#but as you keep your comfort please do not encroach on others

[eikonslay]

well. i wasn't gonna talk about this but there had been a few people who approached me about it, so i guess it's time to clear things up about why i'm on someone's DNI. all 12 mutuals who i have here already know i'm kind of a piece of shit so i'm not going to tell y'all that i'm a good person. here's what i will say though:

i'm not going to dispute this person's claims and say i didn't do the bullying and gaslighting they're accusing me of ( along with another person, but i won't speak for her. ) that is their experience of me, the impact i had on them, and they're valid for that. i don't recall ever setting out to do just that maliciously or deliberately, but you can hurt people regardless of intent. and for any hurt or damage that i caused this person in 2018 that obviously had a strong footprint on their experience here to this day, for whatever it's worth, i'm sorry.

however, i will say that there are two sides to these things. here's what i remember of this person and the impact they had on me:

while i won't speak for exactly what transpired between them and bubbles ( because i don't know lol ), i vaguely remember the issue being a breach of ship exclusivity by this person towards bubbles without prior communication.

i referred this person to my IRL job at that time. i vouched mostly for their character but also for their ability, but the latter i knew they had to and could prove themself. i remember that their lack of professionalism and irresponsibility put me in hot water and compromised my livelihood. for turning in subpar work, late work, and IIRC, kinda ghosting the company, we almost lost a client.

this is the impact they had on me. i was rightfully upset about what happened because they uh. ghosted me, too, and didn't tell me what was up with them. i understand sometimes people struggle with things and can undergo executive dysfunction or whatever else. to be honest, if only they gave me the courtesy of an explanation, i would have been open to it. but nah, they just blocked me everywhere for reasons i don't know to this day, because they never communicated it to me.

i let it go, though, even though i had to field questions from both my manager and my boss at that time. i take full responsibility for however my own upset manifested as stated above. i clearly hurt this person. they hurt me, too. it's not my business how they choose to protect themselves and set their boundaries, but i will say that i feel like i'm being watched, and that also makes me uncomfortable.

i don't really know where this person is, what their blogs are, etc: i don't give a fuck. and i mean that as in: i have other shit going on, a lot of other shit going on. i'm not here, i have been so scarce on tumblr since the middle of 2024. i do not have the ample supply of fucks or energy to dedicate to this issue. i've known about the DNI bc someone told me last year. I DID NOT TALK ABOUT IT. i was asked again yesterday and people were like... well, how long has this been a thing? and lord jesus, i don't know.

but for some reason, this person keeps finding my blogs, finding and blocking my friends, even friends i only interacted with on this blog very, very recently. THIS BLOG HAS 12 MUTUALS, SOME OF WHICH ARE THE SAME PERSON WITH MULTIPLE BLOGS. not promoed anywhere, with only 100+ posts and they somehow found it. i did not talk about this blog on viciousgrace, before i followed 4 more people last month, this blog only had 7 mutuals ( not counting their other blogs. )

so how is this person finding me? how is this person finding my friends? i think it's telling how my wrongdoing is highlighted on a DNI but no responsibility was taken for the harm that was also caused to me. but see, i'm over it, despite it being my IRL livelihood that was affected. i don't need an apology or even acknowledgement or an admission etc. i'll leave that up to their conscience. and i don't care if they stalk me or find me in the FYP ( which idk how if we don't have mutuals in common and i rarely post but i also don't know how tumblr algorithm works so w/e i guess??? ) but for someone who is accusing another person of blog watching... that sure feels like a past time they both share.

anyway, go look at my blogs and all the writing i'm NOT doing, and all the activity that is not happening, lol. but please leave my friends alone. they don't know you, they did nothing wrong to you. i just think it's a little weird that you seem to be actively seeking them out to block them in association with me... i understand the need to protect your peace but actively tracking people, and for at least one case, repeatedly, is... man, idk. kinda weird? if you're finding me through them, i suggest you stop. i'll announce it now every time i make a new blog so you can find me easier that way and block me for your comfort.

[lowkeyerror]

The Family Business Ch.7

WandaNat x Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Ch. Notes: Angst, Violence, Emotional, translations: Moye ditya= my child moye serdtse= my heart

Summary: Y/n, Wanda, and Pietro are forced to prepare for the worst after learning of the one on one meeting Dragos has set up with Kingpin.

An: Hey 🫣, Please don't be mad. It feels wrong to say I hope you enjoy this one but... I hope we can recover from this together 💜

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

The sound of your office door slamming was enough to startle some of the other employees working. You were relatively good at keeping your cool, but your skin felt like it was on fire. Your fists keep clenching and unclenching, trying to find some outlet for the anger.

Pietro and Wanda watch carefully from outside your door as you try to subdue your anger. Wanda wants to go in and comfort you, but Pietro stops her.

“She doesn’t need you to go in there and coddle her,” he speaks to his sister.

“Well, I’m not planning to just watch her like this,” Wanda tries again, but Pietro’s grip on her becomes firmer.

“Wanda she’s not the same- “

Wanda cuts him off, “Y/n told me, that anything I want to know about her can come directly from her. So, if you want to stand out here and watch her suffer, that’s on you. However, I’m checking on our friend.”

Wanda softly raps on the door before entering your office. You don’t move, it’s like she’s not even there. Not until she’s kneeling on the floor next to you. Her hand rests gently on your knee.

“Talk to me little krolik,” it’s soft, merely a suggestion. Wanda is content with the silence, but she wanted to give you the option to talk.

“Wanda she’s not in the mood to-”

Pietro is cut off, by your eyes locking on his. The gaze is harsh enough to shut him up immediately. Even though tears are building behind your eyes, anger seems to be the primary emotion coursing through your body.

“I can’t believe he’s doing this,” you speak not looking at either sibling. “It’s reckless, it’s careless, it’s naïve. Why would he put himself in danger like this? Does he not know that we need him?”

“Papa is doing what he thinks is best to avoid war,” Pietro states, though he barely believes his own words.

“Or he’s giving Kingpin the opportunity to start it with a bang,” you counter.

Wanda takes a sharp breath, “All we can do is prepare for the worst.”

“Wanda, you don’t think that papa will be, okay?” There’s something in Pietro’s tone that sounds fragile. He sounds like a scared little boy. You had almost forgotten that he could sound that way.

“We all think he’s making a mistake. There will be consequences and fallout regardless of the outcome. Papa seems to think he’s preventing a war, but the true war has already started. Kingpin is flipping our associates, encroaching on our properties, and trying to make us a non-factor. The war is here. If he does anything stupid during this meeting, we could end up without a leader.”

“Vulnerable to attacks, we could lose everything,” you add, rubbing your temples.

“What are we going to do?”

Your hand absent-mindedly finds Wanda’s that rests on your knee. You play with her digits as you speak, “If anything happens to Dragos we can’t afford to fall back or lay low. Kingpin and everyone else will assume we are weak and that would be the end of us. We’d have to make a power play, something to show that we are and always will be on top.”

Wanda takes in your features as you speak. Your eyes are hard, and your jaws clenched. There’s a vein along your neck that’s pulsing with your words. As tense as you look, there’s something so calm around you. The hand that’s playing with Wanda’s fingers moves delicately across her knuckles, a complete contrast to the rest of your body language. Wanda thinks you look like a leader.

“We can make an example out of someone?” Pietro hypothesizes.

Wanda adds in her thoughts, “Or something.”

“The docks. We’re getting out shipments primarily through planes and trains, but everyone else uses the docks,” you begin to explain.

“If we target the docks, which means people would have no choice but to come through us for their goods,” Wanda finishes your thoughts.

Pietro is in disbelief, “You guys want to blow up the docks?”

“We could blow them up or we could just make them unable to be used,” Wanda offers a different option.

“Oil spill; stopped the ports for months in California a few years back. No materials could be sent through and the stuff at the docks had to be thrown out because of contamination,” you try to suggest, but it sounds like you made up your mind.

Wanda nods, “I could send Natasha some resources and she could make this concrete enough to put into motion.”

“She’d need to have this ready in potentially 2 to 3 days. If something happens at that meeting, we will need to have this ready quickly.” You begin typing on your computer, to see if you can locate any ships transporting oil passing through in the next few days.

“What can I do?” Pietro asks.

“You need to support Natasha. Wanda’s going to be sending her a lot of information and if you’re there to go over the nuisances it’ll make things easier for everyone.”

“I can head over now,” he says, and you give him a curt nod. He leaves the room once again leaving just you and Wanda.

Wanda breaks the silence, “You’re a natural leader, little krolik.”

You blush at her words and shake your head, “I’m just trying to make sure this empire that your family built doesn’t fall apart. It’s the least I could do after all that you’ve done for me.”

“Our family; you are a part of it,” Wanda corrects you.

“Flora and Dragos are the parents that mine couldn’t be. I know they’re your actual parents and that maybe it's selfish of me to worry, but if anything were to happen to either of them; I don’t know what I’d do,” your hands shoot up to cover your eyes.

You don’t want your tears to fall in front of her. Wanda had seen you cry a lot when you were younger, softer, but this version of yourself; she didn’t cry. She was supposed to be able to hold her emotions. However, the thought of losing the man that had given her everything in this world, was terrifying to her.

Wanda is gentle as she runs a hand through your hair, “It’s a scary thought, losing mama or papa. I’ve thought about it a lot, and it never becomes less scary. The only thing that helps is that I know I won’t have to feel this way on my own.”

“I hate that we have to talk about him like he’s already dead,” your hands stay over your eyes.

“Me too.”

Wanda’s hand in your hair is the only thing keeping you from breaking down. The speaker in your office breaks the building silence.

“Y/n, I just wanted to let you know that Mr. Maximoff has just left,” you hear Kate’s voice announce.

“Thanks for letting me know Katie,” you answer her, as you feel the gravity of the situation set in.

“Y/n… there’s a car in the parking garage with his destination programmed into the GPS,” Kate gives you the information and your ears perk up.

“Kate, did you-”

“Perks of setting up a meeting is knowing exactly where it is. If you go now, you can tail him at a respectable distance just to make sure he’s safe.”

You waste no time getting out of your seat, “God Katie, you’re the best.”

“Anything for you Y/nn and anything for the family of course.”

With Pietro already out of the office, it would be just Wanda and yourself tailing Dragos. When you got to the car Kate had ready for you, Wanda offers to drive. You let her and take the passenger seat quickly texting Pietro the location of the meeting but telling him to stay put unless you message him again.

Your leg bounces recklessly as Wanda drives. The nerves you worked hard to tame seem to be back in full force. The ride feels uncharacteristically quiet, but there isn’t much to say.

“So, you and Kate?” Wanda breaks the silence.

If you weren’t so stressed maybe you’d laugh, “You sound just like your wife. Kate is just my friend, that’s all.”

“I’m just curious. You’ve grown into quite the young women, I’m sure you’ve had a long line of lovers,” Wanda speaks nonchalantly.

You can feel your ears heat at her comment, “I’ve been on some dates, but they don’t usually stick around.”

Wanda’s eyebrows raise as she keeps eye focus on the road, “My little krolik is a player then?”

You sputter, “I am not.”

“It sounds to me like you go on few dates, get what you want, and move on to the next,” Wanda’s eyes cut briefly to you.

“You need to stop getting information about me from Pietro, he’s delusional,” you shake your head, face nearly red with embarrassment.

“Then enlighten me.”

You sigh, “I go on the date, it’s just fine, and then I go another date. It’s just that simple.”

“You sound rather unhappy with that.”

You shrug, “This line of work, it’s dangerous. Anything can happen to me, and I have to date someone that I think could handle that. If I don’t think they can, then dating them would be a waste of both of our time. Not all of us can find a hot Russian spy.”

Wanda’s hand rests on your knee, “I suppose not, but I know there’s someone out there for you. You’ve always been a catch Y/n, anyone would be lucky to have you.”

It was easier to run with the narrative that there were other fish in the sea when Wanda wasn’t around. Having her back here was stirring up emotions inside of you. You thought that your liking to Wanda was simply teenage hormones, but you aren’t a teenager anymore. It’s been two days of having Wanda back and you can feel your feelings for her returning in full force.

“Less on my love life, and more on protecting Dragos,” you refocus on the task at hand.

When you’re close to the location, you recognize it as an abandoned construction site. You can see two other cars parked side by side further ahead.

“Park there,” you point out a secluded area where the car won’t be spotted.

Wanda does as you say. As soon as the car stops, you’re exiting it. In your heart you want to run to search for Dragos, but professionally you know that’s not the call.

You and Wanda walk cautiously though the site, the sand around made the walking a more difficult than solid concrete.

You went to take a step, but Wanda’s hand on your shoulder pulls you down into a crouching position. Following her line of sight, you see Dragos and Kingpin talking. You can’t necessarily hear them, but you can tell it’s not a pleasant conversation.

You look around hoping to find a spot close enough to hear, but not close enough to draw attention to yourself. Before you can find anything, Wanda’s hand slips in yours and she’s tugging you along.

She finds a spot with the criteria you were looking for. You two can now hear the conversation between the two men.

“Wilson, I’m telling you, you don’t want this war,” Dragos tries to reason with the man.

“Why not, Maximoff? I ain’t got nothing to lose, but I’ve got everything to gain,” his laugh makes your hand twitch.

You could pull out your gun right now and shoot Fisk in the head. Your hand goes to grab your gun, but Wanda stops you. She’s not even looking at you. Her eyes are scanning around, to make sure you are the only other people here.

“Fisk, I will put you down if you step out of line again.”

“With what army old man? I’ve been taking your allies and gathering your enemies. Step down gracefully and maybe I’ll let you keep some of your business,” Fisk takes a step towards Dragos.

“You’re not taking the empire that I built.”

He sticks out his pinky, showing off his big ring, “It’s time to kiss the ring, Maximoff. It’s time for the kingpin to take his rightful spot at the head of the table.”

“Over my dead body,” Dragos doesn’t back down.

“I knew you would say something like that.”

It happens fast. The gun goes off and instinctively your hand goes over Wanda’s mouth. The cry that was leaving her lips died in it’s spot. Fisk aims his gun again at Dragos’s head but before he can pull the trigger, your other hand starts to shoot at him.

Your hands are shaking, but the shots are enough to cause Kingpin to run away.

“Call the police, go check on him. I’m chasing the bastard,” you don’t give her a chance to protest.

By the time you get back to where the cars were parked, Kingpin’s car is gone. You can’t help it but slam your fist against the nearest pole. You run back to where Wanda is.

Once your next to Wanda and Dragos you take a knee. The man is struggling to breathe with a bullet lodged into his sternum. Wanda shakes as she runs her fingers through his hair and tells him he will be ok.

You’re trying to stay strong, but the tears have already begun to fall. Dragos hand reaches for yours and you let him take it. His grip is weak, and it causes you to lose your composure.

“Papa, I’m sorry- I should’ve shot faster,” you speak what could possibly be your last words to the man who had given you a better life.

He looks at Wanda and then at you. It’s mangled, but he says, “T-take care o-of each other."

“Papa these are not your final words, stop acting like they are. The paramedics are coming, you are going to leave. You have to live,” Wanda snaps at the man.

“You’re m-mother will ne-ver forgive me f-for this,” he wheezes.

“As long as you're breathing, she will forgive you,” you respond.

He laughs but ends up coughing up his own blood. Dragos squeezes your hand, “I’m proud- of both of y-you. Wanda, moye serdtse I- have always believed in y-you. Y/n, moye ditya, I loved b-being your Papa.”

You see his eyes fluttering and you make eye contact with Wanda, “How long did they say Wanda?”

“30 minutes.”

You shake you head, “That’s not fast enough. We have to go now.”

“Y/n-"

“We don’t have time to argue, Wanda. Help me lift him,” you say steeling your nerves.

“Y/n we-”

“HELP ME LIFT HIM.” You weren’t asking anymore.

You start to lift the older man hearing him groan slightly. It’s a good sign, he’s still living. Wanda helps reluctantly. Once you’re at the car, you’re sweating, but you keep moving. You lay him across the back seat.

“You stay in the back with him,” you tell Wanda, getting in the driver’s seat.

As soon as she’s in the car you step on the gas. It’s something akin to the high-speed chase but the stakes are higher. You swerve through traffic and backstreets as much as you can. Adrenaline was pumping through your veins. All you could think about was saving Dragos.

“Wanda, how is he?” You call back to her knowing you had about 5 minutes until the hospital.

“His breaths are shallow Y/n. His eyes are closing,” she updates you with a shaky voice.

“Papa, Wanda’s going to squeeze your hand, squeeze back if you can. Keep squeezing until we get you there,” Your voice is raised but you aren’t yelling.

Wanda puts her hand in her father’s. He squeezes it gently, the pressure is weak, but it’s there.

You continue to swerve around traffic but each minute his grasp grows weaker. You pull into the emergency parking section at the hospital and start to scream for help.

People start to crowd around your car, and everything seems like it’s moving too fast. People are getting Dragos from your car. Wanda is in hysterics as it seems like dozens of people start wheeling her father away. You sit at the wheel of the car unable to move, unable to think.

You make the calls, so Wanda doesn’t have to. It doesn’t take long for the family to get to the hospital. They’re all wrecks. The Maximoff’s all have identical puffy red eyes as they hope to hear something from the doctor.

“You aren’t going to sit with them,” It’s Natasha who takes a seat next to you.

You shake your head, “I can’t, not right now. They need their space.”

“You’ve shed just as many tears as them lisichka,” Natasha cautiously brings her finger to your face wiping a stray tear.

“You should be comforting your wife, not me,” you say to her.

“She’s not the one sitting away from her family mourning alone when it isn’t necessary,” Natasha stands and extends her hand to you.

For awhile you just stare, but she’s unrelenting. You sigh taking her hand, it’s not soft like you expected it to be. It’s a little rough and warm, but it brings you comfort all the same.

Natasha sits next to Wanda, and you take a seat next to Pietro. Instantly his arm wraps around your shoulder pulling you close. The action breaks you as you bury your head into his chest and begin to silently sob.

He places a kiss on the top of your head and rubs your back. It makes you feel like a kid again. It had been so long since you needed something like this. The adrenaline was wearing off and all you were left with was an empty feeling.

You start to mumble that you’re sorry against your friend as your body softly shakes.

“Sweetheart, look at me,” Flora calls to you from her seat next to Pietro.

You do as she says, “This isn't your fault.  There's nothing you could've done.”

You open your mouth to protest, but the woman gives you a stern look. It quiets you, but you continue to feel guilty.

“Stop thinking so much. We don't know anything until the doctors tell us,” You wipe your tears at her words.

“Yes, mama,” you say it without realizing and when you do, your face heats up.

Flora opens her arms for you, and you switch from Pietro to her. Her hug is warm and strong. She wipes the tears from your face and looks at you with caring eyes.

“Everything will be ok moye ditya,” her words bring you great comfort.

“Family of Dragos Maximoff,” the doctor calls out and you all stand swiftly.

This is the moment of truth. You pray that you acted fast enough; that he would be ok. The somber look on the doctor’s face crushes those dreams instantly.

Taglist: @natashaswife4125 @autorasexy @alexawynters @blkmxrvel @toouncreativeforausername @likemick @sgm616 @bstvst @dorabledewdroop @sapphic-simp4015 @natty-taffy @justarandomreaderxoxo @mmmmokdok

[yuri-is-online]

A Step Behind the Curtain (Jamil Viper x Yuu)

He didn't know you then, but that didn't stop your kindness. If you were willing to go so far out of your way for a literal stranger what would you do if you were friends? How far would you go for someone you cared for?

Would you still want to wish him happy birthday?

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, stranger crushes, mild angst with the intent of comfort, Jamil deserves nice things. If you like this please check my master list here.

The first birthday Jamil had at Night Raven College had been painful. He had been looking forward to it initially, marked it in ink in his planner with the expectation that he would get to spend it alone.

When Kalim showed up he'd thrown away the whole book instead of re-arrange it. The thaumarks it cost to replace was nothing compared to the blow the Asim's continued to deal his pride. This year Kalim had agreed to keep from throwing any ostentatious surprise parties, but there was still the threat he would decide he knew Jamil's wants better than the man himself and do... something. If he was in a more reflective mood he might have noted that by "something" he really meant "anything," but the tension headache working itself across his forehead is preventing any thought other than a need for medication.

That he has conveniently run out of, it's all he can do to keep from grinding his teeth and making the pain worse. This is not the first time he has been grateful there aren't limited hours on the school's hospital wing, and it might not even be the last time today depending on what Kalim has planned. It is the first time he walks in on someone already sorting through the first aid cabinet, it stops him in his tracks and almost tricks him into pinching himself to make sure he's awake.

"Oh I'm sorry." The other student is just as surprised to see him, but they keep their voice at a three a.m. appropriate quiet. "Jamil right?"

"Right." He can't figure out if he has the right to encroach on their space, maybe it's the headache but he can't place the face anywhere. There is a funny feeling at the realization they know his name, different than when Azul says it but flavored with a similar worry as he opens his mouth to try and ask for his turn with the cabinet only to find they've somehow closed the gap with the tablets he was looking for in their outstretched hand.

"You were massaging your head." Is all they offer to soothe his confusion, turning towards their back pack to offer him an unopened water bottle before they turn to leave. He doesn't take the pills immediately, instead he finds his fingers curling around the packet and slowly trying to cover his heart with the illusion of their warmth. Their hands had been cold, but had he really touched them long enough to know that?

"Thanks." He means it, but they just shrug at him with a smile, as if they would do this for anyone despite somehow knowing his name.

"Don't mention it." Their name is Yuu, he belatedly realizes as he agonizes over what you're welcome would have sounded like from their voice instead of a dismissal of merit. As if sensing he wanted to hear more, they pause in the infirmary doors and turn to him with a smile he knows he could never afford. "Oh! It's your birthday right?" And before he can prepare himself they half sing "Happy birthday~ I hope it gets better." He drops the pills in shock but they're gone into the early morning air before he they can realize the flustered mess they've left.

Happy birthday. He bends to pick up the packet and downs the medication along with the fluttering feeling in his heart. There is no time to think about this now, for now he will simply hold onto the gentle calm they created for him. It can fuel his desire for a better life later, in the quiet of the petty realization that this year, Kalim was not the first person to wish him well.

[zeciex]

A Vow of Blood - 73

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on. This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: “You will be trapped by the obligations of love and duty, unable to escape the web of expectations others have woven around you,“ the witch said….

Chapter 73: A Woman's War

AO3 - Masterlist

After hours of patrolling the sky, Daemon landed, the quiet of the night enveloping him. Above, the sky was a pristine tapestry, scattered with countless stars, untouched by any wisp of clouds. The moon hung full and radiant, casting a gentle silver light over the world, its glow faintly illuminating the surroundings through the thick shroud of darkness. Baela and Jace, astride Moondancer and Vermax respectively, cut majestic figures against the celestial backdrop, their dragon’s forms silhouetted against the vast, star-filled heavens. 

Seeking a moment of peace, Daemon found comfort alongside Caraxes, his fingers tracing the dragon’s mighty jawline. He found solace in the close proximity to the beast, pressing his forehead against its warm scales as he released a breath. It was in the vast embrace of the skies that Daemon felt a profound sense of freedom, and it was in the fire and steel of the battlefield that he found a thrill–a profound sense of control over life and death, where his inner dragon could finally be unleashed, free and unrestrained. 

Time had taught Daemon the worth of patience, a lesson he had accepted with reluctance–and one he still struggled with. He felt the urge to unleash the fury of dragonfire upon their enemies, to let them taste the bitter sting of his blade, and reclaim what was rightfully theirs by blood. It left a deep-seated restlessness stirring within him, igniting a relentless itch beneath his skin, a yearning that gnawed at his fingertips. Daemon felt the overwhelming urge to channel this turmoil into action, and yet, he was forced to stay his hand. 

As the crunch of approaching footsteps broke the stillness of the night, Daemon sensed the presence of another. Pulling away from Caraxes, he grounded himself. Turning, he made his way towards the keep, where he was met at the base of the stairs by the captain of the guard. 

“Lord Bartimos Celtigar has been accommodated in the east wing,” Ser Brandon Piper reported, keeping pace with Daemon as they ascended the stairs. “His ship is currently anchored in the bay, accompanied by a retinue of some thirty men.”

“Thirty men is hardly sufficient to meet our defense requirements,” Daemon remarked, acutely aware of the glaring gaps in their fortifications. Seventy men were far from adequate to secure the island against an invading force. Despite the formidable benefits of the nearly impregnable walls, challenging rocky terrain, and limited access points, Daemon knew that these defenses, though significant, were not infallible. He much preferred a more substantial force at his disposal. A sizable enemy host could potentially besiege Dragonstone and cut them off from the outside world–however, their dragons were by far their most formidable strength, one they would levy against any hosts that might dare move against them.  

Ser Brandon offered an explanation with a tone of measured defense, “Lord Celtigar brought what forces he could gather on such short notice. His son is rallying additional troops as we speak.”

“Ensure those we have are strategically placed along the defenses,” Daemon commanded, his hand pushing the heavy door open with an air of determined authority. 

“As you command, my prince,” came the dutiful reply. 

The corridors of Dragonstone absorbed their presence into its haunting silence, with only the echo of their footsteps to contest the quietude. The castle’s interior, shrouded in darkness, seemed to become one with the night, the few flickering torches doing little to fend off the encroaching shadows. 

“Has there been any word from King’s Landing?” Daemon inquired, his voice cutting through the oppressive silence. 

“Ser Harron Allister, the Commander of the City Watch, alongside his second, Ser Toric Broom, have been imprisoned. They face execution for their refusal to pledge allegiance to Aegon,” Ser Brandon responded solemnly. “The handful of lords and ladies who refused to bend the knee have also found themselves imprisoned.”

Each word weighed heavily in the air, a grim reminder of the treacherous currents shifting within the realm, and the brutal consequences of defiance. 

“Men of honor,” Daemon said under his breath, his voice tinged with a mix of respect and rising fury. He remembered Ser Harron Allister and Ser Toric Broom well, having served alongside them during his time as the Commander of the City Watch. Both exemplified the loyalty and justice that Daemon had sought to instill in the Watch. Upon stepping down from his role, Ser Harron Allister had succeeded him.

Daemon’s thoughts darkened as he reflected on the unfortunate turn of events. He had shaped the City Watch into a formidable force, a pack of loyal hounds meant to protect the city from itself. 

“As for the City Watch, Ser Luthor Largent now commands it, with Ser Gwayne Hightower as his second in command,” Ser Brandon added, keeping pace with Daemon as they climbed the serpentine stairs. 

Daemon responded with a scornful huff, his hand instinctively tightening on the pommel of Dark Sister, secured at his side. It was a move characteristic of Otto Hightower, to appoint his son to a key position to ensure the City Watch’s allegiance through fear of dismissal, or worse, for the same fate that befell their predecessors to befall them as well. Daemon had known Ser Luthor Largent as well, acknowledging him as a competent commander and a loyal man. Yet, in these treacherous times, even the virtuous faced the grim prospect of execution for steadfast loyalty. Constrained by his circumstances, Ser Luthor’s submission to the Hightowers was, perhaps, a strategic retreat. A man of his intellect would navigate this new order with caution, serving his new masters while awaiting an opportune moment to act. 

Daemon couldn’t fault him for submission, though he could not help but be wary of it. He couldn’t rely on the commander's loyalty, and so, he could not place his trust in him. 

“What news do we have of Daenera?” Daemon inquired, his tone heavy.

Ser Brandon hesitated briefly, caution in his voice, “There’s little news, I’m afraid. She was seen at the coronation, adorned in the Hightower colors, and bending the knee to the new King.”

A sharp tension clenched in Daemon’s jaw at the news. “And her men?”

“It’s believed they’ve either been slain or captured, my prince.”

Daemon’s frustration was palpable; he pressed a thumb against the corner of his eye, fighting back the surge of anger at the thought of Daenera betraying them for the usurpers. The thought burrowed in Daemon, festering like a vile, infected wound–putrid and toxic, slowly seeping its poison throughout his being. 

Continuing down the hall, Daemon issued his commands with a clear sense of urgency, “Keep watch over the sea. Lords Gormon Massey and Bar Emmon are expected to arrive by ship. Ensure their forces are positioned on the walls alongside our current men. Inform those already here that I will convene a council at dawn.”

“As you command, my prince,” Ser Brandon affirmed, offering a curt nod. He then stepped back, pivoted sharply, and departed to carry out the orders.

The weight of the situation bore down on Daemon, becoming all the more palpable as he paused at the entrance of his and Rhaenyra’s private chambers. Elinda Massey, daughter of Lord Gormon Massey, approached him, her expression etched with concern. The anxious line of her brows conveyed the urgency of Rhaenyra’s labor without a word being spoken.

“It is common for contractions to sometimes stall, offering a brief respite before escalating in severity,” Elinda began, her voice trembling slightly as her hands twisted together nervously.

“And the child?” Daemon inquired, his voice tight with concern. 

“Maester Geradys believes that, despite the babe arriving a moon’s turn early, it is fully developed, and the prospects of its survival are promising…” Elinda detailed, her words trailing off. “But the princesses body hasn’t fully dilated for the child to make its entrance. We hope that once this lull passes, she will have the strength to deliver the child. Should this delay persist…”

Daemon moved past her, signaling the midwives to step out for a moment, wishing to be alone with his wife. He carefully unbuckled the sword belt around his waist, quietly removing it from his side. He positioned the blade at the foot of the bed, allowing it to lean securely against the footboard. Then, he moved around the bed, dragging a chair closer to the bedside, his body marked by the weariness of constant tension–the muscles of his back fraught and aching from carrying her to bed. His knees, too, protested the long hours spent in the saddle, a dull ache pulsating through the joints from remaining in the same position as he navigated the skies. 

He settled himself in the chair, looking at his wife. Her face was flushed from exertion, her skin glistening with perspiration that made the strands of her hair cling to her neck and temples. 

An oppressive sense of worry and fear filled the room, its presence as tangible as the deepening shadows. Daemon was no stranger to this type of fear; it was akin to the apprehension felt between battles, where soldiers whispered prayers of gratitude and pleas for continued survival as the threat of another looming at the horizon. It mirrored the dread that permeated the air along with the stench of blood and despair, resonating from those barely clinging to life, holding their own innards. 

He supposed that the same apprehension of battle also pervaded the spaces where women labored to bring forth life. Childbirth, in its essence, was a battle of its own. 

Rhaenyra was no stranger to the trials of childbirth, yet this particular ordeal appeared more fraught with danger than those before. Despite his familiarity with the perils of combat, of war and death, the current battle his wife faced ignited a deep-seated fear within him–a fear not wholly unfounded. The struggle to birth a child was what had taken Laena from him. He did not wish the same for Rhaenyra. 

Dampening a cloth and squeezing out the excess water, Daemon placed it on his wife’s forehead, pressing it softly against her skin. Rhaenyra’s eyes fluttered open, her eyelids heavy with fatigue as she looked up at him, her face marked by the toll of her exertion. A weak smile briefly touched her lips as she adjusted her head to see him more clearly. 

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she whispered, her voice rough and strained from labor. 

“I’ve been making preparations.”

“Is that why you smell of dragon?” She asked with a slight note of amusement. 

“I’ve been patrolling the skies.” Daemon lifted the cloth from her forehead and soaked it anew. After wringing out the excess moisture, he gently reapplied it to her skin, hoping to offer a small measure of relief. “Jace and Baela are currently patrolling. They insisted upon it.”

Rhaenyra offered a worn smile, which quickly gave way to a grimace of discomfort as she shifted on the bed. Her gaze met with Daemon’s, just as he moved his hand back to his lap, leaving the cooling cloth on her forehead. 

“Have you any news?”

“Nothing beyond what Rhaenys brought us,” Daemon replied, his posture slumped, elbows on his knees, a manifestation of his own exhaustion. The weight of his exhaustion pressed heavily upon him, as if his very bones were cast from lead. A persistent tightness had settled behind his eyes, throbbing with each beat of his heart. 

“Have any of the lords made their arrival?” She pressed on, causing Daemon to close his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “How many ravens have you dispatched? House Massey and Darklyn will answer our call, and Bartimos Celtigar has been a good friend for years. We should–”

Daemon cut in gently, yet firmly, “You shouldn’t burden yourself with these matters.”

He reached out, his hand resting on the curve of her belly, feeling the warmth of her skin through the silk nightgown and bed covers. When their eyes met again, a hint of frustration was evident on her face, her hand covering his, the touch insistent. 

“I should like to be kept informed,” she asserted. 

“Rhaenyra…” Daemon started, his voice laden with fatigue. He withdrew his hand, dragging it across his face in a gesture of weariness and frustration. A tide of vexation rose within him, reflecting the strain of the moment. 

“I am to be–I am the Queen, am I not?” She insisted, adjusting herself to sit more upright against the pillows and headboard, her hand instinctively cradling the swell of her pregnant stomach as she winched slightly from the pain. She removed the cloth from her forehead, placing it on the side table. 

Daemon clenched his jaw tightly, an undercurrent of irritation swirling within him. His reluctance to share the burdens of leadership was not born from a desire to keep her uninformed; rather, it stemmed from a protective instinct. He wished to spare her the added stress, to shield her from the tumultuous affairs that lay beyond her current reach, focusing instead on the immediate challenge of bringing their child into the world. 

“I don’t wish to burden you with the matters of war,” Daemon stated, the resolve in his voice underscored by the straightening of his posture, despite the protesting ache in his back. “Having endured the loss of one wife to childbirth, the thought of losing another…”

His mind drifted to Laena. He had loved her–not in the way she deserved, but he had loved her. She had been vibrant and fierce, a true dragonrider with the blood of Old Valyria coursing through her veins. Laena had possessed a boldness that was charming. She had been kind and sweet, and she had loved him more than he deserved. His love for Laena was genuine, yet it paled in comparison to the depth of his feelings for Rhaenyra.

“I cannot do it again,” Daemon confessed, his tone a hushed murmur laden with vulnerability. 

Rhaenyra’s expression softened, her head tilting in a gentle gesture of understanding as she regarded him. “Daemon…”

“The losses today have been too great,” Daemon pressed on, his words infused with a bitter resentment that intertwined with his fear and the pervasive anger that had taken root in his heart–a relentless torment that coiled within him, fueling a constant, seething rage. 

“You are not the only one who mourns him,” Rhaenyra murmured softly, letting the words linger in the air. A heavy silence fell between them, filled only by Rhaenyra’s intense gaze, her eyebrows knitted together in a mixture of concern and sadness, her lips pressed tightly together.

Outside, the wind raged against the shutters, its howls a grim accompaniment to the turmoil within. 

“They killed him, Rhaenyra,” Daemon uttered, restlessly tapping his nails against the wooden arm of the chair. “I know it. They poisoned him, and they took him from us.”

Rhaenyra’s expression turned sympathetic yet skeptical, her brow furrowing deeper as her head tilted the other way. “He had an ailment–”

“One, I’m sure, they exacerbated for their own gain,” Daemon quickly countered, his tone edged with scorn. “The Hightowers have always had close ties with the Maesters of the Citadel, and Otto Hightower would have been sure to exploit that in favor of keeping power in his hands. They kept him dependent on milk-of-the-poppy, ensuring that he was unable to sit in governance.”

“What you are suggesting is kingslaying,” Rhaenyra said in caution. “While I won’t dispute the Hightower’s machinations against us and their exploration of his weakened state, the accusation of kingslaying is grave…”

“The Hightowers intended to rule in favor of Vaemond Velaryon,” Daemon stated. “They intended to remove your son from the line of succession of Driftmark, thereby undermining your status as the rightful heir by challenging the legitimacy of your children.”

“I know well what their intentions were,” Rhaenyra voiced her frustration, shifting restlessly on the bed once more, seemingly unable to find a comfortable position. “You needn't remind me.”

“Doesn’t it strike you as suspicious that his death occurred so shortly after these matters were resolved? Right after our departure?”

“What evidence do we possess?” Rhaenyra inquired, her expression contouring with discomfort as she applied pressure to her abdomen, seeking a fleeting respite from her pain. “Daenera uncovered no evidence to suggest poisoning.”

“Daenera’s attention was elsewhere,” Daemon countered sharply. 

Rhaenyra’s gaze turned stern, a silent reproach in her eyes.

“Her knowledge has its limits. She wasn’t involved in his ongoing care and wasn’t present for every treatment he received,” Daemon continued, picking at the wood of the chair. “The possibility of poisoning cannot be dismissed outright.”

“We cannot levy accusations as grave as kingslaying without evidence,” Rhaenyra countered, her fatigue evident in the raspiness of her voice. “I’m not convinced he was poisoned. While the Hightowers certainly exploited his condition, I have my doubts that they would engage in such a vile act as kingslaying.”

“Can you honestly say you believe they wouldn’t commit such deed, or is it that you can’t accept that your childhood companion could orchestrate such cruelty?” Daemon pressed, his challenge clear in his tone. 

Rhaenyra’s response was a sharp glare. “I cannot fathom Alicent being behind such heinous act, it's true. If–if– it was an act of kingslaying, it would not have been by her order.”

A palpable tension hung in the air as the ensuing silence stretched. Daemon gritted his teeth, a tumult of restlessness and anger stirring beneath his skin. He harbored a deep conviction that the Hightowers were behind the poisoning of his brother. Regardless of whether their final act was one of deliberate kingslaying, they had undeniably exploited his brother’s condition to their own ends. Reflecting on the past, he lamented that his brother’s gravest error lay not just in reinstating Otto Hightower as his Hand but in a decision made much earlier–when he had chosen to send Daemon away. This, he believed, had only been the start of Hightowers corruption of his brother. Yet, he chose to let the discussion rest. 

His gaze settled on her, observing as she adjusted herself on the bed once more. Rhaenyra’s expression was marred by discomfort, her hand moving to her stomach seemingly in an attempt to comfort the unborn child. 

“And what of Daenera? Any news?”

“No,” Daemon replied, his voice tinged with fatigue as he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling the onset of a headache. His eyes felt dry and scratchy from exhaustion, and closing them did little to soothe the irritation. “Only that she attended the coronation adorned in Hightower colors and pledged her allegiance to the usurpers.”

He was acutely aware of her penetrating gaze upon him as he exhaled slowly, lifting his eyes to meet hers with a mixture of resolve and weariness. 

“You think she betrayed us…” Rhaenyra said in a measured tone, eyes narrowing slightly.  

“I think,” he responded tersely, “that it is a possibility.”

Rhaenyra’s frown deepened, her hands continuing their gentle motion over her belly. “I don’t believe that she would betray us. No, if she stood with the Greens it is only because she was forced to do so.”

Daemon’s voice was tinged with exhaustion and frustration as he disclosed, “She’s in love with him, Rhaenyra. She’s in love with that one-eyed cunt, and now she’s set to marry him. It is not beyond the realm of possibility that she might have chosen their side over ours–”

“It is, it is beyond the realm of possibility,” Rhaenyra countered, her voice trembling with emotion, her gaze falling to the curve of her stomach. “Why do you so readily assume the worst of her? Because she disappointed you?”

“Yes, she disappointed me!” Daemon’s voice rose, his feelings spilling forth like a tempest. “I sent her to King’s landing because I trusted her. I believed her capable of ascertaining who our friends and foes were. Her role was clear; to act as your representative in your absence.”

Leaning forward, Daemon’s frustration was palpable. “Rather than do her duty, she compromised herself by sleeping with the enemy. So, yes, she has disappointed me.”

Daemon never knew how to handle disappointment, especially when he held someone in high regard. He had trusted her to understand her position, and she had broken that trust by compromising herself and honor. The revelation of the loss of her maidenhead could have been disastrous, rendering her vulnerable to a scandal and providing the Hightowers with another tool for their machinations. She and any prospect of a future she had would have been ruined. 

The marriage he had arranged for her with Boris Baratheon was not just a political maneuver; it was also an effort to protect her honor and reputation. Daemon had thought they had come to an understanding then. 

Losing her maidenhead might have been a forgivable error, one Daemon could have overlooked, provided she had taken it as a lesson. However, she chose to have her lover murder her husband in an attempt to hide their affair and the resulting disgrace. While Daemon could understand her desire to be free of her husband’s temper, it did not excuse her from perpetuating her initial error. 

His disappointment stemmed not solely from unmet expectations but from a profound sense of betrayal. Trust was a commodity Daemon valued, and once broken, it left a lasting scar. 

Rhaenyra’s response was measured, yet her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, “She intended to return to us. She fulfilled her duty in King’s Landing, secured alliances, even married Boris Baratheon–as you wanted. If she indeed holds feelings for him, it only emphasizes her commitment to her duties over personal desires.”

“But she didn’t come back with us,” Daemon said, each word laden with a heaviness. 

“If you mean to suggest that she had prior knowledge of the usurpation and willingly stayed behind to support the Greens, I cannot agree to that belief,” Rhaenyra declared firmly. “If she appeared at the coronation in support of Aegon, then it is only because the Hightowers wanted it so. My daughter is not a traitor, she is a hostage.”

“And what of her impending marriage? Is she being coerced into that as well?” Daemon felt a surge of agitation, compelling him to stand. The restlessness prickled too persistently, too agitated to ignore. “No, I don’t believe she had any prior knowledge of the Green’s plan beyond our suspicions. But her affections for that one-eyed cunt should raise concern. Her actions have already demonstrated her willingness to deceive us.”

Approaching the end of the bed, he clasped the footboard tightly, his grip betraying the escalating tension in the room, crackling between them like thunder. His gaze, full of reproach, met his wife’s, dismayed by her inability or unwillingness to grasp the gravity of the situation. “She conspired with her lover to see her husband killed. It would be foolish of us not to question where her loyalties lie.”

“I know where her loyalties lie,” Rhaenyra retorted, her expression a mixture of scorn and incredulity, the subtle downturn of her mouth signaling her disapproval–and the gleam of tears in her eyes betraying her inner turmoil, the pain of being faced with the possibility of her daughters betrayal. “You are all too ready to assume the worst of her. I won’t do the same. She is my daughter! My flesh and blood!”

“You might not wish to see her as a betrayer,” Daemon retorted with a hint of acrimony, struggling to keep his burgeoning rage subdued. “I have no desire to cast her in that light either, but reality forces me to consider all possibilities. And it is a possibility, Rhaenyra. History is rife with lovers willing to commit terrible acts in its name. She wouldn’t be the first to betray her kin for it.”

With that, Daemon collected his sword and belt, clutching the leather with a firm resolve as he made for his exit. 

“Wait!” Rhaenyra’s voice chased after him, tinged with desperation. “Don’t leave–where are you going?”

“To make ready for the morning,” he replied curtly, stepping out of the chamber. 

“Daemon, don’t leave–come back!” Her plea echoed behind him, but he continued on, driven by a duty to anticipate the unforeseen.

“Daemon, don’t leave–come back!” Rhaenyra’s voice echoed, her plea for him to stay desperate. Yet, he vanished beyond the door, leaving her alone with the heavy silence of the room. Her gaze lingered on the void left by his departure, as if his absence had materialized into something tangible, a profound sense of loneliness echoing through her. This palpable loneliness brought with it a sense of desolation, her heart sinking. Her eyes drifted towards the slivers of moonlight peeking through the shutters, the only barrier between the balcony and her solitude. 

Tears threatened to spill as she caressed her belly, seeking comfort both for her and the child. She couldn’t understand why Daemon insisted on making her daughter out to be a traitor. 

Despite the errors made, Rhaenyra’s faith in her daughter remained unshaken. She had never questioned her daughter’s loyalty or her love–nor her commitment to prioritizing duty above her personal desires. Daenera had always been aware of the position she was in, she had always known who she was and what it meant to be that.

The thought of Daenera, ensnared in King’s Landing and at the Greens’ mercy, filled Rhaenyra with an unbearable sense of worry and despair. A lump formed in her throat, hard and relentless as she fought back her tears. What fate awaited her daughter in their hands? The anguish of not having Daenera by her side, when she needed her the most, was overwhelming–Daenera should be here, offering her comfort and support, just as she had always been at the birth of her younger siblings. She was supposed–

“Rhaenyra?” Came a gentle, cautious voice. 

Rhaenyra turned her gaze towards the doorway, where Rhaena stood, a candle’s flicker casting a soft light on her face, etching her concern into the shadows. Her hair cascaded in loose locks over her shoulders, reaching down her back, creating an image of vulnerability. Her dark eyes were filled with concern, soft and big. 

Blinking her tears away and swallowing thickly in an effort to present a composed front, Rhaenyra offered a shaky smile. “What is it, Rhaena? It’s quite late, you ought to be asleep.”

“May I enter?” She inquired softly.

With a more assured smile, Rhaenyra welcomed her, “Of course, come in.”

As Rhaena moved into the room, she acknowledged the midwives and servants with a nod. The attendants had quietly filled the space after Daemon’s departure, their presence barely registered by Rhaenyra amidst her own tumult of emotions. They seemed to hover uncertainly, mirroring the tension of the impending birth. Lady Elinda Massey had settled on the settee, seeming to struggle with threading a needle by the furrow of her brow and the tongue poking out through her lips. 

Taking the seat her father had vacated, Rhaena placed the candle on the side table, allowing the light to flicker and dance across the walls. She settled, a book in her lap, a silent offering of solace in her company. 

“I found myself unable to sleep,” she confessed, her voice soft but filled with an intent to comfort. “I thought perhaps you’d appreciate some company.”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra responded, her voice laced with gratitude for the company of her stepdaughter. As she repositioned herself on the bed, a low hum escaped her throat, betraying the discomfort of her movements. Her hand glided down her abdomen, gently pressing into the swell in an attempt to soothe the taut muscles that pained her. 

“Baela and Jace are keeping watch over the skies,” Rhaena shared, her fingers absently playing with the corner of the book. “Father insisted they not do it by themselves at night, so he made them accompany each other.”

“It is wiser to have two riders in the sky than one,” Rhaenyra acknowledged, her gaze lingering thoroughly on Rhaena. Whenever the conversation veered towards dragons and their riders, a subtle melancholy would weave itself into the girl's features, a silent testament to her yearning. It was clear to Rhaenyra that, just like Daenera, she harbored a longing to soar through the skies atop a dragon of her own–a desire as vast as the heavens yet grounded by circumstance. 

“Have any of the lords made their arrival?”

“Lord Bartimos Celtigar has arrived, I believe. We expect more to come by morning,” Rhaena informed her, providing the latest developments on the situation outside the childbed. 

The room enveloped in a quietude, punctured only by Rhaenyra’s soft movements as she massaged her belly, seeking a sliver of comfort in the relentless discomfort. The tautness and stiffness in her lower back escalade to a dull, throbbing ache, radiating down her legs. A profound sense of pressure weighed on her lower abdomen and pelvis, signaling the baby’s gradual descent, while her inner muscles twitched and contracted with mild, foreboding cramps. This child seemed more reluctant to greet the world than its siblings had been. 

Rhaena broke the silence with an unexpected admonition, drawing Rhaenyra’s gaze with the seriousness in her tone. 

“You must forgive him,” she urged, her voice filled with both compassion and understanding–if not a bit of fear. “It’s not easy for him, I think. It is not easy to see you in such distress, facing the hardships of childbirth…”

As Rhaena nervously fidgeted with the book, her focus remained fixed on her own hands, avoiding Rhaenyra’s prodding eyes. There was a pull at the corners of the girl's lips, a sadness etched into her from the loss of her mother. 

“Watching someone you deeply care for in pain, enduring such an ordeal… it’s an unbearable sight,” she paused, her voice softening, and finally, her gaze met Rhaenyra’s. “My mother fought valiantly to bring my sibling into this world. I know it tormented him to witness her suffering, especially when confronted with such… such an impossible choice…”

Her words hung in the air, revealing not just an understanding of her fathers turmoil but also a glimpse into the profound impact of witnessing a loved one’s struggle–echoes of past pains mingling with the present. 

“Rhaena…” Rhaenyra began, her voice a soft echo in the quiet of the room.

“My mother was strong,” Rhaena declared, her voice carrying a tremble that betrayed her emotions. Her dark eyes shone with a combination of sorrow, compassion, and an underlying resilience. “She faced her fate with the knowledge that both her and the unborn child were doomed. She refused to let father make the choice for her–she wanted to die a dragon rider's death… I believe he fears you might share her fate, haunted by the prospect of having that harrowing decision once more…”

Rhaenyra’s heart constricted with empathy for Rhaena. She too understood the pain of losing a mother to the rigors of childbirth–the anguish of those left behind to grapple with the choices no one should have to make. Yet, along with empathy, a sharp sting of fear pierced her heart. The dread of succumbing to the same fate as her mother had always loomed large in Rhaenyra’s mind–the terrifying prospect of being subjected to a brutal delivery in the childbed, restrained and incised, her child forcibly extricated, leaving her empty and bleeding out. 

This profound fear had led her to mistrust the maesters at the Red Keep for her care in childbirth, relying instead on the familiar and trusted presence of her handmaidens and midwives that were with her now. Maester Geradys was the sole exception, having successfully overseen the birth of her youngest children. 

This fear of dying in childbirth was inherent, a thing passed from mother to daughter, from woman to woman–it was a thing shared throughout the ages and one that was carried with the head held high, its terror forgotten the moment the child was pressed into its mother’s arms. 

Fighting back against this inherited fear, Rhaenyra leaned in as much as her pregnant belly would permit, placing her hand over Rhaena’s. “This child is simply proving to be as obstinate as its father. I won’t meet my end this way, I promise you.”

Rhaena returned the gesture with a smile, laying her hand atop Rhaenyra’s in a moment of shared understanding. “Good, because I don’t know what will become of us if you did not survive–what would become of him…”

Rhaenyra exhaled softly, her hand rising to gently caress Rhaena’s cheek in a tender, motherly touch. “He would have you and the children.”

“I’m not sure that is enough,” Rhaena responded, a note of fear in her voice that carried until it settled on Rhaenyra’s heart. The girl worried for a future that was not set–but worried she remained. 

“It must be,” Rhaenyra affirmed warmly. “Your father cherishes you. He loves you immensely, despite his struggles with expressing it. You and your sister are his first children, and what remains to him of Laena.”

“It’s been only six years,” she murmured, her voice tinged with sorrow, “yet, her voice seems to have faded from my memory. Her image, however, remains vivid in my mind.”

Losing a mother was a profound grief that left a void that never fully heals. Rhaenyra knew this all too well, the absence of her own mother acutely felt in moments such as these. Determined, she had vowed to spare her children from enduring the agony of such a loss–if she were to die, it would not be in childbed. 

“Her memory remains with us, in our hearts,” Rhaenyra spoke gently, offering Rhaena’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “The sound of her voice may fade, and the image may grow dim with the passage of time, but her spirit persists within you. She flows in your veins, and her likeness is mirrored in your own. When you seek her, simply gaze upon your reflection.”

Rhaena mentioned, somewhat wistfully, “They often say Baela most resembles our mother…”

“Baela embodies both her mother’s and father’s ferocity and determination,” Rhaenyra acknowledged with a smile on her lips, “displaying her strengths unabashedly. She is much like Daemon in many ways… Yet, your strength lies in its quiet resilience. You inherit your mother’s compassion and generousness. You have her eyes, sweet, kind, and clever. Baela resembles her father, but you, you are your mother’s daughter.”

Rhaena’s face brightened with a smile, a flush of warmth coloring her cheeks as she seemed to hold Rhaenyra’s words close to her heart. 

Rhaenyra held Laena in dear memory, considering her not just a sister-in-law but a true sister of the heart. Their bond had deepened during the year Laena spent in King’s Landing following Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor. 

“Will you tell me about her?” Rhaena implored, her eyes alight with curiosity. 

“Of course,” Rhaenyra answered, adjusting her position on the bed as she contented with the growing discomfort and the restlessness brought on by the constant ache. 

Rhaena rose to her feet, moving gracefully towards the flagon of water, pausing to ask, “Water?”

“Thank you,” Rhaenyra answered, rubbing her stomach. “You’ve been told of how she became the rider of Vhagar, haven’t you?”

“I have. Many times,” Rhaena confirmed, pouring water into a cup with careful attention. 

“Did you know she flew while carrying you?” Rhaenyra revealed, pausing as a sharp pang of pain momentarily overwhelmed her. She clenched her jaw tightly and drew in a deep, steadying breath as she worked through the wave of pain. Once it ebbed, she noticed the midwives casting concerned glances her way, their brows knitted in worry. With a brief, reassuring shake of the head, she signaled to them that she was managing, then shifted her attention back to Rhaena. “The maesters were beside themselves, worrying about the risks of flying in her condition. Your mother was bold and adventurous, she would not be constrained to stay on the ground.”

With a gentle smile, Rhaena placed the flagon back on the table and brought the cup to Rhaenyra, then resumed her seat. The story of her mother’s indomitable spirit, her passion for flying that defied all cautions, seemed to fill Rhaena with a sense of pride and wonder, a connection to the mother she missed. 

“Once she became the rider of Vhagar, your mother was inseparable from the skies,” Rhaenyra reminisced, the water offering a brief respite as its coolness cascaded down her throat. “Corlys was half-convinced she might forsake the earth altogether, especially since she showed scant interest in the company of suitors.”

Rhaena took the cup from Rhaenyra, setting it aside, then refreshed the cloth previously used by Daemon, dabbing gently at Rhaenyra’s sweat-dampen skin to offer some relief. 

“Your mother was betrothed to the son of a Braavosi Sealord before she married your father,” Rhaenyra said, sparking immediate curiosity in Rhaena. Her eyes widened in surprise, and she quickly shook her head in response. Setting this, Rhaenyra couldn’t help but smile in amusement. “The thought of him barely interested your mother. She hadn’t even met him and chose to distance herself during his visit to Driftmark. Lord Corlys was not pleased when she chose to fly away to King’s Landing to ‘visit her brother and sister-in-law,’ she said.’”

Rhaena set the cloth on the rim of the basin after using it, then discreetly dried her hands on the fabric of her robe. Meanwhile, Rhaenyra, unfettered by the brief pause, resumed her story, “Your mother was never one to mince words, boldly voicing her opinions. And yet, she had a subtlety about it. I remember her making quite the impression on Jason Lannister by speaking her mind when he put forth his brother’s hand in marriage, despite being twice her age. It was rather amusing, actually.”

Rhaena, absorbed in the story, drew her foot up to the chair, wrapping her arms around her knee and resting her chin on it. 

“Laena was charming, intelligent, and spirited, and she had a way about her that was subtle and alluring,” Rhaenyra continued. “And, of course, she was beautiful, but I think it was her charm that captured Daemon’s attention.”

Rhaenyra found a slightly more comfortable position, her hands gently caressing the curve of her belly, lost in thought for a moment. It all seemed like another lifetime ago, and she remembered the initial pang of jealousy that had clouded her heart. It hadn’t been easy being married to a man who would never desire her, who could offer nothing more than a friendship–they had tried for a long time to have a child of their own, to make things work for the both of them, but they never were able to do it. Both of their hearts belonged to another. 

Laena had been nothing but understanding and compassionate–a true friend and sister in spirit. It had been Laena who approached her, seeking her blessing to pursue a relationship with Daemon. And despite the heartache it brought, Rhaenyra had consented, wishing them the joy and companionship her own marriage lacked. 

“And when he visited Driftmark to see her it certainly didn’t sit well with the Sealord’s son.”

“I can’t imagine that it ended well for him,” Rhaena interjected, an amused smile playing on her lips.

“Indeed, it didn’t,” Rhaenyra concurred with a nod. “The Sealord’s son challenged Daemon to a duel, betting Laena’s hand on the outcome. And Daemon, ever the warrior, didn’t just accept; he turned it into a spectacle. The Sealord’s son was utterly outmatched. And with Dark Sister in hand, Daemon was decisive. The duel was short-lived.”

Rhaena, chuckling, said, “It almost sounds like a tale you’d tell children at bedtime.”

“Am I not telling it to you, now, at bedtime?” Rhaenyra responded with a soft laugh. “After the death of the Sealord’s son, they married and flew to Braavos. Laena made sure to keep me informed on your adventures there. I believe I’ve kept all of her letters, if you’d be interested in reading them?”

Rhaena’s smile widened in anticipation, “Yes, that would be wonderful, thank you.”

As the conversation drew to a close, one of the attending midwives stood, her movements gentle yet deliberate. She placed a hand on Rhaena’s shoulder, her voice low and soothing, “It might be best for the princess to rest now, and for you to do the same.”

Rhaenyra turned her gaze towards Rhaenyra, hesitantly getting up. In responde, Rhaenyra extended her hand, clasping Rhaena’s with a reassuring grip, her eyes soft yet imbued with strength, acknowledging the unspoken concern flitting across the girl's expression. With a grateful smile and a nod of understanding, Rhaena made her way to the door, clutching the book she had brought and never had the chance to read.

“Try to rest, Princess,” the midwife advised warmly, watching over Rhaenyra with a protective eye. 

“I can’t,” Rhaenyra protested, her hand instinctively moving to soothe the mounting discomfort in her stomach. With each surge of pain, her breath hitched, the sensation of mounting pressure within becoming almost unbearable. “I–I need to stand.”

Sheran pulled back the blankets, assisting Rhaenyra as she swung her legs over the side of the bed and bent down to assess her condition. “The dilation isn’t complete yet. You mustn't push.”

“Help me up, I need to move,” Rhaenyra reiterated, unable to remain still any longer. The pain, emanating from her spine and radiating down her legs, left her muscles screaming with each new wave of contractions. With Sheran and Lady Elinda’s assistance, she found herself on her feet, her movements laborious and weighted, as if walking through deep water. Lady Elinda steadied Rhaenyra, the cool stone floor a slight relief against her bare feet. A comforting hand traced circles on her back, pausing with each contraction to allow her a moment to focus on her breathing before they continued their pacing. 

As the hours slipped by, the darkness outside gave way to the first hints of dawn, painting the sky a deep shade of indigo. The frequency and intensity of contractions grew, bringing waves of nausea and an intense heat that seemed to emulate from within her very skin. 

Sometime before sunrise, the panels to the balcony were removed, allowing the first light of day to fill the room alongside a refreshing breeze carrying the scent of the sea. 

As the sun rose above the horizon, Rhaenyra’s gaze locked onto the merging light even as waves of unbearable pain engulfed her. Her voice had grown raw from screaming, each breath a battle against the agony that seemed unending. With each passing hour, a heavy cloak of dread and despair settled around her as the child refused to come, her heart racing in a futile attempt to escape its clutches. The sensation was akin to bearing an unyielding stone, its jagged edges mercilessly cutting within her as her body strained to expel it. Sweat coated her skin, mingling indistinguishably with her tears. 

She watched, almost detached, as the sky turned a deep red, mirroring her own ordeal, as if the heavens themselves bled in empathy with her suffering–or, forebodingly warned her of what was to come. 

Amidst the excruciating pain, a gnawing fear took hold–a fear that something was profoundly wrong. 

The world was not as she knew it. It felt strange and wrong, it was not the world she had inhabited just a day before. It was a world where her father no longer lived, where her rightful crown had been usurped, and where her daughter had been made a hostage by someone she had once considered a friend–someone who had promised of a new start. 

Now, she stood alone in this unfamiliar and desolate world, enveloped by sorrow and engulfed by fear. 

“Please, please, please,” Rhaenyra whispered, beseeching the child, her hand caressing her swollen stomach. “Please come out.”

“Keep your head about you, Princess. Come now,” Sheran encouraged softly, extending her hand to guide Rhaenyra back to the bed. A hand lightly touched the small of Rhaenyra’s back, but even this gentle gesture was unbearable. Instinctively, she recoiled, distancing herself from the source of the discomfort. Every gesture of support, from wiping her brow drenched in sweat to the quiet words meant to soothe, to the gentle kneading of her tense muscles, invaded her space, each one more suffocating than the last. Their well-meaning actions converged into an overwhelming tumult, exacerbating her feeling of being trapped in the pain of her own body.

“We’ve done this six times before,” Lady Elinda tried to reassure her, placing a supportive hand on Rhaenyra’s back in an attempt to anchor her. “Keep your spirit, and the seventh shall be no different.” 

Yet, the comfort Elinda sought to offer couldn’t cut through the thick haze of torment enveloping Rhaenyra. This pain was strange, a harbinger that something was wrong, far removed from any childbirth experience she’d had before, and each crippling contraction, her environment blurred into obscurity, panic sinking its claw deeper. 

“Get off, get off, get off, get off!” She cried out, a desperate plea for relief from the touches that now felt like restraints. 

In a state of desperation, Rhaenrya broke free from the attempts to steady her, stumbling toward the stone column near the balcony for support. With each overwhelming wave of pain, her grasp tightened on the cold stone, her nails scraping and straining against the hard surface. It seemed to her as if the child within was staging a revolt, refusing to make its way into the world. 

When another spasm of excruciating pain overtook her, she bent forward, pressing her fevered forehead to the cool surface of the stone, “Ow, ow, ow…”

The slow passing of time became a torment in itself. More than a day had elapsed in this state of agony, and still, there was no end in sight. Her fear grew, turning into a suffocating force with the progression of the sun as it emerged fully from the horizon. As tears clouded her vision, Rhaenyra’s hand tenderly swept up and down the side of her stomach, feeling each contraction tighten around her heart as fiercely as it did her body. 

“Please,” she uttered through clenched teeth, her voice a fractured plea. “Please, little one… get out…”

The brief lapse between contractions offered scant relief. Grasping for some control amidst the turmoil, Rhaenyra addressed those attending her, desperation coloring her tone. “Where is Daemon?”

Lady Elinda paused, her fingers nervously entrining as she replied, “He’s holding council, Princess.” 

Rhaenyra shook her head in dismay, the added sting of isolation exacerbating her ordeal. She yearned for Daemon’s presence, for the reassurance of his hand in hers, for his support. She needed him here, by her side, not holding council without her. She needed him.

As another contraction tore through her with the ferocity of storm-driven waves battering the cliffs beneath the balcony, Rhaenyra couldn’t hold back her cry of agony. “Daemon!”

Struggling to find a semblance of control amid the chaos of pain, Rhaenyra brushed her damp hair away from her sweaty foreheads, the silver strands clinging to her skin. The burdens of her new world pressed heavily upon her, each fear intensifying the physical torment she endured. 

Restlessly, pacing the cool stone floor, unable to find a moment's peace, her body and spirit were both nearing their limits. The thoughts of her father, the usurpation, and the captivity of her daughter weighed her down, a burden almost too great to carry as she paced the floor. 

Between labored breaths, she issued a plea,” Fetch me my sons,” just as another contraction mercilessly constricted around her. The child within seemed to writhe, its movements sharp and demanding, as if in defiance of the calm she so desperately sought. The room spun as she made her way to the chamberpot, succumbing to the urge to vomit, though now only bile escaped her, leaving a sour residue that clung to her taste. 

The absence of Daenera weighed heavily on Rhaenyra, her soul aching for the solace that her daughter’s presence had always provided. Throughout the births of her children, from Lucerys to Viserys, Daenera had been a constant, comforting shadow at her side. Even when she was but a babe, nestled securely in Joyce’s arms during Lucerys’ birth, Daenera exhibited an innate curiosity. As a mere infant, she reacted to her brother’s arrival not with confusion or distress, but with excited clapping, her eyes alight with wonder. Her mere presence had been a comfort. 

And now, in the midst of this pain and fear, Rhaenyra believed that her daughter’s presence would have dulled the keen edge of her suffering, rendering the relentless agony a touch more tolerable.

“Daemon!” Rhaenyra cried out, her voice laden with pain and desperation. Yet, despite her plea, he did not appear.

Deep down, she understood his absence. The fear that lingered in his eyes when she had crumpled to the floor, her hands wrapped around her stomach and groans of pain escaping her lips, vividly conveyed his deep-seated dread. It was a fear of witnessing her death, the paralyzing thought of once again being placed in a position to make the harrowing choice no one should ever have to face… and yet, she cursed him for his absence. 

A scream tore from Rhaenyra’s throat, a sound so raw and powerful it seemed to fill the chamber, a testament to the excruciating agony that tore through her. The pain was visceral, as though the child within was clawing at her womb trying to tear its way out. 

“Mother?” Jace’s voice, laden with worry, cut through the thick fog of pain that wrapped around Rhaenyra. 

As another unbearable contraction seized her, she couldn’t suppress a curse, her teeth clenched against the agony. Struggling for air, she endeavored to regain some semblance of control, her breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. Slowly, she turned her attention towards her sons.

The fear in Luke’s eyes struck her immediately–wide, shimmering with a tumult of feelings that tugged sharply at her heart. He fidgeted, his unease evident, until Maester Geradys took him under his arm, offering some semblance of solace to the young boy. Jace, on the other hand, stood as a pillar of strength, yet the battle against his own apprehension was clear. His jaw clenched firmly as he made a brave effort to stay composed in the face of his mother’s suffering. 

Summoning her dwindling reserves of strength, Rhaenyra fought to regain her composure. Her hands, though quivering, traced soothing patterns up and down her stomach, a meager attempt to comfort the unborn child within. She forced her voice into a semblance of calm. “Your grandfather, Viserys, is no longer with us, and as you’ve likely heard, the Greens have repudiated the succession and claimed the Iron Throne.”

As Rhaenyra attempted to move towards her sons, a surge of pain halted her in her tracks, her hand finding quick support on the back of a nearby settee. Jace instinctively stepped forward, ready to offer his support, but she stopped him with a gesture, choosing to face the pain in solitude. 

Feeling isolated and uninformed, Rhaenyra admitted with difficulty, “I’m left in the dark. I’m oblivious to the actions being taken beyond these walls.”

“Daemon has dispatched several ravens seeking aid from our closest allies,” Jace informed her, attempting to bridge the gap in her knowledge. “Lord Bartimos Celtigar has already arrived with his retinue. Lords Staunton and Emmon are expected to arrive by noon, and by evening, we anticipate Lords Massey and Darklyn.”

Catching her son’s gaze, Rhaenyra said, “I’ve been informed Daemon is holding council.”

“He is.”

Rhaenyra then voiced her deeper concern, the pain momentarily spiking as she did so. “Daemon is plotting his war, I’m sure… The grief of losing his brother coupled with the theft of the throne might have… mmm… driven him to the brink of madness. I am left here to wonder, and I fear what decisions are being made in my absence.”

Jace’s features set into an expression of unwavering resolve, his entire demeanor radiating determination. “Leave Daemon with me.”

With a swift pivot, Jace quickened his stride, tackling the staircase towards the door in brisk, determined leaps, taking the steps two at a time.  

“Jace.” Rhaenyra raised her voice, calling out for her son. When he did not stop, she called again, her tone imbued with a greater urgency and authority. “Jacaerys!”

He stopped, turning to lock eyes with her, the urgency and concern in her gaze seeming enough to draw him back towards her. Approaching, he allowed her to draw close once more, her hand rising to caress his face, her fingertips lightly tracing his cheek. 

“Whatever claim now remains to me, you are now its heir. Naught is to be done but by my command,” Rhaenyra said, assuring that he understood. 

Jace acknowledged her words with a solemn nod, sealing his vow with a gentle kiss to her forehead. Then, as swiftly as he had come to her side, he departed, leaving behind a silence that seemed even more laden with tension and unease. 

“Mother,” Luke began, his voice wavering with a mix of hesitance and uncertainty. He fidgeted uneasily, clutching something soft within his hands. “I thought maybe this could offer you some solace.”

He closed the distance between them, gently offering the blanket to her. His thumb brushed over the fabric, drawing attention to the elaborate embroidery that adorned it, each threat a testament to the love woven into its creation.

Rhaenyra bit back a cry of pain as she accepted the blanket, her fingertips grazing over the delicate, slightly irregular stitches of the pincushion flower pattern. Every thread seemed to whisper of the presence she so longed for, stirring a complex whirl of comfort and grief within her. Tears clouded her vision as she drew her son close, her hand trembling as she touched his face, the blanket clutched against her chest. 

“Oh, my sweet boy,” Rhaenyra managed to utter, her voice thick with stirred emotions. “Thank you.”

“This way, she’s with you now,” Luke said softly, allowing Rhaenyra to press her forehead against his. 

After planting a tender kiss on his cheek, Rhaenyra bid her son leave, holding her breath to stifle the groans of pain until he had departed, the onslaught of labor tearing at her resolve. 

The sun arched across the sky, marking the passage of time with its ascent and subsequent decline, turning hours into seemingly endless years. Rhaenyra began to question if the agony would ever cease.

As exhaustion took its toll, despair started to weave its way into Rhaenyra’s heart. Her perception of the world shrank to the encompassing pain that seized her and the labored breathing that accompanied her efforts to deliver the child, and slowly, she began to grow resentful of the child – resentful for the way it was making its way into the world and the agony it was causing her.  

“Get out!” Rhaenyra’s plea erupted from deep within, a primal and guttural demand torn from her amidst the waves of unbearable pain, her voice raw as she gritted her teeth against the torment.

And in her anguish, she came to view the child not as a blessing but as a tormentor, more beastly in its resistance to enter the world than human. It felt as though it was actively fighting its birth, its unseen claws tearing at her from within, adding an almost personal malice to her pain. What kind of child would cause such agony? 

Weariness enveloped her in the short span between contractions, her limbs shaky and uncertain, barely supporting her weight as she made her way back to the bed. Lady Elinda was quick to offer support, wrapping Rhaenyra’s arm around her shoulders, guiding her towards the bed. 

“No, no, no,” Rhaenyra protested, resisting Elinda’s attempt to guide her onto the bed. “Just get off, get off, get off! O-ow… Get off!”

An intense fear seized Rhaenyra, propelling her away from the bed – a belief that if she were to give birth while lying in the bed, she would not survive the ordeal. This conviction drove her to distance herself from it, as though the very act of avoiding the bed could somehow spare her life. Clutching the bedpost for support, Rhaenyra pushed Elinda away from her, standing on her own, despite the overwhelming pain that gripped her. She curled over, groaning deeply, as she fought to maintain her balance and withstand the unbearable pain wracking her body. 

The chamber, heavy with the scent of herbs and oils, carried an undercurrent of something sharper, the metallic taste of fear. The midwives murmured among themselves, casting worried glances towards Rhaenyra, their hands gentle and tentative, offering a damp cloth to her forehead in an attempt to provide some relief. 

Rhaenyra staggered towards the settee, her legs betraying her, folding under the weight of her pain, and she collapsed to the floor. Grasping the edge of the settee, her fingers turned white with the force of her grip as her nails dug into the fabric of her dress, into the wood of the settee, into her own flesh, whatever she could get a hold of. Her cries, raw and desperate, reverberated through the room. Her silver hair clung to her forehead, damp with sweat, as her vision blurred. 

“Princess!” Elinda’s voice attempted to cut through the dense fog of agony enveloping Rhaenyra. She reached out, seemingly hoping to provide a steady comfort, but Rhaenyra recoiled. 

With every ounce of strength she could muster, Rhaenyra bore down, her groan resonating through the chamber, a primal sound of effort and desperation. Get out, get out, get out, get out, reverberated incessantly in her mind, a silent plea to the child that seemed to resist every effort to be born. The internal pressure mounted to an unbreakable intensity, compelling her to exert herself further, pushing beyond the limits of her endurance. All she wanted was for this to be over.

Each attempt to expel the child tore at her very being, a physical and emotional ordeal that left her raw. Tears mingled with the sweat on her face, her body shaking with effort. Then, with a gasping breath that punctuated her exertion, a sudden drip of fluid fell on the stone, a prelude to the rush of fluid that had yet to come.

“GET OUT!” Her scream tore through her, her voice wavering as she drew in a breath.  

“Princess, please!” Sheran’s plea was laden with a desperate urgency, her hands suspended in mid-air, betraying her desire to comfort her. “You should not do this alone.”

“Please, Princess,” Elinda joined in, her voice thick with emotions, tears welling up in her eyes as she witnessed the relentless struggle of the woman before her. “Let us help you!”

Another scream tore through the air, a primal sound born of pain and despair as she summed what strength she could to expel the child from her womb. The agony was indescribable, a sensation akin to being torn in half. Suddenly, there was a sensation of something giving way inside of her, and an onslaught of fluid erupted, spilling to the floor to form a pool around her knees.  

In a moment of instinctual desperation, she reached down, her fingers grazing the emerging crown of the child’s head, slick and startingly real against her touch. 

Her surroundings seemed to blur into an indistinct haze as she endured the torturous labor, reality distorting under the weight of her suffering. It felt as though her own body was resisting, or perhaps it was the child within that was still resisting its passage into the world. Every effort to push, to bring the ordeal to an end, seemed to only amplify her agony, as if each contraction frayed and tore at her insides, leaving her with a sense of irrevocable damage.  

In the silence that enveloped her strained efforts, her mind whispered fervent prayers, casting her hopes and fears into the void in search of divine intervention, a plea for strength, for safety, for the cry of new life to break the suffocating grip of pain.

Please, she begged internally, let me survive this. Let me be there for my boys. Let me hold my daughter once more, feel her warmth, hear her laughter. Please, don’t let this be my end.

Rhaenyra persisted in her efforts, the intensity of her screams an echo of the agony she was suffering. As she concentrated on the overwhelming sensation of pressure, she clenched her eyes tightly shut, releasing a deep, guttural groan from somewhere within. Summoning every reserve of strength she had left, she pushed with a final, desperate force, and in that moment, she felt the child slip out of her, leaving behind an abrupt emptiness, a void where sharp pangs of pain had once dominated. 

The torment gave way to an aching weariness as the pressure that had built up within her finally lifted. She welcomed this relief, her eyelids drooping in exhaustion as she reveled in the respite from the relentless pain.

The silence that seemed to stretch was deafening, forcing Rhaenyra’s eyes to flutter open, her gaze instinctively seeking out the source of her torment and hope. And as her eyes settled on the child, a profound sadness washed over her, her heart twisting painfully in her chest.

The newborn was motionless, cradled in a pool of blood and amniotic fluid, its stillness punctuated by the profound silence that hung tenuously in the air. The infant’s appearance was marred by harrowing deformities–limbs twisted in impossible angles, its skin a patchwork of translucence and reptilian scales. From the crown of its head sprouted what seemed chillingly akin to horns, lending a grotesque dragon-like quality to its otherwise human features. The spine, strikingly prominent along its back, tapered into what appeared to be a tail that seemed oddly delicate in the way it curled in on itself. 

Amidst the eerie silence, Rhaenyra’s breath shook, her heart thundering in her chest as she lowered herself to the cold, blood-streaked floor. The stains of birth did not deter her as she reached for the child, her movements cautious as she gently unwrapped the umbilical cord from around its neck. With a tenderness born of a mother’s love, she wrapped the baby in the blanket crafted by Daenera for Luke, as if to protect the child from the cruel judgment of the world. Her fingers, trembling with a mix of anguish and love, tenderly explored the child’s deformed cranium, tracing each unnatural ridge and curve with a heartbreaking gentleness. 

A wave of weariness washed over her, every breath drawn feeling like an anchor dragging her further into the depths of despair. Holding the silent infant tightly against her chest, she instinctively began to rock back and forth, a low, sorrowful hum emerging from her throat. 

[un-local]

Hi! Do you think Rogier’s type to hug someone? If so what kind of hugs would he give (and by extension, Magdalene too)? And, if I dare ask, do they get to hug at some point?

Hi anon! Now this is a very interesting question…

Is Rogier a hugger? Oh boy. Well. There’s a lot to unpack with this, I think. Like the man himself, this question has layers. 

If you’ll permit me some wild speculation, let’s dive into this!

1] Is his facade a hugger?

Sure, if that’s what the other person needs. In the sense of, “this is what the situation calls for, this is what will rock the boat the least,” kind of way. A brilliant (and likely well-intentioned) imitation of sincerity. 

It might feel a little stiff. 

2] Is his Utter Detachment a hugger? 

Heavens no. Internally, he’s begging: “please, let’s not do this.” 

That sort of thing makes things harder than they need to be. Best avoided. 

Hugging probably isn’t his first instinct when it comes to comfort. He seems more the type to try to use his words, or give some other gesture of thoughtfulness/consideration. His “utter detachment” is more about maintaining distance, and therefore reducing vulnerability. I don’t think he’s heartless, but rather, severely uncomfortable with something that encroaches on that boundary he feels so dependent on. 

It feels like he’s turned to stone.

3] Is his touch starvation a hugger?

Absolutely, and he hates this. What a terrible affliction to have, with the company he keeps. He’s burying that as deep as he can. The good news is, in these lands, one can forget such appetites. He stopped hungering for these things long ago.

At least, until someone reminds him by initiating one.

…It feels like he’s fighting himself, resisting every instinct in him to melt into the embrace, to hold on for just that nearly-imperceptible moment longer. 

4] Is Rogier a hugger?

Now that’s the great mystery right there. Who’s Rogier? 

None of us know. Personally?

...Yeah. I think maybe so. 

I think perhaps, in an impulsive moment of joy, (“Hey Rogier, here’s the mending rune to save TWILD,”) he might pull someone in for a hug. Or I think it could be a somber, consoling gesture, when words won’t fix anything anymore. I think in a moment of tremendous relief, when death came a little too close, he might reach out and count his blessings as he catches his breath. 

I think it feels like he’s human under there. More human than he’s let anyone see in a long, long time. 

5] Is Magdalene a hugger?

Ha, oh yes. And she’s as hearty and vigorous in this regard as she is in every other aspect of her being. Prepare thine ribs. 

On one hand, you won’t be able to breathe, on the other:

Just popped up on your screen XD

6] Do Rogier and Magdalene get to hug?

:3

(Of course, anon!) (But the real question is, under what circumstances?)

Thanks for the question, anon! :D This was fun to dive into!

[partyinthemysterymachine]

They make a kid? Ehh? (from a post u made last year)

hii!! hehe yeah :3c i assume you're talking about my -adjacent au where Harry is trans and James is Enormous and then they had a baby after getting home from Silent Shenanigans, LOL

in that case.. yes!! :3 they had a baby named Rose, and she is just super fuckin' weird, just like her daddies :3c (especially takes after james, tho - she's even got his green eyes, and good for her!!) (also the name Rose was chosen because i thought those two morons would really like an old, "vintage" name, and i only realized later that the SH-movie protag was a Rose and i was like godDAMMIT it happened again >:( Accidental Name Connection. so yeah, that's the only reason why she's a Rose LOL) (AND TITANIC OBSESSIONS ASIDE, TOO - do NOT LOOK AT ME--)

in -adjacent, Harry IS older, it's true, i haven't quite hammered out the correct ages vs timelines so that things coincide the way i'd want them to LOL (god if you thought GOOMT's timelines were wonk, jesus CHRIST then no one is ready for -adjacent's, let alone me LOL) but i imagine Harry may have been around 47 or 48 when Rose was actually born. James is a bit younger than him, but hashing that out is not only GOOMT spoilers, but also super confusing for the -adjacent timeline, LOL so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ WHO'S TO SAY

although i know you don't mean any harm or offense by your comment and you mention this all in good faith, i want you to know that i'm not mad, nor upset with you in any way!! we're all cool here, maaann.. we're all just breezin' :3

that said, while i always appreciate the interest in -adjacent, i would rather people not offer diagnostic speculation or suggestion about my OC (Rose). i haven't mentioned anything about any disorders or ailments Rose may have (other than Silent Hill Please Stop Violating The Restraining Order-isitis), and i don't plan to diagnose her with anything either, other than "Local Weirdo, Like Her Dads". (it's a Mason-Sunderland thing.)

i don't hc anyone to be autistic. i'm not diagnosed with autism myself, and because of that, and the complexities of the disorder, i prefer not to encroach, out of respect.

now keep in mind: i DO support autistic hc!! i totally support and respect them, fire away!! but from where my comfort levels are concerned, there are some things i just don't feel i could write the way i'd want to unless i've lived that unique experience myself, and autism is one of those things on that list - which is, again, out of respect.

Rose is Just Weird™️. James is Just Weird™️. Harry is, well.. gestures. Just Like That, I Guess™️. LOL

thank you SOOO much for your asks, i LOVE talking about -adjacent (and about Rose, my sweet lil [REDACTED], that silly lil moss ball of her daddies' eyes :3cc)

hope to hear from u again soon anon!! KISS KISS MMWAAHH

[xamaxenta]

RE au again but near the finale of the actual game Leon briefly saves Ada n its rly cheesy awwuah i guess this is where the au turns into MAS

Just for the concept of Ace saving Sabo from his silly sexy predicament of being tied up as bait and Ace falls for it cuz they have history

Tells Marco to wait for him, stay safe he trusts him and Marcos staring at Sabos unconscious ass strung up like i am totally not jealous but who the fuck is he? Explain!! Slightly mad Ace is just gonna ditch him for some random mysterious sexy spy dude just like that

Ace wants to clear up the misunderstanding but man. He does not have time for this and just turns to grasp Marcos hand like please, let me do this, i cant let him die, ill be back promise

And marco lets him go like fine you better save them and me

So Ace takes the obvious trap, rescues Sabo who in return, protects Marco for him whilst Ace fights the big bad who inevitably transforms into a gigantic spiky tentacle wielding eldritch horror

Marco unsure why Sabo is doing this for him bc seeing as their leader is threatened, all the other uglies have crawled out of their little hideyholes for a last attempt to retake Marco and reinfect him

Sabo fends off a swarm and turns back to Marco, he has a slight limp in his step, “because hero boy seems to like you alot.”

“That doesnt answer my question.” Marco ducks behind Sabo, evading the barrel of his gun whilst simultaneously taking cover from the spray of hot gore

Sabo glances down at him and unholsters a small firearm, “Make yourself useful, i dont care much for babysitting like he does, he might think its cute but I dont. Safetys on the side i trust daddy taught you how to point and shoot.”

Snorting Marco checks over the little pistol and stands up, back to back shoulder to shoulder with the other blonde “youre actually alot nicer than I thought youd be.” He takes aim and shoots something squirming out of the darkness until it stops whatever creepy shit it was about to do. Its more satisfying than he had expected,

“Ugh.” Sabo tuts, the reverb recoil of his own gun thuds beneath Marcos ribs and in a way it feels comforting, maybe hes just used to it now, but its nice to know Sabo’s not just going to leave him for the monsters

“I just hate owing people shit.” Sabo says eventually after popping three zombies neatly in the head. A fourth bullet betwen the third ones eyes just as it began to squirm into a second form

“Suuure,” Marco couldnt keep the amusement out of his voice even if he tried, sabo says nothing.

Down on the docks below the monster roars, the shockwave of its vocalisation shakes the metal scaffolding blowing the two survivors back across the rusty surface

“Thats our cue to move on down,” sabo holsters his weapons and grabs Marco by the wrist before he can protest

Taking cover beneath a rocky outcrop, Marco peers down through the sea fog and encroaching night to see the flicker of Ace’s gunfire tear through the plague, if he hadnt spent so much time with the man, Marco wouldve thought him stupid fearless, but he knows Ace is just as human as the rest of them, he’s noticed the way his hands shake whenever a big fight comes up, hes seen the set of his jaw when he hears a hoard—

“He’s really too much.” Sabo mutters, Marco glances at him but Sabos already turned away searching for something hidden inside the stacked storage crates beside them, he secretly agrees though.

To his surprise and also not surprise Sabo unearths something that could truly be classified as heavy firepower.

“Wait here,” sabo hefts the rocket launcher over one shoulder

“Tired of me already?” Marco teases and Sabo rolls his eyes

“No, the shrapnel this baby can set off could kill you. Better safe than sorry.”

Marco wants to say more but Sabos already vaulted over the scaffolding, its amazing really how the both of them can run head first into danger like that, he refuses to think about how its all for him and his safety.

[unravelingthepages]

Funny Boy- a book that's so necessary and deserves the world

Hi! I started this book and I ended up finishing it the same day! It has definitely made its way into my favorite reads and I give it 5 stars. I recommend this to you a 100%! So-

Funny Boy by Shyam Selvadurai is a historical fiction novel set in Sri Lanka in 1974 when he is 7, and follows him all the way till he’s 16 through six interconnected stories in chronological order. Encased in the themes of ethnic violence, coming to terms with your sexuality, love and loss; this is a book you will genuinely not be able to put down.

The Plot

In the world of his large family, affluent Tamils living in Colombo, Arjie is an oddity, a ‘funny boy’ who prefers dressing as a girl to playing cricket with his brother.

In FUNNY BOY we follow the life of the family through Arjie’s eyes, as he comes to terms both with his own homosexuality and with the racism of the society in which he lives. In the north of Sri Lanka there is a war going on between the army and the Tamil Tigers, and gradually it begins to encroach on the family’s comfortable life. Sporadic acts of violence flare into full scale riots and lead, ultimately, to tragedy.

Written in clear, simple prose, Shyam Selvadurai’s first novel is masterly in its mingling of the personal and political.

Why you should read it

I cannot emphasize to you enough how necessary this book is. It talks of hope, tolerance and acceptance through the narration of this kid as he slowly sheds his innocence. It talks of highly relevant issues and parts of Sri Lankan history like the 1983 riots and it captures tragedy, loss and stigmas so so well.

Arjie’s character is poignant and real. Written simply, in the first person, the adult Arjie narrates younger him’s experiences as he grew up and lost his innocence. This book captures how Arjie is exposed to racism, homophobia and prejudices.

This novel is the story of a boy who liked dressing in his mom’s sari, putting on makeup and adored ‘feminine’ jewellery. It is the story of the boy who slowly understood that love cannot always overcome violence and prejudices, that sometimes you have to stay quiet to stay alive and keep your family safe, that tragedy occurs in the blink of an eye. It is the story of a boy who loves and hopes, and dreams and hurts, of a boy who slowly sheds his innocence through no option of his own.

I strongly believe you should read this book. I promise you’ll love it and love Arjie and resonate with him and hurt for him. This is his story but it speaks for so many others. (Please do check the trigger warnings beforehand though.)

purchase the book here: https://amzn.to/3EaIl29 [this is an associate link]

“I glanced at the sari lying on the rock where I had thrown it and I knew that I would never enter the girls’ world again.”

“I did not know it at the time, but we would never see Jegan again.”

“There was something ironic about that. Amma conforting Chithra Aunty. Yet I understood it. Chithra Aunty was free to cry. We couldn’t, for if we started we would never stop.”

“I am tired of these escape plans. I’m tired of everything. I just want it all to end.”

“I find it impossible to imagine that the world will ever be normal again.”

“I sat on the verandah steps and wept for the loss of my home, for everything that I held to be precious. I tried to muffle the sound of my weeping, but my voice cried out loudly as if it were the only weapon I had against those who had destroyed my life.”

[thetriggeredhappy]

consensus seems to be a loud “no” so this is my routine soapbox about Why People Do ‘Nice Things’ In Their Community

for this one in particular, the long and short of it is that One Day, You Will Meet.

listen. one day, you will, more likely than not, meet your neighbor. if you live in an apartment building, there will be a fire drill, or there will be a noise complaint about one of you, or there will be a power outage and you will make eye contact as you both peek out the door. if you live in a house, maybe their mail was delivered to you mistakenly, or they might need to park in your driveway or in front of your house as there’s piping maintenance in front of theirs, or there’s a lost dog that you believe is theirs, or vice versa. and the fact of the matter is, if the very first time you speak to this other person is because of circumstances in which one of you could be reasonably framed as Being Inconsiderate, as Overstepping, as Treading On Your Space and Life, you are not going to have a pleasant experience with this person. maybe you’re irritated with them, maybe you feel guilty, maybe you just feel downright awkward around this complete stranger whose territory encroaches upon your own.

so, for both of your sakes, that should not be the first time you meet.

the cultural notion of ‘saying hello to your new neighbors’ is, yes, a nice thing to do, but it’s also practical. if you introduce yourself, make minimal small talk, make mention of anyone else you live with, your pets, your kids, an approximation of your hours, now your neighbor is no longer ‘probably grumbling about this asshole next door who comes and goes at all times of night’. now your neighbor is going, ‘ah, right, Tabitha mentioned some classes going late, must be that!’. now when your neighbor comes over and asks that the party you’re hosting please quiet down after 10 or so, your first thought might be, ‘oh, right, he has two school-aged kids who will need to be in bed’ rather than ‘how dare he be so uptight! mind your business!’

if once a season you make a point to, for some reason, in some manner, extend a tiny kindness and politeness to your neighbor, then when there’s a major power outage, you will feel significantly less uncomfortable with the idea of walking over and knocking on their door and asking if by any chance they might have batteries that fit your flashlight. that one day, your elderly neighbor might feel comfortable with asking you to keep an eye out for their escaped cat. the point of this is not to become best friends with other people you don’t know and who very well might be assholes, but instead to cease being strangers.

this doesn’t even need to be in person. many times, because of my own issues, i haven’t felt confident enough to have a real conversation impromptu for no reason. instead, when i move in, i’ve made a little box of baked goods, written a little note introducing myself and saying what the food was, and in some cases provided a method of contact, and left it at their door at a reasonable hour. sometimes this garners a response - sometimes it doesn’t. but now that there’s a method easily available to contact me if they need something, i feel much more comfortable hosting for friends, coming and going at odd hours, leaving entirely for the weekend. one former neighbor told me that it made her feel more comfortable with the idea of raising her kids there, when she felt it wouldn’t be ‘impolite’ to try to meet the other people who lived nearby. she said that knowing my name made her feel like, if something was badly wrong and her husband wasn’t there, she could reasonably have someone nearby who she could go to for help, because she knew who i was and that i was surely friendly.

maybe you bake, maybe you make paper as a hobbyist, maybe you carve little wooden ducks, maybe you grow flowers. whatever it is that you do, making an effort to give something small and tell your neighbor your name is the kind of thing that will go a long, long way towards making you both feel like real human people, and will stop a lot of arguments a long time before they start. it’s nice, sure, but also, if you’ve given your neighbor a number to text, they don’t have to use your landlord as a liaison with your lost package or to let you know that they’re planning on using a power saw all day Saturday and to let them know if there would be a better specific time.

wait was everyone not taught growing up that you should occasionally give some kind of homemade gift to your neighbors. is that really not something everyone knows they should try to do

[lovelyyandereaddictionpoint]

Hey! I couldn't find any rules or anything so feel to ignore this if you want, but I really liked that slowly turning yandere ask so could you do that with with Azul, Idia, and Jade separately please? Or just the first two if it's too much, thank you!

Azul Ashengrotto

It makes sense that this one is slow

Azul is calculative and really sensitive

It’ll first start when he returns the photo

In the window between putting it back and coming back to Night Raven

“O. M. G. You are so. Freaking. Cute!!!” 

You are cooing at this image he had tried so hard to erase

He’ll blush probably expecting you to just be someone who was overreacting 

But come to find your just really vocal when your comfortable

“What a glow up, though? Went from -cinnabun to almost-a-sugardaddy-hun!” 

He’s practically spitting out his drink as your looking at some other old photos that escaped his purge

From there he’s frantically trying to rationalize 

Going to reaffirm his discovery by urging responses from you

“Prefect would you mind, telling me what exactly makes me, supposedly, ‘a snack’”

“Oh it's definitely your beauty mark, or maybe its your style, or its definitely your eyes literally like periwinkle diamonds.”

“T-thanks!” 

He’s so whipped 

And as uncomfortable as he may seem he is living off of the near-heatstroke embarrassment he goes through

And even when he’s not nearly passing out from your words 

He loves how sweet you are in general

When he’s not baiting you for a response you just compliment him when he’s doing random stuff

“Hey Azul, can you explain this concept to me? You’re like really smart and I-”

“Fine, but you have to come to the Monstro lounge while you work through this sheet.”

This feeling is his

And he’s more than eager to bind anyone in a deadly contract because they feel this way

Forget about sending the leech twins 

He’s doing it themselves

He’ll get more bolder the more you are encroached upon

“Would you be so kind as to compliment me. I’ve been feeling especially perturbed lately.”

Jade Leech

He notices you when you’re investigating for Magift tournament

He thought it was cute to see a weak little shrimpy trying to solve big-fish problems

From then on he keeps an eye out

You’re always up to something so it's entertaining to keep updated on your activities

“You…look pretty good with an eel-tail?”

He finds himself surprisingly shocked by you 

Whether its cause you whisper your real thoughts loud enough for him to hear

Or because you actually had the balls to fight Azul

His intrigue turns to love 

As he drinks in your compassion and care for your friends

And just general demeanor

He follows you on his own time

Mountaineers club? 

No, (Y/n)’s club

His love for you stems into his love for learning about the land and its properties

So the flower you sat on during gym 

Keeping that in his pocket forever

The rock you looked at that reminded you of your friend

Analyzed it then Crushed it but kept the pieces to study for later

He won’t outwardly chase off those around you 

But  he has no problem picking off the ones you're sure not to notice

Everynow and then he’ll invite you on a hike

Or give you a pass to the Monstrolounge

If only to be allowed to feel study you more closely

“Would you care to join me for a nature walk? I promise this is purely innocent.”

Idia Shroud

It's a long standing love that blooms at your appearance

He initiates it on his own

As one of the heads at STYX he’s encouraged to study the unkown about overblots

What's wrong with venturing a little

“This is just like that one anime…”

Interdimensional travel, a refusal of your existence, and alongside a monster

Truly a live manifestation of something he would be watching

So cameras placed outside your dorm 

And Ortho’s livefeed should he see you on his rounds

“Oh sorry didn’t mean to bump into you!” 

Its an accident 

So minor you don’t really recount it as the first time you spoke to him

But he does

Ooh he does

When you just graze your hand as you pick up his fallen book 

or how you press your hand against his arm under his sleeve as you checked to make sure he’s alright

It takes everything in him to fight the nosebleed that threatens to creep up

“Ah, are you sick?”

“N-no. I gotta go!”

He runs off but that isn’t the end

Far from it

He realizes that perhaps this supposed isekai protagonist was really the love interet for the genius otaku

Well he’ll want to make sure that he knows everything about you for when he does gain the courage to woo you

So now the cameras are in your room, in the bathroom…another in your room

He slowly delves into his fantasy of a romance between you and him

But he’s not completely delusional

And he’s not so caught up in his fantasy that he doesn’t have a plan

Oh no 

He has multiple plans for multiple possibilities

When he finally does get to talk with you immediately the plan that included forcefully taking you is dismissed

….kinda…

“(Y/n)’s not like the other npcs…their the target, Ortho. That’s why I have to do this.”

[disillusionedmonster]

i’m 14 and a trans boy, i bind my chest and wear a masculine school uniform.

No adults in my life are trans, nor have they encouraged me to be.

i bind because it makes me comfortable in my own body. there is no trans ideology.

being trans isn’t the easy route to escape being female

it’s the hard route to self-love and acceptance.

Chest binding is dangerous and can cause lasting damage and chronic pain to your ribs, so please be careful.

"Comfortable with your body". If you were comfortable with your body you would simply accept it as yourself instead of making changes to your physical appearance. Why is it that you are not comfortable with your body? Why do you need to change in order to be comfortable? What is causing that feeling that your body is wrong? What makes you think that your feelings are different from any other woman and girl on the planet? The only thing that makes us a woman is our bodies. I do not buy into regressive ideas that push that being a man or women has to do with the stereotypes, roles, jobs, personality traits ECT assigned to the sexes. That it is decided by some internal feeling embedded in our beings instead of just the simple reality of having a female body.

Regardless of whether you want to accept it or not it is an escape from being female. If it wasn't you wouldn't be trying to erase your female traits. You wouldn't be trying to distance yourself from being female by identifying as a man. There are many reasons that women and girls would want to try and identify out being female. It's a scary time for women with a push back against our rights, the rise of pornography and the suggestion that women exist as sex objects for men, the constant threat of sexual and physical violence and the way that society sets up being female as the "other".

You might not be being encouraged by the adults in your reality but the internet and social grooming is a powerful thing. Gender identity is an ideology that functions the same way a religion does. There is no way to prove that your 'soul' or mind exists in the wrong body. There is no such thing as a female or male brain. Mind body dualism is the cornerstone of almost all religions and gender identity is no different. Religions also often deny reality, the reality in this case being that you cannot change your sex and that gender is a social construct created to set up a hierarchy between men and women to keep women suppressed. It also sorts people into the categories of the righteous and the evil, with no room for discussion about the effects of medicalising kids and adults with untested hormones and blockers. No room to discuss how the concepts of sex and gender intersect and the ways in which transpeople can be protected from discrimination without encroaching on the rights of women and LGB people. No room for questions of the dominant ideology without the risk of serious social consequences.

The rise of gender identity is a backlash to the push for the destruction of gender roles in the 70s to present that feminist worked really hard to push back against. Why are we bothering to sort people back into the conservative boxes of masculinity and femininity, arguing that these concepts are what define if someone is a man or women. Creating new boxes when people don't quite fit.

I am not going to pretend I know your reasons for transitioning, but whatever they are I hope you end up happy and safe in the end regardless of what you choose.

[wolfychaaan]

With You - Frank Morrison x Reader story Chapter One

❗️❗️WARNING❗️❗️

Story features mentions of rape/non con and gore. Please read at own risk. I do not own any DBD characters.

The generator fires and spurts as you flee from its side to run from the encroaching killer laughing hysterically as he opens another bottle of substance to lobby your way. You dash through a maze of corn and wooden boards trying to do anything to keep him away, the cool fall air of Coldwind farms combats the warmth of the sun overhead. You run straight for the tree that holds decaying cow corpses, gross, but you need a way to loop the Clown off your tail. He's giggling and chuckling all the way as he stomps behind you, his gait is that of a lumbering bear on two legs but with all the poise of a human.

Dropping the palette onto the Clown's head you hear him roar and grumble in aggravation as he watches you sprint away back into the corn. You dodge other generators and palettes as you try to find a place to hide or at least another teammate to comfort you. The shattering of glass behind you speeds up your heartbeat, legs burning as you full speed ahead but the splinters of shards dig into your skin through the fabric of your jeans and another unholy concoction from the Clown is airborne. You lose stride from the pain in your legs and the slip in focus causes you to fall to the ground as you trip on a rock. Another bottle hits the hard ground, sending out a colorful potion you've never seen before. Trying not to inhale the substance is hard as you struggle to catch your breath and get to your feet at the same time. Unfortunately, you've already inhaled too much and your vision grows fuzzy causing you to collapse and lose consciousness. The last thing you can hear is the Clown's victorious laughs as he approaches.

Frank sits up on the roof of the killer shack watching everything unfold. Other killers could view other trials but were not allowed to interfere. This was the only real rule the Entity gave other killers, but this situation was different. You were his favorite. He loved the way you screamed when being chased, how cute you were when you were being hooked, and mostly he just found himself entranced by you. He would often observe your trials to get his own kicks but this time he came for a specific reason: to stop the Clown. He heard rumors of the bastard creating some new tonic to make survivors fall unconscious, he didn't know what purpose that would serve until now. He watches the lumbering form begin to tear your clothing off from you.

"Bastard," Frank mutters to himself before pulling his mask over his face.

The Clown licks his lips under the mask in glee as he slowly begins to undress you down to your panties. He giggles to himself admiring his work, oh what he is DYING to do to you. He hears a thump nearby and then a familiar voice.

"That's far enough I think," Frank says, voice laced with venom. The Clown turns to look at who's stopping his fun time and smiles.

"Frank, my boy! Come to admire my work?"

"Shut the fuck up you Gacey wannabe, I'm here to stop it," he flicks his hunter's knife in his palm. The Clown bellows a laugh.

"You can't touch me here son, that would be against the rules. Besides, why do you care? You're a killer just like me, why shouldn't we get to have a little fun?"

"See, normally I would agree with you. However, even I have standards and this crosses that line,"

"And those are?"

"I don't rape unconscious people after drugging them you sick bastard," Frank lunges forward stabbing the larger man in the gut with his knife. The blade slicing into his sternum like a knife cutting off a chunk of steak. The Clown roars and grabs his stomach.

"Y-you little shit!" He growls. Frank wipes the blade winding up for another attack.

"You're not..getting away with this. You'll…you'll be punished by the Entity for you're-" the Clown chokes up bile and blood. Frank kicks him over, leaning a knee onto the larger man's neck so he chokes some more.

"That spider creep can do what it wants with me, after I'm done teaching an old piece of shit like you a lesson,"

The gates lift open with a whail and the other survivors head into the exit.

"Something doesn't feel right," Kate pipes up, rubbing her forearms.

"I agree, we never even saw the killer. This was too easy," David replies.

"Why look a gift horse in the mouth? Easy trial is a good trial!" Ace muses. David gives him a dirty look while Kate starts to look panicked.

"Oh God, where is (Y/N)?!"

"Shit! I barely saw her after the start of the trial!"

"But nobody was on the hooks, did they get away?"

The survivors begin to hear a noise of corn rustling behind them. Emerging from the corn holding you in their arms is Frank. His mask is off to the side of his head, revealing his face to the group. He's covered in blood, none of it his or your's. The group stares at him, Kate noticing you in his arms, clothes torn asunder.

"Oh God, (Y/N)! Is she ok?"

"What the fuck are you doing with her?" David asks in a growl.

"Relax, she's just unconscious. The killer was the Clown, he was going to hurt her but I stopped it," Frank says.

"Holy shit," Ace murmurs. Frank hands you off to David, who takes you in his arms. Kaye moves your hair to check your breathing.

"You guys better get going before you become Entity chow,"

"Wait sug, thank you for helping her but what's in this for you?" Kate asks.

"Nothing, just consider it a gift from a friend," Frank says. The group turns to leave, David carrying you through the gate and back to safety. Frank turns on the heels of his boots and wanders back into the corn to admire his work. The Clown is in slices, slowly being recombined by the Entity's power. He wishes he could kill the creepy old fuck but for some reason the Entity enjoys keeping him around. In moments the Entity's long legs burst from the ground and pull Frank under into the shadowy realm it exists in.

It's dark and numbing in the Entity's space. Frank can't tell if he's standing or floating in the smokey void that houses the ominous being.

"You disappoint me Frank Morrison. You've disobeyed the one rule I give you," the Entity speaks. "Do you know how long it will take to fix your mess?"

"Like there's a shortage of killer clowns," Frank rolls his eyes.

"SILENCE, HUMAN! You do not have the higher ground to speak to me in any way you desire. You've gone against my game, my trials, disrespected my blessings, you must be punished,"

"Do whatever you want with me, but do not touch the rest of the Legion. They're innocent,"

"I am aware. Unlike you, they've been following the rules of my game. Only you shall suffer the fate I provide you,"

"You gonna kill me?" The Entity laughs.

"You would like that wouldn't you, Frank Morrison? No, you do not get such luxuries. I shall punish you in a way that fits the crime," The world goes pitch black and Frank feels his body grow heavy. He loses consciousness.

Frank opens his eyes to see a sky dimly lit with stars, a tangle of tree branches against the skyline, his body aching in pain from laying on the cold, hard ground. He does a check over to make sure he still has all his limbs and appendages, nothing seems to be missing. He sits up, hearing a nearby stream trickling by and feeling an incredible thirst overtake him. Running to the stream he begins scooping water into his palm and drinking. He goes until he feels the dryness in his mouth subside, taking deep breaths to relax himself. He looks down into the water and sees changes in his reflection. His eyes have become a soft grey, the hints of red that coated them from the Entity are gone. Physically he doesn't feel as strong as he was. His usual leather jacket and hoodie have been replaced with his varsity jacket and a t-shirt, with jeans and sneakers instead of his combat boots and camo tactical pants.

"What the fuck…" he whispers to himself. A lot of his piercings he did after becoming a killer were gone except for an eyebrow piercing, the scar across the bridge of his nose from it getting broken remains, with a mop of dark hair on the top of his head but shorter on the sides. He can hear voices in the distance, survivors he thinks. He reaches for his knife but his trusty blade is gone.

You shall live as one of them, this is your new fate the Entity echoes in Frank's head. He panics for a moment, running a hand through his hair, trying to come to terms with what that even means for him. He was now a survivor, no longer killing them but PART of their group. Suddenly he feels a strange ease wash over him because it dawns on who he can be with: you.

He gets up off the ground and begins to approach the fire light in the distance. Survivors are gathering around the flames, chatting, he recognizes a lot of them from his hunts. As he steps further into the light he steps on a stick, the crack makes everyone turn and go silent. Small gasps and murmurs throughout the crowd saying his name or just Legion. David stands up, hands clenched into fists before he barks.

"What the fuck do YOU want?" Frank holds up his hands.

"Whoa whoa, easy, I'm not a killer anymore,"

"Pft yeah right, like we believe that bullshit," Nea snorts from her spot leaning against a tree.

"Killers can't enter survivor spaces!" Someone yells, he thinks it's Meg. More muttering erupts.

"Now hold on y'all, maybe we should hear him out?" Kate suggests. "Are you all forgetting he saved (Y/N)? He let us go last trial!" Everyone stops muttering and goes quiet, exchanging looks. Tapp crosses his arms, David clenches his jaw.

"Go on then," Kate encourages.

"Well, apparently I pissed off the Entity enough that I'm being punished for that. Now I'm one of you," Nobody speaks. The group exchanges glances around, wondering what to do or say. Frank rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. Suddenly he feels someone crash into his back nearly knocking him over, two arms wrap around him.

"YOU SAVED ME!" the voice he's adored since you first came here, it's yours. Frank turns in your grasp to see you giving him a hug, tears streaming down your face.

"(Y/N) don't touch him!" Tapp yells.

"Kate told me what you did and I never got to thank you…and now you're being punished for helping me,"

"H-hey, it's not your fault. I wanted to help you," You let go of him so he can turn to face you, but he wishes you didn't. You wipe at your eyes trying to stop yourself from crying. You were in shock when Kate told you what Frank had done. Saving you from the Clown who tried to do something so horrible to you, and now he was a survivor like the rest of you. You feel Frank's warm hand cup your chin and pull your face to meet his eyes.

"Don't be sorry, I wouldn't let that sicko do what he wanted to you. Besides, this isn't so bad," he smiles, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. You can feel your cheeks heating up, eyes blown wide as he looks down at you.

"I hate to interrupt the touching moment here but it's not like the Entity brought in a new survivor the same way. He doesn't have a cabin," says a voice, Frank thinks it's Adam.

"H-he can stay with me!" You blurt out. Frank lets go of your face, eyes wide.

"I don't think that's a good idea,"

"He doesn't have anywhere to go, and it's something I can do to repay him for saving me,"

"You really trust this guy?" Jill asks, crossing her arms across her chest, approaching closer to help her friend if Frank tries anything. He glares at her, he never did like cops.

"Listen I get it sounds insane, but I don't even have a weapon on me," Frank says.

"We could always pat him down and double check?" Suggests Laurie from the crowd.

"I'll do it," Leon volunteers, stepping forward. He grabs Frank's shoulder, instructing him to put his hands on a nearby tree while he conducts a search.

"You pat down all the pretty boys, officer?" Frank quips. Leon shoots him a look and Frank winks back. Everyone shifts uncomfortably.

"He's clean," Leon says, Frank turns back around and you give him a warm smile.

"If nobody else is willing to give him a place to stay what's the issue? Besides, I don't really feel like being alone tonight after…today," you look towards the ground, shuffling your foot in the dirt. Frank takes your hand in his and gives a small squeeze.

"I promise I'll be on my best behavior officer," he says, you gaze up at him and feel a blush forming on your cheeks. Jill snorts, glaring at him.

"If it'll make (Y/N) feel safer, and we really don't have a place for him," Jill remarks. The rest of the group just kind of nods and mutters to themselves. Leon approaches you and whispers in your ear.

"If he tries anything you know where to find me," you nod back, feeling his hand squeeze your shoulder. Other survivors begin to disperse, some walking in groups or pairs off to the cabins. Each survivor came with a cabin that replicates where they came from. Yours resembles your old apartment before the Entity claimed you. Opening the door, you flick on the light and Frank follows you in, hands in his jacket pockets. Your living space is small, a one bedroom apartment maybe five hundred square feet. Frank begins to look around, making himself comfortable like a cat in a new home.

"I know it's not very big but it's cozy and better than sleeping outside," Frank flops down on the couch, you wander into your bedroom looking for something comfortable for him to wear. You knew you had sweatpants from an old ex in your drawers and maybe he could borrow a bigger t-shirt. You dig out the pair of grey sweats and manage to find a t-shirt he could wear from your old college. You walk back out and hand them to him.

"Here, for you to change into so you don't have to wear jeans to bed," he gives you a smile.

"Aw, how sweet of you,"

"You can shower off in the bathroom over there if you feel like it,"

"Actually that sounds kinda nice," you show him the bathroom, giving him a clean towel of his own and explain the door can be locked for privacy. Undressing and turning on the shower, Frank steps into the warm water letting it wash over him and down his body. He can't stop thinking about how lucky this turned out for him. Why the Entity would bless him by bringing him closer to you was beyond him, but he wasn't about to question this punishment.

Using some of your soap to wash his body, Frank gently hums to himself. One of his favorite pastimes was singing and humming to himself. He feels on cloud nine right now. You've taken the opportunity to change into your own pajamas, some black pajama pants and a tank top, hearing Frank humming from the other side of the door. He seems oddly happy considering everything, and most times during trials with him he would let you go at the end. The humming turns to singing, Frank has a lovely voice you had to admit. A moment later the water shuts off but the singing continues.

Frank exits the bathroom, running the towel over his hair to dry some of the water out. He keeps singing to himself, wearing the clothes you gave him. He seems so relaxed and happy being here.

"You seem happy," you remark. Frank gives you a wolfish grin.

"It's just been a really great day,"

"I figured you would be upset with all this,"

"Well I'm upset I never got to tell the other Legion members what was going on but I know they're safe and the Entity won't touch them,"

"So you're very close with them?"

"We are like a family," Frank smiles. "It's weird no longer having the intense urge to kill from the Entity's power, physically I don't feel as strong as before," he stares at his hands. You sort of feel bad, he's been separated from his family and dumped here full of people who have already judged him.

"I'm sorry you risked everything to help me," you murmur. Frank's head snaps to look at you.

"Hey don't be sorry, I did it on my own. I wouldn't let that fucker hurt you or have his way with you," he says sternly.

"But why? Weren't you also a killer?" Frank fidgets.

"Yeah but…I'm not like him," You cross your arms across your chest and give him a look.

"I've seen you mori my friends and wipe their blood on your mask while laughing. What makes you different? Why save me?" Frank bounces his knee in agitation.

"I just am ok? Trust me,"

"You can't blame me for being skeptical dude, you would chase me all over the map for kicks. You loved doing the frenzy thing so why-"

"Because I fucking like you ok?! I care about you! I've been obsessed with you since our first trial together! Now I have this chance to…to be here!" You put a hand over your mouth and look at him in shock. Frank's face turns the brightest red.

"I'm sorry for yelling," he says.

"No it's ok, t-thank you for telling me," you look down at the floor. There's an awkward pause.

"Maybe we should go to sleep," Frank suggests. You agree and go to get him some pillows and blankets to sleep on the couch from your bedroom. Frank runs a hand through his hair. He feels like a huge jerk.

"If you need more stuff let me know," you say.

"You've already done a lot, (Y/N). Thank you," you give a small nod before disappearing behind your bedroom door. Frank sighs, leaning back on the couch and groaning into his hands.

You have the worst nightmares of your life, vivid and horrifying as you relive the trauma from the previous trial. It goes further, the Clown keeps you awake but you cannot move and feel everything he's doing. You scream and thrash until you wake up gripping your chest, panicking. Your bedroom door flies open and you see Frank in the doorway. He rushes to your side, you feel tears threatening to drop down.

"Are you ok?! I heard screaming so I ran in here,"

"Y-yeah…just a bad dream," you say. Frank turns on the lamp beside your bed, you can see his face is coated in concern.

"What was it about?" He asks.

"Just the Clown and what happened,"

"It sounded worse than just that,"

"I'll be ok Frank I just need to calm down,"

"Push over," he instructs.

"Wh-"

"Just do it," you push over, making space in the bed. Frank gets in beside you and pulls you into his body. You feel his warmth, a welcoming sensation, wash over you as his strong arms wrap around you. You're pressing into his chest, his hand rubbing the small of your back as he murmurs softly in your ear.

"You're safe, you're ok. I'm here now, I won't let him touch you," and the overwhelming feeling of tears you've been trying to hold back overcomes you and you begin to sob uncontrollably into Frank. You bury your face in the crook of his neck, he continues to rub your back and repeat those words like a mantra. You've never been treated like this before, most of your exs made emotions seem like a huge issue. Eventually your manic sobs settle to small tears and your breathing slows down. Frank continues to hold you.

"That's my girl, let it alllll out. I'm here," you blush at him calling you his girl.

"I'm sorry I've drenched you," he gives a small laugh.

"It'll dry, do you feel better?"

"Yeah…I do. Thank you,"

"Do you want me to leave?" He asks. You grip his t-shirt tightly.

"Please stay, I don't…I don't want to be alone," you can almost see his smile in your mind.

"OK baby, I'll stay as long as you want,"

He sings softly to you, a song you don't quite recognize, eventually you fall back asleep in his arms. Once he feels you safely asleep he rolls to the side to turn off the light beside the bed. Back to holding you close Frank tries to push down the fury he has for the Clown and the fear you have inside you from his disgusting actions. He would make him pay all over again, a thousand times, just to make you feel safe.

Morning arrives and you slowly awaken, laying on your side with your back to Frank and his arm draping around your waist. You slept much better having him beside you, snuggling under the comforter. You give a small stretch, feeling the need to pee. You try to wiggle free but Frank tightens his grip and pulls you back into his sleeping form. You giggle, trying to escape his grasp but he doesn't let go.

"Frank pleaaaase let me go? I need to pee so bad!" You beg. He lets go and you escape, running out of the room. Frank groans and buries himself under the covers once again. He's content with just staying in your bed all day, it was nice to not wake up freezing his ass off like in Ormond. He temporarily falls back asleep when he hears a knock on your cabin door and you run to answer it. Peeking out from under the blankets he can hear murmurs from outside. Two other voices, female from the cadence. Frank drags himself out of bed to investigate.

"You doin' ok hon?" Kate asks.

"Yeah I'm better than yesterday, that's for sure,"

"We were worried about you and Frank staying together, he didn't hurt you did he?"

"No, he actually helped me out of a panic attack last night. It was really sweet!"

"He hasn't tried anything funny has he?" Jill asks. Frank clicks his tongue.

"No! He's been nothing but respectful and kind, honestly you guys are worried over nothing,"

"Don't you think it's weird the Entity dumped him here after all this?" Frank opens the bedroom door and practically runs up behind you. He wraps his arms around your waist and rests his head on top of yours.

"Morning ladies, thanks for coming to check in," Frank says. Jill gives him a dirty look.

"Y'all look awfully cozy for just one night together," Kate remarks.

"What can I say? I'm just that damn charming," Frank smirks. You blush feeling his warmth contrast the cool air outside.

"I'm OK guys, seriously thank you for worrying," you say in earnest. Jill relaxes a little hearing you sound so content, pulling the sleeve of Kate's jacket as a sign to back down.

"We'll see you later then," she says with a smile. You nod, closing the door as the two girls turn to walk away. Frank lets go of your waist but in a swift motion sweeps you up bridal style to take you back to the bedroom. You let out a little squeak when he does, he's still so strong for not having his Entity powers. He puts you back into the bed and hops in beside you, pulling you into his chest.

"Now where were we?"

[iliveiloveiwrite]

Hey Millie, how are you? 😊

Uhm, could I request a blurb from the sacred romantic moments pompt list? with george weasley where he comforts the reader because, the reader felt insecure and sad with the prompts “ come cuddle with me. “ and “ don't speak, just... kiss me. “, please? Thank you 😊

Just if you want to write it 😌

To Comfort and Heal || G.W.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting, you truly are a love. I hope you like <3

warnings: low mood, sadness for no reason, comfort, fluff. 

harry potter masterlist | send some blurb requests?

The day had been long. A weight had settled onto your shoulders over breakfast, and despite how hard you tried, it wasn't going to budge. Instead, you had to make do with this added weight bringing down your mood as the day steadily progressed.

George had noticed the change. He had noticed the exact moment your mood shifted; the way your smile dimmed and your eyes lost a little bit of their joyous shine. He had seen the way your shoulders had slumped in defeat, accepting that your low mood was to be with you for the rest of the day. George wasn't aware of a trigger; hadn’t seen or noticed, but he knew he was going to try his hardest to get you through this rough spot.

He just had to get you through the day. 

The common room is quiet on an evening. As term progresses and students find their way, the excitement that usually burned every evening ebbed away as essays and revision began to make themselves known.

In the calm of the common room, George takes a seat on the familiar, comfortable red couch. Dropping your hand in favour for lounging across the expanse of worn, red leather. 

“Come cuddle with me,” George murmurs, his voice low in the quiet of the common room. 

It only takes those words for you to fall into his arms; the weight of the day resting heavy on your shoulders as you curl yourself to fit into the comforting cocoon of his arms. 

“What happened this morning?” He asks quietly.

“I don't know,” You answer honestly. “One moment I felt fine, and the next I just felt so sad. All day I’ve been battling against tears for no particular reason, and it’s dragging me down, George.”

George’s arms squeeze you tightly; keeping you held together as the familiar burn of tears begins to clog your throat and mist your eyes. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” He whispers, pressing a kiss to your temple, letting his lips rest there as he inhales the floral scent of your perfume. “What can I do to help?”

You shake your head. “Don't speak. Just... kiss me,” You almost plead, desperate to feel something other than the overwhelming sadness that has encroached on you all day.

George doesn't hesitate. He holds you in his arms as his lips seek out yours; kissing you gently at first before applying more pressure as if the sensation of his kiss was enough to heal all the parts of you that was suffering with sadness. His hand cradles your cheek, thumb rubbing across your cheekbone as the first of your tears begin to fall. He doesn't offer you words of comfort. Instead, he keeps kissing you, letting you feel how present he is, how in love he is with every part of you. 

He’ll take the sadness with the happiness. After all, it’s you.

[nerves-nebula]

hi your "hunter escapes and has a fun little camping moment" au is living rent free in my brain rn, please Please share some more thoughts and rambles about it!

ANON PLEASE- (affectionate)

you gotta understand I was not lying when I said I have 5 pages of a google doc worth of comic ideas. Unfortunately it's still kind of a mess and I'm still sorting out some of the basic dynamics of this AU. I also like the idea of keeping most of my notes and making them into their own comics/posts so idk how I feel about just saying stuff in a list AND YET.

So here's some stuff I think I can say outside of a comic?? I’ll still probably make some of these into comics/doodles, but anyway I hope this is what you were looking for.

Hunter:

Hunter gets very into studying wild magic up close, something he wasn't allowed to do much before. But now he lives in the forest surrounded by wild magic. Because of this I plan for him to discover a few glyphs on his own, like Luz does, mainly the plant one. But you’ll see how that goes later ;)

He's also still trying to cure his uncles curse. He insists he's not going to go back to Belos, but if pressed on why he's searching for a cure for a man he plans to never see again, he'll get very defensive and angry. Sometimes it's not as easy as "I'm leaving and never coming back." sometimes you still wanna help the people who hurt you :P and THAT one is from personal experience

Hunter takes a while to really get into the whole “I’m on my own and can do whatever I want” thing, but I plan for him to mess around with his presentation once he gets more comfortable.

Rascal helps him change his eye bandages! I haven’t decided if his eye is damaged yet or just the area around it tho so stay tuned.

Hunter will often assign himself “missions” to go on because he doesn’t know what else to do with his free time. He knows he doesn’t technically have any deadlines or stuff like that anymore but he gets stressed not having a goal to strive towards so to cope he just.. gives himself arbitrary goals !

Funfact! This is not the first time Hunters pissed Belos off so bad that he’s fled the castle for a moment. But it IS the first time he stays away for this long. 

Home Hunter AU subscribes to the “Hunter is the grimwalker/a clone of Belos’ brother” theory just for extra angst. I kind of like the idea that he wasn’t even a big part of Belos’ plans though, just that Belos saw a chance to “Bring back” his brother and went for it fsdfsfsdf.

Hunter is terrified of relying on someone too much because no matter how much he trusts them, they could always kick him out. And he’d rather kick himself out before they get the chance. Boys still got issues, is what I’m saying. 

Because Hunter lives in the woods he starts to get a bit... Feral. People will not see him for a week only to realize he’s been not showering or changing his clothes. He was never the most normally-socialized kid but now he’s in the habit of hissing at people the way he does at wild animals that encroach on his tent.

Hunter is very possessive of his belongings (he has so few) and will tackle you if you try to take something from him without asking. He also hoards food and has trouble sharing it, but he feels a bit more embarrassed about this habit than others so he tries to hide it.

Luz:

Luz is basically the first person Hunter reaches out to after living in the woods for a few weeks, and she’s the only one he trusts, at first. 

She offers to let Hunter stay at the owl house a LOT, and sometimes he does :D ! But usually only if it’s raining or he has an injury he can’t heal himself, or if they’re just hanging out. 

Luz’s Super Secret Sad Boy plan is to try to trick Hunter into staying at the owl house for extended periods of time, so that he eventually doesn’t want to go back to the forest. She brings it up A LOT. This has yet to work though, because Hunter feels very uncomfortable about not understanding their family dynamic. That and it makes him feel a bit worse about his own. (kind of like when you go to your friends house and their parents are nice, so you cry afterwards. But to the extreme that he has trouble relaxing cause he’s viscerally aware of how much he doesn’t feel like he fits in.)

Luz tried to teach Hunter glyphs but he brushed it off. 1. because he’s still nervous about wild magic lmao but 2. because he didn’t think he needed to learn them since he has Rascal. He only starts looking into them when he personally finds them in nature on his own. After that point he starts eavesdropping on Lillith and Eda’s glyph lessons and hijinks ensue.

Lillith:

I’m actually super down for the idea that Lillith would bond with goldie in some way. They both know what Belos is like so they can bitch about him together!

I’m also a fan of the “Lillith regrets calling Hunter a brat” idea. Idk if she’s canonically seen his face or anything but I like to think that, at least NOW, she sees him for what he really is. A poor little meow meow. 

That being said don’t think that Mom!Eda is out for the count. They’re  ✨ co-parents  ✨ and I like to think they bring different things to the table when it comes to caring about Hunter. Raine might show up eventaully too :D. They still can’t get him to move out of the woods tho.

Belos:

Not much to say about him and his plans yet, but what usually happens when Hunter runs off after upsetting Belos is that he comes back a few hour/days later with something to win back Belos’ favor. So the emperor isn’t concerned at first, but then a week passes, and then another. 

In this AU Belos is very protective of Hunter but in a weird, possessive, fucked up way. Basically, he’s convinced himself that nothing is really a threat to him or Hunter (since he trained Hunter personally and believes in his nephews abilities). He was never afraid of Hunter being killed or leaving him cause he never considered those things as possibilities. So when Hunter doesn’t come back and is seen actively avoiding him, he goes a little apeshit? But like in a subtle way? Like, he’s losing it but quietly lmao. BASICALLY I do have plan for Belos to attempt to do a lot of stuff to catch/coerce Hunter, and maybe he succeeds! We’ll see.

That should be enough for now!

important to note that a lot of this could change on a whim since I’m still thinking about all of it but y e ah these are some things I’ve mused about.

also I hope this makes sense, I’m not really a writer so I just kinda type it how I talk it I guess.

[gliphyartfan]

@stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @linked-heroes @ice-cream-writes-stuff

This...wrecked me.

BUT it was a long time coming! Had to cut half of it out cause it grew too long (nearly 6k is still long right?). But I did it! I honestly hope I did it justice!

If not for @yandere-linked-universe, I would have lost all motivation a week ago!

But I was successful!

Still though...heroes and their need to argue...

It wasn't something they've done in a long while.

Gathering around one another.

Not willingly at the least.

Eight of them sitting a fair distance away from the houses, the camp fire being the only source of light for them at this time of night.

Hyrule the last one to arrive, having checked up on (y/n) before arriving at the designated place, so the eight simply sat around the camp fire in silence, stewing in their own thoughts.

When he arrives, informing them of y/n's stable condition, it was then Legend claps his hands and brings their attention to him.

'I think I speak for all of us when I say we need to air out some things.' He would give them all a stern look. 'And let me be clear on the fact that we can't hide anything right now.'

None of them look at each other.

Hyrule nervously agrees but expresses concern over being heard by the nearby houses, more worried at disturbing (y/n) than he was about disturbing the neighbors.

Wind assures him that they wouldn't be heard.

'Mesa doesn't sleep at night cause of the monsters that used to pop up, plus he hates being alone nowadays so he stays with Miss Sue-Belle and her grandpa at night.' Wind explained with a shrug.

'Even if he was there, he's a really heavy sleeper, we could scream at the very top of our lungs all we want and no one would hear us from over here. I've tested it.'

'How convenient.' Wars remarked with a snort but wouldn't make a comment after getting a look from Time.

Before things could become awkward, Legend does not hesitate to be blunt about it.

'We need to stop.' He would say, resting his elbows on his knees.

'Stop what?' Wild mutters.

'All of 'this'.' He's wave his hand towards the group, a scowl on his face.

Wars rolls his eyes.

'Legend, my dear hoarder, you need to be more specif-'

' When was the last time we talked to one another without taking note of eachothers weaknesses?'

Warriors closed his mouth, the group looked at each other, none speaking up with an answer.

'When was the last time we actually shared a space without tension? Covered each other in battle because we were worried instead out of obligation, or just leaving each other to fend for themselves? Or shared our potions willingly?' A sharp smile on his face. 'Or better yet, when was the last time we trusted one another?'

...

No one had anything to say to that.

Legend shook his head, a scowl appearing. 'I'm not dumb, I can see what's in front of me. Whatever trust we forged during our journey is at risk of fading to almost nothing. It's a fucking miracle y/n hasn't noticed us going for each other's throat.

'Okay, that's a bit harsh.' Sky interjected nervously, 'I agree that it's possible things have been...rather tense lately, but I wouldn't say it's that bad.'

Legend leveled a look at him.

'Four, Wild, and Twilight have all scared off at least 12 different people for looking at her recently.'

'It was necessary!' Four exclaimed in defense, Twilight placing a hand on his shoulder keep him from jumping up from his seat, Wild staying in his seat, though his hands tightened into fists. ' We saw the intentions in their eyes! The way they stared at her! They were looking at her like she was food!'

Legend turned the leveled look at the blacksmith.

'All 12? All of them? In the same town? In the same day? He asked with a scoffed, 'Same hour? Half of them women? Oh yes, very dangerous. And it's rather convenient when the Cook joins in and helps you scare them away.'

Four had a sneer on his face but the silent rancher's hand on his shoulder kept him from doing anything else.

Legend watched them for another moment before turning back to Sky.

'Warriors and Hyrule have been awfully careful with keeping any of us from encroaching upon her personal space, either by being the ones to guard her while she's bathing or when she's hurt.'

'What, so that makes us suspicious?' The captain crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow at him, Hyrule nervously ducking his head. 'She deserves some space away from you clingy lot! We're just making sure she has it!'

'Funny how you say that when you've been taken advantage of your position to have some alone time with her.' Legend doesn't even look away from the skyloftian as he answers back. 'You know, you're quite charming when you think no one is paying attention. And don't think I haven't noticed how our resident healer has been hoarding potions for some time.'

Warriors and Hyrule tensed at being found out, keeping their eyes from settling on anyone else's as they were looked at.

'The old man has been very careful in sending one of us ahead when there's danger. That honestly took me a bit to figure out, since he rotates who goes. Yet he never seems to volunteer himself.' The vet looked over at Time, who's featured remained impassive.

'Wild has been more aggressive with strangers than Four, which is saying something considering how violent the blacksmith has been. The sailor has been growling at every kid that's been as close as 5 feet of her and clings to her when he thinks we're too busy, and don't think I haven't noticed the way you've been nudging the tension between everyone while going through her things Sky.'

He raised an eyebrow as he looked back at the pale faced skyloftian.

'And you're telling me it's not that bad?'

There wasn't anything the group could say to those (accurate) accusations, Four looked to be visibly restraining himself from hitting him.

...

'...Maybe it's because you all force your presence on her...'

'...What was that?' Four growled out, solid blue eyes snapping up to glare at the speaker.

Wind lifted his head, glaring back at the blacksmith.

'You heard me Blacksmith, or is your attention span as short as your height?' He sneered. 'You all force your presence on her when she wants to be left alone! At least she feels comfortable with me!'

Four sneered back at Wind. 'The way you hog her attention is the very comforting.'

'Hey, I at least GIVE her space! I saw how you yelled at that shopkeeper when he asked if she needed anything-'

'I had to! Didn't you see the way that disgusting bastard-'

...

Legend watched as the group slowly dissolved into chaos. Each hero soon shouting at one another.

This is what he had been worried about for so long, and here was proof that the trust they had between one another is dangerously close to collapsing.

He watched as Twilight was talking coldly to Time, who didn't even have the decency to look ashamed of his choices.

Four and Wind were at each other's throats and Warriors was basically growling at Wild, who was screaming about how he always knew Warriors was keeping y/n away from everyone else.

Sky and Hyrule, who were shouting at each other over what they've been doing.

He needed to get them back on track, so with a deep breath, he whistled as loudly as he could.

He began speaking the moment they all looked at him.

'Well ain't this a beautiful example of shit I've ever seen!'

'Enough Veteran!' Time ordered, speaking up for what seemed the first time since this conversation began.

'You've been doing a good job keeping quiet old man, better get back to being a good boy and let the big people talk.' Legend didn't need to look at Time to know his expression was thunderous.

'All of you acting like little BRATS, ready to play 'it's not my fault, it's YOURS.' A humorless laugh escaping him.

'News flash bastards, IT'S ALL YOUR FAULTS.' His grin was more bearing teeth than a grin.

'None of you are innocent.'

He expected Wild to shout at him, maybe Wind or Sky. Hell, the good captain looked ready to tackle him.

Yet it was Four who jumped to his feet, growling at the Veteran.

The smaller boy slipped away from the hands restraining him, rushing forward and grabbed the taller boy's collar, slamming their foreheads together and hissing, 'Just who the hell do you think you are?!?'

'That's a funny question.' He remarked mockingly, making sure not to show that the head bashing hurt. 'Considering how you seem to think you're in the right.'

Four wasn't pleased by his comment. 'I'll take out anyone that lays a malicious hand on her. How dare you even insinuate that I would let such a thing happen!'

'For someone who sounds so sincere, you have a funny way of showing it.' Legend retorted with gritted teeth, never taking his eyes off the shorter man's.

'Acting like you care but when it matters, you're as blind as the rest of us. That's why she got hurt.'

The others surged forward,

'How dare you-"

'That's not true-'

'Damnit Vet, you can't just-'

'SHE NEARLY DIED DAMNIT!!' He shoved Four back, basically throwing him to the floor, having enough of everyone's nonsense.

Everyone stills at his words.

'SHE'S STILL UNRESPONSIVE!! SHE'S ALMOST DIED BECAUSE OF OUR FUCKING RIVALRY!!!' He blazed with impotent rage.

'She's laying in that house, because she got LUCKY. Do you hear me?' He emphasized his point by gesturing in the direction of Wind's house.

'Because had we not gotten our shit together? Had we argued just a moment more? We would have been standing before her GRAVE.'

His face was dark with fury.

'And you have the fucking nerve to tell me I'm in the wrong?' He hissed through clenched teeth.

...

...It is quiet.

The veteran stared right into the blacksmith's eyes, vaguely noticing how it shifted colors rapidly. The way his face twitched, as if physically restraining himself from saying something he would regret.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the others frozen in different positions of action.

Some halfway out of their seats, others reaching for the two of them as if to pull them away from each other.

He focused back on Four, noticing his jaw was tightly clenched.

'WE. NEED. HER. ' he said in a firm voice.

This seemed to make him flinch, but Legend wasn't finished. He took a deep breath and lowered his voice a few notches though he was still partly yelling.

'Not the other way around. SHE doesn't need us.' he slowly shook his head as he looked at every one of them.

'She NEVER needed us.'

Four looked away at that.

'We need her more than we need air in our lungs. Need her more strongly than water or food. ' He focused back on Four and pointed at him.

'And you...you think I'm going to let you, let any of you, let MYSELF, lose her because we couldn't control ourselves?' His chuckle was icy, his smile was unpleasant and full of teeth.

'Oh you don't know me as well as I thought. '

'Because allow me to be as clear as possible when I say, I would slaughter anyone that laid a filthy hand on her' Legend leaned forward, smiling coldly. 'Push me enough, and you'll be on the list.'

'Isn't that extreme..?!' Hyrule exclaimed worriedly, looking at Legend with an uncertain expression.

'Oh...so you wouldn't hurt them if they laid a hand on her? You would actually hesitate to tear off limbs if they forced her to go with them. If they dared to speak her like some cheap whore-'

'How could you even say that-!!!'

'That is uncalled for!'

Legend spread his arms out. 'Well you all might as well be saying you would!!'

'Hold your tongue or I'll cut it!' Wild suddenly snarled, Twilight, visibly tense from Legend' words, was forced to put both hands on Wild.

'I bet you would just stand there while they tried, hm? Stand there while she cries for your help?' He kept pushing, because he needed to. 'Just stand there, watching her shed her tears? Stand there and let. them. touch her? Is that what you would do? Answer me.'

'Don't you DARE say such a thing.' Wild growled, his lips drew back in a snarl.

'You all seem so eager in proving me right, I see nothing wrong with saying this if this is how you really feel.' He masked a scowl with a smirk even as the others began to raise their voices again.

'WHAT THE HELL!'

'You miserable pile of-!!'

'JUST TELL ME YOU'RE READY TO ABANDON HER SO I CAN KEEP HER AWAY FROM YOU ALL!!'

'HOW DARE YOU!!' Warriors roared, suddenly on his feet and in Legend's face.

'You think you can accuse us like this, act like you have the high ground, and expect us to sit here and take it?!' Legend didn't even hesitate shoving him away.

'I can accuse you all I want! Whatever friendship we may still have be damned, BECAUSE YOU'RE AS GUILTY AS I AM!!!' Legend shouted, even as the captain grabbed the front of his tunic and pulled him up to his face again.

'WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE.'

'I'M ONE WHO'S ACTUALLY TRYING TO FIX THIS MESS!! UNLIKE YOU WHO'S READY TO LET HER END UP AS A CORPSE BECAUSE SHE DOESN'T NOTICE YOU THE WAY YOU WANT HER TO!!'

'You miserable, disrespectful, arrogant-

'STOP ACTING LIKE YOU'RE NOT PART OF THE FUCKING PROBLEM YOU STUPID SOLDIER!!'

'SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!'

'NO! WAKE UP FROM YOUR FUCKING FANTASIES!'

'What gives you the FUCKING RIGHT-'

'BECAUSE I LOVE HER YOU BASTARD!!'

The admittance silenced them swiftly.

But he didn't care at the moment.

He was breathing deeply after saying those words. Face flushed with anger. Fists clenched so tightly, they were bone white.

'I. Love. her.' He hissed to a frozen Warriors.

'I. Need. her.' He grabbed the wrist attached to the had gripping his tunic.

'I. Can't. Lose. Her.' He bared his teeth, slowly shaking his head.

'I won't hesitate.' He voice was a whisper at this point. But it didn't matter. The crackling fire was the only other sound at moment.

'I won't hesitate to kill anyone that takes her away from me.'

...

And that's what he needed them to understand. Needed them to understand that as much as he cared for this group, as much as he's willing to put the effort to fix things...

If they didn't work together?

There would be corpses.

And he wouldn't be one of them.

He wanted to keep screaming at them. Wanted they to hang their heads in shame as he pointed out every flawed thing they've done as of late.

But he..sighed.

'I want..so much.. ' He began, looking straight into Warriors' eyes, a numb sense of calm filling him. 'I want so many impossible things.'

'I want to fall asleep to her peaceful face, and wake up to the sight of her kind smile. I want her to lean against me as she draws, to watch her eyes light up when I show her something new. To see her laugh, hear her hum a tune, to know I'm the reason she glows with happiness.'

He could feel the pale faced captain tremble beneath his grip.

'I want the exact same thing you bastards want...' he took a deep breath, to settle his heart.

'I just want her by my side every single day.'

His voice almost quiet.

'I don't want to lose her.'

Silent stillness enveloped them after Legend had finished speaking, only the sound of the crinkling fire all that was audible at the moment.

Warriors stared at him, swallowing. visibly shaken by the veteran's honesty.

After a beat, Legend slowly pulls the captain's hand off of him.

He was met with no resistance.

He looks at them all. Tired, drained, a headache slowly making itself known.

'So...' he raised an eyebrow, tone dull, 'How about the cook whip us up something.'

Wild blinked, startled by being acknowledged.

'Wha-'

'And while he's at it, our resident healer can check up on our mutual darling.'

Hyrule jolted at the sudden acknowledgment.

'We have a lot to talk about and we can't do it on empty stomachs and worry in our minds.' He grinned sardonically, slowly clapping his hands twice.

'Chop chop people. The night is still young.'

--

--

It took a while for them to speak up after that, because what could one say after such an outburst?

It soothed their hearts when Hyrule returned, saying she was healing nicely. That information helped them calm down while using the time Wild spent cooking to gather their thoughts.

It was difficult to come up with something after the explosive event of earlier.

They were silent when their food was served.

Silent as they ate.

But slowly, very slowly, they did.

Legend pulling the words out of them.

Each grievance, thought and feeling.

It was a snail's pace, but as the Veteran calmly pushed them into speaking, the atmosphere surround the group slowly calmed, the words flowing just a bit easier than before.

'I just don't want her to leave.' Hyrule admitted quietly, looking down at his hands, almost ashamed to admit such a thing.

Warriors sighed. 'I think I speak for all of us when I say the feeling is mutual.'

Murmurs of agreement met his words.

' I don't disagree. It's obvious why, she's...just so kind.' Sky shyly put out, a small blush on his face.

'I mean, when was the last time she even demanded something from any of us?'

Warriors couldn't help but snort. 'I think you mean to say 'when has she ever demanded anything from us?'

'I believe I can answer that.' Time said, speaking up after staying silent for most of the evening.

Four raised an eyebrow. 'Oh, and when was this?'

'When she and I got separated, I injured my leg fighting the Lynel? Back in Legend's era I believe it was.'

'I remember that!' Wind piped in, snapping his fingers and pointing at Time. 'In the lost woods! She was tugging your ear when I reached you guys!'

Time nodded with a chuckle, resting his chin on his hand.

'Got quite the lecture too. She can be...quite stern when pushed enough.'

' That was the first time she saw one of us fight a Lynel wasn't it...' Twilight realized, blinking in comprehension. 'I can't believe I forgot that. She must have been terrified witnessing such a thing.

'Ah, but that was the thing. She was calm when she saw me kill it.'

'So she has thicker skin than an average civilian.' Legend sighed. 'Impressive but not that surprising.'

'Don't get me wrong Vet, she was quite unnerved when she saw the battle but once it was over and she saw my injury, I was the main focus.' He looked down, almost unaware that he was touching the place where the injury once was.

'She could have gone to get one of you guys, I knew she heard you calling out to us, we both did, but she stayed.' He smirked then, 'Pulled out a couple of red potions from her bag too.'

He had the group looking at him in surprise.

'Wait, potions?'

'Who gave her a potion?'

'Wars, was it you?'

'I would remember that!'

'Well well, isn't she well prepared.'

'Looks like she's paying attention to the Vet's paranoia!'

'Ha ha, such flattery.'

'Did she buy a few in town before we swapped eras?'

'Actually she has a stash of them in the event of one of us becoming injured and she's the only one around.' Time interjected, one of his amused grins on his face.

That brought another round of questions.

'She knows how to make potions?!'

'No Wind, we would have seen her.'

'It's not something that could be hidden either.'

'And where did she get the money to buy enough potions?'

'When'd she have the time to even get potions??'

'My question is, how did we not see her get the potions?'

' Did she tell you?' Time snorted softly as the last question was directed at him.

'Matter of fact, yes. Clever answer too, know all those 'silly bets' she got us to agree to?'

He waited for them to nod. ' Well, she's been stashing every rupee she's won from us specifically to buy 'emergency potions'. He answered with a breathy chuckle. 'As for when? She's been buying them from Beedle when we were at stables. And since we also give her money to buy herself stuff...'

'None of us would be the wiser.' Legend finished for him.

'You're serious aren't you...' Warriors couldn't help but say.

'Absolutely.' Time nodded, not able to suppress a grin when he realised the captain's tone was admiring.

'She looked so embarrassed, thought I would be upset with her for ' sneaking behind our backs'. Tried to justify it by saying it 'felt stupid to be the only one in the group who wasn't prepared for some type of emergency.'' A round of chuckles emerged from the group as they all imagined the expression on her face.

'When she saw my injury, she immediately pulled out the potions from her pouch, didn't even pause in shoving a few into my hands and asking me how much pain I was in.' He smiled at the memory. 'That's when I made the foolish mistake of telling her to leave me there and go find one of you.'

' And you lived to tell the tale?' Warriors asked, smirking widely.

'Barely, the glare I receive was quite fierce.' Time didn't even bother to hold the laughter down, still remembering how startled he had been, having such a glare directed at him.

'Like a raging Goddess, she demanded I take better care of myself, or face mothering the likes of which I never saw before.' He looked exasperated, yet his voice was the definition of amused.

' She then proceeded to baby talk me until I agreed.'

Time was not ashamed as the group roared with laughter.

'Are you serious?'

'Poor man!' Warriors reached over and clapped a hand on the older man's shoulder.

'Oh, THAT must have been uncomfortable!' Sky commented between breaths.

' I barely lasted a few sentences before I was pleading for mercy.' He rolled his eyes and huffed through his nose.

'So THAT'S why you were so careful in battle the weeks after.' Hyrule realized, grinning as Time shrugged.

'When I'm threatened with something like THAT? How can I do anything else but obey?'

Wars held his hands up in a shrug, smirk on his face. 'Ah but who are we to question Her divine command?'

'Who are we indeed..' Time murmured with a breathy laugh.

Wild smirked, eyes glinting with glee. 'Speaking of her doing things we don't expect, Vet! Remember when she met Wolfie?'

Legend smirked, even as Twilight send a glare at the cook. 'Rather brave of her, despite never being near an actual wolf before. '

Sky frowned. 'But didn't she look nervous?' Twilight sighed as Legend and Wild let out a laugh.

' You would think! But she apparently didn't want to break any unspoken rules about touching him.' Wild couldn't resist the sharp grin as he eyed the embarrassed rancher. 'You should have seen her when she was given the okay. I'm surprised the mutt was able to escape her constant pets and kisses.'

Twilight wasn't able to keep the blush down when Wind grumbled a very clear 'Lucky bastard.' To the amusement of everyone else, especially those who knew his secret.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the sound of the waves a song that filled their ears, the wind playing with their hair as they got lost in thought.

'...Go and bring peace to Hyrule.'

They looked at Wild, he was looking at the sea. 'Every time I went to one of those statues, that's what Hylia would tell me.'

He dug his boot into the sand. 'She would heal me up when I had enough spirit orbs, fill me with vitality, but every time she finished, she would always say those same words.' He grimaced

'And every time, I would think, 'is she healing me because cares, or because I'm just a means to an end?''

Wild shooked his head, never taking his eyes off the sea.

'Even though I've fought evil for her sake. For Zelda's sake. I always felt like she wanted more.' He grimaced.

“I don’t even know what more I could have given…” He admitted, “Always thinking that I’ll one day wake up and realize that I was fated to sacrifice more.'

Then a small smile pulled at his lips, 'But when I'm with (y/n)...I don't feel that weight of responsibility...the weight of those thoughts.' His words were barely above a whisper by the end.

'With her...I feel free.'

For several moments, there was stillness. Watch of them could feel the bite of the ocean breeze on their skin, the heat of the campfire barely able to hold off the chill and darkness surrounding them.

"She said she was proud of me..' Wild whispered, "Said that every breath I took, every moment I opened my eyes to greet the day, was rebellion against what destiny, what Ganon, had wanted.'

'She saw me, a failure of a hero, and said she was proud of me,' He whispered, unable to trust himself with anything louder. 'How could I possibly love another when she says such things with so much honesty?'

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

'How could I go on, following Hylia's command blindly, when (y/n) comes to me with those kind eyes and says She just wants me to be happy?'

'Hylia does not want champions.' Time shook his head, smirking bitterly. 'She merely wants toy soldiers.'

Sky's eyes flew up to the look at eldest of the group.

'Surely that's a bit much, Hylia..has done what she could for us.'

'Who is Hylia? A being who seeks soldiers to clean up her mess? A being who only expects us to obey?' Time interjected.

Sky swallowed. 'But..she's assisted us-'

Time shook his head. 'No, she simply made sure we survived long enough to eliminate her enemies.'

Wild frowned, rubbing the back of his neck. 'When you think about it, he's right. We have never worshiped Hylia because we wanted to. But because we were obligated to. Because most of us were raised to believe it was an honor.'

He looked at Sky. 'But...isn't a goddess of benevolence supposed to be someone who is kinder than a mortal could comprehend? Someone who cares for her servants for no other reason than because we love her as much as she loved us?'

Twilight smiled bitterly. 'A goddess like that is someone I wouldn't mind serving. '

'Isn't that why we love Her so?' Legend said softly.

Warriors looked at him oddly. '(y/n) isn't a goddess Legend.'

Legend looked at him with carefully impassive expression. 'But we want her to be.'

They all looked anywhere but at him.

'You've all already admitted it. Even if you don't want to say it.' Legend smirked.

'Vet-'

''Who are we to question Her divine command?'' He repeated, smirking when the captain's mouth snapped shut.

'We all want her to be.' Legend repeated, catching Hyrule's eye and staring him down.

-Admit it.- His eyes said. Hyrule flinching at being seen through. Wanting to deny the silent accusation.

...But his heart wouldn't let him deny such a thing either.

'...(y/n) would make a better goddess than hylia.' He admitted, looking down.

Sky snap his attention to the traveler, his eyes slightly wide.

'Hyrule-' Legend cut Sky off, looking right at the skyloftian.

'Can you deny that she's already better than hylia?' Sky seemed to struggle with an answer, but Legend didn't wait for an answer.

'Is She not kinder, sweeter, more beautiful than anyone else? She never asks for anything other than our safety and happiness. Becomes upset when we try to do more than we can handle and tries to actually help us whenever she can. '

Twilight sighed, but nodded in agreement. 'Her presence is like a soothing warmth that never falters. I don't think I've ever had someone who's presence relieved me the way Hers does.'

He grimaced. 'Not even Hylia herself can claim such a thing.'

A glance at Sky, causing him to grimace and look away.

'Someone with a beautiful soul like Hers...' Hyrule whispered, folding his hands in front of his chest, almost like he was praying.

'I..I could worship someone like Her everyday without regret.' He looked away, as if shameful of his admittance.

'..What's wrong with that?' Hyrule looked at who spoke.

'Wars?'

Warriors did not look at him, staring at the ground. But his face had shifted into an expression of thoughtfulness. 'What's wrong with wanting to worship her? '

Hyrule's face flushed red. '..it...it seems a bit inappropriate to-'

'Because we're supposed to worship Hylia?' He looked up at him. 'Farore? Nayru? Din?'

'...I-'

Wind frowned, looking around. ' Why can't we worship who we desire? Worship someone we CAN trust?'

Twilight bit his lip, shaking his head. 'That's too much of a dream to even CONSIDER-'

Legend barked a laugh.

'Dreams are only dreams until we make them a reality.'

'...!' He chuckled at the shocked looks he received from most of them.

'You said it better than I ever could Hyrule. Someone with as beautiful of a soul as Her's is someone we could worship everyday of our lives without regret.'

'But we can't-'

'Why? Because we're Hylia's 'Champions'? I don't know if you remember this, but we've done our duties, defeated Ganon and the only reason I'll not complaining about THIS journey anymore is because it brought us Her.'

'Legend-'

'And don't we in a way worship her already?'

Wild tilted his head. 'What do you mean?'

He raised a finger, 'Don't we find joy in caring for her? Providing for her? Is that not paying tribute?' A second finger, 'Don't we defend her when danger is near? Cutting down every enemy that come near her? Is that not raising our swords in her name?'

He leaned forward, A manic glint flashing in his eyes. A third finger was raised. 'Do we not find joy when she whispers our name, do we not find peace when we whisper Hers? Is that not devotion? Tell me otherwise and I'll concede.'

But no one said anything.

No one wanted to.

Because they agreed with his words so much.

'She deserves someone to protect her...' Hyrule whispered, as if to himself, as if to convince himself to listen to the words being spoken to him.

'She deserves US to protect Her.' Legend corrected, his smile was all teeth, but it wasn't malicious.

'We've defeated literal evil. We're the best people to protect Her.' Wind added, his eyes matching the Veteran's. Soon matching the eyes of all of them.

'And doesn't She deserve the very best, after everything She's done for us?' Legend spread his arms out, smirk on his face. Sky smiled, looking at his hands, laughing softly, shaking his head.

'I...suppose you're right...' he slowly admitted, his shoulder releasing tension, almost relieved.

'I..can't see anyone else providing for her the way we can.'

'We have the resources...' Four slowly added, a note of mania woven through the blacksmith's words, 'We have much sway in our eras and what we don't have, I'm reasonably sure we know someone who can provide it for us.'

'We've faced more than enough adversaries to be able to counter any situation.' Warriors smirked, sitting back, arms crossed.

'The safest place is with us.' Time said, a sense of finality in his words.

And for the first time in so long, they all were united with such a decision.

It didn't matter if there wasn't a drop of divinity in her.

It didn't matter if she wasn't able to use magic or blessed by any spirit.

She was not a goddess in the way they knew. But only a fool would deny the beautiful divinity that radiated from Her heart.

She was Divine to them.

A presence that was not unlike an ocean of warmth that wanted to drown them in love and safety.  Eager to drive them mad, to drive them to protect Her happiness.

And they would drown in that ocean willingly.

She didn't even realize what she was doing to them.

She didn't realize that the very person She was was causing them to crave Her gentle touch, Her beautiful smiles, Her arms wrapped around them.

She didn't realize any of this.

Because it was as natural as breathing to Her.

How many times was Her kindness going to steal the breath from their lungs?

How many times was Her gentle voice going to soothe them when they wake from their nightmares, Her hands wiping the tears from their face?

How many times will they crave the chance to kiss away Her tears but only be able to brush them aside.

But it was alright.

They loved Her so much.

A Goddess of their own making.

One that they would worship freely, not like how obligation and duty forced their hand with Hylia.

Hylia demanded their loyalty.

(y/n) merely asked for their continued happiness.

Hylia commanded they fight in her name.

(y/n) requested they remained safe and healthy.

Hylia wanted heroes.

(y/n) wanted only them.

She wanted them.

She trusted them.

She cared for them.

She was the one they wanted to serve.

They fulfilled their duties to Hylia.

They no longer were obligated to serve her.

But (y/n)...She was so fragile compared to the rest of them. Having lived in a world with no monsters, no calamities or destiny.

She needed to be protected.

She needed them to protect Her.

They were the only ones who could protect Her.

They needed to unite. To stand side by side, as a shield against the monsters, against anyone that would dare take Her from them.

They couldn't fight amongst themselves anymore.

They couldn't allow Her to come to harm ever again.

All this time wasted fighting when they could have been protecting Her. Making her happy. Keeping her safe. How foolish of them.

But no longer.

To protect their Reason for breathing, there could be no room for trickery or lies between each other. Only for those that stood between them and Her.

The sun was rising, washing away the rivalries and dissonance of the past night, and the rays of dawn shining upon renewed unity and brotherhood.

She is their's; a Gift that pure chance had bestowed upon them.'

They would protect Her. Together.

They would protect their Goddess.

No one will ever take Her away from them.

No One.

[luckyshotwrites]

A place to stay (Snippet)

Warning! - While Vore is not sexualized in this short snip it is considered a kink. Thus, if you find Vore disturbing or unsightly please advert your eyes. And if you don't, enjoy!

Contexts: After finding herself in an unknown world where most beings look human mixed with some type of animal or mostly humanoid, Zaia tries to find a way back home. Coming across a werecat, named Rin, whom she strikes a deal with for protection. Though, he swears he'll do what he can to help her in the city and has done so, thus far. She still doesn't know if he will ever turn on her. (A small snippet from a bigger story I wrote).

Story Contents: Unwilling Prey/Willing Pred, M/F, Size Difference, teasing/tasting, suggestive vore

Word Count: 509

Rin continued to stare at me as we were walking around the mall. It made an uneasiness crawl around inside me. I hoped he wouldn’t be thinking of betraying our deal, though I wasn’t sure if he could. There was so much I didn’t understand or know about him or the world I was in, so everything was terrifying.

We finally made it into one of the clothing shops, they were very similar to the ones we had on Earth except the price tags didn’t break the bank and they weren’t mass produced. Though, I hated that I had to come shopping so often as my clothes constantly got torn in struggles from other predators when Rin wasn’t around, or gooed up so bad that I couldn’t wash it out.

Rin helped me pick out a new dress, surprisingly pretty helpful of him as he’d just wait around for me most of the time. He’d wait a while too as finding clothes my size was hard in a predator based city. I went into the changing room and tried everything on. However when I got to his dress, I didn’t think to look it over and then squeaked out once I saw it.

He immediately barged in, scanned over the area, and then his eyes fell to me. His brown werecat ears perked up and he wore a big grin. They always threw me off, because besides the tuft at his neck, wild hair, werecat ears, puffy tail tail, sharp teeth, and claws, he looked like a normal human.

“What’s the matter?~” He got fairly close, leaning toward me. I stumbled back out of the sudden closeness. Not that he was shy about it. It always spooked me as he was almost three times my height. A “giant”, approximately fifteen feet tall.

I whimpered, “just the dress…I shouldn’t be wearing something so revealing.”

I didn’t feel comfortable moving my arms showing more of the front of my body, or turning around to show the exposed back.

He put his hand to his mouth and snickered, “I gave it to you as a joke.” He pulled back, “I didn’t think you’d actually put it on.”

I stammered with a huff, “I was trusting your judgment!” Then I crossed my arms over my chest. “You’re a punk…but I guess it doesn’t really matter what I wear, right? You’ll protect me anyway.” I lowered my head with a sigh.

He scoffed as his tail swayed, “and what if I’m not around, you think you can protect yourself from a predator?”

“I can probably get away, or avoid them. I don’t try to put myself in those situations. I’m almost never alone with one, besides that one time.” I said, turning my head away. “You know I survived this city on my own before I met you.”

Rin raised a brow, then narrowed his gaze and his grin turned sinister. “You said you wanted my judgment about your outfit earlier, yeah?”

“Of course…” I said, glancing near the mirror not far from us, curiously. I didn’t think I looked cute in it.

“I’d say it definitely makes me want to eat you up, let’s get it. So, you can flaunt around and offer yourself to a predator…or specifically me …” he started to walk a bit closer and I pressed further back. The changing room was a big box, but I had backed myself into the far corner and with him approaching there was nowhere to run.

“I-I”

He licked his lips. “Preferably, right now.~”

I jumped and pushed at his encroaching torso, “I’m not gonna offer myself to you!” He grabbed at my arms, keeping me from yanking them back. And for the first time ever, he pulled them to his mouth and licked them up. He gasped out. I closed my fists, and they squished some of the saliva out of them. I tried to tug my arms back out of fear.

“Rin, please, this isn’t funny, let go!”

Rin had never been so straightforward with me, nor had he done anything like this. It was an innate fear of mine. I thought one day he’d snap or attack me given how he talked sometimes.

He pulled my arms apart and to his side, slightly lifting me so my face was brought up to his face, specifically his mouth. He opened it, letting his tongue coat up my face. I cried out, unable to break away from him. He was far too big and strong. I couldn’t even wipe it off and didn’t want to open my mouth and taste it. Not that I knew what to say anyway.

He pulled back and hummed, “mhm,” he stared down at me, “your struggling really only wets my appetite.~”

He hoisted me up by my arms into the air, let them go, then quickly caught me by my waist firmly. He opened his sharp toothed mouth again, much wider so my head could fit inside his jaw. Though, hesitated enough to give me a brief flash of the pink, pulsing tunnel awaiting me. And got my head inside the next second. I couldn’t even push under or at his jaw enough to open without fear he might try chewing me.

He did a mocking, glurk of his throat, so I could feel it trying to pull me in. I simply whined, still kicking at him.

He lurched forward and soon dropped me out. I fell back, sliding down the wall, trying to regain myself, my vision, and footing. But my hands and face were covered, and even though I was kicking about earlier, my legs were shaking too much to stand on my own.

I choked up after I wiped away enough clear, excessive, and slightly meat smelling saliva.

I saw him crouch down near me with a big smile. “I don’t think tasting good is a valid defense technique for a predator attack.”

I whimpered, “why-I thought you actually were gonna eat me…you acted so serious...”

Rin grinned, showing off his incisors. “OH, the joy of tasting you was real. Everything else…” he thought about it. “I don’t play with my prey all that much unless it’s during feeding season, or I really want to prolong tasting them.” I saw his hand slide to his abdomen, “bad idea on my part, I should not have teased you with the last bit, because now I’m super hungry.”

He eyed me with the dress again, and opened his mouth to talk.

“NO!!” I exclaimed. “I will never offer myself to you or any pred willingly.”

He smiled, “aww, but I’m your dear old werecat, you don’t want me to starve do you?”

I shook my head of any remaining saliva and got up. “You can starve at this point! I was terrified, punk.”

Rin patted my head, “aw, there-” he then got his hands a bit left and wiped it on one of the shirts. “You’re gonna need a shower.”

“I hadn't noticed.” I grumbled.