#cassandra making her father proud

[provecfy]

On Cass scaring the shit out of Kryptonians

(Because it's mad funny)

After careful observation of her family's relationships (Friendships? Romance? She wasn't sure, Steph told her to call it 'situationships'), she has noticed something:

The Kryptonians, with their super hearing, always get scared upon first meeting a bat because they aren't used to non-meta humans moving without a sound. This, however, is only temporary, as their superselves soon learn to keep track of the batfam's movements by listening to their heartbeats instead of their steps, and they consecuently become confident on their ability to notice any member of the wayne household even within crowds.

And then Cass remembers she can stop her own heartbeat on command (Batgirl v1 #59). Should she use this power for evil? What would Bruce say? She remembers the words of her father during a family meeting: "Never, and I mean NEVER, pass on the chance to keep a kryptonian on their toes. They become complacent otherwise."

So, she waits until Connor visits the mannor with Tim, walking around all sure and confident on his ability to hear even a bat coming, and she silently drops from the ceiling behind him and approaches his ear as much as she can before whispering "boo".

Connor startles and jumps so high he accidentally hits a lamp on the ceiling before falling again.

"Shit, I thought I was getting better, but you guys keep finding ways to catch me off guard." He huffs, slightly more calm, and offers his hand to Cass in greeting.

Cass instead remains still, staring at Superboy unblinkingly, holding her own heart and lungs in place for as long as she can, and watches with an increasingly maniacal smile the face of Connor transition into pure horror as he slowly realizes Cass doesn't have neither a heartbeat nor breath.

"Are you stopping your own heart on command again?" Tim interrupts, and Cass erupts into giggles as she drops her hold on her organs and finally returns Connor's handshake.

Connor sighs in relief before Cass utilizes his lowered guard to his advantage and drops her voice low while performing a perfect cowl-less batglare. "Don't tell anyone what you saw."

She then backs away slowly into a dim-lit corner of the room, and stops her pulse again in order to disappear despite Connor never ceasing to look directly at her.

Connor stays still and questions his choices in partner for a few seconds and continues following Tim around the mannor, all while Cass watches from the ceiling and reads in the Kryptonian's body language the fear that will prevent him from speaking of today to any member of his family, ensuring she will be able to scare the next Kent that comes to the mannor in much the same way.

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Marine!Reader x Yandere!BatFamily

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’ve been holding on to this one. Army Dreamer sent me an ask and this is what came out of it. I know you probably wanted Army, but I just thought Marine cause of an old COD OC I had and this fricken spiraled. I was gonna make it a three part series, but that would take too long and you deserve it now!

A/N: Frick forgot the warnings. My bad!

Warnings: GN!Reader, Yandere themes, bodily injury (to reader), mentions of death

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You've been living with the Wayne since our mother and step-father died. You've constantly been ignored and belittled by the family. The most common bully being Damian, your younger half-brother. After constant harassments and being called weak by pretty much everyone for years, you sign up for the Marines after a recruiter comes to your high school and gives you and your classmates the selling points.

But, fuck it, you don't care. Gets you away from everyone. And, it's one of the most difficult military branches so an even bigger fuck you to anyone who thinks your weak after this.

It takes two years for you to get somewhere comfortable. You're not flying up the military ladder, but you’re a damn good officer in the METOC moving to South Caroline. And, a 12 hour drive and 2 hour flight from Gotham. Neither which you have ever taken.

You don't bother contact home. You don't bother going home for holidays and Christmas. You send Alfred a card occasionally with some of your other single and lonely military friends in it. Y'all make them really funny too.

It's through these collected and hilarious cards that you get rediscovered. Not by the family, but by the media. Apparently, not only did your silly photos go viral, but your friends damn military tik tok did to.

("Why'd you join the marines?" "It was too dangerous to be a stripper in Gotham." "Why'd you join the marines?” “I have daddy issues and wanted to get yelled at by someone who cared.")

The family which had still been ignoring you or completely forgot you up to that point was absolutely fucking baffled.

Bruce was imediatly calling Kate.

(“Why didn’t you tell me they joined the military?” “I was Air Force. Not in the Marines. How would I have known?”)

Media is now constantly harassing the family because like, “Hey! Your kid disappeared and joined the military, and you said nothing and now they're roasting you online for the entire world to see.

Bruce is making calls. Tim and Barbara are now trying to hack military stuff. Only for your barracks friends to troll the absolute shit outta them and on government computers to boot.

Eventually Stephanie finds out you’ve been sending cards to Wayne manor of you having fun and doing stupid shit with friends. (Things that you should be doing with them, because holy fuck are you funny as shit.) All addressed to Alfred. Bruce asks if you ever sent anything to him, which was a flat no.

Jason is just baffled. This was nothing he expected. You used to be so soft and squishy, now there's videos of you lifting and doing fun shit with friends and you're shooting guns like a badass. So proud of you.

Cassandra is reading everyone's body language, but yours just looks carefree when she sees your videos and photos, she wants to feel like that. She wants you to help her feel like that.

Dick is distraught. You could have join the circus! But the military? Yes, you're a badass now, but still! He's delulu in thinking that you would have wanted to follow in his footsteps. Acting like he wasn't always busy or spending time with Damian.

Duke is just wowed. You joined the military. You DNGF. You are badass without having to wear any hero costume. Cool shit. Top tier.

Stephanie is just amazed. You had all this personality and she had no idea. You were just living your best life without the wight of the family or our father, and holy shit did she want that for herself. Teach her your ways.

Barbara is amazed, too. This was the most normal form of rebellion anyone could do in this family. Yet, no one expected it and you did it. She would have expected you to become a villian or gone rouge, but instead you joined the military. Color her surprised.

Tim is pissed. Everyone wants you back, yet there is no way to get you back. You knowingly or unknowingly made it nearly impossible for them to get you back without the military and government getting involved. He's pissed about the challenge, and now he's obsessing over all your old manerisns and the photos and videos. (He has the cleariest picture of how you really feel, but he doesn't care that it might be broken or negative. He's obsessed all the same.)

Bruce finds out your active duty and freaks the fuck out. Something could happen and you could be deployed and killed. His worst fear is you being killed. It was bad enough when you were in Gotham and fragile. But, now your military and you think you’re strong. But, you’re not and now you could die at any moment.

Damian is shellshocked. You technically proved him wrong. And, he sees the media's reaction to you. Some people are actually praising you for your service. You left and made yourself strong and made a new family. You didn't bother fighting for this one because you didn't think they were worth it. You didn't think he was worth it. It hurts, but not in away that makes him angry. In a way that makes hs insecurities flare. He wants you to come home now, so he can prove to you that he is worthy. That he is sorry.

Getting you home is near impossible. You have a specific roll that you've trained for, and are on active duty. Your a military dog on a leash the bat family cant control.

It's Kate the gives them the horrible idea. If they got you discharged from the military then you would have to come home. The only problem is an honorable discharge would still give you the means to avoid them, while a dishonorable discharge would make you absolutely hate them and they don't want that. (Plus the media would constantly harass you and them.)

So they decide to get you a medical discharge.

But, they can't hack into things and make anything up, though. And, all your physicals and mental check ups were sound. You have a more administrative position, but accidents happen all the time. Bruce has to make a few phone calls, but your active duty gets you sent out into the field. On a military operation that called for your expertise. (His anxiety is spiked through the roof and he has League Members on standby if something goes wrong.)

Kate also made a few phone calls. You ended up being deployed to assist the National Guard near your area. Only while doing your duties, you and your squad trigger a trap and you lose your hearing in your left ear and your left leg is wrecked. A few of your team mates are killed. (Bruce is pissed at Tim, Dick and Jason for that specifically.) Some lost limbs or now have memory problems. Eveyone in the squad is down and out.

You try to support the surviors as you all recover, but as soon as you’re better and given medical discharge the family snags you. Dragging you back to gotham before anyone can say anything. You try to fight, but the loss of hearing messes with you and the still fresh injury makes you weak once more. Plus, there's more of them than you.

When back at the manor, the family uses PTSD as an excuse for the lack of public appearances, and make many donations to VA hospitals and campaigns for retired and injured members of the military. (They even pay for what the military won't cover for your friends and anyone else they injured in the incident. Bruce has some guilt over you getting hurt that he tries to get rid of by doing this.)

Instantly, Stephanie and Dick coddle you. And, an insane amount.

Jason tries to treat you how he did before since he's so awkward and you punch him in the face in return. Not taking that from him anymore. And, he fucking respects you more for it.

Tim ironically enough, begins to emotionally manipulate you with finesse. He's studied you obsessively, yet somehow you’re still surprising him every now and then.

Barbara gives you space, she can tell this has all been a lot and of everyone she probably understands your injury best.

Bruce bounces between trying to coddle you and give you space. Unintentionally treating you like a child.

Cass is just silently there all the time, almost always watching. She can tell you're overwhelmed and pissed, but you’re still so peaceful to her. Not asking her to talk or forcing her away.

Duke is the most chill. Sucks they had to nerf you, but still your fun to hang out with despite the injury. You developed some military humor and it is hilarious.

Damian, avoids you until he finally breaksdown. And it's not pretty. He finally confesses how guilty he feels. That he is sorry. That he actually didn't want to have to hurt you, that he is a terrible brother and a horrible hero. he never shouldve called you weak. (And, you forgive him, because he was a child. And, because out of everyone he's the only one to apologize and confessed to what they did.)

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I’m typing up like three stories at once, and my ask box is filled. Absolutely slammed. Last time I went on an answer spree I burnt myself out. Hopefully this will hold y’all off while I finish up Smalltown! Part 8, Pregnant! Part 2, and a partial Part 2 to the SugarDaddy Tony thingy. (I don’t know where that came from, but I’m happy y’all liked it. The original man for the SugarDaddy/Older!Husband was Philip Graves. lol)

[somnoir]

Bats and Phantoms - Part 4

Part 3 | Masterpost

Damian and Specter

Many strange things have been happening lately. First, it was Todd suddenly becoming obsessed with a scholarship student of Gotham U. Damian had witnessed the disgusting display of infatuation from his elder brother whenever he stalked the young man. Something had happened and it surely involved the death of the joker.

Second, it was Richard who was utterly besotted with a mysterious meta that went by the name Wraith. They had found mentions of him, wherein some heroes commented on how he had helped them with issues that would have them contact the JLD.

Third was Cassandra who had been the one to meet the strange redheaded girl who shot the Scarecrow with an unknown weapon in the form of a gun. She was right to be wary but Cassandra, like their brothers, was actively seeking this girl out. (She was no longer in Gotham from what he understood.)

But nevermind that. For all he was an Al Ghul, he was still a Wayne. He was Damian Wayne at the moment, not Robin. So getting kidnapped was... Well, he cannot understand how Drake deals with this. He recalls the number of times Todd has had to save Drake from mediocre kidnappers who needed to be taught a lesson on how to kidnap people.

But his captors seemed to be slightly better than that of Drake's. He can hear his father telling him not to bite any of them. They were foolish oafs that pressed the barrel of a gun against the side of his head. Damian glared, snarling at the man who seemed startled that the youngest of the Wayne's could react in such a way.

Before he could inact his plan, Damian caught sight of the strangest thing. There was a hand passing through the wall, waving right at him. The hand pointed to the ceiling and Damian hesitated to look up. He stared, nothing happened, and then he saw it.

A girl passed through the ceilings, wispy white hair and Lazarus green eyes boring into his soal. She smiled, pressing a finger to her lips and all he can do is nod.

She floats down, lingering just behind his captors and moving left and right so she wouldn't be seen. A mischievous grin spread across her face before she disappeared and then reappeared in front of the men.

"B̶̢̯̮͙̳̫̯̜̠͎̟͔̱̺̦͎̓̃̑͑̄̐̈́͋̐̅̽̿́͋̆͗͊̾̐̊̂̋̑̎̈́̐̄̾̈̇̽̄̂̇͜͜͝͠͝͝͝Ơ̷̧̨̛̛̳͎̜̪͎͚͓̱̜͔͈̜͇̳̬̼̯̦̽͛̇̇̈́̀̄́̃̏͊̓̃̌̀̏͋̌́̂̕̚͠͠ͅͅͅO̵̡̜̖̭͕̟̞̼̐̎̐͛̍̊͛͂̊́̓̂͆̍̾͊̾̈̄̿͑̾̊̎́́̐̂̈̾̿̿̈́̉̇̈́̈̍̚͘̕̚̕͝͝͝͝͝͠!"

The noise she made startled the man, making them drop theirs guns before she directed the most beautiful uppercut he has ever seen. Damian was in utter awe as she mocked his captors, flying around them and giggling as they were led in circles until they were tripping over their own feet.

"Woops. Kidnapping people is bad, y'know. Don't do it." She scolded, taking their guns and throwing it against the wall. "Skedaddle!"

The men—cowards—ran like hell and he was left with the girl. Damian froze when she turned towards him, before she's hurriedly untying him from the ropes and peering at him with a curious look.

"Hello there, I'm Specter." She introduced, offering her hand to him.

Damian accepted, feeling her cold skin through her gloves. "Damian Wayne. Thank you for saving me, Miss Specter." Even though he clearly didn't needed it.

The way she spoke and acted reminded her of Grayson—loosely.

"All in a day's work!" Specter huffed, looking utterly proud with herself before she's dragging Damian out the warehouse. "Okay, so. Since you're safe and all... I need a bit of help. See, I saved some kittens on the way here and I can't keep them since I ain't from Gotham. But since you're a Wayne and all, would you mind?"

She spoke fast, almost without breathing, before she's rushing away and bringing back a box of kittens. Three to be exact.

Damian stares, and stares, and then looks at Specter strangely.

"Please?" She pouted, pushing the box towards him. Damian's doesn't even hesitate to take it, sighing and shaking his head in exasperation.

"Thank you! Oh, I've already names them. This one is Johannes, this one is Galileo, and this one is Henrietta. Please take care of them. I have to go now!" Specter bid her farewell, petting the fussy kittens before she flashed Damian a toothy-fangy smile.

She vanished soon after, leaving him to contemplate it she was even real in the first place.

Elle had only wanted to visit her brother but when she saw a bunch of men dragging an unconscious boy into a warehouse, she just had to help. Jazz taught her better than to abandon people in need. She had to set down the box of kittens she had found in a corner close to the warehouse, before rings of light appeared over her body and everything became inverted.

The boy was familiar—maybe a celebrity since he was getting kidnapped. He'd have to search him up later.

It wasn't hard saving him, the kidnappers were easily spooked. When the men ran, she stuck her tongue out and blew raspberries at the cowards before turning to the boy. He had green eyes—natural ones unlike hers and Danny's that were only present in their ghost forme.

"Hello there, I'm Specter." The Hero name Jazz had helped her with rolled of her tongue so easily. It made her brighten up in seconds as she offered her hand to the boy.

"Damian Wayne."

Ah, so he was a Wayne! Danny mentioned them to her. Speaking of Danny, he really needed to check up on him.

She remembered the kittens pretty quickly, and since Damian was a Wayne, he'd have more space for them than Danny. So she grabbed the kittens, all named after scientists that were related to astronomy, and she entrusted the cute things to him.

Template: WHERE ARE YOU????

The superior copy: I just saved a Wayne

The superior copy: Do you know Damian Wayne??

Template: The youngest

The superior copy: I just gave the kittens I found!

The superior copy: On my way tho

She was going to miss Johaness, Galileo, and Henrietta, even if she only had them for a brief moment. Maybe she'll get to meet them again in the future.

(Later on, Damian lurks in the shadows, waiting for Dick to finally leave the batcomputer alone so he can stalkinvestigate his saviour.)

Part 5 | Masterpost

[auroreliis]

Pfff-imagine Bruce overhears the sibs threatening to not let batsib do the things he’s forbid them from doing if they keep tattling and Bruce just goes, you can do those things if you keep tattling, now there’s nothing stopping batsib

Lmaooooo

He's choosing to become your best friend instead of letting your siblings become your best friends. What would this result in?

Well for starters, you and Bruce would be very close. You'd likely go to fancy restaurants together and go outside very often, just the two of you, none of your siblings are there to bother you (or him lol).

"Good morning, angel. Are you feeling well? I rented an amusement park, since I heard you talking about it yesterday, so I wanted to know if you had enough energy to go there with me today after breakfast. Hm? Oh, yes. We can stay the whole day."

"You think Titus is cute? Well, in that case, do you want to go walk him with me? He is very well trained. I don't even need a leash for him. You should see for yourself."

"Now that we've had dinner...do you remember the film trailer you were talking about recently? Well, I recieved the film early. Do you want to watch it with me? Yes, it'll be just you and me, the others are going to be busy on patrol."

Your relationship with the others would deteriorate. They would be more harsh and probably even more annoying. However, since you're Bruce's perfect angel, he will let you get away with everything. Don't want Jason to keep bothering you? Bruce will tell him off. Dick wants to sleep in your bed? No worries, just sleep in Bruce's. Stephanie doesn't let you play video games unless you play with her? No worries, Bruce ordered you a new console and lots of new games.

"What? Dick is annoying you again? Fine, I'll tell him to tone it down."

"Damian is being too harsh? I'll let him know."

"You think Cassandra should stop sneaking up on you? Yes, I agree. She will be informed."

He doesn't want you to hate them, but little does he know that you do hate them and are using him to get them to stop. Being close to you makes him proud and happy, but he still thinks that you should interract with your siblings, so he might organise certain bonding activities. However, if you had talked to him and told him how the others made you feel bad or uncomfortable, he would keep an eye on them and would break the bonding activities off at that instant.

He's just trying to be a good father, okay? Don't be too harsh on him <3

[astraeus-tree]

Disparities Between Our Souls

PROLOGUE - Someone I Have Loved, But Never Known

Retelling of this

Prologue -> Chapter 1

Lonely.

That’s what it was like in this manor.

It wasn’t forsaken, quite the contrary actually. It was full of life, many resided in this plot and many more visited, but those figures were strangers to you. Strangers whom you knew the name and face of, strangers whose secret lives were known to you, but strangers nonetheless.

Much to your misfortune, your father was one of these said strangers. Your only proper conversation with him was when you first moved to the mansion and were introduced to your father.

From the first moment you met him, you knew your relationship would be strained. After all, he didn’t even bother to pick you up with the butler when you were revealed to be his daughter. His public persona of a playboy certainly didn’t help this opinion of yours towards him.

Alas, your instincts were right. You barely saw him in the manor—in fact, you saw Alfred more than him.

What you didn’t realise at the time though was that your siblings would also leave you in the dark. That you would be a lonely person despite not being an only child. Excuses piled upon excuses whenever you tried to talk to them.

Dick was “busy with Bludhaven, he’s sorry he can’t come.” You envied him, he had good relations with almost everyone in the family and everyone connected to the Waynes or Batman.

Jason… Oh dear. He was your baby brother that went through too much, too young. He was your sole companion in the manor before he died, but now, your relationship was just as strained as it was with the other members of your family.

Tim’s time was taken up with solving cases or taking naps in the most random spots. You knew more than most that it was better to leave him alone to his own devices.

Damian had hated your very existence. Initially you tried but eventually you gave up, like what you did with the others, when you could see that harboured nothing other than hatred for you.

The only exception to this conundrum of yours was Cassandra. You two were finally forming a friendship after the barrier between you two finally crumbled. You weren’t close just yet, but it was getting there. Hell, you’re even proud to call her your sister.

Your upbringing was vastly different to your current life. You grew up with your aunt, your sweet lovable aunt. You dearly missed the simpler times when it was just you and your aunt, not with this ‘family’ of yours.

If you could, you would still be living with her, but the circumstances were not in your favour. Instead, you spent your days alone in a manor as big as the hole in your soul created by the loneliness you’ve been living with for the past few years. In fact, that’s what you were doing right now. Eating your dinner separate from your family in order to not felt left out, ironically enough.

You didn’t hate them, no. In fact, you held admiration for them for protecting Gotham and other cities, but when your auntie sent you to live with the Waynes in hopes to live a better and more social life, disappointment was inevitable.

Another day passes by in Gotham, nothing of note worthy happened during the day, and nothing that differed from the usual happened at night. Batman and Robin were on patrol, and the rest were doing their own patrol or dealing with other things, which you assumed were criminal-related as well.

You slept in the quiet of your room. The only thing seemingly out of place was the barely audible sound of small legs scattering on the floors. An anomaly in the usually clean and arachnid-free Wayne Manor. Not as if you would hear it though, after all, why would you be awake in the dead of night?

The pain that was induced to your arm was definitely a reason why. Your eyes snap open and although your mind was still half-asleep, you could tell that this pain was like no other. To make matters worse, lifting any part of your body felt impossible, like your flesh was suddenly replaced with lead.

Your vision becomes blurry, tears welling in your eyes as you suddenly felt the room get hotter and hotter. Or was that your body getting warmer? You couldn’t tell with everything happening almost all at once. Your breaths shorten and become shallow from not only the sudden fever, but also the overwhelming sensations.

In the corner of your eye, you think you see a colourful circle, oddly resembling a portal that people would see in movies, but you were pretty sure your mind was deceiving you. You definitely didn’t care right now, all you wanted was to get rid of all this pain and go back to sleep. You wanted to call out to Alfred, but he was most likely in the Batcave and something in your gut told you your voice wouldn’t reach him even if he wasn’t.

Your vision faded in and out, everything was swirling, even when you closed your eyes. You could feel the sensation of being pulled, but you had no chance nor energy to fight against it.

All too fast, yet simultaneously all too slow, your mind faded to black, the pain too much to deal with.

Taglist

@kik1010 @cxcilla @00hellohello00 @bluepanda08 @frankie-moon3 @guyfuitty @lumi320 @type-ink @kye-chen-r @sugasweettea @sillyheartmoonnyx

Finally done this oml. Sorry this is so short, I wanted to add more of the original idea, like introducing Miguel, but it didn't feel like it fit as a prologue so I cut it and moved it into the first chapter, which I will try to make longer

This isn't edited, so there will most likely be mistakes, feel free to point those out and I will fix them as soon as possible. I also don't speak Spanish, only English and Tagalog so if those two words were kinda cringe for all you Spanish speakers, just tell me and I'll remove them lmao

I was writing this through a writer's block and a splitting headache so I apologise if the writing is a bit sub-par

I'd also like to mention that this story will be a bit slower paced, so do with that what you will

Thank you all for the support in the OG post as well, that honestly made my week

Have a great day/night everybody <3

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Ask me, my prince. What a storm is to a dragon.❞

[ Aemond can only breathe through your lungs, through your adoration and love. But when betrayal is nigh, what does it truly beget? ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 6,935 ] | Dark!Aemond Targaryen x Baratheon!Reader, minor, sort of (not really) Aemond Targaryen x Alys Rivers.

THIS IS A DARK FIC. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED.

contains— angsty, smut - DD:DNE: kidnapping, coercion, manipulation, possessive & obsessive behaviour, power imbalance, violence (not to reader) (a little bit to reader... i wrote this too close to book canon!aemond), murder, death, massacre, war - canon typical targcest, canon character deaths, canon divergence - dark!aemy - pregnancy, child, allusions to infidelity, mentions of bastard - i took liberties with canon (as i usually do) - #ripellyn you (sorta) will be missed shshs - the only specific reader descript. i did is the baratheon dark hair ok? ok - nsfw: male masturbation, dubcon/noncon, creampie - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— there was this villain playlist on yt that was slowed and sexy, and my brain just. clicked. here it is if you wanna check. the real reason this is long is cos i can't help but add backstory ok? ok. lol. comment, reblog & like at will, mi luvs, mwa!

Storms have always been your favourite view in any window.

It is cliche to say, a proud daughter of the Stormlands, of course she enjoys the dark skies! But you do. There is nothing short of comforting in the rolling, fat clouds darkened in shadows. Occasionally, if the weather moved to your whim, lightning danced between plumes before you hear the boom and crack of it striking.

"It is a privilege to enjoy weathers such as these," your father once said, a hand on your darkened hair, a bluer tint to it, but Baratheon through and through. "It is our might that holds us at paramount, and thus, our privilege beckons warm fires and strong, stone fortresses to watch it all in comfort. To find enjoyment in the dark skies."

"Ours is the Fury," you replied immediately. Your father smiled.

"That, precisely. The paramount of our might and power is one we have taken and given with fury. Never forget."

"Even better than the Targaryens?" Your father's displeasure crumpled his face, and you were at an old enough age to understand his displeasure was not something you enjoy. But you had been learning all day, and the topic that day with your septa had been House Targaryen. You had learned the King's name, that he had a Queen that died, and that his heir is a girl.

His hold on your shoulders was heavy, but you do not flinch. Eyes bore into your own as if he was speaking the words into existence.

"We are the blood of the Kings too, my daughter. The White Hart proves our mark in the world, long before the dragonlords ever whispered in these lands. And what are dragons against the dance of storms?"

You had been little then, no more than six. The smallest of your sisters; Floris, though short in stature, looked elongated. A beauty. A fawn in the making. And your father is not the cleverest of men, but his words shelved itself in the corners of your brain. It eased and assuaged your fears like a quick spell.

Your spine straightens and your chin tilts upward. You are made of fury and storms, the blood of kings of old and solid, impenetrable fortresses.

You fury is your own, and 'neathe your fingers, under your very being, is a storm.

A good reminder, as when you had exchanged childhood for girlhood, a missive had been sent by the Queen Alicent Hightower, requesting for a daughter from Lord Baratheon's Four Storms, as companion for the Princess Helaena.

"Cassandra would do well."

"She hungers, husband. I am afraid of what might happen if we send her to the courts at her age. I do not yearn for a scandal."

"She would not shame her family so, do you reckon?"

"She is the eldest. You know how she is."

A sigh. "If she had a cock, she would be a good heir for my seat."

"Borros!"

"Apologies. Very well, mayhaps a good husband with no grit to him would do her well. She will lead the Stormlands by the hold of his— er, well, yes. Maris? She is clever."

"Far too clever. Even her tongue irks you, no. Definitely not. Her brain works too fast for her mouth. She will say the wrong thing and end us in war."

"You exaggerate, surely."

"I bore them, Borros, but they are your daughters. They live and breathe with your name and your House's banner under their own. What do you think? Bad enough they take so much of your heritage with them, and their looks, but they also plucked and chosen parts of you I'd rather not have for lady daughters."

Your father grumbles incoherently, you laugh under your breath.

"... Floris is too young. So..." The last one. You. You press your ear harder against the wood of your father's study, heart in your throat.

"She will be best," she says softly, insistently. She knows in her heart of hearts that though her husband is a hard, proud man, he has a softened heart for you. "Though she is clever, she minds herself well. Polite. Kind. She will do well with the Princess and her, er, eccentricities."

"Bloody weirdoes, the lot of them." A sigh. Another chastise from your mother, but she too, sounds exhausted. It has almost been a moon since the missive has been sent. Another one is bound to arrive, more order than request. It is all a political game. Princess Rhaenyra had no Baratheon ward under her court when she still resided in Kings Landing, for you and your sisters had been too young and your father had no sister. It is by chance that gives the Green Queen advantage to take a ward under your father's banner now, with a daughter she seeks to be Queen Consort.

"Send her then," your father announces. Though defeat clouds his voice, the Lord in him speaks each vowel clearly. "She will do best to represent the House out of them all. We might have a betrothal in our hands soon enough."

"She is pretty enough for a prince."

An angry snort. "She is more than pretty enough for a prince. Far better than the lot of them."

Softly, "That is because you like her best."

"Why would I not?" your father replies gruffly, making you smile. "A storm grinds and brews inside of her, wife. Even Maestre Loes, the old gnat that he is, sees my bloodline thick in her. Even if the King asks for her hand at this very moment, I would refuse. I would throw him off Storm's End with a smile on my face and a boot on his back."

You fight off a snort as your mother grumbles about treason and Maris.

"She is far better than the best of them." Another sigh. Heavier. "Why are we sending her?"

Your mother sighs. "Because as she is the best of them, she is the best of us. She will survive far better in that cesspit they call a keep than any of our daughters. Her storm can tame dragons."

You would argue that that too is treasonous given the context, but your father merely laughs. His laughter is a crackle and a boom.

"I would upheave our coffers to witness that."

Though you find her odd, you enjoy spending your time with the Princess Helaena. Mostly, she is quiet, in her own little world. Though it took time to get used to her many-legged friends, you soon realised the best times you spend with her are when shipments and gifts of pinned butterflies and books that have reached as far as Yi-Ti, to get to Kings Landing about bugs, and undeniable excitement unfurls in the Princess' face. More like a girl, a sweet one.

It makes her already cherub features appear more child-like, and she grasps your hand voluntarily as she points at each and every critter she recognises. It is so very rare to see true happiness in the princess' visage, and in her enjoyment, you see your sisters.

That is how you meet him, the Prince Aemond.

Princess Helaena had gone for tea with the Queen. It had not been planned. Though she often spent tea with family, either the Queen or the Lord Hand, or either of the Princes. Something had occurred, so now that Princess was having tea with her Queen Mother and her husband. If you had to guess, it was likely that Prince Aegon was being punished in some way.

Though there is no love lost between siblings, it makes you sniff at how blatant the prince's obscene indulgent for vices are. Princess Helaena didn't mind, rather, she didn't care unless they needed to spend time together, a clockwork patch of routine, and that was when you usually came in— you later realised, your primary job — soothing her nerves and distracting her thoughts before she had to enter her marriage chambers.

There is a resigned defeat in her, a woman's duty bearing down, looming like the Mother, and it makes you want to soothe her harder. Make her laugh.

With the change of plans, it was up to you to check for the new shipments of the Princess' things. A dictated note in your hand of the princess' handwriting, you were going through her boxes when a hand, gloved, rests on your shoulder.

"Do not move," a cool voice says behind you. Far too close for propriety.

You freeze. "Pardon?"

"I do not want to scare you, my lady, but there is a critter atop your head." The cool, calm voice waves off a steady rhythm to your heart, calming it further from the earlier panic of someone laying a hand on you (although this, is still not better. You are a lady and unmarried after all). "I will rid of it immedi—"

"No."

"... Pardon?"

"Where is it? Just atop my head?"

"... Yes?"

"It maybe poisonous, pease do not touch it." Before the owner of the hand and the calm voice could react, you pat your head until you touch a hairy, small thing with many legs. Relief spreads. "There you are."

"There you are?" The voice says, almost mocking, incredulously.

You huff, taking the spider in both of your hands, before you tilt your chin behind you, only seeing the gloved hand. "Please take your hand away from me."

The hand retreats. You turn.

Valyrian features are most uncommon than your own, and the jolt of recognising the pale, white hair is a strike to your being, a gasp falling from your lips. It is the one-eyed mask that tells you immediately who it is, but you string everything else you know of the prince.

Prince Aemond had been travelling to Oldtown, a visit requested by the Queen in the guise of seeing family, his brother. But there had been whispers of something more, as the chatter of the maids who cleaned up in the King's quarters talked about how ill he got day by day.

You had seen flashes of him before this, but fate had kept you two apart. You were not there when he visited the princess— on another errand or two, and he starkly ever looked at the ladies surrounding his sister with a vehement light as their voices, high pitched and dreary, tire him so on a good day, increasingly irritating on a bad one, and anyway, the silence that falls in a stone room just from his arrival is enough to irk him.

But here is he now, with one eyebrow rose, a good eye of icy blue iris, and the very visage of a warrior in black leathers, a braided hair pulled to one side, and pursed lips in both amusement and annoyance.

He hums. The sound kicks back your manners, blushing lightly at having gaped at him for far longer than pleasantry dictates, and you pull yourself into a bow.

"My apologies, my prince, I didn't know it was you. I was scared you were going to hurt the Princess' new friend."

"They are bugs," he says steadily. "Not her friends."

"Like so, but just because they have many a legs do not mean we cannot befriend them." A small smile plays on your lips before you place back the spider in the cage he got out of. It is something you had once said to the princess to make her laugh. You feel his stare burn at the side of your face. "Is there a matter, my prince?"

"You are the Lady Baratheon, are you not?"

"I am." A small, ironic smirk tugs at your lips. "Is it the hair?"

He makes a soft sound that exhales like a laugh out of closed lips. He's still quite close, you can feel his warmth and idly wonder if all Targaryens truly do have the blood of the dragons in them for you can feel the contours of him, burning at the edges of his being. Like a comforting little furnace.

"Hm. And the princess has taken quite the liking to you. You are all she talks about during sup."

You can't help it, you're smiling. So many rumours concerning the young prince, not all of them good, but there is a certain novelty in basking under the attention of a prince of the realm. A Valyrian beauty that brought an ethereal glow to him. As so intently stares, catching pieces and niches as if you are the most fascinating creature.

The attention makes you feel like a blushing lady.

"My apologies then, my prince."

He cocks his head, the braid dipping and you catch the movement in your peripheral. "Whatever for my lady?"

You turn to him, unable to curb the cheek to your smile. "For interrupting better conversations with the topic of my name plaguing your sups so."

His mouth twists into a smirk. In Aemond's mind, it is not oft that ladies, especially Helaena's ladies, would care to... flirt with him. Because this is you flirting, is it not? The coy gaze, the curl at the edge of your lips? Aemond has seen these faces in ladies and maids alike, but directed at others. At Aegon.

Directed at Aemond... bereave to keep their conversations to themselves, and though it is not always a fault of theirs for his stoicism is his most valued armour, one would resign oneself of an arranged marriage that will take long moons before his lady wife would see the truest him, that he would not be able to experience such... coy conversations with the opposite sex.

Yet here you are, a light dust of red in your cheeks, a quirk in your mouth, and the playful joust in your eyes, daring him into a swords' dance.

It is thrilling.

"Plaguing is too harsh of a word to say so about a lady of your stature, Lady Baratheon." He steps closer, aware of propriety standards of how close two unwedded people should be, but he feels intoxicated of the whiff of life exhuming from your visage. A light citrus, oranges? Lemons? Tart and sweet, with a powdery finish. It is so very ladylike.

Addicting.

The perfect smell for a lady wife, a musing thought.

"Is that so?"

"Intriguing, I would say, would be the better word."

You laugh, low and sweet. It sends a pleasant warm to his centre. "I'm afraid my memory is failing for I do not remember any wily adventure or conversation the princess and I had for a prince of the realm to say I intrigue him so."

"It is less... about wily adventures or interesting conversations that pique my interest, but the lady herself." His eye, though lone, the other remaining hidden behind an eyepatch with hints of scarred, twisted skin underneath, bore against yours as if he wished to gather all your strings and see what each would give him. What you would show him.

"I'm afraid to disappoint you, my prince, but I still fail to see how I can ever so pique your interest." You meet his gaze, smirking. "I am just me."

Before he can answer, step forward— whatever, he is staring at the curve of your lips so, at the enchanting shimmer of your eyes, and Aemond Targaryen felt breathless — your named is called, and the spell is broken. The prince steps back, taking more space between you that is more appropriate.

His hand flexes.

But that is not the last you see of the prince, nor the last time you are able to hold a conversation with him. It seems that since then, you find yourselves orbiting each other in the fringes before one steps forward and engages. There seems to be a band that tightens either of you so obsessed with seeing the other in the periphery, the topic whatever may came, even as inane as the weather.

It is a dance of swords, kissing blades of sharp quips and interesting parry. You are interesting. Beguiling. Devouring. Aemond searches for you in most places now, unable to stop himself from asking his dearest sister about you— even his mother and grandsire have taken notice, eyebrows rose between shared looks.

"House Baratheon is of a Great House," his mother hesitantly brought up, too focused on her soup for it to just be idle chatter above sup.

"It is." His forced passivity is not as apathetic as he can make it. For any mention of you and your origins thrums his heart in a dance.

"And the Lady Baratheon has many admirers, a kind and dutiful lady, and Helaena likes her so."

He turned to his mother then, humming. At the barest hint of a smile in her son's face, Alicent beamed.

But others from court also soon took notice, and when Aemond realises the wagging tongues had come to note your name— unkind whispers besmirching your person, he disappears from you altogether.

The differences become stark to him; realising what a foolish endeavour it is to want you. Though he is a prince, he is mutilated, a monster that will ruin you. You are too good for him, a warmth he had forgone in the face of misery, apathy, and hatred. The urge to conquer your every thought and sound, from your fingertips to the top of your hair... it is a gasping thought, one he shamefully sins at the blackest hours, tugging at his cock desperately to the thought of what you had looked like that day. The sound of your laughter, the pull of your lips when you smiled, the gasp you let out when you touched water that had been too cold— his mind bends and moves, and images of you, images that he will have to pray for the in morrow but cannot stop—

Moves him to completion, a strangle grunt of your name from his lips.

And yet, every night since, it happens again and again.

The more he pulled away from you, the more he wanted you. It is a debase urge, one more fit for his drunken cur of a brother than he, more creature than man.

But he cannot stop, so the torturous cycle continues.

Until you've had enough.

You know that during hours of inky night, the prince prefers the sanctum of the library. Not always, and lately, not often, but if there are a few things you learned in the hunting trips your father brought you that your mother never approved of, is that lying in wait, patient, deals a hand much better.

And on the fourth day of your waiting, your hair in a braid, a book on your lap, and a small candlelit close by as to not alert any spooked princes— the door opens at the Hour of Eel, the familiar and sorely missed footfalls of a quiet but sure-footed prince enters.

You admire him for a moment, hidden as you are, your stare drinks in the ever smooth of his twilight-spun hair, those pursed lips and straight lines. He's lithe but you know, having been offered his arm on every walk, he is made of hard muscle. Aemond always walks so smoothly, like a panther, or a gazelle, with the barest hint of austre he can never hide.

It's the prince in him, you giggle to yourself.

A sweet pang in your chest is the reminder of how much you missed his presence. And that ends tonight.

With his back turned, perusing a shelf, you shuffle and make yourself known with a soft, almost admonishing voice.

"Good eve, my prince."

He stiffens, hand poised against a spine of a tome. He barely turns, only his head to the floor, in the general direction of you. "My lady. I did not expect you to be here."

Frustrated, you sigh loudly. "Have I offended you so horribly? Dishonoured you in some way?"

"What?"

"Why can't you even look at me, Aemond?"

A sharp intake of breath. When he speaks again,his voice is changed. "You forget yourself, my lady."

There is an ache to your being, pursuing your lips. "You had given me permission with your given name, my prince, or have you forgotten?" Anger overcomes propriety. Fuck propriety. You charge toward him, heavy, angered steps until you're close enough. "Can't you at least look at me, look at me as you push me away as if I amnothing—"

He turns abruptly, one eye flashing as he grasps your elbows in a grip. His eyes zero in on your lips as a gasp falls, eyes widen— if you could see better, you'd notice the darkened gaze drinking you in. Your widened eyes, your open lips— and Sevens, only a robe hides your nightgown, the smooth expanse of your skin is more bare to him than ever before.

His beautiful, beloved stag.

"You have never been nothing to me, nēdenka riña brave girl," he hisses. "Konir sagon se drīve That is the reason."

"Prince A-Aemond?" you say. He is against the shadows of the moonlight, only his hands holding your own is illuminated.

A wrangled exhale falls from his lips. You follow the sound, worried.

"Are you? Injured? Are you okay?"

"I have not been okay for the moment I met you," he rasps, hands bruising in his hold.

"Well. Gods. I'm sorry. If it's such a offense—"

"It is an offence!" he growls, pulling you abruptly that you yelp, bathed in shadows and darkness together, your eyes adjust as you scramble to have thoughts apart from just being this close to him. Hearing a voice you had never heard of him before, untethered from his princely visage, from manners and proper, and it makes you burn.

The thoughts of wanting him close, of taking more of that space until you are chest to chest are blushing thoughts.

But there is honour still, for he holds you at least an arm's away.

"I have wanted you the moment I have laid eyes on you," he whispers, voice rough, exhausted. "And each day I spend with you, each hour— my honour stands in shambles, in ruins at my feet for I want you as a man wants a woman. Honourably and... and carnally."

You swallow, and he follows the movement like a predator tracking his prey. The blush in your cheeks, the way your lips press together as if you are just as starved of him as he to you— oh, you want him too, don't you?

One hand moves from your elbow to slowly reach up. Your arms, your collarbones, your neck. A thumb brushing your cheek and your eyes flutter.

Aemond wants to devour you.

"You plague me so, and I crave you."

"Then have me," you sigh.

His eye closes. "I cannot sully—"

You grasp his neck, bringing your mouth close to his. "You cannot sully what is freely given. If you crave me, I want you."

Honour unbound, a snap is tightened by the hunger that uncoils from a dragon that wants you. Aemond had grabbed the back of your head, tangled his fingers, and made a mess of your mouth.

Gasps and teeth, touching skin from where you can feel it— touching skin from where you unbuckle, tear through hem and push against cloth. When he slams you again the shelf, a moan so lewd falls from your lips that he groans, pulling your nightgown until he feels the heat from your very womanhood, and so, so wet, that when he flicks his thumb, curious and entranced, moving it around experimentally, you are a mess of sound and feeling, gasping his name, A-aemond, oh gods, please, and he is whispering, forgive me, f-forgive me, like love letters, like penitent, like a kiss from a traitor so wrong but so tasteful against your skin as he pulls himself from his confinements, holds you steady, and breaches your tight cunt.

Just before a scream tears through your throat, he devours your sound, holding you steady, until the pain bleeds pleasure and you are holding him like an anchor in dangerous seas. You cannot think or feel anyone else but him; what you are and who you are do not stand a chance as Aemond Targaryen swallows your senses.

It is harsh and fast, it is sweet and devouring, and more, more, more, you don't know what you're begging him, you feel like a devout and he feels like a god, grunting against your skin, biting through anything his teeth grazes. When he shifts you at an angle, finding a spot that feels like a lightning striking through your entire being, you are screaming, twitching, reaching a high so blinding it feels like white death.

"Is that it? That sweet spot?" he purrs, a breathless laugh, shocked and delighted drinking in your trembling and pleasure. "Your cunt is tight against my own, holding me like you never want to let go." You cry out when his cock hits that spot again. Your combined wetness makes an obscene squelch, just as pretty as the sound you utter. He smirks. "Can you hear that? Not even a whore can make a sound so sweet, hm?"

His teeth grazes your lips, sending shivers through your body as he licks the roof your mouth. "I want more of that sound. As your prince, you would grant me this, yes?"

But he isn't waiting for an answer, planting his feet and holding you steady, angling you back to that spot until he is snapping his hips, fucking into you as you can do nothing but beg and cry and tremble in the arms of a dragon taking what is his.

And you are.

You are his.

Maybe you had known it since then.

You definitely do when his seed floods your womb.

You want to say that that night was a fluke, a mistake that must be regretted. But once your gaze meets another, the fire burns, flickering and dancing, and it repeats. In quick fucks in dangerous spots, to slow, sweet love making in his room.

You are his, in mind, body and soul.

"Death is nothing but a friend," he murmurs against your neck, holding you close. Sweat cooling between your naked bodies. "It cannot stop me from finding you."

"I hope you say that to my father well," you tease.

" Marrying you is but the next step, my love. You are already mine as I am yours." He plays with your hair, brushing it past and kissing a bruise he made on your breast. "In face of every god and more, they will understand that we are but one soul."

You can plan the future in rose-coloured gaze for as much as you can, but the truth of marrying into a family with war brewing inside of it, held together by a dying king's hope and corpse fingertips— it is another matter entirely.

It all comes to a sharp clarity when Viserys I dies... and they keep his rotting corpse a secret.

And then they crown a whoremongering drunk.

"Aemond," you break into the silence, your entire being too cold for comfort. You had just come back from a privy council, a Green Council where the Queen had ordered you and your betrothed to reach Storm's End before the night fully breaks.

As if she knew where your loyalties are.

As if there is no question you will support the usurpation.

You turn to Aemond, busy with packing his things for they have bared the maids and people the of Keep. Because they are making Aegon as king and they know a revolt is underneath the floorboards.

"Aemond!"

"What? What has happened?" He looks confused, irritated. "We must make haste, my love, if we are to beat the storms at—"

"Princess Rhaenyra is Queen," you whisper but it could have been a scream. Saying it aloud gives you confidence, strengthening your resolved. You turn to him. "She is the King's heir, no one else. Aemond, this is an usurpation, unlawful in the eyes of—"

It takes little strides for him to reach you, for him to hold your neck in a tightened grip of warning.

"She," he spits, slow and careful as if you are a simpleton in need of teaching, "is a whore who is attempting to place her bastards on the Iron Throne. Rhaenys Targaryen held no chance of it, just as she. My brother is the firstborn son. He is king." His fingers dig into your skin. "You will do well as my wife to not speak of such blasphemy once more, do you understand?"

Your shock and fear melt from your visage, making way for compliance. You nod once. "Yes, my prince."

"Husband," he corrects, holding you much gentler but the weight of his hand is still there on your neck. A reminder. "Have you forgotten? We only come to Storm's End to officiate our union and your House's loyalty to the King. Once done, we will marry, yes?"

You nod, hands fisting. "Yes."

When he kisses you, harsh and needy, imprinting his will unto you— you close your eyes and plan how you make known to your Queen of their plots.

But Storm's End doesn't go as planned, does it?

Lucerys Velaryon, the Queen's son who had come as nothing more but an envoy for the rightful heir, and Aemond—what you thought to be your Aemond but a monstrous man who needed his revenge, who needed to draw blood for a grudge so deep, for an existence he finds so abysmal — had chased after him and came back to you bloodied, tearing up your dress, rutting in you in harsh, rough thrusts, as you listen to the storms from your window and think,

The Queen will never find his body. Her poor, sweet boy. Half in the belly of a beast, the rest spread and sunken into the water.

"I will not allow any marriage until the realm is at peace," your Lord Father rumbled with finality. He is not a smart man, truly, but he is a father. His gaze meets yours, full of meaning, of promises, before looking back at the seething prince. "You will have my bent knee for your king and for your war, but my daughter's hand shall be her own until the realm is at ease."

Your mother steps forward, her courtly smile on her face. "We want for her to have a grand wedding, my prince. She is the first of our charges to wed, and to a prince of the realm no less! By sure, at the time of war, we must err on the side of caution, as our coffers will no doubt focus on our troops. A future princess of the realm must be mindful, of course."

She bows in deference, your sisters following suit. Maris is the first to look up, defiance burning in her eyes.

You remember a conversation with him, feeling like a lifetime ago.

"Ask me, my prince," you teased. "What a storm is to a dragon. A creature is a creature. Even you must acquiesce to the way of nature for she has bowed to no one since her existence."

Aemond may be blood of the dragons, but he is surrounded by storms on all sides. The fiercest.

And your father will never marry you to a Kinslayer.

Yet you stay beside him, your duty now clearer than ever. Every new information you can grasp is sent back to the Queen and her council. In a courtier of the Greens and Traitors, you are the sole Black Stag. You use Aemond's adoration for you, his possessive obsession of what he thinks is love, as a protection and guise.

Any time he beds you, you sneak in moon tea. His bedding of you is just as much his hold on you and his defiance against your father's refusal. Once caught, you remind him he would not enjoy a bastard child. Especially at a time of war. Not after what they had done to his nephews.

"Do you want for me to suffer as your sister does?" The tears in your face then had not been a folly, for your heart broke for sweet Helaena and her sons. For Jaehaera. The world bleeds and bleeds, and all who die that reaches your ears are nothing more but innocents.

Aemond does not bed you after that, but he keeps you in his chambers, pulls you close as if he is trying to mould your skins as one. Times like this, your heart stutters. Your love to him and your morality as a person is at a test of swords.

You are in love with him,

He is a monster,

He has lost his nephews,

He has killed his own.

And it makes you wonder if you are a monster too, lying beside him as his bedmate, caring for him, wanting him still as his heart beats as your own, so connected to the umbilical of fate and chance while war rages, bodies falling all around you both, most from his own hand and word.

The war rages, and Harrenhal comes to view.

With it, a slaughter and a witch.

The worst of the massacre is the steely, lulling silence.

No one tells you that most of what an execution is that silence. That it amplifies each scream, each shout, each thick drop of a head as it falls on cobblestone. The sound is wet and a mouthful. Then it is nothing, consumed by that silence again.

You are locked in a room with a window that doesn't face the horror of what Aemond is doing. As if this is enough to shield you from what he is, what he truly is doing to win this war.

The worst part, committing genocide of an entire house is nothing more but a horrific grudge.

Strong blood spills, enough to make a lake.

By the time that night bleeds and a maid had entered with dinner to light a fire— your body is still so cold. No food has touched your stomach since the day before yet you retch.

Does loving a monster meant that you are just as monstrous?

Mayhaps it is still worth it, you muse in your silent madness, tears tracking your cheeks as the heaviness of your being stays. For who can say a monster can love you so monstrously? Who else can?

When Aemond comes back to you, freshly cleaned and a reminiscent of the prince that you loved, and he is making excuses of wanting you as you are, pawing at your clothes, you let him. You make love in the silence suffering from the massacre he had just finished. You hold him and kiss him in a desperation as you know this will be your ending.

That your Aemond is gone, or worse. He had never truly existed.

When you are both spent, satiated in a sweet glow, your head pleasantly quiet, he speaks about a plan.

A woman, a Strong witch, that promises him an assurance of winning with her sights and blasphemous magic. He had spared her among others, and that itself makes you look at him, truly look at him.

In exchange of what— for such things do not concede so easily as gratitude to mercy of one life, yes? Because desire devours itself. A snake eating itself.

"A child," he whispers against your battered head and bruised heart. "From my blood."

"A bastard," you murmur as he stiffens. "From a bastard Strong. Surely the irony is not lost on you? You have started this war by killing your bastard nephew, and you plan on ending it by fathering—"

"Do not question me," he says softly, grip tightening against your arms. Your eyes close, heavy with the weight of being a spy. Of loving him. "I will fuck a babe in her how many times it takes, and when the war is won, I will kill her and it. For your womb is the only place my lineage will live. I am doing this for the good of the realm. For us."

When he thinks you are asleep and leaves— you take your things and make haste to leave. Not once has your people left you in the arms of the kinslayer. Always one maid, always three guards from your father's army, loyal to only you.

You bundle up quick, and rush for the passage, you are blocked by a woman. Pale skin, dark hair, and eyes greener than wildfire. You know her before she speaks. You hold yourself to fight, and the witch of Harrenhal laughs.

"You have changed the tide of destiny, my lady." Her head tilts as if she can see past you and through you. "Once your choice has affirmed, your thread chosen, I cannot stand in the side of the One-Eyed Kinslayer without the Stranger coming for me. So instead, I will grant you one gift. One that will require no sacrifice."

"I do not want it."

"Ah, but it is a gift." She nods at your torso. "Your belly will soon take size, in it, his heir. You will not escape him as soon as he knows." Her head twists to the window. A raven flies. A storm grumbles. The sound comes first before the lightning strikes. A false storm. "Time is flowing, changing and twisting. He may have betrayed his kin, but he is still a prince. He will know soon."

Her green eyes glint as if she is seeing now and tomorrow. Now and a moon. Moon from a year. "You must run now. Hide and hide well."

You hold your stomach, bile rising in your throat. "Where? Where am I safe?"

A faint smile rises to her lips. "Your heir looks more like him than mine did. You will not escape him. But go north. As far North as you can. The fjords can hide him for a while. He will grow well there."

She moves away, letting you pass.

You never look back.

Dark locks. Baratheon hair.

A tuff of silver lock atop his head.

And the rest... his nose, his eyes. With your fingers, you pull his lids. Bloom in mullish blue with the faintest tint of iridescent violet. You know from your histories, that faint tint will overpower the blue.

Oh, he is utterly beautiful. Utterly yours. And utterly his father's son.

Rough breaths strangle out of your raw-bitten lips, brushing blood away from your babe's face, his head, his wet, silvery hair. Few they maybe, unmistakably Valyrian features they still are.

"Oh, he is beautiful," your mother murmurs, tears stain her cheeks. "Quiet as you were, as a babe. Looks just as much as you."

She is weighing his Valyrian features too. Your blood tried, but it seemed as if Aemond's grudge grasped your womb and affected your shared blood.

"We cannot stay," you say, still staring at him, admiring him. Your heart locking in place, steeling itself as you prepare to do your utmost to protect him. "We will have to travel posthaste."

Your mother swallows her grief. She had almost lost you. She will lose you again, now along with her only grandchild. "Where?"

"North. As far as North as we can."

Your mother nods. Ever a lady. "I will send a missive. The Lord Stark is loyal to the Queen and knows by how much you have sacrificed for this realm. He will protect you on his honour or he is no Stark."

You will need to hide. You will need to hide well.

You pull him close to your chest, hot tears freshly spilling from your eyes.

The witch had not lied, for your boy grew up amongst ice and warmth. He grows up with love from you, from the Lord Stark and his people, and love from his father in the way that he resembles him.

The slope of his nose, the sweet purse of his lips.

When your boy had gotten angry once, nothing but a quick burst, it shocks fear and tears from your eyes for you had seen the prince.Nothing more than a flash.

You pull him close and wound him to your heart as he cried, apologising for scaring you.

The North had granted you reprieve from the war as it came and went. Your betrayal to the Greens had mounted to the Black Queen's win. The betrayal of House Baratheon as House Stark and their bannermen joined the fray had squandered any rebellious thought on which sovereign will preside.

The last you heard of what became the Prince Regent was his surrender at the Battle Above God's Eye.

When you had cried that night, you did not know if it was from relief. Or fear.

But a black stag on white snow is easy to spot.

It takes years, yes, but the Stranger is but an old friend.

For when the day of your wedding to the Lord Stark arrives, a familiar screech of a dragon that your marrow will never forget— tolls the bell of death.

And when you looked up, snow swirling, holding onto your son that looked up in awe at the man who looked so much like him—

Aemond is smiling.

Sweet came the word— dracarys! — as Vhagar split her mouth opened and obeyed her rider.

What have I told you?

You are mine as I am yours.

In face of every god and more, they will understand that you and I are but one soul.

[bitterrobin]

you, batman/batfamily fan, can you be normal about parents and their flaws without making them exaggerated abusers?

can you absorb the fact that Jack and Janet Drake were not perfect parents, but they still loved Tim? and that Tim loved them enough that he tried to tear a razor sharp boomerang out of his father's corpse with his bare hands? that the Drakes were not millionaires who forced high society values onto their son for the sake of a public image? (that they weren't even rich for that long of a time?)

can you be normal about how the deep recesses of poverty affect a family unit while allowing a parent nuance? can you write Willis Todd without making him a classist caricature of an abuser? can you write Catherine Todd and Crystal Brown without portraying their drug addictions as fodder for their children's whump? (I added in Crystal bc she canonically suffered from drug addiction, but I haven't seen much of her in fics tbh)

can you accept that as much an abuser David Cain was, he still loved Cassandra enough that he utterly fell apart when she left him? That he was genuinely astonished/proud of her when she spoke to him for the first time even as she threatened him? he still sucks majorly, but you can't deny that he loved her. that's what makes their relationship so painful.

can you be normal about Talia al Ghul? can you write her without making her an ooc rapist or child abuser or cold dragon lady? can you acknowledge that every ounce of her characterization surrounding Damian is vastly different from her original pre-Morrison personality to the extent that og Talia would never even have a child in the League?

can you pick apart when a parents portrayal is out of character, that a writer made them hit or neglect their child because above all else they exist for drama and action? that you can find DC characters who actually had traumatic childhoods instead of grafting them onto a Bat-character? (> this last sentence is mostly about Tim btw)

Exploring a character's parents and how they affected them is always interesting, but I've seen fics that genuinely steer towards character assassination rather than an exploration of events written in the comics. They exaggerate a parent's portrayal not to write about a complicated parent-child dynamic but so they can have Bruce or Jason rushing in to comfort them (yes, this is about the Tim Drake shrimp fic). Idk, I think most of my ire just stems from the fact that content about Mia Dearden or Todd Rice or Grant Emerson aren't widespread, Mia specifically always gets explored in Bat-circles as someone that just adds to Jason's character rather than analyzing her on her own, in addition to the constant hell that Talia goes through in both canon and fanon.

[volatilebrat4103]

Broken cycles and fixed bonds (Part 4)

The air in the room shifts as the weight of Y/N’s secrets settle in, “You’re shaking like a leaf toots” Jinx whispers, her voice laced with worry, trying her best to console her girlfriend as she rubs gentle circles on her back as the other two women watch with sore hearts.  “We don’t have to do this now.  We can-“

“Y/N?” a whispered voice sounds from the doorway, all heads snap in the direction of the sound to see the owner of the voice.  “Hi…Dad”  Y/N smiles weakly at a stunned Tobius Kiramman, his mouth opening and closing like a guppy.

Tobius’s eyes widen in shock, his face pale as he stumbles forward, desperate to confirm if his daughter is truly there.  “Y/N…is that really you?”  his voice strained and trembling with emotion, his knees almost buckle beneath him.  Caitlyn quickly rises from Vi’s lap, rushing to her father’s side to support him.  “Father, please, you should sit down” she urges, but Tobius shakes her off, his gaze never leaving Y/N’s face.  The same face that shares perfect resemblance of his late wife and daughter.  “No, no, I’m fine,” he insists, slowly finding his voice.  “H-how? You died, I saw you die”  the man has tears slowly trickling down his face.

Y/N’s face falls, taking a step towards her dad as her eyes well up with tears.  “I’m so sorry, dad,” she whispers, her voice cracking.  “I had to leave, I had to make you believe I was gone or you’d keep looking for me”  She sniffles desperately trying to keep her tears at bay.  “W-Why?”  he stammers, not bothered by the steady streams of tears flowing down his aged face.  “W-why did you have to?”  Y/N’s heart breaks hearing the man who raised her fall apart, all because of her.  Looking away from him she answers, “I couldn’t bare bringing anymore shame to our family”  She whispers, everyone else in the room forgotten, just bystanders watching a heartbreaking reunion.

“Shame? Y/N, you never were and never will be a shame to me, you’re my daughter, and I love you no matter what.” Tobius stands taller, almost…proud.  “Even though im a baseborn half breed?”  Y/N stutters out, fighting to keep her emotions at bay.  “Blood or not you ARE MY DAUGHTER”  Tobius is quick to pull her into his arms where she falls apart, in the familiar embrace of her dad. 

They sink to the floor together, overcome by their emotions.  Tobius holds Y/N tightly as he whispers in her ear, “You may not be my blood but you are no baseborn, you hear me.  You are Y/N Kiramman, daughter of Cassandra Kiramman, second to the head of the house, you never have and never will bring shame to our family, your family,” his grip tightens as Y/N clutches onto his shirt, sobs wracking through her body.  Tobius’s words wash over her as she smiles through her tears, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders.  It’s a sense of belonging and love she hasn’t experienced in years, and it was like coming home.

Caitlyn slowly walks up to them, before wrapping her arms around both, unshed tears in her eyes.  “We will face whatever comes next together, as a family.  You’re not alone Y/N.  You never were.”  Caitlyn whispers, her eyes travel to Jinx and Vi with a smile, her family is finally back, and only growing.   

With a rollercoaster of a day, and many tears shed, Y/N is left utterly exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally.  Everyone settled down, enjoying a cup of tea in front of the fireplace whilst exchanging simple conversation, Y/N however, is fast asleep.  Her head is nuzzled comfortably in Jinx’s chest as soft snores leave her mouth.  “You know, I never expected you to be so soft Jinx”  Vi teases as she watches her sister gently stroke Y/N’s cheek, a soft smile adorning her face. 

Jinx’s gaze snaps to her sister who is sat smugly with her own girlfriend sat in her lap once more.  “Shut up” she groans as her cheeks turn a crimson colour, yet she continues her ministrations, caressing her girlfriend’s soft skin.  “Don’t be jealous now” Jinx tries to snap back but it fails miserably, causing Vi to snort and roll her eyes, a fond smile playing on her lips watching the interaction.

Whilst the sisters take digs at each other, Caitlyn sat quietly in Vi’s lap, observing her sister’s sleeping form.  “what’s running through that beautiful mind of yours cupcake?”  Vi speaks softly, gently kissing Caitlyn’s knuckles.  “She has changed so much yet remained the same”  Caitlyn speaks in the silence earning the attention of the other three conscious people in the room. 

“Care to get it off your mind?” Vi offers, now running a hand up and down Caitlyn’s back comfortingly.  “It’s just, growing up she always strived to be better, take on so much responsibility…you would swear she was the older sibling between the two of us” She chuckles, melting into Vi’s touch.  “She took all the pressure on herself, constantly trying to fix thing.  She would carry the weight of my responsibilities too, insisting that’s what sisters do”  she furthers, brows furrowing.

“To me, Y/N was the picture perfect Kiramman, albeit mother would always fight with her for wearing suits and not dresses, but she was always noble and elegant.  And best of all she was humble and kind.  She was always willing to help out, building gadgets to assist the town, in fact she actually helped my mother improve the designs for the ventilation systems in Zaun.” Caitlyn smiles, watching Y/N’s sleeping form melt into Jinx’s touch.

“She was my inspiration, my rock, my…my better half”  Caitlyn sighs averting her gaze as the memory of loosing her sister flashes behind her eyes.  “How old was she when it…you know, happened?”  Vi cautiously asks, placing a comforting hand on Caitlyn’s back.  “She was 12”  Tobius answers with a sombre air, “A fire in the lab she was working in, they said it was a freak accident”  He explains as a single tear escapes his eye at the memory.  

Vi and Jinx’s expressions soften, Vi pulls Caitlyn into a gentle hug whilst placing a comforting hand on Tobius’s shoulder.  “I’m so sorry, I can’t imagine what it was like” Vi whispers, voice filled with empathy.  “Losing someone like that it’s…it’s unbearable” Jinx whispers, her gaze held on Y/N’s sleeping form.  “What do you think happened to her during those following years she was gone?”  Tobius asks, he looks to Jinx next seeing as she has been with the girl the longest since then.

“I can’t imagine the half of it”  Caitlyn whispers, her voice muffled in Vi’s neck. “Has she ever gotten the chance to focus on her magic?”  Tobius asks Jinx after a moment.  Vi is quick to interrupt the conversation, “I’m sorry did you day magic?”  Her voice filled with shock; sure, she had seen Mel use her arcane, but she has never seen another mage since then.

“Yes, Y/N’s father was a mage, we discovered early on in her childhood that she possessed arcane magic”  Tobius explains to a flabbergasted Vi.  “Although she always hid it, suppressed it,”  Caitlyn furthers with a cute smile.  Vi’s eyes widen in stunned silence, her gaze darting to Y/N’s sleeping form in wonder and shock.  “A mage, she has magic…”  Vi’s mind races with impactions.  She has so many questions, but before she can ask any of them, Jinx’s voice cuts through the silence.  “Yeah, and that’s not even the half of it,” Jinx’s eyes gleam with a knowing intensity as she runs her fingers through short Y/H/C hair.

“But no she still supresses it, still refuses to just…be herself”  Jinx whispers, pain laced in her voice for her lover.  “It’s been years since she left and yet she still insists on hiding herself, its like she’s still ashamed”  Jinx turns to the three people, her eyes glazed over.  “What do you mean?”  Tobius asks, sadness and confusion mixed on his face.

Jinx doesn’t reply, instead she reaches for Y/N’s pants, slowly pulling the waistband down.  Tobius’s eyes widen in alarm at the implication, as the other two women blush.  “Jinx!  What are you doing?!”  Vi whisper shouts, careful not to wake Y/N.  “Oh relax you horn dogs, I’m trying to show you something,” with that Jinx continues to pull Y/N’s waistband down just past her hips.  There she presents a tail carefully tucked away, wrapped around her hips so no one would see the appendage. 

Jinx gently takes the grey, fur covered tail in her hand, unwrapping it form Y/N’s waist, in doing so the Y/N’s tail coils around Jinx’s arm.  “She always felt ashamed of her appearance, I never understood it before but now that I know she comes from a topside noble family I can understand…no offence by the way” Jinx explains whilst playing with the appendage.

Caitlyn sighs, “She hated the looks she would get when we were kids, so she started tucking her tail in her pants”  Caitlyn replays the memories in her head, whilst Tobius’s face contorts to sadness having witnessed the harassment his daughter would get.

After a beat of silence Caitlyn speaks up, “you know, I was always jealous of her tail”  she chuckles with a shake of her head, everyone’s attention now on her.  “You would always ask your mother why you couldn’t have one” Tobius laughs remembering a very young Caitlyn, red face and puffed out cheeks as she was repeatedly told se couldn’t.  “she would only take it out when we were alone, locked up in our rooms playing for hours on end”  Caitlyn smiles at the image of little her and Y/N.

“I remember her saying that she had to hide it so that mom and dad won’t be reminded of the pain her father had caused, she was scared that dad would reject her as his daughter and that mom would resent her for sharing resemblance to him”  A tear escapes her eye as she stares at her sister who looked so peaceful in that moment.

Tobius’s eyes cloud over as he looks away, his voice barely above a whisper.  “I had no idea…she never said anything.”  Caitlyn’s gaze drops, shaking her head she replies,  “She didn’t want to burden you, dad.  She’s always been like that, putting others before herself.” Everyone’s expression softens.  Jinx returns her gaze to her sleeping lover, “she carried the weight of burdens that weren’t hers, and she still does” her voice low and introspective.  The room falls silent, the only sound the soft rise and fall of Y/N’s chest as she sleeps.  

Chapter summary  

Taglist:

@brocoliisscared

[imjustavenuxwithaboomerang]

watched the s1 finale with my sister two days ago (but it was like semi-late when we finished watching and then some shit happened the next day so i didn't post her thoughts until now):

"vander would go on my hear me out cake"

"she has the fighting equivalent to blue balls. she's all revved up and no one to punch" (about vi when jayce left her with the gauntlets)

"i think you're just talking out of your ass" (about silco after renni's son died)

"i would've had your son killed for this" "i would've punch him in the face cause who the fuck does he think he is"

"you could go back to noxus if you like to talk about it so much" (about ambessa)

"with respect, i don't give a shit what any of you think of me anymore" "period, kind of attractive of him to say, just that though. i don't forgive how you've neglected viktor"

"this is a dinner party from hell"

"i was hating him but now i feel bad for him" (about heimerdinger)

i jokingly called the show a masterpiece sometime after we finished watching and she went "i wouldn't say that" so do with that what you will

"kay but the thing is, nothing he said was wrong" (about finn after he died)

"are they flirting?" (about jayvik when they were on the ledge)

"i feel bad for her but i'm not sad that he's dead" (about jinx and silco)

the credits rolled and she went "i'm sorry what" which is so me-watching-arcane-for-the-first-time-coded of her to do

"there's too much moral greyness for me"

okay and then i had her list her top 5 and bottom 5 characters (she struggled to find three more top characters after the first two, probably tells you a lot about her viewing experience)

top 5:

vander: "he has clear morals and he's just trying to protect his people and he's a good father figure"

ekko: "he's the little guy, when we first meet him that is, he's like a tech wiz. and for him to build this place, i'm proud of him"

caitlyn: "she's an actual good enforcer like she's actually trying to listen to the people"

viktor: "he just wants to help people and he's looked over a lot and downgraded so he tries not to do the same"

claggor: "he's just a homie, he's a ride or die, literally, i don't know, he just has a special place in my heart" (that "literally" was UNNECESSARY)

bottom 5:

silco: "he is the archenemy. he is persona non grata. he. killed. vander. so- he's also a crime lord who doesn't care about his own people. silco doesn't have a code. silco has no scruples"

sevika: "sevika is just annoying. why she tryna kill vi all the time? i mean vi's tryna kill her but-"

marcus: "i hate a crooked cop"

jinx: "the crimes. like the killing of those six cops, and the almost killing of caitlyn, and the kidnapping of cailtyn. like she's obviously a pawn of silco's so that's why she's lower than silco but she did some crime independently"

ambessa: "ambessa's a bad mother"

special mention: deckard: "he is bad, he was really creepy and a predator" and any of silco's goons (reason is obvious i guess)

and these are her thoughts on some of the characters who aren't in either of those lists (no ranked order, just the order she spoke about them):

jayce: "i don't care about [him], you're a bad friend and i hate when people are bad friends"

mel: "you're kind of two-faced but i do feel bad about the situation with your mom"

vi: "i'm still upset with what you said to powder but i like that you're trying to make up for it but unfortunately words stick"

cassandra: "booo *thumbs down*" (that's it i guess i don't-)

mylo: "booo *thumbs down* i feel bad that he died but he was really mean to powder"

heimerdinger: "i judged him quickly cause he was a bit annoying but by the end, he had a warm place in my heart and i always go back to him in the orchestra" (the scene with ray chen's insert)

sky: "i feel so bad for her. it's also kind of a commentary. even without meaning to, the man destroyed her to save himself"

tobias: "he cares about his daughter and what she wants and realizes there's a time and place for chastising"

episodes 1 and 2

episode 3

episode 4

episodes 5 and 6

episodes 7 and 8

[honey-minded-hivemind]

I have two questions/requests!

1) Who do you think the worst (X-Men) would be? Who has the worst yandere tendencies and hovers?

2) Thinking about the Batfamily and how they’re one of the few families in DC who can fight really REALLY well without the use of a power. How would X-Men react to a daughter who was raised in the Batfamily and somehow got tossed into their universe? She can fight REALLY well (like Cassandra Cain level) but has NO mutations whatsoever. I feel like Magneto might be a little iffy around her because of her lack of mutation. They would all worry so much lol. Fighting well without a mutation is the equivalent of bringing a knife to a gunfight in their world

I can answer the first one, just not the second, because i don't do DC!

The worst platonic yandere X-Men is hard to pick, but in terms of overprotectiveness, harsh methods, deranged vibes, ability to keep and hunt Reader, and how far they'd go... I can narrow it down to a top five, I think-

Number 5: Jean and Scott. They go together, hand in hand, and both are leaders of the teen X-Men, Jean has the Phoenix Force, telekinetic abilities, mind reading and manipulation, is popular and friendly, and one wouldn't suspect her until it really is too late to go back. Scott can shoot lasers from his eyes, he's a good leader, he's welcoming and a little stern, but can be persuaded to have fun, and is like an older, protective brother, one you can't escape from and who you feel guilty leaving. They have the X-Men to back them up, they have Xavier as a father figure, they have Logan who is like their second proud dad, amd Storm and Hank as well who adore them, not to mention the other X-Teens who back them up and will help them as friends and as teammates. So, yeah, you migh be able to escape, but just barely, and probably have to turn to the dark side to do so...

Number Four: Professor Xavier. He can read minds, control them, use Cerebro to track you whenever you use your powers, and has an entire team and family of mutants who are good fighters, tacticians, and aren't afraid to back down and won't quit until they've got you with them. If he's platonic yandere, well, good luck, so are all of the X-Men, and possibly even Magneto (because if Charles likes someone, Erik will want to as well)! He's inviting, he's soothing, he calming, and he can help you; but he will also keep secrets from you, manipulate you if he thinks you aren't going to stay, and push you to rely on him and the others and see them as family. You will grow emotionally attached, amd it will hurt if you figure out what's happening and what they've tried to hide. But if you run, your only bet is either Magneto and his group, or going where no one can reach you...

Number Three: Wolverine. This guy is nigh unkillable, he has long, metal-coated claws, has heightened hearing, smell, amd sight, can withstand extreme cold, and is super protective, obsessive, and willing to die for you and kill for you. He will make you join his team, he will not let you around people he deems bad influences or dangerous, and he will not stand for you acting or being insubordanate. He won't hurt you, and if he does, it is the last, last resort. He prefers having Xavier and the teens help him, and pushes you and his other wards to be friends, to he family. And if he's interested, well, so is Sabretooth. So if you ran, you won't get far, with either Logan or the teens catching you, or Sabretooth finding you instead. You're very, very scr*wed unless you have a power that helps you in this situation...

Number Two: Sabretooth. He's like Wolverine, but worse. Doubly protective, doubly obsessive, has sharp claws, has fangs, can withstand what Wolverine can, is also near unkillable, and has a temper, too. Don't p*ss him off. There are rules, you better follow them, and you won't be drugged or possibly wounded so you remember why you're still there, and who is the one in charge. If you're hurt or almost killed, he becomes so much gentler, and is treating you almost like glass. If he likes you, Logan is definitely getting involved, and where Logan gets involved, so will Storm and the X-Teens. You will not escape unless it's with the X-Men, and if you go with them, good chance is Victor's watching you all...

Number One: Magneto. He's lost everything, multiple times. His family, his home, his friend, more than once. He's grown to be paranoid, obsessive, cunning, dangerous, and a powerful enemy of the X-Men... He can control metal and the magnetic field. Anything can be a weapon for him. He has a loyal son, a team of Acolytes, Mystique, and the Brotherhood teens, all of whom won't fight back against him and who who what he says. The moment he says you're joining, you're not getting out of it unless by some miracle Xavier hides you with him. But if that isn't the case, you're now stuck where Magneto puts you. If he likes you, that means Pietro and Wanda are trying to see what he finds so fascinating, and that leads them to liking you, albeit begrudingly at first. Then Mystique wonders why he's adding you to their group, spies on you, and is now getting the rest of the Brotherhood to keep an eye on you as well. Someone is always watching you. You feel stressed, unable to sleep, unable to eat. But if you run, if you can't make it to the X-Men, you won't be seen again until you're deemed loyal or unable to leave them... Unless you have Xavier's help, you are not escaping...

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Keepsafes

Fandom: Batman, DC Comics

Summary: AU where Martha and Bruce survive, and they adopt the batkids.

Chapters: 12/?

Characters: Bruce Wayne, Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Harvey Dent, Dick Grayson, Cassandra Cain, David Cain, Talia al Ghul, Damian Wayne, Jason Todd, Tim Drake

Relationships: Thomas Wayne/Martha Wayne/Alfred Pennyworth, BruHarvey, BruTalia

Additional Tags: Canon Divergent AU, Hurt/Comfort, Bruce Wayne is Not Batman, Angst, Alfred Pennyworth Knows All, Bruce Wayne Only Has One Child, Bruce Wayne is Not An Only Child, Bi Bruce Wayne

Chapter Twelve: Dent

Two weeks before the end of summer vacation, Martha went to the airport to pick Bruce up. Martha almost didn’t recognize him because he’d grown so much. Bruce was so excited to see her that he dropped his suitcase and ran to her at full speed. “Mom!” Bruce exclaimed. He lifted her off the ground and spun her around. He started crying as he held her. “I missed you so much.” 

“Oh, lovey, I missed you too,” Martha replied as he set her down. She was a little taken aback at how emotional Bruce was. He didn’t expect to react that way when he saw her, but being apart from his mother always made him emotional. “Bruce, it’s okay. I’ve got you now.” 

Bruce wiped his face as he pulled himself together. “Can we get something to eat? I didn’t eat on the plane,” Bruce whispered. Martha nodded and held his face in her hands before heading to the car. Bruce fell asleep right after he buckled in, and Martha moved his hair out of his face. 

She didn’t wake him until they got to the drive-thru. “Lovey… Lovey, what flavor of milkshake do you want with your burger?” Martha whispered. 

“Vanilla,” Bruce mumbled. Martha nudged him. 

“Brucie, wake up… You’ve got to eat something,” Martha whispered. Bruce nodded and pushed his hair back as he opened his eyes. 

“I didn’t have time to really get a haircut while I was there,” Bruce explained, “So, you can tell me what you really think about it.”

“Huh? Oh, Brucie, you look fine,” Martha replied with a higher pitch. 

“I’m gonna cut it, Mom,” Bruce replied. 

“How short?” Martha asked.

“As short as you want it,” Bruce replied.

“I never said I didn’t like it at this length… What are you going to do to your hair?” Martha questioned. 

“Maybe something short and spiky,” Bruce answered. Martha ordered and pulled up to the window. “You know… How some of the guys are wearing it.”

Martha smiled at him. “Please don’t do that. I like the long hair on you. It’s shoulder length, and it’s pretty. It makes you look like a poet or a rockstar. No harm in being a little pretty. It is the nineties after all,” Martha replied as she pinched his cheek. “Harvey’s got the Leo. So, I think it’ll be nice seeing the two of you stand next to each other in your sophomore-year uniforms… I wanted to get a haircut like that cute brunette in the movie that came out last year. You know, that pretty girl that you and Harvey like?” 

Bruce shrank down in his seat. “Mommm,” Bruce whined as he hid his face. Martha chuckled. 

**

Bruce and Harvey holed up in Bruce’s room after dinner to catch up. “I went home a few weeks ago to see my dad. He said he almost didn’t recognize me. He said he—.”

“Harvey, please don’t go. Don’t leave. You can’t trust him,” Bruce whispered. Harvey stood by Bruce’s bed instead of sitting down. Bruce had seen it before. Harvey loved his father, and he’d gone home before. Things were always good. Mr. Dent would shower Harvey with affection, promise him that things would be different, and then Harvey would return in tears, covered in bruises, and tell Bruce he’d never return. Bruce’s parents knew that Harvey was abused, but they didn’t know the nature of the abuse. Only Bruce knew about the beatings, otherwise, Harvey would never have gotten to go home. 

“He said he was proud of me, Bruce… And he—. He said he was sober. He hadn’t had a drink in—.”

“Harv, what do you want me to say?” Bruce whispered with tears in his eyes. 

Harvey rubbed his forearm. “It’s not normal for us to be so close. Regular best friends don’t sleep in bed together like that. Not guys—.”

“Who said that? Because I bet you they don’t know you like I do. I bet they weren’t there when you were waking up in the middle of the night screaming. I bet they weren’t sneaking down the dumbwaiter at two o’clock in the morning helping you wash your sheets because you were too scared to make noise on the way to the bathroom. Was it weird when I used to stay up crying with you because you were hurting all night?” Bruce whispered. 

Harvey turned away from Bruce. “He’s my dad. Not every father is as perfect as Mr. Wayne or Alfred. Bruce, I want you to try to be supportive. Why would you make me stay?” Harvey asked. 

Bruce’s answer caught in his throat. It was like the question made him realize something about himself, and he wasn’t sure what to do with that information. “When are you going home?” Bruce asked instead of saying what he wanted to say. 

“Tomorrow,” Harvey whispered. 

“Okay… You can come back whenever you want, you know? I won’t say anything. I won’t ask questions… And I’m gonna miss you waking me up at the last second every morning,” Bruce replied, “I guess you’ll be sleeping in your room tonight…”

“I could be weird for one more night, I guess,” Harvey mumbled as he kicked at the air. Bruce smiled faintly as he wiped a few tears away. 

**

On the first day of school, Bruce met Harvey in their usual spot, and a girl pulled him to the side. She ran her hand down his arm. “I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Annalise Talbot,” she smiled. 

“We have met. Bruce Wayne,” Bruce answered as he removed her hand from his arm. “You probably remember me as the vampire freak from eighth grade… If you’ll excuse me…” Bruce looked around for Harvey, and his jaw tightened. 

He waited a few minutes before heading to one of the payphones in the hallway. He dialed Harvey’s home phone number and took a shaky breath. Harvey answered on the first ring. “Bruce, I—.” 

“How bad?” Bruce asked. 

“Bruce, he’s sleeping right now… I don’t—. I just—.”

“Harvey, I’m gonna call a cab and come get you. Wait for me outside,” Bruce whispered. 

“Bruce, wait. I—.”

“No buts, Harv. I’ll be there fast,” Bruce replied as he hung up. He called a cab and told them where to meet him. Bruce got picked up in front of the school and went straight to the Dent house. Harvey sat outside on the stoop in his school uniform, but his face was all busted up, and he was bleeding from his browline down the side of his face. Bruce quietly passed him and opened the door. 

“Bruce, don’t—.” 

“Mr. Dent! Mr. Dent!” Bruce shouted before kicking his chair. 

Harvey’s father sat up and frowned at Bruce before calling him a name. “You’re that boy that’s been corrupting my kid—.” Bruce slapped the bottle out of his hand and it shattered on the floor. “I see I’m gonna have to teach you some manners.” Bruce smiled with his tongue in his cheek. 

“I was hoping you’d say that,” Bruce chuckled as he locked Harvey out. 

“Bruce, please!” Harvey shouted as he knocked on the door.

“I’m just getting acquainted with your father,” Bruce reassured him. Bruce watched as Mr. Dent staggered out of the chair. And it was over before it even started.

[cutebat]

For weird reasons, Tumblr made some errors that made me delete the request, so I'm sorry to the anon who requested this!! 😭😭

Request: Hello can i request platonic yan batfam where Bruce marries readers mom but they turn 18 soon and are counting down the days

Warning(s): Yandere themes, manipulation, victim blaming, slight child neglect, stealing, catching stalking, reader is done with shit

Ever since Bruce married your mom, your life has been better and worse.

The better part was that you didn't have to worry about finances anymore.

Your new father buys you new clothes that nobody could receive, takes you and your new family including your mom to fancy dinners, and allows you to buy anything with his money.

Even with all of that luxurious moments, there is one thing that you can't get off your chest.

Every time you were doing something, you spot at least one of your new family members staring at every movement you were doing.

~~~~~

One time, you were just reading a book in the living room peacefully before you spot Dick staring down at the book you were reading.

"Is that one of Dicken's stories? His stories are so interesting, you know? I've read some of his books when I was a kid cause Bruce basically forced me to read."

Then, he would rant about what things that Bruce basically made him do. So, you just left the living room as he was distracted.

~~~~~

Another time was when you caught Damian stealing your jacket out of your closet.

"Why do you have my jacket? Give it back!"

You tell him as you try to get it back as Damian made it hard to get it back.

When your parents found out about this, they just told you to just give it to your brother and apologize to him for trying to hit him even though you weren't.

Bruce mostly made you seem like you were the bad guy of all this that made you apologize to Damian. This also lead him to keeping your jacket that he stole.

That made you lock your door every time you leave your room.

~~~~~

There was also a time when you finished taking a shower, you saw Cassandra standing from the other side of the door. The two of you just stared at each other for quite some time until she spoke up.

"You should lock your door correctly next time."

She tells you this before she walks off.

This creeped you out so much that you told Bruce about this. But, he dismissed it as 'your sister was just making sure you were safe'. So, he basically dismissed her weird actions towards you.

This was one of the reasons why you wanted to move out of this house to leave once you

~~~~~

When you mentioned to your family about the college or university that you wanted to attend, they were happy for you. Well, most likely your mother.

As she was saying things how she was so proud of you, your stepdad and his family were now making some plans to make sure how they're going to stalk you as you are in school. They needed to see you being safe after all.

For now, they'll just support you by helping you with paperwork, improving your studies, and basically just trying to be all innocent and supportive to you. Well, they are supportive of you, but they won't allow you to leave their sights.

It wasn't the first time that they did this.

~~~~~

Bonus (When reader is trying to go through the meeting with her college administrator without picking up the call that her family is trying to reach her out):

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 41 (Buttercup's New Boyfriend)

Hazel stopped by toward the end of summer to spend time with her oldest sister and nephew. "I have news," she said excitedly. "Nicola proposed and I said yes!"

Heather was thrilled for her baby sister, who really wasn't a baby anymore. "Have you decided when the wedding will be?"

Hazel shrugged. "Later in the fall, once we've both finished school. Nicola wants to be a teacher like her mother and I'm taking some online courses in international relations."

Heather's eyes bulged. "Wow! I think politics is a great career for you, Hazel. You love making friends everywhere you go; I can only imagine how many people you'll want to invite to your wedding."

Hazel shrugged. "Not too many. We see our friends all the time, but we want our wedding to be for family. And if you think about it, our family's getting pretty big already."

"I can't wait to have a new sister-in-law!" Heather beamed. "Will you stay in Henford, or take your skills international?"

"Eventually I'll leave our hometown, but for now Nicola will work at Henford Elementary, and I think Mayor Varner will take me on as an intern so I can get some experience. We're going to live with Nicola's parents and brother in the Bramblewood so River and Cassandra will have space for their new baby."

Heather beamed. "I'm so proud of you, little Dandelion."

"You're as corny as Dad, you know that?"

"You don't like my Single Mom Jokes?" Heather pretended to be hurt.

"You're not single," Hazel reminded her. "It's been a few months since Holly called and said you'd basically met nerdy Clark Kent if he walked around all day looking as hot as Superman!"

"I just mean..."

"I get it, he's not your son's father! But that's obviously a good thing. When can we meet him?"

"Soon," Heather said. "I'm still getting to know him, and so is Ash. I want to be sure."

"Will you ever let yourself be sure?"

Hazel was right to doubt her - Heather doubted herself. But Conrad was back on the coast a few days later, spending time with Heather and her son at Fisherman's Wharf. After watching for sea lions in the bay, they stopped in for a quick bite at the Salty Paw.

No matter how much Heather doubted herself, she knew she loved spending time with him. He was still getting used to handling an infant, and feared more than anything he'd drop the kid on his head, but Ash babbled away in his arms as seagulls circled above, searching for food in the water below.

"My son learned to stand on his own at a booth inside the Salty Paw!" Heather groaned, caught between immense pride and embarrassment. "Does that make me a bad mom?"

"Nothing makes you a bad mom," said Conrad. Heather blushed.

"You're really good with him. Are you hiding any kids on me?"

"I donated sperm to pay my way through college." She froze, but when he cracked a smile she breathed with relief. "I'm kidding. No kids, I promise."

Heather had never had feelings this strong for anyone. Not Everett, and certainly not Malcolm. When they returned to her home on Sable Square for Ash's afternoon nap, Conrad told him a bedtime story to help him sleep.

"Once there was a tree and she loved a little boy. And every day the boy would come and he would gather leaves and make them into crowns and play king of the forest..."

He knew this one from memory, about a tree who gives all of herself to a boy throughout his life to make him happy. Ash suckled sleepily from his own fingers while he listened before dozing off.

Conrad was so perfect. Heather couldn't help but fear it all felt too good to be true. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 1 Summary | Gen 1 Start

© The Giving Tree by Shel Silverstein, 1964: Harper & Row.

[strong-with-the-sarcasm]

Part 17: the stars are shining their brightest light

"We can get lost in fears that we make for days that feel black as night, but there in the dark, you'll find that the stars are shining their brightest light." -If You Love Someone by The Veronicas

Regent Masterlist Part 16

“This is my girlfriend, Queen Regent Jasmine of the Infinite Realms.” 

If there was ever a way to silence the Bat-family, it was with an introduction like that. 

Sure, Jason knew the family was fully aware of Jasmine Nightingale (thanks to Replacement), but he was positive that he had just rocked their world by just casually dropping the fact that  Jazz was not only royalty of the same dimension but also ruled it in the stead of the true monarch… He was certain that his family would figure out what he wasn’t saying soon enough. 

Beautifully executed and dinner hadn’t even started. 

The shock that permeated the room was delicious, feeding his ego as he led Jazz to their seats the furthest from Bruce, with Jazz safe at his side where he could intercept any perceived attack aimed at her. He’d ignored the rule about weapons at the table, packing his favorite desert eagle at his back and an ecto-gun strapped to his ankle that was a thoughtful gift from Danny. Jasmine had her bracelets uncharmed for the evening, desiring transparency with his family, and he knew how quickly she could summon her armor and Faithkeeper. They were as prepared as they could be and it made him proud that he had someone like Jazz to watch his back.

(He loved fighting back-to-back with her.) (Almost as much as he loved keeping her safe.) (The Lady and her knight.) (He was in love.)

It was Dickolas that spoke first, barely containing his excitement, “Little Wing, I’m so happy for you!” Which allowed pandemonium to follow from the rest of his siblings. 

“Oh my gosh-” 

“A member of royalty-” “-you’re-” 

“Jason pulled-”

 “gorgeous!” 

“New sister?”

“-is willing-” 

“A queen?!” 

“-to date you?” 

“Nice one man.” 

The once-Revenant could practically taste Jazz’s amusement, relishing in her amusement-bafflement-love as they waited quietly for the others to settle down so the couple could answer the questions no doubt waiting for them.  

The first question Jazz could answer was probably the one that she dreaded to answer. 

“How’d you meet?” Tim asked, eyes switching from Jason to her and back again. 

Jason was swift to reply, “At a bookstore.” “Got to talking and Jason asked me out.” Jazz added with a soft smile at the memory of a blushing Jason. 

The dark-haired girl at the table, Cassandra Wayne, signed something far too quick for Jazz to read completely. Though Stephanie translated right away, “Cass asked how long it took Jason to ask you out.” 

Jazz chuckled a bit and set down her cutlery to sign her response, though the movements were somewhat stilted- she hadn’t used sign language since the last meeting with Heppa, a mute acropolis amazonian that once acted as Jazz’s sparring partner while under Pandora’s tutelage. 

Some signs were muscle memory (stop, peace, fight), but others were difficult to recall. The ghost equivalent of ASL (ESL or ecto sign language) was far easier to fall back into than ASL, given that it also used emotions to communicate. [Two days, nervous, very cute.] Jazz signed, projecting the fondness-love she felt for her soulmate as she did. Cass tilted her head, the faint prickle of curiosity evaporating into the air almost as soon as Jazz registered it, but one of the other men at the table turned the attention away from the two women’s silent conversation. “I can’t believe little wing got a queen to date him!” Dick exclaimed. 

“Tt, a member of royalty should have better standards than to settle for Todd.” That comment came from the youngest Wayne, Damian, where he sat to his father’s left. The head of the house studied Jazz with a quiet air of protect-wariness. 

Ah, yes. They’d met as their alter egos- her the Regent and him the Batman. How concerning it must be for her to find her way into his son’s life and to his dining table with his other children. Bruce no doubt saw the evidence of the extent she would go to for Phantom. 

One slash, two, three Blood is on your hands already. 

Fourth, fifth slash Ask the ghosts if honor matters, buried amongst the ash.  Slash six, seven Sharpen your love into a weapon

“Jason is a wonderful person and partner.” Jazz replied, electing to ignore the DadBat’s stare into the side of her skull. Cass’s hands moved again, a bit slower than the first time, much to Jazz’s relief. [Do ghosts use sign?] 

[Yes. Emotions with words.] Jazz answered with a small smile as she once again projected her emotions, fondness-anxiety-amusement, for those present even if they couldn’t register them. 

“What are those shadows behind you?” Duke blurted out, eyes still locked onto something over Jazz’s shoulder. 

“Shades.” The manor was full of weak shades, no doubt belonging to ancestors of the Wayne lineage. “Weak ones” she clarified. 

Bruce spoke up this time, “The weakest form of ghosts?” he asked for clarification as if he wasn’t in possession of the Ghost Files, which she knew had information on shades. 

(Among other beings.) (She tried not to think about her own file.) (The evidence of patricide and matricide.) 

“Yes. These ones are probably just curious about my presence.” It was true, as far as she could tell. Jazz was the most liminal being in existence, after all, not to mention the Crown of Fire she bared as Regent. Thankfully, she couldn’t make out any hostility from the ancestral shades, not with her permission to be here and an escort of a Fraid member (Jason) was not an intrusion. 

“You are aware we know your identity,” Damian stated, with a glare that would cut down weak men. “And that you know ours.” 

(Well, no shit Sherlock.) (Jason’s Red Hood.) (No need for a corkboard and red string.) “Demon spawn-” Jason growled, but Jazz took his hand in hers to calm down the anger she could feel bubbling up to the surface. He took a deep breath in and out before he squeezed her hand back. “Damian. I trust Jazz with my life, she won’t betray us or our secret identities.” 

“Phantom trusted you with the Ghost Files. If he considers you worthy, then so will I.” Jazz swore. 

Dinner passed far quicker than Jason expected. He sat back and basked in his Lady’s presence at the dining table as she answered questions, as they had agreed before arriving. Bruce hadn’t spoken much, no doubt content to watch the interactions between his kids and Jazz. 

Jason hoped the old man could see how wonderful his Lady was. She was his guiding hand through darkness and fire, made his worries melt away, and offered him peace in his second chance at life. 

Gave him her heart, him, the eight-heads in a duffel bag crime lord. Let him meet her little brother, her reason for surviving thus far, her world. Let Jason’s scarred and bloody hands hold her close to his still-beating heart and Proto-core. 

He couldn’t offer her much, not really, but he could offer her a piece of him- this, his family, his Fraid. It wasn’t a lot, not when compared to what Jazz had given him before he ever knew her name, but it was all he had to give that couldn’t be offered so easily. 

(Jazz would never hurt his family.) (Not unless they hurt him first.) 

One day, the two of them would be comfortable in this manor side by side, but not now with the newness and wariness he could feel from his Fraid

Perhaps he shouldn’t ask Bruce for that favor quite yet. 

A/N: I am thrilled to announce that with this update the Regent is no longer in Hiatus! With the AO3 version comes more fuel to write (comments & kudos) and of course that gives me more encouragement to write. There will be gaps between posts still, but I will be posting parts again. AO3 link in Regent masterlist, parts combined into longer chapters. beta'd by the awesome @meditating-cat

Thanks for reading!

[flowerandblood]

The Vanity and Variability (2)

[ Jane Austen • Aemond x Baratheon • female ]

[ warnings: sexual tension, angst, mention of trauma, violence ]

[ description: Despite coming from a family with royal blood, Aemond is forced because of his brother’s debts to choose one of the daughters of the famously wealthy general, Borros Baratheon, as his wife to save his family from bankruptcy. When he arrives to make his choice he is distraught and discouraged, made all the more so by watching from the sidelines his youngest daughter, who seems more intrigued by his dog than her possible future husband. Slow burn, sexual tension, regency and Jane Austen prose vibe, vain, self-righteous Aemond. ]

A story which is an alternative universe of The Impossbile Choice taking place in regency times (1805-1815). The characters are all the same as in the main series, however, for obvious reasons they will behave differently and experience things differently from medieval times. You can read this without having to delve into the main series.

Aemond & Miss Baratheon & VhagarMoodboard

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

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

When their father received a letter of marriage proposal from Otto Hightower he was furious. He thought it would be humiliating for him to give any of his daughters away to a proud, vain bankrupt who would choose any of them by grace, just for their vast fortune.

He decided to create a small domestic gathering and called her, all her sisters and their brother into their living room.

They sat at the table listening with attention and surprise to what he had to say to them. Their father was met with a completely different reaction than he had expected.

"Please, father, he is almost like a prince. I would live in a palace!" Exclaimed Maris, already imagining in her mind how she would walk through the grand chambers of their gigantic mansion located in London.

"The Targaryens are one of the most important names in our country, it would bring great honour to our family. Your grandson would have royal blood, father. What harm would it do for us to have him come here to determine if we would like him?" Cassandra asked, and their father could not find the right answer to this question, so he finally gave in, recognising that it was nothing official for now.

He replied to Mr Hightower that his grandson could come to his estate to get acquainted with his daughters under his watchful eye to decide if they liked each other.

She had no idea what she thought of the arrival of someone like him; her sisters lived only for his person, counting down the days until his arrival.

One evening they sat all together in their nightgowns in Cassandra's room, which she was entitled to as the eldest daughter and was the largest, talking animatedly. It was good custom for it to be the eldest daughter who was married first, and it was clear that she was concerned about what Mr Targaryen would think of them.

"When he arrives here, we must all behave with decorum and maintain good manners. Do you hear me?" She directed her words at her and she swallowed quietly, nodding and lowered her gaze, fiddling with the fabric of her chemise.

She was the youngest of them, standing next to them looking less like a real, full woman and more like a child in her eyes.

Although the shape of her breasts and hips were outlined under her chemise, she didn't look as serious as they did, she still tied her long hair up with a ribbon at the back of her head instead of forming it into an exquisite bun like they did.

She tried once to style her hair in such a bun, but found that it completely didn't suit her. She looked as if she was just trying to disguise herself as a grown-up woman, a wife and mother, which she was not, and she gave up sadly, telling her maid to let her hair down again.

She had never thought about marriage or love before, being far in line behind her sisters, but one day she realised that since it was not agreed that Mr Targaryen would marry Cassandra and that he could choose any of them, he could choose her too.

The thought terrified her.

"But what will I do if he chooses me?" She asked one day on a walk, walking with them leisurely into town to see the new hats in the shops, and Floris laughed out loud at her words.

"Don't bother, you look like a child and you're unkempt. You have nothing to worry about." She said lightly, and she felt burning tears of humiliation under her eyelids, slowing down and following them completely behind.

Although she did not want a husband at all, it hurt her cruelly that they thought he would despise her not only as a possible future spouse, but as a person in general.

She confided her worries to her father, standing before him and weeping, struggling to put her distress into words, and he looked at her with paternal concern, running his hand over her chin. When she had finished speaking he stood up and walked over to her, catching her soft cheeks in his large, rough hands.

"My dearest, why do you need the attention of someone like him? A man who only wants your wealth, who I am sure will not respect or value you? I hope that after his visit your sisters will change their minds and no marriage will take place, and you will pay no attention to him at all when he arrives here. Even if he wanted you for a wife, I would never give you up to him for the devouring of those vultures of London with only vanity and volatility in their hearts." He murmured lowly and leaned down, kissing her forehead, and she felt an immense sense of relief.

Her father, as well as her brother, were always able to comfort her.

When the day of Mr Targaryen's arrival came, her sisters had been dressing up all day, shouting and running around the house, accusing each other of stealing jewellery or dresses, losing something every step and crying. She watched this with amusement, dressed in her everyday summer gown, looking calmly out of the window, thinking only that this commotion did not concern her.

She had stopped feeling bad about the thought, but she was curious to see what kind of man he would be.

When his carriage finally arrived outside their manor house everyone, according to good manners, went out to meet him with their father in the lead. When the carriage door opened a large, beautiful white dog, looking like a fox, suddenly jumped out of it.

She thought it was love at first sight.

She immediately ran towards her despite her father's calls, and the animal jumped on her, putting its dirty paws on her shoulders, licking her face. She laughed, embracing her around her waist, dishevelled by how sweet this dog was.

When she finally jumped down she stroked her soft fur and raised her head, noticing the man looking at her out of the corner of his eye, pale, his lips tightened into a thin line expressing impatience and embarrassment, his gaze piercing, cool and uncomfortable, the black ribbon bow tying his almost white hair into a long ponytail.

He pulled off his cylinder, tucked it under his arm and it was only then that she noticed his famous black eye patch, the long scar stretching across the entire left side of his face.

She thought that, contrary to what she had imagined, he was not scary, but, according to her father's words, he seemed to her infinitely vain and distraught at having to be here, even though they were doing his family a favour.

She decided not to think about him and leave the conversation with him to her sisters, leaving all her attention and love to his dog, whose name, as it turned out, was Vhagar.

Taking advantage of her owner's absence, she decided to lock herself in her room with her along with a piece of roast on a plate and practice tricks with her.

"Sit." She said lowly, and Vhagar immediately sat down, looking greedily at the piece of meat she had in her hand. She handed it to her as soon as she followed her command, and she devoured it greedily, licking herself with a loud click.

She also appeared to be able to lie down and stand still on command, as well as running up to her leg.

"Give me your paw." She said, extending her hand to her, and she sat up, wagging her tail, looking with big eyes at the next piece of meat she was holding, panting heavily.

She sat down next to her on the floor, still holding her outstretched hand in front of her.

"Give me your paw." She repeated, and she began to squirm and bark, not understanding what was expected of her, what she had to do to be able to eat this delicious piece of chicken.

She took her paw in her hand and shook it, showing her what she was supposed to do, then placed a piece of meat in front of her, which she immediately swallowed.

"Good doggy." She praised her and stroked her, taking another piece from her plate, again extending her hand to her.

"Give me your paw." She said softly, Vhagar twisted in her place and barked. She repeated the command and she scratched her thigh with her paw, checking to see if this was the movement she had in mind.

"Good doggy! Such a good doggy!" She said happily, letting her eat another piece of meat, stroking her fur, praising her wisdom.

They both jumped when she heard a quiet knock on her door. She opened it and was startled to see the silhouette of their guest, looking down at her as if he was about to kill her, Vhagar threw herself at him cheerfully, longing for her owner.

"Vhagar! Calm down! Sit." He commanded her coolly, clearly frustrated, and she pressed her lips together, deciding that she would share the rather pleasant news that his dog was able to perform a new activity thanks to her efforts.

"I was just teaching her a new trick." She whispered, not wanting to wake the sleeping family members and was already about to explain to him what the trick was specifically about when he spoke directly to her, looking at her disapprovingly.

"Don't come near my dog again." He hissed and whistled at Vhagar, motioning towards his room.

She pressed her lips together, feeling a sting in her heart at his unpleasant and cold words, but thought she might have expected it. She saw to her surprise, however, that his dog turned towards her every once in a while, standing and apparently considering whether she felt like continuing to play with her instead of going to sleep.

Despite her owner's efforts, she refused to budge and jumped up when he suddenly grabbed her violently by the fur on her neck, pulling her forcibly towards his room, as if he had completely lost his temper, furious, she pulled in the air loudly and squealed in despair at the sight, hearing her whine full of pain and terror.

"− no! − please! − wait −" She called out pleadingly, and suddenly, as if he realised what he was doing he looked at her surprised and let go of Vhagar, who immediately ran away from him, hiding back in her room. She looked at his face and was surprised to find that he was broken, she had a feeling that he was about to cry.

What was the matter with him?

She swallowed loudly, wanting to quickly alleviate the situation she ran into her room and picked up a piece of meat, shoving it under Vhagar's nose. She immediately followed her, curious, and they both left the room, but when she saw her owner standing in the same place she panicked and lowered her tail, fearing that he would do the same to her as he had a moment ago.

She approached his stony figure, she had the impression that he had completely frozen absorbed in his own agony at the thought that his dog would now hate him.

"Hand it to her and call her out, just don't get angry." She whispered to him pleadingly, handing him the meat she held between her fingers. They both crouched down, looking at Vhagar, who watched them with lowered ears, alert. He held out his hand to her, she could see that his fingers were trembling.

"− come, Vhagar − I'm sorry − it's all right −" He whispered with difficulty, brokenly, no longer resembling at all the man she had seen getting out of the carriage. He seemed suddenly human to her, full of some cruel contradiction she could not comprehend. She felt the pain pouring out of him, the fear of rejection, and involuntarily felt sympathy.

She realised that he had probably been forced to come here, exposed as if in a market to be watched and judged by her sisters, all the time in the limelight, having to make a choice even though they, in his eyes, were not worthy of him in status.

She thought he had no right to feel superior to them, coming here only for their fortune, but she couldn't help seeing him now as just an ordinary man, terrified by the vision that his beloved pup would be afraid of him.

Vhagar approached him slowly and hesitantly took from his hand what he had on it. She saw his fingers stroke her white fur with tenderness and gentleness, and then her head snuggled against his chest, his face pressed against hers expressing something like relief, his lips tightened, his eyes red.

She smiled at the sight, feeling at the same time remorseful at the fact that all this had happened because of her, because she hadn't asked his permission if he would mind if she played with his dog.

"− I'm so sorry −" She whispered softly and he looked at her, she noticed with surprise that his gaze was not cold and chilly. It was focused, uncertain, filled with feeling, suffering and loneliness, depth and emptiness at the same time.

He did not answer.

She stood up and called out quietly to Vhagar, heading for his room, and she immediately moved to follow her. She wanted to lead her to his bedroom and force her to stay there to end this whole unpleasant situation.

She sat down on the floor and reached out to her. She immediately laid down next to her and put her paw on her thigh as she taught her. She smiled and stroked her soft fur, then lifted her gaze and saw that he was standing over them, looking at them as if they were some amazing creatures, in his eyes surprise and shock that she dared to enter his room in the middle of the night in just her nightgown.

The realisation of this gaffe hit her with redoubled force and she stood up quickly, explaining that she only wanted Vhagar to go in there after her, leaving quickly and closing the door behind her, running to her room and sighing heavily, feeling her heart pounding fast.

She thought that this was not a good start to their acquaintance and that he probably hated her for sure now.

However, she decided that since he wouldn't consider her anyway it didn't matter, she was more worried that by her behaviour he would have a bad opinion of her sisters, and she knew how Cassandra cared about this marriage.

She was the eldest and felt time was slipping through her fingers, many men had asked for her hand because of her father's wealth, but they were too old for her or unpleasant to look at.

It appeared that she might have been too fussy, and now someone from a royal background almost their own age had come to their house and it seemed the perfect opportunity for her.

She didn't want to ruin her happiness.

However, as always, Floris was unable to restrain her nosiness even at breakfast, pestering her with questions and accusations that she did not have the strength to answer. She felt Mr Targaryen's eye on her, and if she didn't know him she would have thought she saw a hint of sympathy in his gaze.

"My dear, apologise to Mr Targaryen for your behaviour and for taking his dog for yourself." Her father finally said to her, and she swallowed loudly, lifting her gaze to him.

She could see that he was looking at her uncertainly, terrified of what she might say, of what she had seen, which could reflect badly on his reputation.

"I am deeply sorry for my behaviour and all the unpleasantness that came with it." She choked out with difficulty what she really wanted to say to him and saw that he swallowed loudly, lowering his eyes and hummed under his breath as if in thought, running his fingertips over the table top.

"I also apologise, miss Baratheon." He said lowly, startling her completely, and as he lifted his determined, burning gaze to her she understood that he wanted to tell her that he was ashamed of his behaviour.

She felt a warmth in her heart at the thought that he had decided to apologise to her even though the fault lay with her.

She heard Floris snort at his words, displeased that he had not rebuked her.

"Mr Targaryen, do not apologise to her. She is like an animal herself." She said with amusement, looking her straight in the eye, and she felt humiliation spilling over her body, her cheeks red.

She swallowed hard, breathing unevenly, lowering her gaze, repeating to herself that she couldn't make a scene and start crying in front of him, that Cassandra would reprimand her again, saying she was acting like a child.

She felt she was losing to her own distress and got up at last, apologising quietly and left quickly, running out into the courtyard. She heard quick footsteps behind her a moment later and didn't even have to turn around to know it was Royce.

"Wait." He called out to her and she stopped, looking at him with parted, trembling lips, tears streaming involuntarily down her red face. Royce put his arm around her waist and she embraced his as they moved ahead, looking forward, saying nothing.

"Don't mind her. She can't bear the thought of not living in a grand palace. Unfortunately, I can't say she's the smartest of my sisters." He said amused, and she burst out laughing through her tears, hugging him, as usual feeling relieved in his company.

"What was he apologising to you for?" He asked after a moment, and she grunted quietly, unsure if she should talk about it.

"He was angry that I locked myself in my room with his dog. But he was right. That's all." She said briefly, figuring she would skip the details, not wanting to put him in a bad light in front of her brother, recognising that she had known him too briefly to judge him so quickly.

Royce already wanted to go home, but she said she wanted to continue her journey and walk to the lake to calm down completely. She loved listening to the quiet sound of the water sitting by the shore and had no desire to look at Floris for the next few hours.

So she moved ahead alone, taking comfort from the beautiful summer views all around her, the fields surrounding her green and full of flowers, the air clean and crisp.

She shuddered when she suddenly heard a loud barking and saw Vhagar running quickly towards her. The dog pounced on her and started licking her face, and she laughed out loud.

"What are you doing so far from home?" She asked, stroking her snout as she fell back onto her four paws, and it was only when she looked around that she noticed Mr Targaryen's silhouette sitting on the shore, his impenetrable gaze directed towards her.

For a moment she considered returning home, but realised she didn't want to go back there. Even more so if he wasn't there now, her sisters would lash out at her with questions and accusations, keeping at least a hint of civility in his presence.

Only Ellyn was being nice to her, Cassandra tried to fight the feelings warring within her, but she could see the frustration on her face.

No matter how hard she tried to stay away from him, she kept running right into him.

She thought that maybe if they had her attitude they would experience the same thing.

She sighed heavily and started walking towards him, recognising that it wasn't just his shore, that she was the first to discover this place and had as much right to sit there as he did.

She sat down beside him on the sand, a safe distance away, which Vhagar took immediate advantage of to lie down between them, laying her head on her thighs.

She was sure he would get up and go somewhere else, discouraged by her presence, he, however, seemed to make nothing of it, sunk in his own thoughts. She closed her eyes and began to listen to the sounds of the wind and water, the pleasant breeze wrapped around her face. She felt sleepy.

She opened her eyes after a few minutes, looking around as if half asleep, and saw to her surprise that Mr Targaryen had fallen asleep beside her, his head settled on his shoulder, his face unusually gentle and calm.

She thought he needed a moment of rest and solitude too, and smiled at the thought.

With some strange warmth in her heart, she lay down next to Vhagar and wrapped her arms around her, wanting to fall asleep next to them.

After they had returned to her mansion, after what he had said when Floris had assaulted her, she herself was not sure what she thought of him.

On the one hand, she felt grateful because he had stood up for her, refuting any rumours or conjecture about the nature of their walk, but on the other hand, his words were so cruel and insolent that she thought he would never have referred to a woman of his status in such a way, that he was showing how much he despised them, that he did not regard them as equals.

The next day they were all due to go to church, and as it was literally a five-minute walk from their property, they decided to go there on foot.

She wore her bonnet on her head, so she tied her hair up in a bun like her sisters to make the whole thing look right, the colour of her headdress warm cream, just like her dress.

She did not know if the form of the walk made Mr Targaryen happy or not, his expression remained invariably indifferent. He walked at the front with her father and Royce, Royce telling him something with amusement and he seemed to be partially listening to him.

Further along walked Cassandra, Maris and Floris, adding a word or two to their brother once in a while, and she walked at the back with Ellyn.

"Floris is very jealous." She told her quietly, clearly wanting to comfort her. "She teases each of us behind closed doors and says very nasty things."

She did not feel surprised by what she heard. Floris always cried when her father refused her, loving to point out mistakes to everyone but herself.

She thought that she had felt overlooked all her life and was now trying to make up for it by getting everyone's attention, the higher-ranking person it was, the better.

It wasn't long before they arrived at a beautiful little brick church surrounded by a stone wall and orchard. They went inside, their father greeting everyone, the presence of Mr Targaryen sparked great interest and everyone wanted to shake his hand.

She could see the tension on his face, the enormity of his discomfort in the presence of so many strangers, and she thought he was in constant pain, forced to be polite and courteous when he felt like running away.

One by one, they all began to sit down in the pew where their family always sat, but when she wished to take her place at the end, Floris placed her hand on the seat.

"This seat is for Mr Targaryen. After all, we won't let him sit at the back." She said lightly, and she felt a tightening in her throat, tears of humiliation filling her eyes once more.

"There's enough room for everyone." She whispered, her father leaning over, looking at her concerned, not understanding why she and Mr Targaryen were not yet seated.

"There isn't."

She looked at her with red eyes, feeling her clenched lips tremble, but there was not a trace of hesitation or sympathy on her sister's face.

So she turned back, swallowing loudly, sitting down in the empty bench behind them, her father turning his head after her, startled.

"What are you doing?"

She did not answer him, for she looked shocked sideways when she saw that Mr Targaryen had stepped into her pew following her, placing his cylinder on his free side, undoing one button from his tailcoat, sitting down beside her with his legs crossed.

Floris turned towards him, apparently wanting to announce to him that there was a place for him on their bench, but before she could open to say anything, a single, cold sentence left his lips.

"Please attend to your prayers, Miss Baratheon."

Floris turned pale and pressed her lips together, turning away, pretending nothing had happened. She looked at him sideways and swallowed loudly as he glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, frustrated.

"Can't you concentrate on prayer in the house of God either, Miss Baratheon?" He growled and she shook her head, pulling out her prayer book from her small pouch hanging on her hand, not daring to turn her gaze to him for the entire liturgy.

Despite her best efforts, she couldn't concentrate on what Pastor Thomson was saying, thinking only of the fact that he had given up the seat he was entitled to by his status and sat next to her.

She thought he did this because he wanted to avoid her sisters, because after their nap at the lake he knew she would not torment him. That he sat next to her because he wanted to show Floris again what he thought of her.

She figured that perhaps he wanted to comfort her too, that he didn't want her to sit alone away from her family, rejected and abandoned.

The last thought filled her heart with gratitude and warmth and she found herself thinking that he was a more complicated man than she had originally assumed.

As they stood up to receive the eucharist, Mr Targaryen let her go ahead and, squeezing between him and the pew, she involuntarily brushed against his body and heard him quietly gasp through his nose, all tense.

She knew he was standing behind her in line, she could hear his breathing behind her, she could feel his gaze on her. This was a test, he wanted to see if she would get distracted again, if she would think about him, if she would end up pestering him like her sisters.

She thought he didn't deserve her treating him so objectively.

She preferred to think of herself as his friend who, understanding his needs, would not impose on him, allowing him to remain comfortable in her presence.

She didn't look at him as she passed him in line or as she sat back in the pew and they both listened to the psalms, waiting for everyone to take communion.

She swallowed loudly as she felt him spread his knees, sitting down more comfortably, his leg rubbing against hers and pressed to her barely perceptibly.

She felt a pleasant shudder and swallowed loudly, running her fingers over the book lying on her thighs, but she didn't dare to look at him, not wanting to give him satisfaction.

She gasped, her heart starting to pound like mad as he righted himself on the seat and grunted, leaning back with his shoulders against the rest of the bench, his knee pressed almost painfully hard against her leg now.

She felt herself breathing through her mouth, droplets of sweat running down her neck, her fingers tightening on her prayer book.

She felt him looking at her.

She felt his breath directed towards her, enveloping her face.

She glanced at his hand lying on his knee pressed against hers, his pointing finger tapping restlessly against the material of his trousers, as if impatient.

What did he want?

Why was he doing this, playing with her, putting her in this position?

She drew in the air in horror when his hand suddenly pulled away from his knee and moved over her thighs towards her fingers, as if he wanted to grab them.

She clutched her book, terrified, and heard him hum under his breath as he grabbed her prayer book, sliding it out of her hands in a slow movement.

She felt her whole body quiver, her fingers trembling as they lay numbly on her lap.

She knew he had seen it.

Was he deriving some kind of dark satisfaction from it?

She watched out of the corner of her eye as he looked through her prayer book page by page, even though he had his own lying on the backrest in front of him.

Hers was older, had belonged to her mother, was her only memento of her after her death, and she felt uneasy seeing it in the hands of someone else.

"Please, sir, give it back to me." She whispered quietly and heard his murmur expressing surprise or displeasure.

"What harm am I doing? I am merely looking at it, Miss Baratheon." He hummed low, licking his finger and turning the page, something about the gesture seemed inappropriate, ungodly to her and she thought he had done it on purpose.

"Please. This is my only memento of my mother." She mumbled helplessly and felt him suddenly freeze.

She didn't look at him but she could feel the atmosphere of discomfort between them, his knee pulled away from hers as he grunted, swallowing loudly, pointing her book towards her, holding it in his hand.

She reached for it with a trembling hand, and their fingers involuntarily touched, she had the feeling that his thumb had purposely run over her skin, as if in a gesture of apology, of comfort that made her want to cry, she felt goosebumps on her cheeks.

She put her prayer book back on her thighs, clasping her trembling hands on them, breathing hard, feeling as if he was mocking her, taking pleasure and satisfaction in what he could do to her, in how naïve she was.

She felt as, despite her mind's tremendous efforts, tear after tear began to run down her cheeks. She wiped them away quickly with her thumb, but they kept flying.

She saw his hand, which again laid stretched across his knee clenched into a fist, his fingers moving restlessly.

He knew she was crying because of him.

When the liturgy ended she stood up first and headed quickly for the door, not looking at him or her family.

When she turned into the field corner and knew no one could see her anymore she burst out into a loud sob, tired of her sisters, tired of this strange, variable men who played with her, who would never look at her or her family as equals.

She drew in a loud breath when she heard quick footsteps behind her and, thinking it was Royce, turned hopefully behind her. She turned pale and parted her lips with a sound of mournful despair when she saw him, breathing loudly, his hair in partial disarray, slipping out of its ribbon.

"Miss Baratheon. Forgive me." He mumbled, not believing himself that these words were coming out of his mouth, clearly surprised and ashamed of his own behaviour. "I have no idea what has gotten into me."

They stood before each other in silence, looking at one another with wide eyes, she struggled to calm her breathing, her trembling lips slightly parted in disbelief.

"I don't understand you, sir. I try, but I don't. You are cruel. You humiliate me and my sisters knowing that we do not stand in a position to oppose you. I would like to be your friend, but I am not sure you could be a friend to anyone, let alone a person of such low position as myself." She almost wailed, shaking her head, looking at him with anguish, something flashed across his face, his brow furrowed, his lips tightened, he swallowed loudly, her words hitting something deep inside him.

She did not give him a chance to reply. She turned her back on him, seeing her family approaching, and set off towards her mansion, thinking with despair that she already felt sorry for whichever of her sisters this man would choose as his wife.

______

Taglist 1 @its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess

[guiltgal]

Part 7 of my dc x pokemon series! Featuring Cassandra Cain.

Cassandra Wayne's public facing pokemon. She has the fewest pokemon. David Cain did not allow Cass pokemon.

Love: Cass' Umbreon that evolved from the Eevee Bruce gave her. She's very proud and happy that Love became an Umbreon like Ace. Love is Cass' second ever pokemon. Weras cape and cowl similar to Cass'.

Life: A Clefable and Cass's first ever pokemon that joined her as a Cleffa when she ran away from her father. The only pokemon she had for years. The two love to dance together now. Life dons a bat costume that makes her look similar to a strange Gengar when out with Cass.

Ballet: A Kirlia that saw Cass dancing and danced with her, requesting to be caught. Will evolve into Gardevoir eventually, but happy to just dance and be with Cass without much battle or training.

Odette: Swanna (Shiny) caught on manor grounds. More personable and less vain than Bruce's Swanna. Named by Jason when he returned home, which helped bridge the gap between brother and sister.

Vivillon (Monsoon pattern): caught in Hong Kong while Bruce was trapped in time. Wanted to feel close to the rest of her family while away.

Oricorio: Cass has each style of this pokemon, but is closest to the Sensu style as that's the first she caught on case in Japan.

Cyclizar/Ride: Cass' street mount.

Black Noibat/Noibat-girl's vigilante pokemon and companions.

Sister: Gotham Marowak and the second daughter of Maman as a Cubone.

Symbol: Cass' Noivern and primary flying mount. The only child of Beast, Alfred's Noivern. He came to her of his own volition.

Hugs: Her Woobat

Choice: Mienshao that is a permanent member of Cass' patrol team. Their sense of justice is the same and they understand each other well.

Talk: Gothorita that helps Cass communicate with civilians when she struggles by psychically providing her with words.

Chilly: Sneasel

Shadow: Cass' Greninja and another member of her patrol team. Bruce and Damian are jealous about him.

Same: Mimikyu in a Woobat costume. Cass dotes on it.

Kick: Lopunny

Pretty: A Cherrim nearly constantly in overcast form in Gotham. Only not a public pokemon due to Noibat-girl being seen with it first despite not with her in the firld most of the time.

Warm: A Shiny Ninetales.

Marshadow: Joined Cass due to feeling an affinity.