun, his tanned skin was slick with sweat or melted snow as a feral grin spread across his face. " Who. Is. That?" you asked your cousin, whose green eyes finally left the handle of his sword and traveled to the training pit where Gavriel was training with the unnamed male. "Nobody" he grumbled " I think I'll go intodruce myself" you say and begin walking towards the pit, knowing full well your overprotective cousin was a shadow against your back, walking with you in stoic silence. As your boots hit the outer rim of the training pit your eyes were locked onto the unknown male, gods he was beautiful. His onyx eyes didn't leave Gavriel's as they sparred, his muscled chest and torso captivated you as it glistened in the morning sun. He pivoted and danced around Gavriel's advancing sword. You felt Rowan's looming presence behind you, casting a large shadow over your frame as your eyes tracked the male in front of you. Gavriel whirled, his sword meeting the other males in a loud clash of iron on iron, the unknown male smiled and twisted left his sword nicking Gavriel's sleeve before the older male turned and kicked the younger male in the chest sending him to the ground. Gavriel held up a hand then motioned for the young man to stand and grab some water. "Do not.. say anything stupid" Rowan growled softly in your ear as the two males walked over "I won't embarrass you cousin, now shut up and introduce me". " Hello y/n" Gavriel greeted as he walked towards you, his shirt clung to his torso with sweat. "Hello Gavriel, are you well?" you asked sweetly looking up to your ex-trainer. When you were younger, Rowan had asked Gavriel to take over your training so you could learn to fight in your animal form. Gavriel being a mountain lion and you being a panther, his training was specially focused on all the ways to bring down the enemy while taking advantage of your animal's strength. "As well as I can be" he answered giving you a warm smile, you didn't even notice the two males that walked to either side of Gavriel. Your eyes darted the male from earlier and a equally as good looking brunette as they joined your conversation. Gavriel's smile widened as he saw the look on your face, his eyes darting up to look at Rowan, who you knew was frowning behind you. The golden haired male gave you a small smile, his onyx eyes raking up your body before meeting your eyes " I don't believe we've met" he said taking a step forward and offering his hand " I'm Fenrys". You placed your hand in his, your breath hitching in your throat as he clasped your fingers between his own and brought the back of your hand to his lips. Rowan growled from behind you and crossed his arms over his chest as he stared down Fenrys. "I'm Y/n" you said more breathlessly than you intended, Fenrys ignored Rowans warning growl and gestured to the male next to Gavriel " this is my brother Connall, but believe me, he isn't as fun as I am" Fenrys said with a smirk that created butterflys in your stomach.

"If you're done" Rowan bit out from behind you " I think y/n and I were going out for a ride" he continued as his hand grips your forearm and pulls you away from the three males. Your head whips from your cousin to the three males, you catch Gavriel trying to suppress his smile as he watched Rowan tug you towards the waiting horses. For the next few days you didn't see much of Fenrys, stolen glances as you passed each other in camp or across the fire from dinner. On this particular night you sat next to Rowan as the cadre told war stories in front of a booming fire on the outskirts of camp. Gavriel had made a vegetable soup for the group, that you drank down in three mouthfuls. Training made you incredibly hungry. You tried to keep your eyes on Lorcan as he told the same boring story again of how he saved Rowan from certain death over a century ago. But your eyes kept finding Fenrys's from across the dancing flames. His onyx eyes looked like burning coals as the fire lapped at his features, his golden skin features shadowed in darkness as the fire fluttered before him. You quickly looked away to your cousin, Fenrys, who was starting to revel in how nervous he made you looked back to Lorcan and pretended to pay attention. " The pup keeps looking at me" you said quietly to your cousin as he brought his bowl to his lips with one hand and drank the rest of his soup. "I've noticed" he grunted in his usual tone as he set the bowl at his feet. " Don't be grumpy, I'm freaking out... should I go talk to him?" you ask, your eyes slightly widening as you looked to your cousin for guidance. He, however looked at you like you had asked the stupidest question in the world. "Don't be stupid, let's not forget the drama you caused when you slept with Vaughan" he said straightening his back again and resting his elbows on his knees. "Oh, that was like 25 years ago... you and he need to get over it" you said with a swipe of your hand dismissing that ungracious comment. " You almost killed him when you caught him with that girl" Rowan jested, a small smile forming on his face as he recalled ripping you off Vaughan, your knife so close to the warriors neck you had just nicked it. You smiled in return and allowed a small chuckle to escape your lips " I think that was your proudest moment" you said, leaning over and handing Rowan a cup of wine that had been served with dinner. His smile grew as he took the cup from your fingers and held it between his own, the fire light dancing in his green eyes as he hummed in response.

The conversation died between the two of you, it wasn't long before the males that sat around the fire retired to bed. Gavriel's hand ruffling your hair affectionately as he walked past you to his tent and went to rest. You were on guard duty until the sun peaked its head over the horizon, then someone would take your place and you would be able to rest before the camp moved further down its path to war.

Only no one came to relieve you, so you sat all night and morning on guard. When time came to leave, Rowan used it as a training tactic, earning glares from the rest of the cadre, save Lorcan who thought it was a great idea. You were on a dirt road by midday, the gravel crunching under your boots as you walked next to Rowan and his horse, the army of 10,000 strong fae warriors around you marching to war. The cold wind bit at your face and hands as your cousin muttered comments about how sloppy you've gotten, that in the past you could stay up all night and run 10 miles on no rest. You ignored him, your body aching and your eyes threatening to close at any given moment. " Jog up to Gavriel and then back" Rowan ordered with a dip of his chin, you threw your head back and audibly groaned "Rowan I am tired" you said with a pained voice " I need to rest".

"Like I care" he huffed and used his boot to push you into a jog, you scowled back to him and started your slow, pained jog to Gavriel's black mare. When you reached him, you rested your hand on his calf startling the fae warrior slightly "Gods you look like shit" he muttered casting his gaze back to Rowan. " I feel like it" you muttered back, your steps becoming sloppy as you tried to keep up with his horse. Gavriel's eyes looked down to you and softened, he lifted his fingers to his lips and whistled to Fenrys who was on his white stallion up-ahead. The white wolf looked over his shoulder and saw you, his eyes lit up as he turned his horse and trotted down the line, flanking your other side. You didn't register what was happening until you felt Fenrys's hand under your arm, ripping you onto his saddle and against his chest. Suddenly, you were no longer tired, your eyes practically popped out of your head as you felt his strong chest pressed against your back. "uhh" you said trying to find some words to say but they escaped you, you were just happy Fenrys couldn't see how red your face had turned at his touch. But Gavriel did, he smiled brightly at you as you made eye contact with your ex-trainer. His eyes darting up to Fenrys before instructing him " make sure the princess gets some rest, when there is a fork in the road wake her up so she may continue her journey". Gavriel's eyes landed on you again, he reached over and placed a gentle hand on your knee before whispering "you're welcome" and riding off to take the spot in the group Fenrys left free. "You can relax princess, I won't bite" Fenrys purred as he leaned down, his breath tickling the back of your neck. You hadn't realised how rigged you were, your hands balled into fists on your lap, your posture straight and narrow like you were at court. With a shuddering breath you eased into Fenrys, pressing the back of your head against his shoulder as his hand came across your front and tucked you closet to him, his other hand holding the reigns of his horse. "So" he said after a little while, noticing you hadn't fallen asleep yet " If you're not going to war with us, where are you going?" he asked, his onyx eyes looking down at you as you rested against him. You pointed a delicate hand to the mountain range ahead of you, his eyes followed and flared in surprise when he noted your destination. " When my father died and my mother was unfit to take care of me anymore, I went to live with Rowan and my aunt and uncle" you explained " my father was buried in his village with his father and his father before him, I'm going to visit" "Do you visit your father's grave often?" "As often as I can"

You felt Fenrys nod against you taking in your story. "Do you miss them? your parents?" He asked carefully, his voice soft and tentative. "Yes, but... my aunt and uncle raised me... so it is them I miss more" You confess as you look up to the fae warrior pressed against your back. He looked down at you, his eyes soft and inviting as waited for you to continue. "Rowan however, when he leaves for war, I miss him the most... he is the reason I'm as strong as I am" you confess and rip your eyes away from his own, closing them as the shade of the upcoming forest started to cover you. Offering enough darkness to lull yourself to sleep. " Don't tell him though, he gets weirdly sentimental when I say stuff like that" you say while trying to stifle a yawn that slipped past your lips anyways. You felt Fenry's arm tighten around you, felt his body shift further back on his saddle to give you enough room, to make you comfortable. "I won't, get some rest, i'll wake you up when it's time" he said, his thumb drawing small circles on your hip where it rested, if you were less tired you might have blushed at his touch. The casualness of it, how natural it felt, but sleep took over. When you awoke you were in your fathers village, your head whipping from left to right as you took in your surroundings making sure you saw everything right. You felt Fenrys chuckle against your back, then he patted your thigh and jumped off the horse. "What.. How?" You asked, still atop the white stallion looking down at Fenrys with furrowed brows laced with confusion. He smiled softly up at you and dug his hands into his pockets. " I asked Gavriel where the village was, I didn't want to wake you" he said casually, his charcoal eyes never leaving yours. You were speechless, you gawked down at him in shock as you mulled over his words. He had ridden 3 hours away from the group, to let you sleep, to make sure you got enough rest before you spent time at your father's grave, you couldn't do anything to stop the blush from spreading across your cheeks. "Well I guess I'll see you around" he said kicking some gravel at his boot and turning back down the road. You watched him and shook your head, then before your eyes a bright light exploded on the road, where a man stood before a white wolf took its place. "Fen!" You called to the wolf that stopped and looked over its shoulder, you kicked the horse and turned it so you could face him " what about your horse?" you asked, bending forward and gesturing to his white stallion that huffed white smoke as the cold of the village air started to seep in. The wolf's eyes darted from the horse to you, casually it reached both its paws forward, stretching out its back with a small grunt, then without another word it padded back down the road. The unspoken words were as clear as day, he wanted you to keep it until you returned home.

5 Years Later

Travel the world, it was the one thing your aunt and uncle told you numerous times in your life. Then one day you packed up a bag and Fenrys's borrowed horse and started a solo journey though the wild. You had been gone a year now, you had sent letters to your family, Rowan included and got responses when you were in one place long enough.

But tonight, under the summer solstice moon you swam freely in the ocean, the waves lobbing you from side to side like a ship out at sea. You heard crunching on the sand, looking to the shore you spotted a white wolf, its nose imbedded in the clothes you had left in the sand, sniffing your scent. "Fenrys?" You called from the waves, catching the wolfs attention. It's ears pricked up as he sighted you in the waves, your white long sleeve shirt clinging to your bare skin as you bobbed up and down in the water. With a flash of light the wolf became a man, your breath got caught in your throat as he smiled at you from shore. His hair was long and wild, somehow, his body became more muscular in the time he was away, probably from all the fighting you thought to yourself. "What are the chances I would find you here?" He called, bringing his hands next to his mouth, cupping his lips so his voice would travel to you. You smiled and lifted a hand out of the water, gesturing to the sack of wine you had left with your belongings. " Want to join me pup?" you asked, tilting your head to the side in challenge, the wine in your system and your brooding cousin being away making you more confident around him. Fenrys raised his eyebrows as a slow charming smile spread across his face, he reached down and took the sack of wine, unscrewing it he brought it to his lips and drank deeply before tossing it back onto the sand. " I don't have a change of clothes" he shouted with a smile as he started to loosen the stings of his tunic and make his way closer to the lapping waves of the ocean. "Neither do I" you shouted back, walking closer to him as the waves pushed you along "I'm just in my under shirt" you said, a little more seductively than you intended. Fenrys's fingers fumbled slightly at your words, he looked back to your belongings, a fire raring in his ears as he spotted your bra amongst your belongings. His breath evened out, a pool of fire igniting in his stomach as he ripped his shirt off with one hand, not bothering to take off his trousers he ran into the ocean and dove beneath the waves. He emerged in front of you, his bare chest so close to you, you could see the goosebumps rising as the cold water washed over him. You smiled up at him as his eyes connected with your own, the alcohol in your blood begged you to touch him, to feel him under your touch but you knew better than to tangle with a member of the cadre. Fenrys was fighting the same internal battle, he couldn't help his wandering eyes as he stared at you from under the moonlight, your skin giving off a heavenly glow that he wanted to lose himself in. He could see your peaked nipples from under your white shirt, the cold of the water making them so tight he almost bent down to push his warm tongue against them. "So" you breathed, biting your cheek nervously " how have you been?" you ask as you kick your legs from under you. "I've been well, I heard you've been traveling?" he asked as he swims a little closer to you, the moonlight not hiding the blush from him this time. "Yeah, it's been nice just me and your horse" you say smiling.

"Ah yes, my stallion... I hope he is treating you well"

"As loyal to me as a war horse can be" you answer brushing some hair away from your face that the waves keep bringing forward. Fenrys hums in response, that intoxicating smirk plastered on his lips once more as he turns his head to look back to shore. Your eyes widen as you see the two scars that rake down the side of his face, without hesitation you reach up and run your thumb along his jaw, feeling the scars indentations in his skin. His eyes shoot back to you as you take in his wounds that stretched from the corner of his eye and down his jaw. "What happened?" you breathed. "Just got distracted during a fight, not a big deal" he shrugged as he reached behind you, forcing you to stand closer to him in the water. His smirk widened into a predators smile as he held you against him, now your skin pebbled in goosebumps. Your hand that rested on his face traveled down and found home on his chest, his heart racing behind his rib cage so hard you could see your hand moving. "You know, i've heard this bay is littered with sirens" he said, his head cocking to the side as his hands rested on your hips " beautiful women that beckon men into the sea and have their way with them before drowning them beneath the depths of the water" he said warmly, a slight look of challenge in his eyes. "Do you think I am a siren Fenrys? A woman who calls men to the sea to have my way with them?" You asked, taking that small step closer to him. You yelped in surprise as his hands that once rested on your hips now firmly held your thighs, wrapping them around his waist as he picked you up. His eyelids lowered slightly, your breasts he was so longing to taste now out of the water and on full display before him. He kept one hand on your backside while the other traced up your back and tangled in your wet hair, moving you slightly so he could leave warm kisses on your skin. "I hope so" he purred into your neck as he kissed you. You felt his member grow as it pressed against you, a moan escaped your lips as you felt his hand travel to your breast and lightly pinch your nipple. Your mind raced, you didn't know what you expected when you invited him out here but it wasn't this... not that you were mad. His lips moved from your neck up to your jaw then just before your lips met his, his eyes shot wide and he dropped you taking a few steps back. Confused you reached forward and went to touch him, but he batted your hand away. Hurt, that's what you were, that's how this night would end with you being hurt. "Fenrys?" you asked, trying to gage him as he turned his back to you, his shoulders moving deeply with each breath he took. He looked over his shoulder at you, his onyx eyes locked on yours as he pressed a hand to his forehead. Then in that moment the bond snapped, like a rope that tied you two together by your ribs. You gasped and almost fell backwards in the water but you regained your balance. "This is not good" Fenrys muttered as he turned to face you again. "Excuse me?" you asked with a slight tremor in your voice, still shocked that the mating bond had snapped so suddenly. He raised his hands defensively and walked toward you, the water rippling around him as he strode effortlessly to you in the waist deep water. " That's not what I meant... It's... It's just" he fumbled his words, his hands reaching up to cup your face in the moonlight. His eyes flicked between your own as you stared at each other a mixture of disbelief and confusion etched onto each face as you peered into each others souls. "My.. role with Maeve" he said through gritted teeth like the very words he uttered were poison " is... complicated, if she knew y/n who you are to me, she will kill you" he said quietly. Your eyes widened as you tried to step out of his touch but his hand tightened keeping you still " we can reject the bond now" he offered "you don't have to offer me food or your word, we can break the bond and you won't live in danger" he said quickly, his heart

rate so fast and hard he thought he might pass out. The way he looked at you, the memories with him came flooding back, the way he kissed your hand, the way he let you rest against him, the way he stole glances across the many fires you sat at. Over the years it had been known you two had developed a crush on each other, much to Rowans dismay but now it made sense. He was your mate, from this day until your last day. "No" you said, he went to speak but you held up a hand and stopped him " the gods brought us together, that bitch you work for doesn't scare me" you stated and removed his hands from your cheeks. "I won't accept the bond until the time is right, but if you're okay with it, fen, I'd like to see where this goes" you said.

Surprised by your words, he smiled and bent down. His lips tasted like the salt water that surrounded you both, you wrapped your arms around his neck as his tongue swept your lower lip. You smiled against him then pulled away. "Don't get too excited pup, you can buy me dinner first" you smirked as you began to walk back to shore. "You didn't care a second ago when your legs were trembling against me" he jested as he came up behind you. You rolled your eyes and walked towards the shore. Fenrys let you use his discarded shirt, still dry and covered in sand as he picked up the rest of your belongings and walked you back to the cabin you were staying in. He didn't stay the night as he still had work to do, he didn't even kiss you goodbye, but you knew in your gut this was the right choice.

You waved as you parted ways, the moon casting his shadow onto the dirt road. A/N: Here it issss, I hope you liked it and you aren't missing Azriel too much hahha, he will be back next chapter I just really wanted to show fen some love

[starrynightmuse]

Sign of the Times 🏛⏳️ I. Broken Dragonfly Wings

Aemond Targaryen x reader, Library of Alexandria AU

(Title inspired by the Harry Styles song)

Blurb: It's summer in Alexandria, Egypt, and the heat has reached sweltering heights. Children dash toward the banks of the Nile, eager to find relief in the cool waters while ladies fan themselves under the shade of palm trees. Thick mud huts keep families cool under the boiling sun. It would be 1,892 years before the first ice cubes would be invented and nearly two millennia until air conditioning. Even Jesus Christ wouldn’t be born until another 48 years. But you have the teachings of Aristotle and the works of Euclid. You're the first and only female scholar at the Library of Alexandria, the first institute of its kind. All your life has been spent in the pursuit of knowledge — until the arrival of a mysterious young scholar named Aemond. 

Series warnings: period typical misogyny, ancient academia, teacher x student relationship (but they're the same age), violence, fire, sexual content (18+), reader is loosely based off of Hypatia of Alexandria, Targaryens x Ptolemies crossover, character deaths, inaccurate history for the sake of storytelling, accusations of witchcraft, debates on fictional religions, Plato, Daemon being a menace.

Word count: 5,380

Series Masterlist

Your heart was racing, terror coiling in your stomach like a serpent, but you refused to let it show as you looked out at the mob of angry faces around you in the pavilion.

“Traitor!”

“Death to the witch!”

“Kill her!” 

You knew there was no escaping this. This was the end. Yet, even as fear flooded your chest, you refused to let go of your pride. You held your head up high as Prince Daemon approached you where you kneeled. He looked down at you, his cold eyes gleaming in sick satisfaction.

"I'm giving you one last chance, witch," he said, his voice hard and uncompromising. "Renounce your unholy ways and convert to the Faith of the Seven, and you shall walk away unharmed."

You looked up at him, refusing to back down. You hypocrite, you thought. When you spoke, your voice was steady and firm. "I cannot.”

The prince's expression darkened. He stepped closer to you, his lips close to your ear so that no one would overhear.

“There is nothing left for you. It's over. Save yourself and the crown will grant you mercy,” he hissed.

You spat at his face. "If the right to think is treason, then I embrace it proudly. I refuse to remain supplicant to a crown that fears the power of knowledge and labels it treachery."

Daemon's lips formed into a cruel snarl. He stepped back and turned to the crowd, opening his arms in a dramatic display. "The punishment for witchcraft is death!" his voice boomed. The crowd erupted, snarling and roaring like a pack of lions.

Your heart raced as the people closed in with stones in hand, hungry predators circulating their prey. You took a final deep breath, bracing yourself for the onslaught. The first stone hit you, a dull throb of pain that quickly gave way to sharper, intense sensations as more stones followed. You feel your knees collapsing to the hard floor. In reflex, you cover your head with your arms. You shut your eyes, and the last thing you saw was the memory of a single blue eye.

🏛⏳️

6 months earlier.

There's a buzzing in the air, and not just from the hum of people in the atrium outside. Inside your classroom, a large blue dragonfly lazily flies in circles, your students taking turns swatting at it as it zips by. It’s an epaulet skimmer, or an orthetrum chrysostigma, a common dragonfly found around Egypt. Last month, you helped survey them with a fellow scholar who was putting together an account of all the various insects along the Nile River delta. The research project was commissioned by the Princess Helaena Targaryen herself, whom you've heard was quite fond of natural history. 

In the midst of your lecturing, the buzz of the insect feels amplified. In front of you sit nearly fifty pupils, all perched on wooden benches. Most of them are in their teens and early twenties, and all of them were young men with restless energy with wandering minds. While a few showed genuine curiosity, you knew that attendance was merely a formality to half of them, who were only present because their parents were wealthy aristocrats. Yet, you knew it was your duty to broaden their minds and instill some semblance of knowledge into their minds before they go on to graduate and become lords who make decisions that impact hundreds of people.

“Whether you believe in the Seven or the old gods, we accept that the divine has created all that we know,” you say, your voice carrying across the room. “Yet, the mechanisms behind how their creations work are a mystery to us mortals.”

There's a blur of blue near your eye when the dragonfly makes a landing on your nose. You swap it away and continue. 

“For example, what are the gears that drive a drought? Elders of the past have said that a drought is punishment from an angry sun god. Holy men today say it is the repercussion of having vexed the Seven. But how, precisely, do these divine beings bring this drought upon us?” You pause, pacing around the room. “Like observing the work of a craftsman, we can observe the handiwork of the gods. We can observe that volcanic eruptions are one tool that the gods use to give us droughts. Likewise, miasma from a plague, which spews vaporous acid into the atmosphere, can cause rising temperatures and dry up rivers. (Modern Fact check: Miasma does NOT cause plagues. They are caused by infectious bacteria and viruses.)

“Every natural disaster has forces, or causes, behind them. Although perhaps only the gods may know the truth of the workings behind these events, philosophers and believers of science have theorized why certain disasters come to be. Take earthquakes, for example. Compared to droughts, it is much harder for us to determine how earthquakes are created. Aristotle, for one, suggested that it is caused by winds in subterranean caves.”

One of your pupils seated on the front row raises his hand. Ebony curls, dark eyes that remind you of beetles, his robes a deep plum that only money can buy.

“Perhaps Aristotle failed to consider that earthquakes could just be Atticus's mother walking to the market,” he says, a cocky grin spreading across his face. His friend gives him a hearty slap on the back, nearly doubling over with laughter.

You offer a tight-lipped smile. "Thank you, Flavius." 

Some of your students were more mature than others.

Flavius's jolliness is short-lived, however. The dragonfly suddenly decides to dart into his eye and he lets out a startled shriek. He swats at the insect and tumbles forward off the bench. His friend roars even harder with laughter. Meanwhile, the dragonfly falls onto the floor, its delicate blue wings now broken. A couple students in the back crane their necks in curiosity as Flavius stomps his feet on the insect's body, crushing it mercilessly against the tile floor. Tiny blue limbs smear across the tiles, its wings in pieces like shattered glass. A life snuffed out in the blink of an eye.

Flavius settles back onto the bench, straightening his toga with an air of nonchalance. "Apologies, miss. Please, continue," he says.

You choose to ignore his interruption, redirecting your attention to the rest of the class. 

“When we attempt to unravel the mysteries behind the divine's creations, we begin to understand the natural world,” you say, thinking about the dead bug in front of you, its blue wings, the blue of the Nile, all the species of flora and fauna that have survived for eons thanks to its life-giving waters. “This is why we study the discipline of science.”

“Beyond these walls, I have heard many who deem it to be blasphemy,” a voice interjects. 

Your gaze shifts to a young man at the rear of the room. You've never seen him before, not in your classroom nor around the Library. If you've seen him, you would know. With his sharp features, nearly white hair cropped close to his head, and a leather eyepatch covering an angry scar on his left eye — his was not a face you would forget. 

“What do they call you?” You ask curiously, piercing blue eye meeting yours. He seemed a bit older than the rest of your students — perhaps in his mid-twenties, around the same age as you. You briefly wondered where he was from. His features stood out in a sea of dark haired Alexandrians.

"I am called Aemond, ma'am," his voice remained composed and respectful. "Just Aemond." There was a refinement in his speech that hinted of a privileged upbringing, yet the absence of a surname intrigued you. Perhaps he was an educated slave, adept at tutoring and managing the finances of the master's household — literate slaves were not uncommon in the Roman Empire.

"And what have you heard, Aemond?" you inquire.

"It is said that scientific inquiry is seen as an offense to the Seven," he responds evenly, referring to the gods. "Questioning their creations is considered sacrilegious." Several students nod in agreement around the room.

You paused for a moment, gathering your thoughts.

“It is true that outside these walls, the belief that science is sacrilegious is held by many people,” you say slowly. “Perhaps even now, some of you are wrestling with the idea, torn between conventional thinking and what you are learning at this institute. If this is the case, I implore you to consider this —” 

You look out at the faces of your pupils. Some are focused and deep in thought, while others are frowning. A lone blue eye is fixed on you.

"—What act of love is greater than seeking to understand the object of your affection? Mathematics, physics, and astronomy are not merely academic pursuits but they are expressions of love. They are avenues through which we seek to comprehend and appreciate the intricate beauty of our world.” You gestured around the room. “I am aware that some of you are followers of the Seven. Some of you are devoted to the old gods. But science does not seek to refute the existence of one God over another, nor does it attempt to debunk the existence of the divine altogether. Science seeks only to understand.” You look in Aemond's direction. He's watching, listening intently. “In attempting to understand the natural world, we may better love the divine and appreciate their creations.”

🏛⏳️

The remainder of the class concluded smoothly, and due to the sweltering heat, you dismissed everyone earlier than usual. Despite the hour not yet reaching midday, the air was thick with humidity, making the classroom feel oppressive. You had no desire to keep your students in the stuffy classroom for longer than necessary.

As the others rush to leave the room, you notice that Aemond was kneeling down and using a handkerchief to clean the dragonfly off the floor.

“Thank you,” you say to him earnestly. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he delicately holds the insect through the thin white cloth. He picks up a broken piece of an iridescent blue wing, the shimmer catching the light.

"It's an epaulet skimmer," you remark softly. But you're not looking at the bug, you're looking at him.

"Orthetrum chrysostigma," Aemond responds, using the scientific name. You regard him with curiosity. 

“My sister has a fondness for insects," Aemond explains. "She is extremely gentle with them. She maintains an extensive collection in her room — beetles, caterpillars, dragonflies, and the like. But she only gathers them once they've passed on. Her heart is too big to confine them before they've lived a full life." He gazes at the broken wing in his hand with a hint of sadness. You suspect that he is thinking of more than the fate of the squashed bug.

“Some cultures believe that dragonflies were once dragons who were tricked by a jackal to change shape into insects,” you say, looking at the wing in fascination. “Once they became a dragonfly, they couldn't transform back. As a result, they represented change and illusion.” 

You notice that Aemond's gaze is now fixed on you, a blue eye that reminds you of iridescent wings and the shimmering surface of the Nile on sunny days. You think of mirages in the desert, blue lapis lazuli on polished gold rings, the holographic shells of scarab beetles. 

“They must've been very grand in their past lives,” he remarks.

There's a short silence as you observe him, unsure of what to make of this strange new addition to your class. As your gaze shifts from his eyepatch to his eye, you notice that he's studying you too. Suddenly, you feel very exposed, as if he was somehow reading your entire life story just by looking at you. 

Breaking the tension, you extend your hand. "I realize I haven't properly introduced myself. It's been a pleasure having you in my class," you say, stating your name. He accepts your gesture, clasping your hand in a firm shake.

“You're the daughter of Theon. Your father is the greatest mathematician in all of Alexandria,” Aemond says. “I know who you are.” 

“Do you study mathematics?” 

“No. History and philosophy,” he replies. “But I've read enough across all the disciplines to know who the greats are.” 

“I don't think I've ever seen you around here before,” you note.

"I just started my studies here," he explains. "I arrived last night."

"Where else have you studied?" 

“Nowhere else. All my education has been from tutors hired by my family at home.”

"If you don't mind my asking, where do you come from?" 

He hesitates. “I've been around,” he says at last. 

🏛⏳️

That afternoon, you decided to teach your next class in one of the classrooms overlooking the sea. Arriving early, you unlatch the tall, arched windows, hoping to coax a gentle breath of ocean breeze into the room. As the soft light of the late afternoon filtered through, you arrange your teaching materials as the first of your students trickled in.

The class was on Euclidean geometry. As it happens, this was one of your favorite subjects to teach. You loved to move around the room, using various objects — such as a discus, a sphere, and even a pineapple — to illustrate geometric shapes and their properties. It was more than just memorizing formulas; it was about seeing and understanding the spatial relationships and practical applications of mathematics in the physical world.  

Two thousand years from now, Euclidean geometry would be the foundation for computer graphics, radiology, and geographic information systems. Without Euclid, you wouldn't have video games or anime. There would be no x-rays to help doctors treat broken bones. Without Euclid, there would be no Google Maps, nor would you be able to stalk your crush's location on Snapchat. 

Abruptly, you are cut off mid-lecture as a series of bold knocks echo off the door. You excuse yourself and open the door cautiously, finding yourself face-to-face with six armored men adorned in gold cloaks. You step out into the atrium.

"What is your business?" you ask, your gaze sharp and guarded.

“Prince Daemon Targaryen wants to speak to Theon of Alexandria. I'm told you're his daughter,” the guard at front says firmly.

“My father is indisposed. Whatever business you have with him, you can discuss with me.”

A sudden laugh rings out across the atrium. Every movement in the hall comes to a standstill as scholars pause their tracks and turn their heads. In front of you, guards quickly part ways for a tall man with long silver hair. His armor clinks as he strides towards you, his eyes mischievous like those of a jackal, reminding you of the ancient depictions of Anubis on temple walls. Adorning his shoulders is the same golden cloak worn by his men.

It was the unmistakable Prince Daemon Targaryen, brother of King Viserys and the consort of the crown princess Rhaenyra. But to the smallfolk, he is known as the merciless commander of the City Watch. 

Daemon looks at you like you are the scum on his shoes. “I don't have time for games, girl,” he says mockingly. “Where is your father?”

“Like I've said, he is indisposed,” you repeat, meeting him with a steady gaze.

“I have come a long way from the palace,” he says, offering a false honeyed grin. “You will fetch him for me.” 

You give a smile that mirrored his. It was common knowledge that Prince Daemon frequented the company of his mistress in the city more than he did his own wife at the royal palace.

"I speak the truth when I say my father cannot be here right now, and I apologize on his behalf. However, I am willing to assist you,” you assert calmly.

"This does not concern you," Daemon retorts dismissively. "I am here on business concerning your father's governance of this... academic institution."

"I am a professor here and a senior member of the Library of Alexandria," you counter, maintaining your composure. "After my father, you will find no one more knowledgeable about the affairs of this institute than I am."

Daemon scoffs, his tone condescending. "There are matters too serious to discuss with a woman.”

“Then I'm afraid you will have to come back another day, my prince.” 

“Where is your father?”

“He is sick. Unless you have a direct order from the king, I would prefer not to disturb him from his much-needed rest."  

The unspoken truth hangs heavy in the air — the Library is under the protection of the crown, and Daemon, despite his authority, is not the king. The prince's expression darkens, a sneer painting his features as his knuckles grip around the handle of his sword on his waist. You find yourself locked in a tense staring contest, both unwilling to yield. Moments tick by in silence, each waiting for the other to give in. Then —

“Very well,” he concedes, letting go of his grip on the sword. But you knew from his expression that this was far from over. Daemon casts a disdainful glance around the atrium as if the place offended him before turning and walking away from you. His gold cloaks follow him, their armor clanking all the way to the main doors of the library. 

It is only when the last of them exited onto the street that you allow yourself to release the breath you've been holding.

🏛⏳️

“Daemon Targaryen? What was he doing here?” You hear Cregan before you see him.

You're in the far corner of the main reading room, kneeling before a crate with a new shipment of scrolls that came in from Greece. Gently opening the lid, you discover a signed note from the head of the Platonic School of Athens. Ἕν οἶδα ὅτι οὐδὲν οἶδα. Αὕτη ἡ γνῶσις ἐμοῦ ἐστιν, it reads at the end. One thing I know, that I know nothing. This is the source of my wisdom. It is a quote by Socrates.

Cregan emerges from behind a shelf, his gray eyes wide with exasperation.

“I can't say that I haven't expected this,” you say to him, picking up a scroll and lightly dusting it off. “It is no secret that Daemon puts up with us only because of the pharaoh.”

“Well, yes. But to barge in here and demand for the Professor—” he means your father Theon.

“He's been sending us threats for months.”

Cregan paused. “When did this start?”

“Four moons ago, when King Viserys reinstated him as Lord Commander of the City Watch.” 

Daemon had been the commander of the city watch once before, but that had been years ago, and back then he was more interested in dealing with criminals in the worst parts of the city. But after some scandal with the Princess Rhaenyra, Viserys had exiled him to Rome. Now, he was back and had regained both his old post as leader of the city guard and the Princess Rhaenyra, whom he took to wife. However, this time, Daemon was turning his policing to the University of Alexandria, more commonly referred to as simply the Library. Apparently, scholars are the new criminals.

“Why didn't you tell me?” Cregan asked, clearly frustrated.

“I didn't want to burden you with it," you reply honestly. "You've been occupied with your research with Princess Helaena these past four moons.”

Cregan rubs his eyebrows. “What has he been threatening?”

With a sigh, you rise to your feet, making space on the shelf for the new scrolls. Cregan joins you, handing over scrolls from the crate as you arrange them carefully in their designated spots on the shelf. 

“He wants to shut down the Library if we don't — and I quote his words — ‘tone down on the science’,” you explain. "He's pushing for censorship, insisting that everything that is taught and published here must be 'safe' for the public. He claims it's about protecting the moral well-being of Alexandrians."

Cregan snorts derisively. "I wonder what his wife thinks of his moral well-being."

"That's an ad hominem attack, Cregan," you chide gently. But you're smiling.

“We're the best scientific research institution in the Mediterranean,” he says. “And, let's face it, we're probably the best in the entire world. We owe it all to King Jaehaerys's proclamation over 50 years ago, protecting our intellectual freedom. Even Daemon Targaryen can't derail something like that.” 

“Daemon doesn't like anything he can't control,” you say. “Nor does he like taking no for an answer.”

“He's a cunt,” Cregan muttered angrily. “His word isn't law but he sure does want to act like it. Did you hear he's been trying to ban all Northerners from entering Alexandria? Unless they're slaves, that is. It's utterly absurd. He's a Northerner himself. His entire family hails from the north—well, not the North, but north of the Mediterranean. Valyria is a small city-state in Greece. Still, that's north of us. If he wants only true Alexandrians in the city, maybe he should consider leaving as well." The Targaryens, although originally from Greece, had become the longest-reigning dynasty in Egypt, despite their non-Egyptian origin.

"What does Princess Helaena think?"

"Of Daemon?"

"Of the North."

Cregan blushes slightly. "She's mentioned that we should visit there together someday," he admits. “For research purposes, of course,” he adds quickly. 

You grin. Cregan has been your closest friend since childhood, and you swear you've never seen him as happy as he's been the past few months.

"She wants to see the direwolves and the aurora borealis,” says Cregan. “I promised her I'd show her around Winterfell when we go." Winterfell, Cregan's hometown, nestled in a far-off corner of the world where snow and frost dominate most of the year — a large contrast to the sandy dunes of Egypt.

“You like her,” you mused.

“Don't be absurd,” Cregan says, but he's failing miserably in hiding a smile.

There's a rustling among the shelves behind you, and the next thing you know, you're face to face with a single blue eye that reminds you of ocean water and iridescent wings.

"Sorry, I was told that the texts about Plato are in this section?" Aemond asks.

"Oh. Yes. Absolutely," you reply quickly, gesturing around you. "I mean, they're all here. Everything on this wall is Plato. We've just received a new collection of his works from Greece and we just finished cataloging and setting them up. They're on this shelf. Here." Your words stumble out awkwardly, and you feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Perfect,” Aemond says, looking at you. Neither of you move. Cregan eyes the two of you with amusement. 

“Well, I was just about to head out,” Cregan says cheerfully, sashaying past you. You turn, widening your eyes and mouthing no to him. Cregan simply grins as he disappears behind the bookshelves, leaving you with Aemond. 

“You read Plato?” you ask.

Aemond nods. “I am an admirer of his work,” he says. “You were one of my first introductions to him, actually. I read your thesis on him, An Exploration Into the Metaphysics of Plato, when I was sixteen.” 

“I can't imagine there would be many copies of that,” you say with amazement. “I wrote it when I was—”

“Sixteen,” Aemond says. You blink. He clears his throat. “I've been a follower of your work,” he adds shyly.  

“Oh. I'm flattered.” You’re blushing.

“Is it true that you started studying at The Academy when you were fourteen?” He means the Platonic School of Athens, founded by Plato himself over 300 years ago. Most scholars called it The Academy. It is the first university to ever open in western civilization.

You nod. “I learned mathematics and astronomy here, but my father wanted me to get a hellenistic education on top of it, so he sent me to Greece. I stayed there for four years before returning to Alexandria.”

“I have a brother who studies there,” Aemond shares, leaning against a bookshelf. “My mother, being an Athenian herself, insisted he be sent there. He writes to me sometimes, telling me about the professors he works with. I had considered studying there myself.”

“What made you choose Alexandria over Athens?”

Aemond smiles. “I'm at the center of the world here. It seemed foolish to want to go anywhere else,” he says, his gaze sweeping the library around him. After a pause, he asks, “What made you want to teach?”

“The fear of oblivion,” you reply. "It's the realization that everything we do, everything we learn, and everything we create could be forgotten someday. Teaching, for me, is a way to combat that inevitability. By sharing knowledge, by shaping young minds, I can hope to leave a lasting impact — a legacy that outlives me."

Aemond nods thoughtfully. "So it's about leaving a mark on the world?"

"In a sense, yes," you affirm. "It's about contributing to something greater than myself, ensuring that knowledge endures beyond individual lives and fleeting moments."

He smiles faintly. "That's a noble pursuit."

"It's what drives me," you conclude. As you look at each other, you feel his gaze tracing over your face with a strange emotion. Awe? Admiration? Before you can decipher his thoughts, a scholar approaches the shelf behind you, prompting you to awkwardly step aside.

"I hope you find the resources on Plato you're looking for," you say to Aemond, refocusing on the moment. You pause. "We're hosting a seminar on Plato's metaphysics tomorrow afternoon in the Rose Hall. You should join us."

Aemond smiles. “I’d be honored to.”

🏛⏳️

Daytime in Alexandrian summers can be hot enough to fry an egg on the sidewalk, but when the chill sets in at night, the city transforms into a completely different land. It is under the cloak of darkness that Alexandria truly comes alive.

You’re wrapped in a headscarf, its tail fluttering in the gentle wind from the Mediterranean as you navigate the narrow streets of the night market. Oil lamps and torches cast a soft, flickering glow as shadows danced across buildings decorated with a mix of hieroglyphs and hellenistic art. On the streets, you hear people speaking in both Greek and Egyptian, but also Persian, Moroccan, and other various African and Asiatic dialects. Various aromas filled the air— spices mingled with the savory scents of grilled meats and the sweet notes of baked pastries and delicacies from the far corners of the world. It was the New York City of the ancient world.

Weaving between stalls adorned with colorful fabrics and gleaming trinkets, you spotted one of the gold cloaks from earlier that day. Upon noticing you, he gave you a brief, curt nod before turning his attention sharply towards a group of rowdy children who were blocking the path of a passing wagon.

You make your way to an apothecary stall, securing the medicine your father needs before turning to leave. Suddenly, a hooded figure trips over a wooden crate and crashes into you, causing both of you to tumble to the ground. You fall flat on the cobblestones, his weight on top of you. Your basket with the apothecary vial shatters on the road.

“Ow!” he yelled. You struggle to push him off and get to your feet, then reach down to help him up, steadying him as he sways unsteadily. His hood falls back, revealing a mess of unruly white curls. 

Prince Aegon Targaryen. You’ve seen him a few times while going around the city. The eldest son of Queen Alicent, known to frequent the streets of Alexandria often. Aside from Daemon, he was the only royal that most of the smallfolk could recognize by appearance.

"Prince Aegon," you say cautiously, helping him steady himself. "Are you alright?"

He blinks a few times, focusing on you with bleary eyes. "Why, hello," he slurs slightly, attempting a lopsided smile. For a prince, he seemed dirtier than Diogenes and his barrel.

"Let me help you," you insist, guiding him away from the scattered shards of glass. You maneuver him towards a nearby bench, ensuring he sits down safely.

"I’m alright, I’m fine," he murmurs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. He groaned and vomited on the ground next to him. You pat him on the back awkwardly as he empties his stomach.

“Did my mother send you?” he said abruptly.

“What?”

“My mother. She sent you, didn’t she? I can’t catch a break these days,” he grumbled. “The woman is a menace. She’s become crazier since my brother got exiled. I can’t even drink in peace now. She’s sending her spies everywhere.”

You frowned. “I’m not a spy, my prince.”

Aegon wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and sits back heavily on the bench. He tilts his head up at you, scrutinizing you, and then he sighs and hungs his head.

“Forgive me,” he mutters, almost to himself. “I’m tired of the games. Tired of the scrutiny. I’m tired of the standards that she sets for me, and I’m tired of her disappointment when I fail to meet them. Can’t she see I don’t want any of this? Can’t she just let me be?”

You hesitate, unsure how to respond to the prince's candidness. He was clearly drunk and you’ve only just met him, and you’ve heard unsettling rumors about him. Stories of his frequenting brothels and fighting rings, of fathering illegitimate children and neglecting them. But in this moment, he seemed far from the crooked prince that people whispered about. He seemed like a child in need of comfort.

“Your mother worries about you,” you say gently. “She only wants what’s best for you.”

He scoffs bitterly. “Does she? Tell me, have you ever had a mother who would rather marry you to your own sibling for political gain than let you live your own life?”

You shake your head slowly. “I cannot say I understand fully, but I know you carry a heavy burden.”

“Sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever be free of it.” Aegon leans back, staring up at the night sky with weary resignation. “My brother was lucky. I’d do anything to exchange places with him.”

You recalled hearing news of Queen Alicent’s second son, who had been condemned to work in the mines of Nubia as punishment for the murder of his nephew. The usual penalty for murder was death, and much worse if the victim was a royal, but since the criminal was a prince himself, it changed a few things. The Nubian mines were typically reserved for lesser crimes in Alexandria.

“The one who was exiled to Nubia?” you asked Aegon.

He chuckles bitterly. “My brother didn’t get sent to Nubia. Mother loves him too much for that.”

You stayed quiet, not knowing what to say. You had a feeling that you weren’t supposed to be hearing this piece of information. Yet, Aegon didn’t seem to expect a reply. He’s looking up at the stars, as if he wished to fly off into the heavens and leave his miseries on the ground.

“Thank you,” Aegon finally said, breaking the quiet that had settled between you. Thank you for listening, thank you for not judging, thank you for watching out for my drunken mess. He rose to his feet, a bit unsteady but more composed than before. He took out a pouch of coins. “This is for… what I broke,” he said, gesturing to the remnants of the vial around you, shards of glass glittering under oil lamps. You thought of the broken dragonfly wings from earlier in the day.

You accepted the pouch gingerly. What he gave you was worth much more than the cost of the medicine, but you didn’t want to offend him so you decided not to mention it.

“Should I call the guards to escort you back to the palace?” you asked.

Aegon blinked, his gaze drifting momentarily. “No, no,” he said, waving dismissively. “They’re my uncle’s people. They don’t like me.”

"Will you manage on your own?" you pressed gently.

Aegon straightened his cloak and mustered a tired smile. "I always do," he said. 

With that, the prince turned and started to walk away. You watched as he disappeared into the narrow streets, his figure gradually blending with the shadows.

Chapter II: Coming Soon

[mad-raptorzzz]

[Image Description: The SixFanarts challenge. The first is Whiteout from WOF, a Night/IceWing hybrid who is a dark grey-blue with a lighter belly. She has ice blue freckles throughout and caribous like horns. The second panel is Cera the triceratops from The Land Before Time. She is a peach color and is making a snarky face. The third panel is the villain The Nowhere King from Centaurworld. The design is a deer skull with glowing neon green eyes sitting in a bunch of dark goo. The fourth panel shows Randall from Monsters Inc. He is clinging to the box and grimacing in disgust. The fifth panel has Kion from the Lion Guard. He has yellow fur and a red mullet-esque mane. His left eye is scared and pale blue, indicating vision loss. The sixth and final panel contains Frostpaw from Warrior cats. She is a pale grey cat with a tipped left ear and human-made scar across her neck. Her eyes are widened in horror./End]

Wooooof, I finally finished this. Thanks to @bi-pan-whiteout for suggesting Whiteout!! I just chose the other 5. It was fun to draw non-dragons for a hot second. But man oh man do I need to practice lion king characters and cats

Whiteout: I tried a more traditional coloring scheme for her. I think I might still like piebald Whiteout. But I have like 15 designs for her in my brain at all times. She's just got so much potential!! Love her obviously.

Cera: Land Before Time is a big nostalgia trip for me. I gave Cera actual triceratops horns because it always bothered me she didn't have the eye horns. She also should have scars on her because my girl is ready to throw hands at all times.

The Nowhere King: Oh man Centaurworld was an absolute blast start to finish. This guy was my personal favorite part. His story is tragic, but they let him continue being evil. Such a wicked design too. Goop with a skull.

Randall: Randall is one of my favorite Disney/Pixar villains. Right up there with Scar and Ursulla and Hades. I just like that he's a conniving little guy. And his colors and design are just perfect.

Kion: So I know some Lion King fans really don't like the Lion Guard show. I don't mind it. The Lion King is my second favorite movie of all time, and Simba's Pride is my favorite direct to video Disney sequel. I enjoyed the show, even though I was waaaay older than the target audience. Especially the third season when they aged things up a bit. I imagine that Kion lost vision in his left eye after the injury. I also love his stupid little hairstyle and I doubled down.

Frostpaw: The horrors persist but so does she! She is one of my favorite characters in WC from the recent books. Such a cute little anxious lass. Trying her best. Interested to see how things go in Star.