#cole's post corner

[bapydemonprincess]

Imagine Maurice halfheartedly helping Soma make his hair into ringlets (or as curly as he can make it with what he has to work with), and Soma helping Maurice upgrade his make up with his own personal much better supply 👌💛💜

[just-some-random-blogger]

Tin Soldier

Gwayne returns from Rook's Rest to King's Landing where his wife has been patiently waiting for him, knowing he would need stress relief.

Gwayne Hightower x Reader | 2k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, pwp idk what to tell you, ok nvm porn with feelings, gwaynes BRATTY, smut (piv, bdsm, pet play??, biting, marking, scratching), fluff can you believe that, typos, etc.

A/N: inspired by this post. i wish @barbieaemond and @targs-on-zorses a very much i hope you suffer

"Oh, praise the gods," I mutter under my breath once I spot the two knights entering through gates of the Keep. I dismiss my handmaiden and head towards them.

Gwayne and Criston spot me, the former's hardened face softens. I offer them a smile and clasp my hands, "very good. The Mother has delivered you whole." I nod in regard, "ser Criston."

The said man nods, "my-"

"You would greet another man before your husband, woman?"

I turn to Gwayne. His jaw clenches. I hold back a grin and pucker my lower lip instead, "I only wished to thank the Hand for returning my love to me with no missing limbs."

He scoffs. His horse trots in place. Gwayne does not enjoy that. He very much did not enjoy that.

"I should thank your husband for doing the same for me, my lady," Criston replies, making me turn back to him.

I smile. Gwayne dismounts. "Then I rejoice in knowing you both will return safely so long as you have each other."

A stable boy comes to get my husband's ride. He spares me no glance when he walks passed me. I turn to my feet with a chuckle, rubbing my belly that bubbled in excitement, "welcome home, ser." We share a nod before I chase after my lord.

He is walking incredibly fast.

I gather my skirts, "my lord!"

Gwayne does not stop. He only continues to storm to our shared chambers. When he reaches the stairs, I break into a sprint, laughing as I did, "lord husband!"

Needless to say, my calls fall deaf on his ears. I have to catch my breath once I enter the room.

"RETURN ME?!"

I close the door behind me, eyes not leaving my armored lover as he paces around the room. My breath hitches at the sight of him. Oh, how I missed the clanking of his steel uniform.

Gwayne turns back to me, pointing a harsh finger to the ground, "WOULD THAT I BE THE ONE RETURNED-

My eyes sparkle at his vexed expression.

"OH! IF YOU ONLY KNEW HOW COLE WAS-"

I reach for his breastplate, "twas a jest."

"Well, you jest wrongly," he glares, swatting my hands away. I press my lips together to suppress my smile. He charges towards the vanity, "you now not how insufferable that Dornishman is."

He begins to undo the cuffs on his forearm. Oh, by the Seven, he was actually upset. He never removed his own armor, not when I was present. I sigh, "Gwayne-"

"Do not-" he pulls roughly on his sleeve "-address me, woman."

I purse my lips and grab his shoulder plate. He shrugs me off dramatically and I reel back in momentary shock, only to huff and grab him by his steely collar.

He glares at me.

I raise my brows, mouth opening to start a new argument. But his face, marked with hurt, though dramatic, makes my heart tinge. I decide not to pursue it.

He recognizes this and lift his nose. His brows quirk in challenge.

I tilt my head and sigh, "begging your pardon, my lord," I brush my hands down to the sigil on his heart, "tis distasteful to speak on matters I know not of."

Gwayne stares at me for a moment. I peer at him through my lashes, absentmindedly drawing shapes on his chest, "I submit. I wish not to quarrel."

He does not reply, but he visibly relaxes, save for the way his brows knit, "my lips."

My eyes fall to his mouth where a cut laid on the bottom corner, "yes. You've been cut." I pull away to grab some ointment for it, "we shall treat your lip again after your bath."

He watches as I go through the vials on the table. Just as I open the lid of the salve, I feel his rigid body press against my back. I look over my shoulder, gazing up at his face as he embraces me.

"You have not kissed them," he mutters, "you insult me twice, wife."

Oh, what darling. I pretend to think, "I thought I was woman."

"Wrong again," he takes the vial from me, setting it down with little attention. He turns me around and traps me against the vanity, "my woman."

He waste no more time keeping our lips separate. Gwayne picks me by the waist and sits me on the table as his lips reacquaint themselves with mine. My body melts against him, my legs part to welcome him between and my hands sneak their way into his nape.

He pulls away, "damn this helmet."

I giggle but stop him when he tries to rid of it. He raises a brow then sighs, "not again."

"What?" I laugh innocently, "it suits you well."

He shakes his head but makes no further move to rid himself of his steel hat. He does however begin to bunch my skirts up. I mumble, "my tin soldier."

He groans. "Perhaps I'll fuck you in my helmet, vixen," he wraps my legs around him, "see how you like it."

I gleefully retort, "so long as you fuck me, ser-" he begins to kiss my neck, "I will be- OH!"

Gwayne sharply pulls away, face concerned.

I cover my mouth with my hands, "I'd nearly forgotten!"

He can do nothing but watch as I wrangle out of our position and shoo him away. He grumbles as I go through a drawer, "I got you a gift."

"Must you give it to me now?"

I laugh and turn back to him once I have it in my hand, "I find you will regret it if I do not give it to you sooner."

His brow quirks in interest.

I grin and motion with my head, "to the bed with you."

Gwayne is sat on the side of the bed in an instant. He eagerly looks at me. I saunter over with a look of mischief. His eyes widen when I kneel by his feet. At this point, he knew exactly what my surprise was and he simply reaches a hand out to me.

I place a bell in his palm. Gwayne releases a deep breath that breaks into an excited chuckle, "oh, my girl, you might regret this."

I simply look at him with a smile.

He stares at me, knowing then that our game had started. His lips part infinitesimally as he basks in the power he now had. He rings the bell, "you may speak your mind, pet."

"Thank you, ser."

Gwayne rings it again, "get me out of this fucking armor."

"Yes, ser," I say, coming to my feet to undo his top. I feel his eyes on me as I do so.

He releases a breath, hands coming to my side, "I have free rein on your body, do I not?"

"Of course, ser."

"Mmm," he rubs my ass then smacks it, "strip for me," he rings the bell.

I turn to him, "after I-"

"Now," he blurts.

I pull away from him and begin to undo the ties of my dress. It is a slight struggle but not impossible. Once my dress drops to the floor, he rings his bell, "stop."

I still where I stand.

"And your smallclothes," he rings.

I oblige, pulling them and letting them drop to the floor. He reaches a hand out, ringing again, "come to me."

I take his hand and he spreads his legs. I sit on his lap and he rings, "you may proceed, pet."

I continue to undo his armor, "of course, ser."

Ring. "Kiss me as you do so."

I do not speak, only follow the command. I kiss him intermittently as I finally remove a shoulder plate. It is considerably harder to do than undoing my dress because of all the latches. I decide to prioritize undressing him, but it seems that was a mistake.

He snakes his hand up my skirt and squeezes my inner thigh, "my lips are wanting yours, pet."

"I am doing my best, se-"

"Well, try harder."

Gwayne thoroughly enjoys my struggle and unabashedly complains when I am not kissing him. I begin to grow increasingly frustrated when I prioritize kissing him yet finds it in him to complain about how hot his armor is. At some point, I begin throwing the metal I do get off him angrily to the ground.

His chuckle is deep, "careful, pet. That is your lord's armor."

"Fuck your armor," I grunt, chucking his cuffs to the floor.

He laughs and licks his lips.

"I was given permission to speak my mind, was I not? I mutter, sliding off his lap to undo the cuffs on his legs.

"I did not give you leave to leave my lap," he stares at me.

I glare at him and sit back down. He examines me for a moment, rings his bell, and chirps, "get off."

I sigh and stand.

"Uh-ta-ta-ta-ta," he grabs my arm and raises a finger. He looks up at me, shrugging, "what do we say?"

I suck in a breath and force a smile, "of course, ser. Thank you, ser."

"Good," he raises the bell before ringing it, "proceed."

I drop to my knees and continue to rid him of his wretched armor. He brushes my hair back and rubs my lips, "indeed again, you you are not kissing me."

I huff, looking up at him. His eyes sparkle as I say, "a thousand apologies, ser." I attempt to do the impossible, kissing him while undoing the cuffs on his shins. Amazingly, I eventually complete the task and do so with another huff.

Gwayne rings his bell and knocks on his helmet, "you missed one, pet."

I sit on his lap and place my hands on his shoulders. He watches me as I frown. I look at him pleadingly but he allows me no satisfaction. I have no choice but to take his helmet off. He snakes an arm around me, "hard, that one, was it?"

I place his helmet on the night stand and kiss him, "I wish to please my lord."

He smirks, "then shall you be rewarded." He carelessly chucks the bell behind him, causing me gasp, "Gwayne!"

"I enjoyed our little game but find I no longer have the patience for it," he grabs my thighs and turns me on him.

"That's why we keep losing the bell, you keep throwing it!"

"Fuck the bell," he quips, making me straddle him, "I want to fuck my wife."

The next thing I know, my dress is being ripped off and he's hastily undoing his breeches. I cannot help my laugh as I shift atop him to free himself, and once he is, I grind on his hardened cock, making him grit his teeth. I bask in the feel of him after removing his shirt. By the gods, how I've missed the feel of his chest on my palms.

He allows me to dote on his scars and freckles. I could weep at his beauty. He then inks his head into the crook of my neck and I wrap my arms around him.

"My wife," he licks a stripe to my jaw, "I dream about your skin."

I brush my fingers up his hair and tug gently, "Gwyane."

"I miss your taste," he mutters in between kisses. He tightens his hold on me, "I miss your taste, miss your skin, miss your lips, my love," he rakes his fingers up my back, "did you miss me?"

I moan as I sink myself down on him. He squeezes my shoulders and drops his jaw.

I grab his cheeks and press our foreheads together, "missed you so much— missed your touch, missed having you inside me, missed your smart mouth."

He chuckles and kisses me, "missed yours." Gwayne begins to buck into me, arms tight around my waist.

I grunt and bring his face into my chest, throwing my head back as I ride him. He sucks on my skin, intent to leave evidence of him on me. I tangle my fingers into his hair then pepper kisses on his forehead. He smelled of sweat and dirt and ash; I relish every bit of him.

I whimper when he sinks his teeth into the side of my throat before suckling. I clench around him in response. I pull his hair and speak his name. He replies with a moan, grazing me with his teeth once more.

My riding becomes harder. The sound of our breath and the utterance of each other's names mingle with the creak of the bed and the wet sound of slapping skin. He grabs my hips, flesh spilling between his fingers, and bites his nails into me. He huffs, guiding me into faster and rougher pace.

I lean my forehead on his once more, darting my tongue to his lips. He chases my tongue, catching it between his teeth, then does the same to my lips. I whimper when I taste blood. He licks the iron off and trails kisses to my ear, "come on my cock, baby, want you to come with me."

I whimper out and nod, "Gwayne."

"Come on," he mutters, "come, my love."

Pressure builds inside me, and we soon both grow erratic. There is a thick silence before guttural cries reverberate through the room. My body comes alive. The thick, hot, pleasure is so intense my breath is knocked out of my lungs and I quickly feel myself seize up.

My husband, ever dutiful, sinks his nails into my thighs and fucks out every last bit of the melting sensation from the both of us. A hoarse noise rips from my throat and makes my toes curl into my soles. Gwayne even overcompensates and plows into me until I'm reeling. I knew it was too much for him too, and so I supply him with the shaky whimpers I knew he desperately craves.

I feel lightheaded by the time he stops. He rests his head on me before finally collapsing on his back, taking me down with him. His chest rises and falls rapidly, our skin now sticky with sweat.

His hands rest on my thighs. I bring mine to both his shoulders. I pant against his jaw, "that was intense."

He hums, "well," he huffs, "you missed me too much."

"No," I nuzzle into his neck and draw shapes on his skin, "you missed me too much."

He brushes his nose against my head, "I hate to be the bearer of bad news but I didn't miss you at all."

"Good. I didn't miss you either."

He rubs my skin, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Out of nowhere, he whines in a high pitched voice, "OH Gwayne- OH! You feel so gOOD- AH AH-"

I swat him and with a dropped jaw. I lift my head and glare at him, "I did NOT say that!"

Gwayne's eyes fall on me, lips pursing. He brings one arm behind his head and takes the other to my cheek. My belly flutters at the sight of him. He was beautiful like this, shining after our love making. His rough thumb rubs my face, "pity." He brushes my hair back, "I'm going to have to fix that."

I roll my eyes at him but I am unable to fight back my smile.

He smiles back. His eyes soften and his voice is careful, "... did you miss me, my love?"

"Gods," I nearly roll my eyes at the back of my head, "oh, my sweet boy. My sweet pathetic boy who I so terribly missed."

He grins. The lines by on his cheeks only deepen when he laughs.

My stomach rolls again. I speak in earnest, capturing his cheek, "every day, I thank the Seven that I bask in your beauty."

Gwayne's eyes rove over me. He rubs my arm, "we should have another babe."

I scoff, "Gwayne-"

[peachysunrize]

Corrupted by God ⥃ Prince Aemond Targaryen

Summary: after the battle of Rook’s Rest, Aemond comes back to King’s Landing as the heir to the throne with a newfound determination to make the Queen of the Seven kingdoms his queen as well.

Pairing: Prince Aemond Targaryen x Aegon’s wife/queen reader

Warnings: 18+ mdni! Smut, dark content!!!!!!!!! angst, post Rook’s Rest, post s2e4, p in v, porn with a very little plot, breeding, emotional manipulation/heavy manipulation, dark!Aemond, a bit dubcon, Aemond has a hugeeee god complex, mentions of Aegon’s injury, rough sex, reader is not a Targaryen (the pic was pretty so I used it lol), tell me if i’ve missed something. English isn’t my first language<3

Word count: 2.5k+

A/n: pleaseeeeee read the warnings! This was requested by my beloved @sylasthegrim ! I hope I did your idea justice and hope you like it<33 Reblogs & comments are most appreciated🩷

A god among men, that’s how Aemond feels when he closes his eye and lets Vhagar float in the air, flapping her wings once in a while to get to King’s Landing faster. He remembers the nights he prayed to the gods to give him strength, to change his destiny, and to give him a happy life, but today, with his she-dragon soaring through the clouds, he took his faith in his own hands and became a God himself.

A delicious ache in his muscles seeps through his bones, but it is nothing compared to the rush of euphoria he feels as he imagines himself on the throne with his uncle’s head beneath his foot and his queen by his side.

His queen, you, oh how he has done all of this for you. He has turned into a monster, soaked his hand in the blood of his kin while he thought of you, and how he deserves to have a queen befitting him and his reign.

He knows what he must tell the council and his mother, something that surely aligns with Cole’s words, but what he has to say to you has been worded out for so long that he cannot believe his plan has finally reached so far to this point to utter them to you.

He sighs as he feels his pants tighten — at the thought of you and the weight of the Conqueror's crown — and to his luck, the city comes into his view, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth while he guides Vhagar atop Visenya’s hill. He catches the sight of two Dragonkeepers and a horse ready for him, watching how they scurry away from the old she-dragon and wait for her to land.

Vhagar’s body shakes the ground as her feet keep her body secured, and Aemond rubs her scales softly before he climbs down the ropes of his saddle, jumping on the grass before he shushes the dragon again, mumbling a soft ‘Lykiri’ against her snouts.

He doesn’t spare a glance at the Dragonkeepers, he moves past them to the guard who hands him the reins of the horse, and Aemond swings his leg over the saddle before guiding the horse down the hill, bolting through the streets of the city.

The wind blows through his hair as he rides the horse to the Red Keep’s gates, lords and ladies move out of his way quickly, making room for their prince so he can lead his horse to the yard. The guards are fast on their feet to reach for the reins, stopping the animal so Aemond can step down.

He jumps down, patting the neck of the mare before he strides forward inside the castle, the court is already fussy with anticipation of what has befallen their king, but Aemond has one person in his mind that he wishes to seek out.

“Aemond!” The sound of his mother stops him on the stairs, and he looks up to see her running towards him with shock and disbelief on her face, “what’s happened?”

“We took the castle,” he says calmly, almost dismissively, “our king graced us with his presence on the battlefield. We won.”

He tries to move past Alicent with a shrug, but she grabs his arm tightly, forcing him to look her in the eyes before she asks what has been bothering her ever since Sunfyre took the sky earlier that day. But with the look Aemond gives her, she closes her mouth silently, nodding before she departs towards the main entrance of the castle, waiting for the hand to come back to the city.

Aemond scoffs and takes long steps toward the royal chambers on the upper floors, passing the servants who shield themselves from his gaze as he goes past them. 

He knows the path leading to the queen’s chambers like the back of his hand; through the stairs and Maegor’s tunnels — He has walked each way for many nights just to stay behind your doors and listen to your sweet voice talking to your daughter or handmaidens.

Aemond remembers the day you were wed to his brother, covered in a beautiful white and golden gown that brought out your curves to his eye. He was infatuated from the moment he laid his eye on you, and after such a long time, that infatuation has turned into something more primal and possessive, something that he thinks his brother does not deserve, that is befitting of Aemond and not the drunken fool who’s your husband.

Each step he takes adds more to the post-battle euphoria he’s experiencing — now that he’s the heir and the most powerful man, he deems himself fit to not just rule over the kingdom of ash and bone that is about to endure more battles, but to have his queen by his side. What better woman than the already beautiful creature that lies in an attached chamber to the king’s?

A ghost of a smirk forms on his face with each second that he walks within the hallways that lead to your chambers, his chin held high and his fingers itching with excitement in his leather gloves as he locks them behind his back.

Aemond licks his bottom lip, his blood rushing down to his core at the thought of the sight of you heavy with his child and the Conqueror’s crown atop your head. His queen, even the sound of it in his head seems right.

When he reaches your door, he pushes it without knocking, finding you already pacing with a wet handkerchief clutched in your hand.

Sweet sweet lady, the queen of his dreams, he basks in the way you carry yourself with worry for your husband. What a good wife he wishes to say, but no, a good wife to his idiot brother is not much better than a slur.

But to him? Oh, how much of a phenomenal bride-to-be you’d make for him, someone who is kind and deserving of his reign.

“My queen,” he says, standing straight when your head snaps in his direction, concern weaved into your features already. He takes in a deep breath as his eye runs over your form — a red long-sleeved gown with black dragons embroidered on it, your hair wild and free from your usual braids.

“Aemond!” You rest your hand against your heart as you take a few steps towards him, “What has befallen us? Aegon, he—“

“Shh,” he gently shushes you, his gloved hands coming to rest on your elbows, holding your body close to his, “we have won the battle. The castle has fallen and the false queen can no longer have a ground army.”

“That is great!” You utter, “But— what of our king? My husband? Aemond, is he alright?”

He smiles gently, a smile that does in fact reach his eye. There is a malicious look he has that it seems you fail to notice, because even his mother hesitated to let him go easily, but you? No, your soft and loving nature could never go past his mask.

“He is…”

“What? Please, Aemond is he—“ 

“No, no,” he replies quickly, one of his hands coming up to rest on your cheek, “he fought well, and he is alive,” he caresses your cheek as his eye meets yours, thinking how beautiful you look all worried about your husband, soon you’d be looking worried about him and not his brother.

“But…”

“But what? Is he hurt?” You grip his forearm tightly, looking up at him with tears stinging your eyes, “Tell me, please, Aemond, what’s happened to my husband?”

“He’s alive but on the brink of death. The traitor Rhaenys… your grace, such stories are not meant to be heard by a gentle soul like you—“

“I wish to know! What have they done to my husband?!” You demand him to tell you, and Aemond sighs deeply, but the buzz of excitement makes him even more determined.

Sweet lamb falling right into his trap.

“He took the skies quite suddenly, I had little time to meet him in the air. Meleys and her bitch of a rider had their claws in our king, and however fearsome he is, he could do naught.”

With each word that falls from his lips, more tears drop from your lashes, and he feels how numb you’re slowly getting in his arms.

“Sunfyre and Aegon… they survived Dragonfire, but—“

“Gods be good!” You gasp, a sob wrecking your body as he tries to shush you, a gloved finger reaching to wipe away your tears gently.

“I found him; burnt, broken but breathing,” he kisses your forehead, smirking against your skin, “he told me — had me promising him — to make haste and seek you out, to take care of your every wish.”

“Thank the gods!” You ask him, craning your neck to look into his eye, “What else did he say?”

He can’t answer you, not when you look at him with such a yearning, eyes full of tears and longing for condolences. He smooths his finger over your eyebrows, creasing your frown before he leans down and presses another kiss to your cheek.

“I could not say, he was weary, but…” his other hand comes to cup your face, “he told me to answer to your every whim, and that you should stay by my side until he has healed and help me rule.”

“But shouldn’t I take care of him?” You ask, eyes narrowing as he gently backs you up towards your bed, “Aemond, what are—“

“My queen, do you trust me?” He asks as he trails a path from your cheek to the column of your throat with his nose, “I will take care of you, all of your needs. That is what our king wanted, how cruel would we be if we do not obey his commands?”

“We would break his heart,” you whisper, inhaling sharply when he hovers his lips against yours, “we should do as he asks.”

“Hmm, yes, we should,” he closes the gap between the two of you, his lips moving along yours slowly for he feels how you quiver and meet his lips hesitantly.

He kisses you gently at first, hands moving down towards your waist to pull on the strings of your gown, long gloved fingers working on it until the red fabric loses its grip around your waist. Aemond pushes the gown off your shoulders, caressing your skin with the back of his hand before he lets your dress pool around your ankles.

His lips move against yours passionately, his tongue exploring your mouth for the first time, and he lets himself get lost in your taste — sweet with a tinge of lime, hinting that you’ve had lemon cake earlier.

He pushes you onto the bed after he helps you out of your shift, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze. He pulls his gloves off by his teeth, dropping each on the floor next to your discarded clothes, soon to be followed by his belt and dagger.

He can hear the rumbles of his men walking back to the city, but now all his attention is on you, and how he has to take what he has promised himself. 

Aemond doesn’t take his clothes off, he would if he were a lesser man, but now, he’s determined, ready to take the promised prize and faith the Gods have granted him — but no god is intelligent enough to set you as his prize. It’s always been him and his schemes.

He pushes his leather pants down enough to free his aching cock, swiping his finger across your wet slit, eliciting a moan out of both of you as he keeps rubbing your pearl firmly, basking in your whines of pleasure.

His free hand strokes himself to full hardness, thinking of your upcoming wedding night and how he’d take you in front of the council on the bedding from behind, chaining you to him like the religion that has chained his mother to the Seven.

You fist the bedsheets, back arching as soon as he covers your body with his and guides his cock to your soaked entrance. He watches how your lips part in a silent plea when he breaches your cunt, groaning as soon as your walls envelop his length.

“Oh, Aemond—“You reach for him desperately when he sheathes himself inside you completely, not letting you adjust to his size for more than a mere second before setting up his pace, bullying his cock deep inside you with each smooth stroke.

It’s empowering to see you all nude and luscious on your bed taking his cock like you were shaped just for him to do so — maybe you were made for him, molded into this perfect lady to be desired and cherished by him.

“Aren’t you the most beautiful queen the realm has ever seen?” He asks, his eye is hazy with lust as he fucks you harder, finding deep pleasure in how he’s fully clothed and you are bare as the day you were born. He takes pride in having you putty in his hands.

He cages you under him, his lips slotting against yours once more as he licks his way into your mouth while he slams his shaft inside your tight cunt with abandon.

“Gods, oh– I’m— ah!”

“You only have one god, my darling, and that is me,” he groans against your lips, his leather coat brushing against your heated skin while the tip of his cock nudges against your sweet spot that has you seeing stars, “Worship me at your altar, just as your husband wanted.”

You come with a cry of his name, sending him over the edge with your sweet moans of euphoria. He bruises himself to a halt, emptying his sack with ropes of his cum inside you, making sure to make the next king of the Seven Kingdoms with his queen.

The way your face scrunches in pleasure has him almost coming again, knowing it was him who gave you such a blinding peak that has you shaking in his arms.

The sounds of footsteps rushing past your door to the King’s chambers have the two of you scurrying and parting from each other. You are clumsy with how you put on your dress with Aemond’s warm seed dribbling down your thighs, but your husband’s home, your king.

Aemond tucks himself back into his pants, following you out of your chambers into his brother’s only to find the maesters and his mother already there, tending to his burns and wounds.

“Aegon, my love—“ he doesn’t listen to what you say as you try to make room for yourself among the men, wanting to reach for your husband.

“Someone has to rule in his stead,” Aemond exclaims as he leans on the headboard of the bed, looking down at his handiwork before he catches your eyes as you smile with teary eyes at him, nodding to Alicent in encouragement.

“The gods have blessed him with intelligence for he would make a fine ruler, and he shall take care of me, just as our king desired.”

[captainamericasmotercycle]

HARWIN SMUT HARWIN SMUT HARWIN SMUT ‼️‼️‼️‼️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️🧎🏼‍♀️

Forgive me, I fear I am not the best at writing smut, but I tried my best for my husband Harwin <3

pairing: ser harwin strong x fem!targ!reader (mother is unspecified)

warnings: quick mention of criston cole, 18+, minors DNI, reader is a targ (mother is unspecified), a bit angsty in the first part?, p in v sex, oral receiving (m and f), missionary, cowgirl, accidental creampie, reader has hair long enough to braid, use of the word whore, sworn protector harwin, forbidden relationship, loss of virginity?

wc: 2.5k

a/n: i need harwin strong biblically. smut under the cut <3

Ser Harwin Strong, son of the Hand to the Kind, was set to be your sworn protector, which you absolutely hated.

As the second daughter of King Viserys, he was quite protective over you, especially after losing Aemma and then your mother in childbirth. He was much more hesitant to wed you off, much more insistent to keep you safe from a fate such as theirs.

Though, by your Targaryen blood, you detested being safe; always searching for some kind of adventure, whether it be taking to the skies, or mingling in bars in Flea Bottom.

But now that your father’s strongest knight has been pulled from the City Watch to be your babysitter, there was no possible way for you to escape the Red Keep.

For weeks now, Ser Harwin has been closely following your every move: standing outside of your chambers at night, following you to your lessons, even going all the way to the dragon pit with you.

You started to get annoyed with him, clearly displaying it.

“I do not understand why you have to stand there,” you were in the gardens with your older sister, reading about the histories, complaining out loud.

She hit your arm gently, “He is only standing at his post.”

Ser Criston Cole was standing just a bit further away from the pair of you; Cole being your sister’s sworn shield.

“But does he have to stand there? His big body is blocking the sun,” you complained.

“I can move, if you wish, Princess,” he shifted backwards, but you stood and dusted yourself off.

“No need, I want to leave.”

He followed closely behing you. You walked faster, trying to lose him within the maze of walls in the castle. He never once put up a fight chasing you around the Red Keep out of the many times you’ve challenged his watch.

You began to run straight to your chambers, only slowing when you turned the corner to find your father walking with Lord Strong. His guards swiftly grabbed you by the arm, Ser Harwin not far behind.

Shocked at the sudden contact and the presence of your father, you straightened up.

“Father.”

“Please, do not tell me you have been running from Ser Harwin, again,” he spoke, vexxed at your behavior.

As if he was summoned, Harwin came around the corner. Your father shot his attention directly at your guard, his own father giving him a stern look.

“Ser Harwin, you would not lie to your king, correct?”

“I would never, your grace.”

“Has my daughter been keeping you agile, running about the Red Keep?”

He hesitated, glancing from your father to you and your hardened gaze; a slight shake of your head, warning him not to tell on you.

Looking back at your father he gently nodded, “Yes, your grace.”

“Mmm. Let her go,” he ordered his guard. Walking to you and placing his sickly hand on your cheek, he sighed, “The more you fight your protection, the stricter it will become. I am warning you, daughter. I am only doing this because I care for you.”

He dropped his hand and you sighed, “But father, Nyra doesn’t have this many rules, and she’s your heir!”

“What Rhaenyra is doing is none of your concern.”

“But why?”

“Because I said so! I am your father and your king! I will make the rules as I please.”

Everyone watched the argument awkwardly, standing as still as possible. You pouted at your father, nearly stomping away from the scene.

As you got to your room, you shut the doors quickly, preventing Ser Harwin from entering. Wanting to scream, you threw yourself onto your bed, an action truly unbecoming of a woman and more like a child.

A sudden knock at your door kept you from throwing a tantrum.

“Princess? Are you alright?” Harwin’s voice rang out.

Of course he would try and talk.

“Fine!” You shouted back.

“May I enter?”

Sighing, you walked to the door, the silence scaring him. You opened the large wooden door, meeting him face to face.

“Come in,” you stepped aside, allowing him in.

Continuing your tantrum, you started to rant to him.

“I honestly do not understand him! Nyra and Aegon both are reckless and barely watched, and yet it is I who is constantly under surveillance!”

He watched you pace around your room.

“And you! You following me everywhere is enough to drive me mad! For once I just want to be free of you!” You angrily spat out, only turning to see him with a slight frown.

“I did not know you felt so imprisoned by my presence,” your face dropped in an instance.

“I am sorry, Ser Harwin, I did not mean to offend you—”

“No need, Princess. If you truly feel this way, I can surely ask for a change of post.”

“No, just— just leave me. I’m sorry, I need to breathe.”

He bowed his head to you and swiftly left, leaving you feeling more guily than angry.

As much as you complained about being followed and watched, you truly were starting to enjoy being by Harwin’s side, when he wasn’t annoying the life out of you.

Although you were not being pushed hard to marry and would rather never wed, you wouldn’t mind seeing what the husky knight’s intimate moments were like.

Maybe it was your emotions controlling your sinful thoughts, or maybe it was the pent up frustration fueling your delusions, but now you regretted sending him away from you.

-

Late that night, you were still thinking about your earlier words; you had sent a maid to fetch Ser Harwin.

He quickly entered, his sword almost unsheathed, ready to fight whatever threatened you. When he found you alone, he relaxed.

“You summoned?”

“I did.”

“I thought you wanted to be free of my suffocation?” You could’ve had his tongue for that.

“I did.”

“Did? Not anymore?”

“Sit, please,” you pointed to the settee, he followed your directions, taking off his helmet and sitting.

“You know, I used to sneak out, before my father swore you to me, down into Flea Bottom.”

“Yes, I remember,” he was the one to report to your adventures to your father, telling Viserys that he could protect you from your late night leaves.

“I would go drink, for hours, only returning to the Keep just moments before the sun came up.”

Harwin listened silently to your story, watching you pace with wide eyes in awe.

“I used to walk past these houses… on the Street of Silk.”

“Princess, I am not sure where you are going with this story, but I am not sure if this is appropriate…”

“I always wondered what it would be like, as a common-born, free to roam the brothels.”

“You do not mean that.”

“I do,” you turned to face him, his face in a stoned expression, his helmet on his lap.

“But you are not a common-born, you are of Targaryen blood, born for greatness… not a brothel.”

You came to sit next to him, “Don’t you wish for one moment that you, yourself, could know what it is like?”

“To be someone’s whore?”

“Yes.”

“No. No I don’t. I am perfectly content as I am,” he lies to you. If he had been born into a common family, he would wish to be your whore.

Sighing, you placed a hand on his large thigh, “I just wanted to know…that is why I detested your protection! I did not want to lose my excersions out of the Keep.”

He looked at your touch, then looking away.

“What if I could show you?”

“Show me?”

He remained silent, still looking away from you.

“Harwin,” he breathed heavily at your voice, “Look at me.”

“I should go. I have overstepped. I cannot break my oath or my head will be on a spike before dawn,” his head was still down, looking away.

“Look at me. That is a command from your princess,” you said it more sternly, he turned his head to meet your eyes, “What do you mean you could show me?”

“I—”

“Speak free and plainly.”

“I had been into many brothels on the command of Prince Daemon, to find thieves and liars, to serve them justice as a Gold Cloak. I have seen the obscenities of the Street of Silk.”

You stared at him with wide eyes, he could not tell if you were horrified or intruiged. You moved your hand to hold the side of his face.

“I want you to show me.”

He leaned in closer to you, stopping just seconds before touching your lips to his, you could feel his breath on you, “I should stop. I am a man of honor—”

“I do not care. Dishonor me,” pushing yourself into him, you captured the sweet taste of your sworn shield.

He moved his body to face you more intimately, his helmet clanging on the floor. You clawed at his armour, he quickly untied every piece. As he fervently took off his outer layers, you pulled at the strings of your dress, until you were both in your undercloths.

You could see his manhood through the thin linen pants he wore. He stripped you down after pulling his own cloths off, still kissing you passionately.

He grabbed at your waist with his large hands, pulling you onto his bare lap to straddle him.

Your breasts pushed up against his hairy chest, your sensitive parts rubbing on his own. He moved to kiss your neck as he began shifting you slowly, his cock rubbing against your throbbing bud and slit.

Throwing your head back at the sensation, it gave Harwin an opening to suck at the base of your neck, nearing your collarbones.

He elevated you, allowing his mouth to move to your tit, kissing his way around your nipple bfore taking it fully into his mouth. You moaned loudly, Harwin’s hand coming up to muffle your yells.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in, he got close to your ear, nipping at your lobe, he let out a low growl, “Do you want us to get found, Princess?”

Stuttering out, you struggled to form any kind of response, “No— I, no.”

“Then we need to be silent,” he smiled at you seductively, warning you.

You pushed yourself off his lap, sinking down to the floor in front of the settee, between Harwin’s bare knees. Your hair was still braided from the events of the day, pulled back and out of your face.

You stared at the girth of Harwin’s cock, grabbing the base of it and stroking. You watched as he shivered at your touch.

Taking his length into your mouth, you started slowly, trying to find the right pace. As an instinct, his hand flew to the back of your head, guiding you up and down his cock.

You toyed with his balls as you slid your tongue around his tip. Feeling himself about to come undone with your mouth, he swiftly pushed you off, it becoming almost painful at the loss of your touch.

“I mustn’t release before you,” he heavily stated.

Lifting you with ease, he laid you back, spreading your legs and slotting his face nearing your cunt. He kissed the inside of your thigh, moving closer to your sensitivities.

“Do not tease, Harwin,” you just barely moaned out. He kissed your bud, latching his mouth to it and sucking. He moved his way down your womanhood, his tongue reaching your entrance.

Darting his tongue into the squishy walls of your insides, you reached pleasures you could have never even dreamed of. Working wonders with his tongue, he licked up and down, in and out, pushing you to your peak.

Your legs shook, clamped around Harwin’s head. He moved to tower over you, kissing you to make you taste your own sweet release.

He lined himself up with your entrance, his large girth penetrating your maidenhood. It sent a pinch to your core at first, but you eased into it. You moaned out loudly at the feeling, an obscene moan, more sweet than anyone could hear in a brothel. Harwin nearly came as he heard you.

He thrusted hard, fucking you into the settee. You kept your eyes open to look at him as he fucked you. Leaning down, he kissed you all over your neck and breasts, forcing you close to another release. He watched your tits bounce with every thrust, pulling him close to his own release.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, and he shifted your position. He flipped the two of you, him on his back and you on top of him.

You steadied yourself with a hand on his broad chest, his hands shooting to your waist. As you straddled him, he groped at your waist, your hips rolling over his.

You leaned forward to be chest to chest with him; your hips were still moving rapidly. The motions of your hips forced your release, your walls clenching his cock; your head coming to rest in the crook of his neck.

The tighness of your walls made the waves of pleasure come crashing into him, releasing his seed into you before he was able to pull out.

“Princess…” he moaned out.

Smiling into his neck you laughed gently, “I think we are passed formalities, Harwin.”

The vibrations of your laugh tickled him into adoration, Harwin smiling as well. He wrapped his big arms around your naked waist, breathing into your neck.

You pushed yourself off, feeling cold at the absence of him inside of you. Picking up your small clothes off the ground, Harwin watched with a smile, “So eager to get rid of me?”

“I never said for you to leave,” you smiled back.

“I should go.”

“No. Stay with me, just for tonight?”

He sat himself up, spreading himself out, his elbows resting on his knees. His sweaty curls clung to his neck and forehead, making him look ethereal in the moonlight. He thought about your offer, nodding to himself.

“Just this once I will stay, but I must leave before morning light.”

Dropping your smallcloths back on the floor, you stalked over to him, mounting his strong lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, you kissed his jaw chastely.

He smiled at the touch, “So I would assume my presence isn’t suffocating you any longer?”

You rolled your eyes, dismounting and pulling him towards your bed, “Believe me, you are still unbearably suffocating… just in a different way.”

[frost-queen]

The fall of a knight (Reader!Targaryen x Sir Criston Cole)

Requested by: anon Forever tag:@missmelodramatic  , @merlin-dahlia, @alex--awesome--22, @elllie-does-the-posts, @floatlosers, @merlieve  , @queen-of-books, @glimmering-darling-dolly   @denkisclown, @wildieflower , @meyocoko , @bubblybrianna, @justanothercoco, @subjecta13-thefangirl , @m-rae23  , @harleyquinnswifeyfrfr  , @swampthing07, @melsunshine , @panhoeofmanyfandoms  , @venomsvl, @the-uncoordinated-house-cat   , @rosecentury  ,  @imagines-by-her,  @evilcr0ne, @vviolynn  , @niktwazny303 , @avada-kedavra-bitch-187

Summary: Reader dislikes Criston from how he acts towards your sister Rhaenyra. Constantly fighting with him and being sassy, till it starts attracting him. Years pass as Criston's attraction for you only grows. You still act the same towards him, not much changed over the years. When another starts flirting with you, it brings a bad jealousy over to Criston, taking you as his even though he can't have you. [R! has purple eyes just like in the books]

It was way too late when you got a sudden idea. The scenery taunting your dreams as it woke you up. Your thirst for knowledge needing to be lessened. Throwing the covers off you, you got out of bed, putting on your slippers. Your heritage of the Targaryen bloodline interesting you so much. Surely since you were the only Targaryen with lavender eyes. You had always wondered how it came.

Slightly opening the door to your chamber, you stuck your head out and peeked around. Seeing if there was anyone in the corridor.  Not being able to wait till morning, you just needed to get to the family library that withheld all of the Targaryen history. Perhaps there you might find answers to your questions. Perhaps there had been another with lavender eyes? Taking your chance, you ran out of your room, running through the corridors.

Sir Criston Cole was standing guard before your sister’s room. Making sure no one would disturb her sleep or come and harm her. Sir Criston furrowed his brows hearing rushed footsteps. Turning his head he saw you ran around the corner fast, making him tilt his head. It took him a few seconds before placing his hand on the top of his sword, coming to run after you. ��� “Princess!” – he said in a hushed tone to not alarm any others.

Clenching his jaw, he quickened up his pace. Sir Criston caught up with you, grabbing you to a stop. – “What are you doing out of bed?” – he questioned with a scolding voice. You were panting a bit, catching your breath. – “I need…I need to go to the library.” – you told him seeing his face change to anger. – “It’s the middle of the night!” – he shout-whispered to you.

“It can’t wait.” – you replied brushing his hand off you. Sir Criston took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. You crossed your arms, quirking your eyebrow up. – “Shouldn’t you be protecting my sister?” – you asked him. – “You need to be in bed!” – he countered crossing his arms as well.

 “Have you left her unattended?” – quirking your brow even more, just to taunt him. – “No.” – he groaned out. – “I don’t need saving. I’ll be quick.” – you said already turning round to head to the library as Sir Criston kept you in place by holding your wrist. Turning you back to him. – “Bed is where you are heading!” – he made clear, pulling you along with him.

You tried to pull your wrist out of his grip, but it was no use. Sir Criston led you back to your room, shoving you inside. – “Don’t get any funny idea’s princess!” – he scolded closing the door before him. You groaned annoyed. You hated that he had seen you. The thirst for knowledge still vivid. Unlike your sister, who was rather carefree, you were not.

You found her ignorant of her surroundings. She couldn’t even name any battle formations right. Rather spend her time with Alicent than prepare herself properly for her future on the iron throne. Kneeling down, you tried to look through the keyhole. You couldn’t see clearly, so you hoped Sir Criston Cole had left to guard your sister’s door once more. Taking the handle in your hand, you slowly opened the door, still crouched down. – “Going somewhere?” – Sir Criston commented, looking over his shoulder down to you.

A smirk on his lips. – “I hate you.” – you breathed out. Sir Criston positioned himself better in your view taking a dramatic bow at you. – “I’ll be here all night.” – he mocked just to taunt you more. Annoyed you shut the door again. He surely wasn’t going to let you pass now with him guarding your door. Pacing around, you hoped perhaps he’d fall asleep. Which was unlikely. The hours past as you felt yourself get exhausted. Eventually falling asleep sitting down, with your head down on the table.

The next day, your sister, Alicent and you were at the white tree. Rhaenyra and Alicent sitting down and gossiping. You sitting at the other end, as far away from them. You lifted your head up from your book, feeling a presence come from behind you. – “Had a good night rest?” – looking up, you saw Sir Criston Cole standing behind you. Making you roll your eyes at him. – “Should you not be watching my sister.” – you let out, focusing on your book once more. – “I am.” – he answered, still looking back at your sister.

“That the book you so desperately needed to read in the middle of the night?” – he teased with a smirk. His comment made you shut your book tight. – “Mockery, how elegant.” – you responded with a sneer while getting up. Giving him a sarcastic smile. Sir Criston Cole gave you a sarcastic smile back. – “Sir Criston!” – Rhaenyra called out to him. He lifted his head up to her, seeing her wave him over. Sir Criston jogged over to your sister to answer her plead. – “Jaos” dog you mumbled under your breath.

Sitting annoyed down, you watched how Rhaenyra wrapped him around her finger. Him doing all her bidding. Having enough, you got up, taking your leave. There was no room for you anyways. The three of them so caught up with each other, they hardly noticed you taking your leave. You made your way around the castle, ending up at the fighting court.

Soldiers practising as you stopped and stared. Observed their movement. Watched it with the upmost attention. Taking notice of their footwork. The way their muscles worked whilst handling the sword. It made you move your own foot to match their stand. Trying to get the right distance between your feet for a steady stand. Sir Criston found his way on the fighting court, seeing you watch the soldiers practise.

He got in motion heading over to you. Pausing briefly he noticed you swiping your feet over the ground setting it in a position. Making him furrow his brows. He then eyed the soldiers, making a link with what you were doing. Sir Criston made his way across towards you.

 “Found you!” – he said coming to be at your side. – “I didn’t need finding.” – you replied stoking some folds off your skirt. – “You left unattended.” – he answered making it clear to you. It made you scoff loud. – “You must’ve gotten an honour for observance.” – you mocked turning your head away from you. Criston grabbed you by your elbow a bit rudely. Turning you back to him.

“You do not leave unattended!” – he made clear, raising his voice a bit. – “Scared I’ll run?” – you replied with a teasing smile. – “Did I make myself clear?” – Criston called out pulling at your arm once more. You stared right back at him with your intriguing lavender eyes.

“Sir Criston, am I royalty?” – you asked him. – “Of course.” – he answered mesmerized by your gaze. – “Then stop bossing me around.” – you made clear giving him a little shove. Walking off, Criston kept staring at you. As you slowly started to attract him. Making him curl up a shy smile.

★゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜☆゜・。。・゜゜・。。・゜★

Sir Criston Cole entered the room, having searched everywhere for you. With a sigh of relief, he was glad to finally have found you. Asleep that was. With your head down on the table, a book underneath it. He approached you, nudging your shoulder to wake you. – “Princess.” – he said. – “Princess… Y/n wake up.” – he started to nudge you harder. – “Wake up Y/n.” – he said a bit louder.

You shot awake, hand shooting out as it him right in his nose. Criston groaned in pain, stumbling back. You got up apologizing. – “Oh sorry I thought you were someone else.” – you said until you could clearly see it was Criston. – “Oh it’s you, well that’s alright than.” – you continued with sass. Criston glared at you for the perhaps deliberate punch to the nose. Stretching out, you got up.

You saw him still cover up his nose, recovering from your little stomp. – “Oh please.” – you called out with a roll of your eyes. – “You hit me in the nose!” – Criston answered loudly. – “You’re a knight.” – you mocked that he should be used to it. Criston glared your way, as your attitude hadn’t changed over the years. – “The tournament, Y/n.” – Criston said changing the subject.

“Right.” – you answered with a sigh. Criston came by your side, walking out with you. – “Aren’t you participating this year Criston?” – you asked not with the intention to be curious. – “Yes.” – he answered. – “Then you’ll get used being hit in the nose.” – you teased with a laugh. Criston laughed mockingly loud to make clear your joke wasn’t even funny.

Getting outside, you let Criston guide you to the box. Rhaenyra already sitting down. – “Criston!” – she called out, waving her handkerchief around. She threw it at him as it fell down in the dirt at his feet. He bend down to pick it up as you left his side, coming to sit by your sister.

When Criston looked back up, he was surprised to see you gone. Looking up at the seats, he saw you sit by your sister. Criston took his leave to prepare. Rhaenyra and you were chatting a bit till the tournament began. You watched several men joist. Not nearly as amusing as you liked it to be.

Then came the one on one combat. There were two men fighting as Sir Criston and another were up next. – “Criston!” – Rhaenyra called out to him. Criston neared the box you sat, looking up as his gaze fixated on you. The other contender joined his side, looking over at you as well. – “Y/n Targaryen!” – he called out making Criston look at him. – “May I receive your blessings? A kiss from you will still my beating heart and give me strength enough to win this tournament for you.” – he said moving his hand out to you.

Rhaenyra tapped your knee enthusiastically at the attention you were getting. Criston clenched his jaw with tension. Clenching his hand into a fist. – “Fairest Targaryen, may I drown in your lavender eyes and hold your tender hands in his. This battle shall be in devotion to you.” – he continued as you stared in shock at him. – “Go on give him a kiss.” – Rhaenyra teased, pushing you to do so.

She practically shoved you out of your seat. Sighing loud, you knew she wouldn’t stop pestering you about it. You got up, making your way down to the edge of the box. Sir Criston staring hard at you, eyes widening at what you were about to do.

You tapped your finger against your cheek to let the knight know what to do. The knight turned his cheek towards you. You grabbed a hold of the frame in front of you, leaning closer to give the knight a kiss on the cheek. Sir Criston staring at it with disgust and jealousy. Rhaenyra cheered loudly from her seat, getting up to clap. You felt a bit foolish as the knight pressed his hand against his cheek.

Your gaze fell upon Criston, seeing how angered he was. Clearly fighting off demons inside of him. A battle you weren’t sure which side would win. A horn got blown as it announced the start of the next battle. You returned to your seat watching the next round. Sir Criston and the other knight you had given a kiss on the cheek.

Sir Criston sniffed loud, looking up to the seating where you sat. Smiling a bit that you dared to taunt him so much with this. With showing affection to anyone. The knight readied himself as Criston drew his sword. He called it out, running up to the man to let out all his anger and jealousy out. He was brutal and hard. Hardly leaving the knight room to breathe.

Rhaenyra stared in shock at him. Criston kept slashing his sword down on the knight’s shield. He lost balance, falling down as Criston got on him. Punching him a few times, making sure to hit the cheek you kissed. Wanting to wipe your sweet lips off him. Criston was a savage, rampaging. He wasn’t going to stop till there was death. – “Criston!” – you shouted loud, seeing that the knight below was barely giving any reaction.

“Enough!” – you made clear wanting him to stop. Criston stopped, his knuckles full with blood as it hovered over the knight’s face. The knight sputtered out some blood as Criston got off him. Claiming his victory. Having enough of this manly show-off, you got up, leaving the seats. Criston cleaned his hand, noticing you take your leave.

Without another thought, he went after you, going away from the tournament. – “Y/n!” – he called out catching up with you. He grabbed you by your shoulder, turning you to him to push you up against a tree. When your back hit the bark, you let out a gasp.

“Don’t do this to me Y/n.” – he spoke keeping his hands on your waist. – “Do what.” – you teased him making him smirk. – “Kiss another man in front of me.” – he replied grabbing you forcefully by your chin. Tilting your head a bit back as he stared firm at your eyes. It made you weak on your knees by the way he was staring hungrily at you. Criston took a step closer to you, nearing you more.

He let his thumb go down your lip, parting your lips by pressing on your under lip. Your heart was pounding loudly in your chest as your cheeks flushed with heat. – “Criston…” – you whispered as he tilted your chin aside, kissing your jawline. His touch send a warmth over you like a tidal wave. He went down, kissing you in your neck. 

It made you wrap your arms around him, scratching faintly his back. He knew he shouldn’t, but he wanted anyways. He wanted you to be his. So he simply claimed you as his even though he wasn’t allowed. Criston’s gaze met up with yours, staring fiercely back at you.

Then he smacked his lips on yours. Kissing you roughly. He immediately felt you kiss him back, diving with him into the intimacy. Criston started kissing you harder, quicker. Panting with each grasp for breath between kisses. For you were his, and his alone.

--------------------------------

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[absolutelynotsanebaby]

I've had this one-shot in my docs for a while, I decided to post it here. It's villain au, specifically a moment in Cole's time in the temple with Yang. You can find more info on this au here. The tag for this au is 'villains.au'.

CW: graphic violence, abuse, blood (in the form of ectoplasma), eye injury.

Fic is under cut:

The door to the bunks slams shut with a deafening bang. 

Cole stares at it from down the hall. Behind him, Lloyd and Nya are crowding but also hiding in a way. They don’t move past his shoulders. Distantly, Cole wonders where Zane is before coming to the conclusion that he’s in the Bridge, staring at a wall or—or something. 

“What’s his problem,” Lloyd hisses, voice suspiciously wet. Cole looks down at him and finds Lloyd’s eyes shining and lip curled up in a scowl, clearly hiding a hurt expression. His cheeks are all red and Cole finds his hand is reaching out to rest on Lloyd’s head.

For a moment Lloyd looks conflicted, face going through a series of expressions—confusion, anger, sadness and then it’s all wiped away. He leans into the touch anyways, though without looking Cole in the eyes.

Cole runs his fingers through his hair softly, thumbling along Lloyd’s forehead. It seems to calm Lloyd some, his shoulders slumping a bit. He looks up at Cole with tired eyes, bags under them, and glances at the bunks.

“Just go sit down, alright?” Cole says, “I’ll talk to Jay.”

Lloyd is quiet for a moment before nodding and walking off.

Not before he mutters ‘what an asshole’ under his breath. Cole almost wants to snort. 

Of course, Nya doesn’t budge.

“Nya—” he starts but she interrupts, hands flying out in an angry motion. 

“No! You can’t—can’t tell me to go sit down!” she yells, her face is all screwed up. She tries to move forward but Cole steps in front of her. She glowers at him.

“I wasn’t going to say that, just…just let me handle him alright?” he explains, hands in a placating manner. 

“I can handle him.”

“I know.”

“He needs to get his head out of his ass,” she says quietly but with a viciousness, “he’s not the...the only one who’s hurt right now. Kai left all of us but he—he’s so—” she breaks off into an angry, growly sound.

“Trust me, I know. It’s just—Nya, he cares about you so much. I don’t want him to say anything to you that the—the both of you would regret, y’know?” Cole says, reaching out to gently squeeze her shoulders.

“I don’t love him.” she says back.

“I didn’t say that,” Cole squeezes again. Nya huffs.

“Yeah, yeah you didn’t,” she mumbles, “don’t you worry about it? What he’d say to you?”

“Nah, I got tough skin,” he grins and then hurries to continue before she gets mad, “not that you don’t! I’m just used to Jay, he’s my best friend and all.”

Nya raises an eyebrow, her expression is still pulled taunt and face flushed miserably but it’s—something. “Best friend, right, right, sure.”

She turns around, shrugging out of hands and begins to walk away.

“Hey now, I don’t like you’re implying there.”

Nya throws her hands up in a shrugging motion and turns the corner, exiting Cole’s line of sight.

He lets his shoulders slump. A weary, shaky sigh leaves him, expelling…some sort of feeling into the air. He waves it away. He brings his hand up to his face and just—rubs it. Presses into the crease between his eyebrows with an exhausted sort of energy.

Then he takes a deep breath and squares out his shoulders again. He glances at the bunk door and for good measure, takes another breath. He doesn’t really need to breathe but it makes Cole feel better. More steady.

He walks down the hall, his feet making no sound and grabs the doorknob. He goes still for a moment before turning it and opening the door. The room is dark and cold, they haven’t spent too much time in it as of late. It feels like too much of a reminder, he guesses. Kai’s bed is always empty.

Jay is curled up on—Cole’s bed actually. Cole’s eyes go soft. Jay is laying on his side, knees up to his chest and arms haphazardly thrown in between. Cole can’t see his face, it's covered up by the dark and also Jay’s stupid, curly bangs.

“Is there a reason you’re in my bed?” Cole asks.

Jay takes a moment to answer, “...it’s bigger.”

“It’s not,” Cole says as he sits down. The bed creaks a bit under his weight.

They sit in silence for a few minutes. Cole is trying to gather his words but he can’t seem to find them. His tongue is all heavy. He doesn’t know…how to help really. Ever since Kai left there’s been an open wound in the team. He’s done his best but he has the equivalent of duct tape and a dream when what he needs is cement.

Jay’s foot brushes against Cole’s arm. For a second, he thinks it’s an accident but then it happens again. Cole reaches out to brush his fingertips along Jay’s ankle. He’s got a little scar there, he realizes. Just a small nick on the back of his heel. Jay twitches a bit and Cole smiles faintly. He’s always been ticklish.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Cole asks quietly, letting the words reverberate into this quiet, vibrating silence they’ve made.

“No,” Jay says back, muffled, “what’s there to talk about.”

“Oh,” Cole’s voice goes deep and soft, “I don’t know, maybe why you’ve been so angry at everyone?”

“I’m not angry.”

“You were just yelling at Lloyd,” Cole recalls, resting his hand on Jay’s ankle, “what’d Lloyd do to you?”

“He—he…” Jay trails off, “...nothing.”

Cole hums, “you can’t keep doing that Jay, they’re getting mad.”

“I’m not,” Cole says.

Jay scoffs, bitter and resentful, “yeah, well, who isn’t mad at me?”

“Shouldn’t you be?”

“I think I got all my ‘mad-at-Jay’ out of my system already,” Cole says, “I don’t know if you remember but we kinda fought. A lot.”

Jay scoffs again but it sounds just a little bit more like a laugh.

Cole squeeze’s his ankle, “come on, Bluebell. Talk to me, it’s what I’m here for.”

Jay goes quiet and Cole resigns himself to waiting again. After a few minutes, Jay finally sits up, he does so slowly, pushing on his arms. Then he flops into a slouched over criss-cross position. He’s still not looking Cole in the eyes but he’ll take what he can.

Jay’s hands begin to mindlessly draw out patterns in the bed sheet. It's an anxious tic, Cole has noticed. He does it when he doesn’t know what to say.

That’s okay, he can start, “Jay, I know you’re mad but what happened with Kai isn’t your faul—”

“It’s not that!” Jay interrupts, then he deflates a little more, “Okay, maybe it’s a little that.”

“Jay–”

“But it’s just—just…how could he just leave like that?” Jay says. Cole’s been thinking the same thing, logically he knows it was that—damned staff. Twisted Kai’s mind. Kai loves them, he has to have faith in that, it doesn't mean it doesn't hurt though. “I can’t be him.”

Jay continues, gesturing desperately like he really wants Cole to understand, “I’m not—good at what he does. The on the spot plans and—and Nya. Lloyd. Hell, I don’t even know how you’re so good with them.”

“Listen, I get it dude. I’m out of my depth too,” he says, squeezing Jay’s knee, “but we just have to hang on.”

“So…” Cole starts, “you’re lashing out at them because you’re…not sure how to help?”

“I—I mean, when you put it like that,” Jay mumbles. Cole pats his knee.

“How long will we have to hang on?” Jay says miserably.

“I…I don’t know, Jay,” Cole says quietly. Jay sighs and then tips sideways onto his shoulder. He rests his head there, staring out forward. Cole slips an arm around his back. Jay leans into it. 

“I’m sorry,” Jay mutters, his voice is shaky, “for being mean. I really am trying but—but I’m probably going to be mean again.” Cole rubs his back.

“I know,” he says back, “but it’s alright, I’ll be there to rein you in.”

“That’s not your job,” Jay turns his head to bury his face into Cole’s shoulder.

“Sure it is.”

Jay goes quiet for a minute or so. He’s all wiry, all bony and thin muscles. Cole wouldn’t call him anything like small or delicate, Cole’s seen him take way too many hits that have sent him into a wall before and his shoulders are too broad but he feels so small sometimes.

Jay shifts, “I miss how warm you were.”

Cole’s hand pauses on his back before continuing to rub. He looks down at his hands, trying to swallow everything down.

“Yeah I—uh,” he takes a very quiet breath, “me too, buddy.”

“It’s not fair, y’know? You and Kai were always so warm but Kai’s gone and now you’re a ghost,” Jay mumbles,”’s not fair.”

“I know,” Cole closes his eyes, “I know.”

Jay opens his mouth to reply but the only thing that comes out of it is the sound of wood smashing against the floor.

Cole startles awake, stumbles and dragging himself away from where he thinks the impact came from. His eyes can’t focus and he’s—he’s still half asleep. He tries to sit up fully but the end of a staff stabs him dead center in the chest and slams him into the ground. His head bounces against the floor and he lets out a pained, shocked noise. 

“Cole, don’t you think it’s time to wake up?”

A staff member hit him in the face, shoving his head to the side. 

“A–Ah–!”

“Get up.”

Cole stumbles up finally, frantically backing away. His eyes—eye finally focus enough to be able to see what’s going on. Yang is standing in front of him, staff clenched in his hand and looking down on him with a vitriol. Cole breathes heavily. His—his eye hurts. It’s not fair that the one type of person who can hurt him without water—another ghost—is the one he’s trapped with.

“Yang,” he whispers. He covers his eye and yanks it back when it comes away—wet? No—No, not wet, just…slimy. His hand is bright green, it sort of looks like blood.

“Ectoplasma,” Yang comments. 

“Ecto—ectoplasma?” he stutters back, his hands shake.

“It’s how a ghost bleeds, child,” Yang says.

Cole backs away but Yang starts to advance. A ghost's steps are supposed to be—quiet, unheard but Yang’s are loud and heavy. Like a beat to a drum that hurts Cole’s ears. 

“Y–Yang,” he stutters, “Yang! Stop!” 

His voice is raw and shakes, his hands twitch out in front of him. He can fight, he’s trained to fight but he’s so—so scared—

“Stop!”

Yang strikes out and Cole screams, ducking lower and stumbling back under the staff that flies over where his head was. He can’t breathe—he can’t think! His feet are tripping over themselves. Yang slams his staff into Cole’s side, sending him sprawling onto the floor.

Cole chokes and grabs at his sides. He screams again when Yang’s staff slams into the ground besides his head. He pushes himself back by his feet, clutching at his side and eye bleeding. He throws his arm up just in time to block another hit to the face. Still it catches his chin and sends a shock wave of pain down his arm.

“Sloppy, weak,” Yang spits, “scared.”

“Yang—” Cole sobs. 

“Did you forget everything Wu taught you?” Yang says, spinning his staff and Cole flinches, sobbing, “or did he not teach you anything at all?”

“Why—why’re you—why’re you do–doing—” Cole’s voice cracks and he flinches again when Yang lifts his staff. He covers his face.

He tries to think—how to stop Yang and punch him in the face and so many other things but he can’t think. His brain’s all muddled up and his eyes bleeding and—and—

He sobs, voice cracking and hitching, crying without any tears. Yang steps forward, until his shadow covers Cole. He forces the end of his staff under Cole’s chin and forces his head to tilt up. He stares Cole dead in his eyes. 

“You need to be trained,” he says lowly.

“I’m not your student!” Cole yells back.

Yang lifts his staff again and Cole—Cole kicks his knees in. Yang flies back with a shout, slamming into the wall. He groans and Cole stumbles up, running away. He runs down the hall, turning the corners so fast he nearly slips. After a moment, he can hear Yang start to follow him.

Cole makes it to the stairs and stumbles up them. Yang catches up and grabs the collar of his shirt. Cole yells, throwing the both of them into the wall, pin–balling between them until Yang lets go with a grunt and a battered body. The walls creak but Cole flies up the stairs. Once he gets to the top, he turns around and kicks Yang down.

Then he continues to run. He’s on the second floor so now he just needs—needs to find somewhere to hide. He turns the corner and finds a series of doors, he freezes, panicking before he hears the sound of Yang stumbling up the stairs.

“F–Fuck,” he sobs and runs to one of the door—he doens’t even know which, just one of them and throws the door open. He runs inside and slams the door shut, his fingers are shaking badly but he manages to lock it. He looks around frantically.

He’s in a—closet? There’s a couple of dusty boxes and chests and Cole hits his knees. He shoves them in front of the door, leaving one behind. He curls behind it, shoving his face between his knees. 

He hears Yang start walking down the hall, his staff tapping ominously. Cole shutters, heaving a breath and struggling to muffle his cries. He slams his hands over his ears but it doesn't drown out the tapping.

He shakily extends his fingers to feel around his eye and flinches when they make contact. It’s—puffy and sticky with ectoplasma. He needs a mirror or something. His hand pats around where he’s curled up blindly. He jolts when he feels something. He runs his fingers over it and its—glass?

He grabs and brings to his face. It’s a glass shard, about as long as his hand and half as wide. The edges are sharp but it shouldn’t hurt him.

He positions it over his eye and sucks in a breath. It’s all swollen, puffed up and bright green. The skin around it is completely black. Ectoplasma is leaking—no longer dripping—out of the socket. Cole bites back a sob and lightly probs it, trying not to flinch.

It—it should heal. 

He hopes so, anyways.

Yang slams his staff into the floor outside his door.

“Cole!” he yells, loud and angry, “come out!”

Cole swallows a sob and presses his hands harder over his ears.

“Cole!”

“Stop—stop,” he whispers wetly, biting onto his knuckles to muffle himself. He curls into a tight, painful ball.

“Cole!” Yang screams, voice ragged and vicious, “this is childish! Come out!” 

“Jay—” Cole sobs.

It takes a long time for the tapping of Yang’s staff to fade away. Cole remains curled up behind the box. 

“They’ll come for me…they’ll come for me…” Cole mumbles into his knees.

“I just have to…wait…”

Jay shoves him down and lays directly onto his chest. He shoves his head under Cole’s chin.

“Oh-ho, sleepy?”

“Just shut up and sleep.”

[kckt88]

Fracture.

Summary:

After taking Harrenhal, Aemond is haunted by his past sins.

Warning(s): Angst, Swearing, Drama, Uncle/Niece Incest, Kissing, Smut, Oral Sex, (F Recieving), Loss of Virginity, P in V, Visions, Torment, Despair, Aemond POV, BAMF Alys Rivers, Ending Open to Interpretation/Ambiguous.

AEMOND x O.C

Word Count: 9870

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Prince Aemond Targaryen lay in a dilapidated bed within the blackened ruins of Harrenhal, the once-mighty castle now a testament to fire and war.

The room around him was in disrepair, with crumbling stone walls, broken windows that allowed the cold, damp air to seep in, and a ceiling that leaked, letting the rain pour in rhythmically.

Aemond's one good eye stared up at the ceiling, his mind replaying the events that recently transpired.

He and his men, including Ser Criston Cole, had ridden into Harrenhal with expectations of battle, ready to face his uncle Daemon.

But the castle had been deserted, save for a few trembling inhabitants too frightened to flee.

Initially, they had celebrated their bloodless victory, mocking Daemon as a coward who had fled before the might of the Greens.

But the victory was hollow.

News had soon arrived that King's Landing had fallen to the Blacks, and Rhaenyra now sat on the Iron Throne, his mother and sweet sister taken as hostages.

Daemon, far from being a coward, had outmanoeuvred him, drawing Aemond to Harrenhal while the real prize slipped away.

The realization had been a bitter one, and now Aemond lay in the ruins of a castle that was as broken as his plans.

The rain poured harder, as if the gods themselves were mocking him. Every drop that struck the stone was a reminder of his failure, of how his uncle had outsmarted him.

Anger seethed within him, a fire that threatened to consume him from the inside. He was trapped in Harrenhal, far from King's Landing, with little choice but to regroup and try to salvage what remained of the Greens' cause.

Aemond clenched his fists, the anger fuelling his resolve. He would not be beaten, not by Daemon, not by anyone.

As the rain continued to pour, Aemond began to form new plans, his mind racing with possibilities.

But for now, all he could do was listen to the rain and wait.

Aemond tossed and turned in the tattered bed, sleep evading him as his mind churned with anger and frustration.

The rain outside had grown heavier, its pounding relentless against the ruined walls of Harrenhal.

Suddenly, in the midst of his restlessness, Aemond noticed a shadow pass by the closed door of his chamber.

Who could be prowling the halls of Harrenhal at this hour? He rose from the bed and reached for his sword, unsheathing it silently.

Moving with the stealth of a hunter, he approached the door and slowly pushed it open, peering into the dimly lit corridor.

The hallway was empty, but he could hear the faint sound of footsteps echoing through the stone passages.

Determined to uncover the source, Aemond stepped out, following the elusive sound. The rain hammered against the castle even harder now.

The flickering torches cast long, wavering shadows as he crept forward, every muscle coiled and ready to strike.

He turned a corner and saw a shadowy figure slip into a room at the end of the hall. With a narrowed eye, Aemond quickened his pace, his grip on the sword tightening.

He reached the door, hesitating only for a moment before pushing it open and stepping inside.

The room was small and dimly lit, the air thick with the scent of herbs and something faintly metallic.

Before him stood a woman, the very one he had spared when he first took Harrenhal. She moved calmly, busying herself with adding ingredients into a bowl as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

"It's a touch late to be stalking about a strange castle putting its people to the sword," she said, not even looking up from her work.

Aemond’s sword flashed as he pointed it at her, his voice cold and sharp. "You—"

She turned to face him, a faint smile playing on her lips. "I'm Alys."

Aemond's eye narrowed as he assessed her. "Strong?" he demanded.

"No. Rivers," she replied evenly.

His sneer was immediate. "A bastard."

Alys only smiled wider, her gaze steady and unperturbed. "Once you get to know me, you'll find that I'm not so bad."

Aemond scoffed at her audacity. "What are you, a maester?"

She smiled again, a sly, knowing expression. "In a manner of speaking. I took on the duties after the last one fled."

Aemond circled the room slowly, his sword still held at the ready. "Why?"

Alys shrugged lightly, still focused on her task. "He just never settled in."

Aemond watched her intently, the tension in the room thickening as the rain drummed louder against the stone.

He was caught off guard by her calm demeanour, her unflinching presence in the face of his hostility.

There was something about her that unsettled him, though he couldn’t place what it was.

"How are you settling in, my Prince?" Alys asked suddenly, her voice smooth and knowing. "I've come to know the face of tortured rest well enough. Sleep can be thin in this place." She began mixing the ingredients in the bowl, the sound of the pestle grinding against the mortar echoing in the small room.

Aemond bristled at her observation. "What would you know of my sleep?"

Without missing a beat, Alys took a lumpy red substance and tossed it into the bowl. "Harrenhal has been cursed since its first stone was laid," she said, her voice taking on a slightly ominous tone.

She licked the red substance from her fingers, her eyes never leaving Aemond's. "Black Harren felled a grove of weirwood trees that grew on these lands, with heart trees imbued with the spirits of those who lived long before he came. It’s said their whispers can still be heard sometimes."

Aemond scoffed, his scepticism clear. "Ridiculous."

Alys only smiled, her expression inscrutable as she continued her work, the eerie atmosphere in the room growing thicker with every passing moment.

Alys looked up from her work, her gaze steady as she spoke. "The very bed you sleep in was made from such a heart tree; you know. Its whispers are likely what keep you from finding rest."

Aemond frowned, his eye narrowing. "You are a very strange kind of woman."

Alys giggled softly, a sound that echoed eerily in the small room. "I’m no woman at all, my Prince. I’m a barn owl cursed to live in human form."

Aemond curled his lips in disdain at her strange words, turning to leave the room.

But before he could step out, Alys’s voice cut through the air, stopping him in his tracks.

"Your hands will never be clean of the blood you’ve spilled, all for the sake of a debt that you once claimed was worth the eye you lost when you gained your dragon."

Aemond froze, his heart skipping a beat. "What did you say?"

Alys turned her eyes on him, her expression grave. "It was not your niece’s debt to pay, yet you claimed it so and took her maidenhead. Your thirst for vengeance then claimed its next victim in the skies above Storm's End—a nephew's life taken in rage. And that, in turn, led to the loss of your other nephew, a son for a son. And then there was your brother, burned and maimed for life by your command."

Aemond's face twisted in anger, his voice low and dangerous. "Do not try me with your insolence, witch."

Alys didn’t flinch, continuing as if she hadn’t heard his threat. "You don’t realize what you’ve lost. Things could have been so different."

He scoffed, turning his back on her, but her next words hit their mark.

"Even now, you think of her—of what might have been had you not been so cruel."

Aemond paused, his breath catching in his throat. The truth of her words unsettled him, stirring memories he had tried to bury.

He turned to see Alys pouring the contents of the bowl into a cup, the mixture dark and steaming. She held it out to him, her expression calm and knowing.

"Here, drink this," she said softly. "You’ll need your sleep if you are to right the wrongs you have committed."

Aemond hesitated, his pride warring with the growing sense of unease she had planted in his heart.

But something in her gaze—something ancient and wise—compelled him to reach out and take the cup. He brought it to his lips and drank deeply, the liquid bitter on his tongue.

Aemond found himself adrift in a dreamlike state, his surroundings shifting and warping until he was no longer in the ruins of Harrenhal but back within the familiar walls of the Red Keep.

He was disoriented, as if he were both present and not, a ghost in his own memories. The hallways of the castle were dimly lit by flickering torches, and the echoes of distant footsteps reverberated through the stone corridors.

As he walked, his body moved with a purpose that was not entirely his own, as if some unseen force was guiding him.

He knew where he was going, even before the door appeared before him, the door to the chambers Lucella had been given during her stay at the Red Keep.

After the fight at the dinner, he had followed her that night, unable to banish her image from his thoughts.

She had been so beautiful, so enchanting, and yet he had convinced himself that she was nothing more than an opportunity—a chance to exact a twisted form of vengeance for what her bastard brother had done to him.

As he approached the door, he felt the weight of his own guilt and desire pressing down on him, but he had pushed those feelings aside at the time, replacing them with cold calculation.

The door creaked open as he stepped inside, and there she was, just as he remembered.

Lucella stood by the window, her back to him. She had turned when she heard him enter, her eyes wide with surprise and something else—hope, perhaps? He had seen it then, but he had refused to acknowledge it.

In this strange, almost out-of-body experience, Aemond watched himself move toward her, watched the way his younger self’s eyes had lingered on her, drinking in every detail.

She was so vulnerable, so trusting, and he had taken advantage of that.

"You shouldn’t be here, Uncle" she had whispered, her voice trembling.

He had ignored her words, stepping closer until he was right in front of her.

His hand had reached out, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear, and he had marvelled at how soft it was, how perfect she was.

Even when he was a child, he had always thought she was beautiful.

But he had steeled himself, reminding himself of why he was there.

He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers, the kiss searing and insistent.

Lucella pulled away, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and desire. But the intensity of his kiss, had been too much to resist.

With a soft moan, she looped her arms around his neck and kissed him back passionately.

Aemond’s hands slid down her back, pulling her closer, his kisses growing more fervent.

His hands roaming over Lucella’s back as he slowly backed them towards the bed.

Their lips never parting; each kiss more heated than the last. Lucella breath hitched as she felt his long fingers deftly begin to untie the laces of her dress.

As the laces came undone, Aemond's hands brushed against her bare skin. Lucella shivered at his touch, her heart racing with a mix of excitement and trepidation.

Aemond smiled, a rare, genuine smile that softened his usual intensity.

His hands moved with purpose, sliding the dress from her shoulders and down her body, exposing her skin to the cool air.

Lucella’s hands found their way to Aemond’s own clothing, eager to remove the barriers between them.

Once she had removed the out layers of his clothing, her fingers explored the hard planes of his chest and abdomen.

Aemond groaned softly at her touch, his lips trailing down her neck as he laid her back against the soft sheets.

Aemond positioned himself above her, his expression a mixture of desire and determination.

Lucella’s breath caught in her throat as she gently cupped his face with her hands. Her fingers brushed against the rough texture of his scar.

Slowly, she slipped off his eyepatch, revealing the sapphire he had placed where his eye once was.

With tenderness, Lucella leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his scarred cheek.

She felt Aemond’s sharp intake of breath, a moment of pure vulnerability passing between them.

Her fingers moved to the tie that bound his long, silver hair. With a gentle tug, she undid it, and his hair cascaded down, framing his chiselled face.

“So beautiful,” whispered Lucella, her voice filled with affection.

Aemond’s gaze softened, the fierce intensity giving way to something more tender, more real.

“My sweetest-” whispered Aemond as he pulled away and descended down her body, kissing and nipping at her skin as he went.

A strange feeling of familiarity lingered within his mind. Almost like they'd done this dance a thousand times before.

“W-What are you doing?” asked Lucella shyly.

“I want to kiss you-here” replied Aemond as he pressed forward and ran his tongue over her warm wet folds.

She bit the back of her hand to keep herself from screaming as Aemond began using his long fingers to slowly tease her entrance.

“None of that. I want to hear how good I make you feel” growled Aemond as he began moving his tongue against her, in rhythm with his fingers.

“A-Aemond. Oh god. Please” moaned Lucella, as she writhed against the sheets.

“That’s it-such a good girl for me” growled Aemond.

“OH-” whimpered Lucella, as Aemond continued to move his tongue and fingers over her centre.

“I know your almost there. Let it happen. Come for me” whispered Aemond, his tongue moving across her pearl.

Lucella arched her back and let out a scream as her pleasure erupted.

Aemond slowly crawled up her body, placing gentle kisses on her skin as he moved higher and higher.

Lucella blushed furiously when she saw that Aemond’s chin was shining with her slick.

“Calm yourself issa zaldrīzes” muttered Aemond, as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth, sucking off her slick. (My dragon).

“W-What are you doing?” asked Lucella as Aemond’s hand slid down her body and began teasing her folds.

“I-I need to prepare you a little more” whispered Aemond.

“P-prepare me?” whispered Lucella.

“You are a maiden-” replied Aemond.

“Aemond” exclaimed Lucella as he slowly slipped a finger inside her, the slick from her first peak easing the way.

Aemond buried his face in Lucella’s neck as he began peppering kisses along her smooth skin as he added another finger, moving them in and out slowly.

“So warm-so wet for me” rasped Aemond, his hot breath tickling her skin.

“I-I think I’m ready” whispered Lucella.

Aemond removed his fingers and then moved between her open legs, supporting his weight on his left arm as he reached down and took his hard cock in his hand and placed the tip of it against her slick entrance.

Lucella shut her eyes tight, taking a deep breath as Aemond sheathed himself within her.

Aemond leaned down and pressed gentle kisses to her cheeks, his tongue catching her fallen tears.

Aemond’s cock twitched and throbbed with need, and he released a shuddered breath while Lucella sighed in relief. 

“Are you ok?” asked Aemond.

“I-I think you can move now” whispered Lucella her hands running along the smooth plans of Aemond’s back.

Slowly Aemond withdrew and then moved forward, his cock reaching deep inside her.

“Are you ok?” repeated Aemond as he thrust inside her.

“Y-yes-I think you can move faster”

Aemond rested his head in the crook of her neck as he thrusts faster, his moans muffled against her skin.

“Ooh Aemond-that feels good” whined Lucella.

“Your perfect-” whispered Aemond.

“P-please Aemond. F-faster. H-harder” exclaimed Lucella.

“Lucy-my Lucy” moaned Aemond as he began to pound into her, his hips slapping against hers.

“-I-I f-feel-” whimpered Lucella.

“-Let it happen-my sweetest, peak for me” exclaimed Aemond.

“ OH- ”

“Fuck-that’s it-that’s it” muttered Aemond as he slipped his hand between their bodies and slowly began rubbing her pearl.

“ AEMOND ” screamed Lucella’s her peak exploded, making her entire body shake.

“Fuck-” groaned Aemond as he felt the heat shooting across his abdomen.

“-Aemond” whimpered Lucella.

“Lucy-” moaned Aemond pushed into the hilt for one last time, his cock throbbing as he spilled rope after rope of his seed.

Aemond watched the scene, the bile rising in his throat, he knew what was coming.

He would pull his softened cock from her and redress himself with all the haste he could muster.

The sound of her sweet shaky voice asking him to stay was like a knife to the heart.

He watched himself hesitate, that inner conflict, he remembered it well.

Torn between staying or following through on his plan.

In the end, he chose the latter.

He convinced himself that this was justice, that she was nothing to him.

But the truth had been far more complicated. He had wanted her—truly wanted her. The fire that had burned within him that night was not born of anger or revenge, but of a deep, undeniable desire.

Even as he took her, he knew that she meant more to him than he could admit.

But he had buried those feelings, locking them away beneath layers of pride and pain.

He had told her she meant nothing, that she was just a means to an end, that he had taken her maidens blood in exchange for the eye he lost, but even now, in this strange half-dream, half-memory, he knew he had lied.

Then he had left her there, discarded her with her maidens blood and his seed between her thighs.

Her sobs had haunted him as he walked away, the weight of what he had done pressing down on him like a physical burden.

Aemond watched as his younger self walked out of the room, leaving Lucella behind. He wanted to scream, to reach out and stop himself, to tell her the truth—that she had meant something to him, that she had always meant something.

But he was trapped in this memory, unable to change what had already been done.

The memory began to fade, the walls of the Red Keep dissolving around him as the darkness closed in.

Aemond was left with the echo of his own voice in his mind, the cruel, cold words he had spoken, and the knowledge that he had lost something precious that night—something he could never get back.

Aemond sat at the head of the table, the once-grand hall of Harrenhal a shadow of its former self, much like his own fraying composure.

Ser Criston Cole spoke with authority, laying out plans for their next move. His voice was calm, confident, as he detailed a potential assault on the small town of Drarry.

The town’s levies could bolster their dwindling forces, he reasoned. It was a sound strategy, one that should have commanded Aemond's full attention.

But Aemond wasn’t listening. His mind drifted, the words swirling around him like the incessant rain outside, distant and meaningless.

His attention was instead captured by the young boy serving wine, a boy who shouldn’t—couldn’t—be there. It was Lucerys.

Aemond's heart pounded as he stared, unblinking, at the boy. The youthful, innocent face he had once known approached him, but something was horribly wrong.

Luke’s visage began to warp and twist, the fresh, unmarred skin turning a sickly grey, decaying before Aemond’s eyes. His eyes bulged grotesquely from their sockets; his flesh rotted away to reveal bone.

Deep, jagged gashes crisscrossed his body, and parts of him were simply missing—his left arm gone, his torso a ghastly open wound.

"Wine, Your Grace?" Luke rasped, his voice a nightmarish croak as water and bile spilled from his mouth.

Aemond lurched from his seat. The occupants of the table stared at him, confusion and alarm evident in their expressions.

Ser Criston Cole’s voice cut through the sudden silence, sharp with concern.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?"

Aemond’s breathing was ragged, his eye wild as he pointed toward the abomination before him. "Can’t you see him?"

Criston exchanged worried glances with the other men at the table. "See who?"

Aemond’s words died in his throat as he turned back to where the twisted figure of Luke had stood.

But instead of the grotesque apparition, there was now only an older, grey-haired woman, her movements slow and deliberate as she poured the wine.

Her face was lined with age, her expression calm, as if nothing had happened. The room around Aemond felt suddenly too small, the air thick and suffocating.

His breath hitched as he glanced back at Ser Criston, who was watching him with deepening concern.

"Are you all right, Your Grace?" Criston repeated, his voice softer this time, as though speaking to a man on the edge.

Aemond forced himself to nod, swallowing hard against the bile that rose in his throat. He tried to focus on the words still being spoken around the table, tried to ground himself in the reality of their situation, but his mind was spinning, unable to shake what he had just seen.

He reached for the cup in front of him, his hand trembling slightly as he brought it to his lips. The bitter taste of the wine lingered on his tongue, sharp and acrid, but it did little to steady his nerves.

His thoughts were a tangled web of anger, fear, and something else—something he couldn’t quite name.

Aemond sat slumped in a chair before the fire, the flames casting flickering shadows across the worn stone walls of Harrenhal.

His head hung low, cradled in his hands, the weight of the past days pressing heavily upon him.

He felt disconnected, as though the world around him had become a blur, the edges of reality fraying like the tattered banners that hung in the desolate castle.

With a sigh, he pulled off his eyepatch, exposing the sapphire that gleamed coldly in the firelight. The socket where his eye had once been throbbed with a dull ache.

He took a slow sip of wine, hoping the liquid might numb the gnawing unease that had settled in his chest.

But then, a sound pierced through the haze that enveloped him—a soft, mournful weeping.

The sound was faint, distant, but unmistakable. He set the cup down, the echo of its base clinking against the table, and reached for his sword.

The cold steel felt reassuring in his grip as he rose from the chair, the fire at his back now casting long, dancing shadows along the walls.

He moved through the darkened corridors of Harrenhal, the sound of weeping guiding him like a beacon through the gloom.

The castle was silent save for the rain still pounding against the stones outside, but the weeping cut through it all, a sorrowful melody that pulled him deeper into the bowels of the keep.

Aemond paused in front of a closed door, the source of the weeping just beyond. He hesitated for a moment, his pulse thrumming in his ears, before pushing the door open with a slow creak.

Suddenly, the world around him shifted, the cold, crumbling walls of Harrenhal melting away to be replaced by something entirely different.

He blinked, disoriented, as he found himself standing in a chamber unfamiliar yet unmistakable. The walls were adorned with carved dragons, their serpentine forms etched into the stone, and the distant roars of dragons echoed through the air.

The air here was warm, heavy with the scent of salt and ash. It dawned on him with a start—this was Dragonstone.

The weeping grew louder, more desperate, and Aemond’s breath hitched as he moved further into the room.

On the bed, shrouded in shadow and sorrow, was Lucella. She was huddled against her mother, Rhaenyra, who held her tightly, stroking her hair in a futile attempt to soothe her daughter’s anguish.

Lucella’s sobs were gut-wrenching, her small frame shaking with the force of her grief. Aemond’s breath caught in his throat, a mix of confusion and dread rising within him.

He took a step forward, the sword in his hand now feeling alien, almost wrong, in this place.

His gaze locked onto Lucella, her face buried in Rhaenyra’s shoulder, her tears soaking her gown.

Aemond’s grip tightened on his sword, his knuckles white, but he felt powerless, a mere spectator in this twisted dream. His mouth opened to speak, to say something—anything—but no words came.

He was paralyzed by the weight of his own guilt, the sight of Lucella’s broken form etched into his mind

Aemond stood at the foot of the bed, his presence unnoticed by the two women.

The air was thick with tension, the only sounds in the room the soft crackling of the fire and Lucella’s quiet sobs.

"On the night of the petition for Driftmark-" Lucella whispered, her voice trembling as she confessed the truth that weighed so heavily on her. "Aemond, came to my chambers, and he took my maidenhead-"

Rhaenyra's grip on her daughter tightened, her knuckles white as she struggled to contain the fury simmering just beneath the surface. "Did he force himself on you?"

Lucella shook her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. "No, Mother, he didn’t force me. He whispered sweet words and when he touched me, it was unlike anything I'd ever felt before. He was gentle, he made me feel good" Her voice faltered, a wistful note creeping in as she remembered that night, her words tinged with a sadness that pierced through Aemond like a dagger.

“Lucella-” whispered Rhaenyra softly.

"But when it was over," Lucella continued, her voice breaking, "He discarded me. Like I was nothing. He said that I was a means to an end, that my maidens blood was an exchange for the eye he lost"

Rhaenyra's expression darkened, her eyes burning with cold, calculated fury. "He took advantage of you and he will pay for it," she swore, her voice low and dangerous. "For what he has done to you, for what he did to Lucerys. I swear it. He will pay”

Aemond felt the weight of her words like a noose tightening around his neck. This was his fault—he had done this.

He had shattered Lucella’s trust, her innocence, and now, as he stood there, he was faced with the unbearable consequences of his cruelty. He had thought himself in control, convinced that this was justice, but now, watching the devastation he had wrought, he realized how terribly wrong he had been.

But then, Lucella spoke again, her voice trembling with something deeper, something that sent a cold chill down Aemond’s spine.

“Mother-forgive me” she began, her breath hitching, “His seed, it took root. I carry his child inside me.”

The room fell deathly silent, the air thick with the weight of her words. Aemond’s heart stopped, his mind reeling as he stared at Lucella, unable to process what she had just said.

A child. His child.

Rhaenyra’s reaction was immediate. Horror and disbelief flashed across her face as she pulled Lucella even closer, as if trying to shield her from the harsh reality of the situation.

"No-" she whispered, her voice breaking.

Lucella nodded, her tears flowing freely. “It’s true, Mother. I carry his child.”

Aemond’s knees felt weak, his body trembling as the full weight of his actions crashed down upon him.

He had not only destroyed Lucella’s innocence but had also left her with a child—a child that would bear the burden of his sins.

"Do you wish to keep the child?" Rhaenyra's voice was soft, but there was an undercurrent of urgency, of desperate concern.

Lucella hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "The child is innocent of their father's sins," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "I cannot condemn them for what he has done. This is my child, Mother”

Rhaenyra’s heart ached with a mixture of pride and sorrow. She held Lucella close, pressing a kiss to her forehead, her mind already racing to find a way to protect her daughter and the innocent life she now carried.

"You are strong, my sweet girl," she murmured. "But for your safety, and that of the child, we must keep the identity of the father a secret—at least for now. No one can know that the child belongs to Aemond”

Lucella nodded again, understanding the gravity of her mother's words.

The war had already torn their family apart, and the truth of her child's lineage could ignite a blaze that would consume them all.

"You will go to the Vale along with Aegon and Viserys, to stay with Lady Jeyne Arryn” said Rhaenyra, her voice firm with determination

Lucella's eyes widened slightly at the mention of her younger brothers. "Aegon and Viserys?"

Rhaenyra nodded. "Yes, they will go with you as will your dragon Silverwing. You will be well cared for in the Vale, but you must remain far from this war. Jacaerys has informed me that Lord Cregan Stark has agreed to take your hand in marriage, of course you being with child does complicate things, and I understand if you do not wish to follow through with the marriage-”

“What man would take a woman as his wife whilst she carries another man’s child” asked Lucella quietly.

“An honourable one-but it’s your choice my sweet girl, I will not force you” said Rhaenyra.

“I support my Queen, and I will consider the marriage”

Rhaenyra hugged her daughter tightly, as if trying to imprint this moment into her memory. "You are so brave, my love, I was truly blessed the day you were born"

As the embrace lingered, Aemond, still standing at the foot of the bed, felt an overwhelming urge to reach out to Lucella, to tell her that he had not meant for things to turn out this way.

But when he extended his hand, it was as if an invisible barrier prevented him from touching her.

He tried to call out to her, but his voice was lost in the void, drowned out by the increasing darkness that surrounded him.

The room, Rhaenyra, and Lucella began to fade, their voices becoming distant, muffled.

Panic surged through Aemond as he fought against the encroaching blackness, desperate to hold onto the last vestiges of the vision.

And then, in an instant, everything vanished.

Aemond jolted awake, gasping for breath. He was back in his bed at Harrenhal, the remnants of the dream clinging to him like a cold sweat.

His heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing with the revelation that Lucella was carrying his child. The weight of what he had seen, what he had heard, bore down on him like a leaden shroud.

This was no ordinary dream—it was a vision, a cruel reminder of the consequences of his actions.

Lucella, far away in the Vale, hidden from the war and from him, was carrying his child. A child he might never see.

Aemond sat there, staring into the darkness of his chamber, his mind a maelstrom of conflicting emotions.

The morning sun barely touched the horizon when Aemond stormed through the corridors of Harrenhal, his mind set with a singular purpose.

The events of the previous night, the vision of Lucella and the revelation of his child, had ignited a fierce determination within him. He could no longer afford to remain idle, bound by the chains of his own mistakes.

Ser Criston Cole, deep in discussion over battle plans, was abruptly interrupted as Aemond barrelled past him, disregarding his shocked protests.

The plans for an assault on Drarry, once deemed crucial, now seemed inconsequential in the face of the personal turmoil Aemond faced.

As he descended the stone steps toward Vhagar’s resting place, the sound of his hurried footsteps was interrupted by a familiar, unsettling voice.

“It’s too late,” Alys said softly, her tone almost too calm for the gravity of her words.

Aemond stopped abruptly, turning to face her. “What do you mean, it’s too late?”

Alys’ lips curled into a smile that held no warmth. “Lucella is no longer in the Vale.”

Aemond’s heart pounded as he demanded, “Where is she?”

Alys’ smile widened, her eyes glinting with a cruel delight. “Lucella now resides at Winterfell, as the soon to be wife of Lord Cregan Stark.”

The words hit Aemond like a physical blow. “What?”

Alys tilted her head, her gaze unwavering. “To secure the North for her mother, Lucella has agreed to wed the Warden of the North. It was a strategic marriage, one that consolidates power and allies. Your child will be raised in the North, under the protection of House Stark.”

Aemond’s face twisted in rage. “She carries my child! She belongs with me!”

Alys merely smiled again, her expression unchanging. “Aye, she carries your child. But Lord Stark is an honourable man. He has pledged to protect both Lucella and the child. Tell me, kinslayer, how does it feel knowing that your son will be raised by a wolf? That he will grow up calling another man father?

“You dare-” snarled Aemond, freezing as he felt something soft move across the back of he clenched hand.

He looked down and for the briefest of seconds a saw a flash of ribbon, gold and white.

“Your arrogance and pride have cost you the one thing you have sought your entire life. Lucella would have been a good wife; she would have loved you, given you many children. You would’ve had everything you ever wanted, but now, such things are lost to you.”

Aemond’s breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to comprehend the enormity of what Alys was saying.

The world seemed to spin around him, the walls of Harrenhal pressing in on him as if mocking his loss.

Alys turned to leave, her form slipping back into the shadows as she offered no further comfort or explanation.

Her parting words lingered in the air, a cruel reminder of the choices that had led him to this point.

Aemond was left standing alone, his thoughts a storm of anger, regret, and despair. The realization that Lucella, the woman he had wronged, would soon belong to another, and that his child would grow up under another man’s name, crushed him under a weight he could barely endure.

As Alys disappeared from view, Aemond sank to his knees, the full impact of his actions crashing down upon him.

Days blurred into an unrelenting haze for Aemond, each one melding into the next as the weight of his actions and their consequences pressed down on him.

The war continued, relentless and unforgiving. Strategies were drawn and redrawn, plans for battles and sieges were made and executed with grim efficiency.

Patrols scoured the countryside, small settlements loyal to Rhaenyra were attacked and burned, their inhabitants driven from their homes or slaughtered.

The brutality of the conflict seemed endless, a grim reflection of the turmoil within Aemond’s own mind.

Yet, despite the relentless pace of war, the nights were far worse.

In the darkness, where shadows danced and the silence of Harrenhal was punctuated only by the occasional crackle of the hearth or the distant rumble of thunder, Aemond was haunted by nightmares that left him waking in a cold sweat, his heart racing.

Lucerys appeared to him in his dreams. Sometimes, he came as a sweet-faced child, his eyes wide and innocent, his smile unblemished by the cruelty of their world.

Other times, Lucerys was a grotesque, rotting mass of flesh and bone, his once-pristine features now distorted by decay and violence.

His body was marred by deep wounds, the sight of him a horrific testament to the fatal consequences of Aemond's vendetta.

As if the visions of Lucerys were not torment enough, Aemond was plagued by the weeping sounds of Lucella.

Her voice, broken and plaintive, filled the nights with a sorrowful lament. She would ask, over and over, "Why?"—a question that cut through Aemond’s soul with a sharpness that left him gasping for breath.

He could not answer her, could not explain why he had allowed the rage and hatred within him to consume his compassion, why he had been driven to such cruelty.

And then came the visions of his brother Aegon, a spectre of burnt and charred blackened flesh.

Aegon’s form was twisted and unrecognizable, his once-familiar features now a nightmare of burns and disfigurements.

His ghostly voice would accuse Aemond of betrayal, of causing his suffering and letting him fall.

"We are brothers," Aegon would rasp in the dreamscape, the anguish in his voice palpable. "How could you do this to me? Do you truly hate me that much?"

These nightly horrors, each one a reflection of his deepest fears and regrets, eroded Aemond’s sense of self.

The lines between dream and reality grew increasingly blurred. He would wake up trembling, the echo of his nightmares clinging to him like a shroud.

The faces of Lucerys and Aegon, the sound of Lucella’s weeping, all of it haunted him with an intensity that made the waking hours a desperate attempt to outrun the demons that plagued his sleep.

In the harsh light of day, he would rise, draw his sword, and return to the cycle of war and violence, but the burden of his actions weighed heavily on him.

The faces of the people he had wronged, the blood on his hands, the dreams that taunted him with their cruel reminders, all mingled together in a relentless torment that made him question if there was any escape from the darkness that had now consumed him.

Aemond stood alone in the ruined courtyard of Harrenhal, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow over the desolate stone.

He had taken to spending his time in solitude, seeking solace in the cold embrace of the night sky and the silence that now enveloped the once-majestic castle.

His thoughts, tangled in regrets and what-ifs, churned restlessly as he gazed at the distant, indifferent moon.

The serenity of his isolation was suddenly pierced by the soft, unmistakable sound of a newborn baby's cry.

The sound was so incongruous with the emptiness of Harrenhal that it jolted Aemond from his reverie.

He followed the sound with a mix of confusion and desperation, his heart pounding with a sense of urgency that he could not explain.

He came to a stop before a set of weathered wooden doors, their surface marred by time and neglect.

With a deep breath, he pushed them open and stepped inside. The room was dimly lit, and his eyes were drawn to Lucella, who sat on the edge of a bed, gently rocking a small bundle in her arms.

Aemond’s heart ached as he saw himself sitting on the bed beside her, taking the bundle into his own arms with a tenderness that seemed foreign and distant.

He watched as this other version of himself whispered softly, “ēdrugon ñuha zaldrītsos” (sleep my little dragon).

The warmth in his voice was palpable, and Aemond felt a pang of longing for a peace and connection he had never fully embraced.

Before he could process the depth of the moment, the room began to fade, plunging into darkness.

The sound of a child’s giggle echoed around him, drawing his attention.

Aemond turned to see a silver-haired boy, no older than six, standing proudly in the training grounds of the Red Keep.

The boy swung a wooden sword with a determined grin, his laughter ringing out as he called, “Watch me, Kepa! Watch me!” (Father).

Aemond’s heart warmed as he observed this tender scene, the boy’s eager energy a reflection of his own youthful enthusiasm.

He watched himself teaching the boy the skills of the sword with patience and affection.

The bond between father and son was evident in their shared joy and the way they moved together in a dance of instruction and play.

In an instant, the scene shifted again. Aemond found himself standing beside Lucella as she gave birth to a baby girl.

The sight of the child being placed into her arms, Lucella’s exhausted yet elated expression, was accompanied by the sound of his own cries as he held their daughter.

The raw emotion on his face was a testament to the profound love and vulnerability he felt.

The vision continued to shift, and he saw another version of himself taking his children flying on Vhagar, with Lucella flying beside them on Silverwing.

The thrill of the flight was unmistakable, the sky filled with the sound of their laughter and the roars of their own hatchling dragons soaring alongside them.

The scene was a vivid portrayal of a life filled with joy and familial bonding, a life that seemed so out of reach, but at the same time it seemed like a memory, one that he couldn't place.

Aemond felt an intense pressure in his chest, as if the weight of the vision was physically constricting his breath.

The laughter of his children, so vibrant and full of life, became a haunting reminder of what he had lost. The scenes began to dissolve, and the joy that had filled them faded into the encroaching darkness.

Gasping for air, Aemond reeled backwards, clutching his chest as if trying to hold onto the remnants of the dream.

He stumbled and found himself back in his chamber at Harrenhal, the oppressive darkness of the room pressing in on him. He slumped into the corner, his back against the cold stone wall, and the tears that had long been pent up finally broke free.

As Aemond cried, the sound of his children’s laughter seemed to be swallowed by the void, leaving him alone with the heavy, crushing weight of his regrets and the unbearable knowledge of what might have been.

Aemond sat in the cold, dark corner of his chamber, his body trembling as he sobbed uncontrollably.

The overwhelming flood of grief, regret, and torment seemed to crush him from all sides. He could barely breathe through the anguish that wracked his entire being.

He cried out into the emptiness of the room, his voice hoarse and pleading. "Leave me alone! Please, just leave me alone! I can't take it anymore-"

The silence that followed was heavy, almost oppressive, until Aemond felt a subtle movement in front of him.

He looked up, his tear-blurred vision struggling to focus, and saw Alys kneeling before him.

She reached out, her fingers gentle as they brushed through his dishevelled hair, an unexpected comfort in the midst of his despair.

Aemond, driven by an instinctive need for solace, moved forward and wrapped his arms around her, his grip desperate and tight. He buried his face in her shoulder, his cries muffled against her. "Please, stop tormenting me-to show me the chidren its cruel"

Alys remained still for a moment, her voice soft and almost serene. "Your only freedom is within the eye of the gods."

The words struck Aemond like a blow to the chest. He remembered his sister Helaena’s words, the chilling premonition she had uttered when he had begged her to come with him to Harrenhal and she had refused.

"Aegon will be king again," she had said, "he's yet to see victory, he sits on a wooden throne, and you'll be dead, swallowed up in the gods' eye, you were never seen again."

The memory was like a dagger twisting in his heart, amplifying the sense of doom that had followed him.

He pulled away from Alys, his face a mask of anguish and realization. "Leave me," he said, his voice breaking. "I wish to be alone, just as I always have been."

Alys’s hand reached out to him, a gesture of compassion, but he snatched it away with a harsh movement. His anger and sorrow surged together, mingling with a desperate need for solitude.

"I said leave!" he shouted, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

Alys stood, her expression unreadable, and then she slowly walked away, her footsteps fading into the distance.

As the last echoes of Alys’s departure faded, Aemond slumped back against the cold stone wall, the chill seeping into his bones.

He closed his eye, trying to shut out the overwhelming sense of loss and failure.

With a whisper barely audible even to himself, he repeated the one name that seemed to encapsulate his pain, his regret, and his longing: “Lucella.”

As the days dragged on, Aemond’s mind grew increasingly fragile, the weight of his regrets and visions pressing down upon him with relentless intensity.

The once-proud prince who had thrived on determination and strength now found himself teetering on the edge of madness.

Each night, the visions that plagued his sleep became more vivid, more insistent. Lucerys haunted him with that same blend of innocence and grotesque horror, Lucella’s weeping echoed in the corridors of his mind, and Aegon’s charred, accusing form lingered at the corners of his consciousness, sniping and hurling insults at him.

'Coward, treasonous dog and vile cunt' were some of the one's his brother favoured.

When word reached Harrenhal of Helaena’s death, Aemond’s fragile grip on reality began to unravel entirely.

The news that his gentle sister had thrown herself from the window of Maegor’s Holdfast struck him like a dagger to the heart.

Helaena, who had seen visions of the future in her dreams, had become yet another victim of the war that had torn their family apart. The shock of her death sent Aemond spiralling deeper into the abyss of his own despair.

He withdrew further from the world around him, preferring the cold comfort of solitude over the company of others.

He stopped attending the war councils, even as Ser Criston Cole and the remaining host of thirty-six hundred Greens prepared to march south from Harrenhal to meet the Hightower forces.

Aemond refused to join them, claiming he would follow later, though deep down he knew he had no intention of doing so.

Instead, he lingered in the empty halls of Harrenhal, haunted by the ghosts of his past and the weight of his failures.

He ate alone, trained alone, and slept fitfully in a chamber that seemed to grow darker and more oppressive with each passing day.

After Criston and the men had left, the silence in Harrenhal became deafening. The once-mighty fortress, now nearly empty, seemed to breathe with the echoes of lost battles and the whispers of curses long forgotten.

Aemond’s thoughts turned inward, his despair and grief consuming him whole.

There was no longer a way forward, no victory that could redeem the losses he had suffered. His mind circled around the same grim conclusion: there was but one way out now.

With a heavy heart, Aemond sat at a table in his chamber, a quill in hand. He stared at the blank parchment before him, the candlelight casting flickering shadows across his face. He hesitated for a moment, then began to write. finality, each stroke of the quill marking a step closer to his inevitable end. The letter was addressed to his uncle, Daemon.

"Daemon," the letter began, the words sharp and direct, "The time has come for us to settle this war as it should have been settled from the start—between you and me. I challenge you to meet me in the skies above the Gods Eye. Let this war end in fire and blood"

Aemond set the quill down, his hands shaking. He folded the letter carefully and sealed it with wax, pressing his sigil into the hot, red wax.

The task completed, he sat back in his chair, feeling the weight of the decision he had made settle heavily on his shoulders.

The room seemed to grow colder, the shadows lengthening as the candle flickered and sputtered. Aemond closed his eye, the sounds of Lucella’s weeping and the laughter of his lost children echoing in his mind.

The visions that had haunted him were not gone, but now, they seemed distant, as if they were preparing to leave him for good.

The next day, he would send the letter. And then, he would wait for the response that would seal his fate.

Two long weeks passed before Daemon finally arrived at Harrenhal.

Aemond spent those days in a fevered state of anticipation, his mind torn between dread and the fierce desire to end this war, to end himself.

When the day finally came, Aemond watched from the crumbling ramparts as Caraxes, the Blood Wyrm, descended from the skies, his crimson scales glistening like blood in the fading sunlight.

The sight of his uncle astride the fearsome dragon filled Aemond with a cold resolve. This was it. The end.

He made his way to Vhagar, and with practiced ease, Aemond ascended the rope ladder and secured himself into the saddle.

He could feel Vhagar’s own anticipation, the bond between rider and dragon thrumming with shared purpose. With a roar that shook the very stones of Harrenhal, Vhagar took to the sky.

The two dragons met in the air, their roars echoing across the sky.

They circled each other, two titanic forces of nature, before clashing in a fiery, savage battle. Vhagar and Caraxes locked talons, their wings beating furiously as they tore at each other with teeth and claws.

The sky above the Gods Eye was filled with the sound of snapping jaws, the ripping of flesh, and the heat of dragon fire.

Caraxes was the first to find purchase, his long, serpentine body coiling around Vhagar’s neck. With a vicious twist, Caraxes latched onto Vhagar’s throat, his fangs sinking deep into the thick scales.

Blood, hot and dark, poured from the wound, raining down upon the waters below. Vhagar let out a deafening roar of pain and fury, her massive wings beating frantically as she tried to shake the smaller dragon off.

In a final, desperate act, Vhagar managed to tear into Caraxes’ belly with her claws.

The Blood Wyrm’s entrails spilled out, steaming in the cold air. But Caraxes did not release his grip on Vhagar’s throat. The two dragons were locked in a death embrace, neither willing to yield.

As Aemond struggled to keep control, he looked up in time to see Daemon leaping from the back of Caraxes, his sword, Dark Sister, gleaming in his hand.

The older man’s face was a mask of grim determination as he hurtled through the air, landing with catlike grace in front of Aemond on Vhagar’s back.

There was no time to react as Daemon moved with the speed of a man possessed, thrusting Dark Sister into Aemond’s remaining eye.

The blade pierced through flesh and bone, driving deep until it burst through the back of Aemond’s throat. The young prince gasped, a final, choking breath escaping him as the world went dark.

Below them, the two dying dragons plummeted toward the Gods Eye. The impact sent a gargantuan splash of water into the air, the surface boiling with the mingled blood of the two beasts.

As Caraxes, his strength failing, clawed his way onto the bank, he let out a final, rattling breath before collapsing, dead.

Vhagar, her throat torn out and her life slipping away, sank beneath the surface of the lake, her massive form dragging Aemond’s lifeless body with her.

The weight of the ancient dragon pulled them both down into the cold, dark depths.

Aemond jolted awake, his hand instinctively pressing against his remaining eye, his heart pounding with the intensity of a nightmare that lingered as a grim reality.

The sensation of the sword piercing through him still felt vividly real, the ghost of pain haunting him as he tried to calm his racing breath.

The room around him seemed to spin, the shadows from his nightmare clinging to the edges of his vision.

He felt a gentle hand on his arm and turned sharply to see Lucella gazing at him with concern.

For a split second, he was paralyzed by fear, convinced that this was yet another vision sent to torment him.

He gasped, moving backwards and falling out of bed with a heavy thud that echoed in the quiet room.

Aemond scrambled to his feet, the words of the witch, telling him that his freedom lay in the eye of the gods, seemed to mock him from the depths of his confusion.

He began pacing the room, muttering to himself about the unreality of it all. “It’s not real- another vision-sent to torment me-why must you keep tormenting me” His mind was a tumultuous storm, and he could barely grasp the threads of sanity slipping through his fingers.

Lucella got out of bed and moved to his side, taking his hand and pressing it gently to her cheek.

“I’m real, ñuha jorrāelagon” she said softly, her eyes filled with a tenderness that cut through his panic (my love).

But then Aemond’s voice wavered as he asked about the war. “The Greens repudiated the succession-crowned Aegon as King. Lucerys-he died in the skies above Storm’s End. Jaehaerys was murdered in retribution. A son for a son-” His babbling grew frantic, but Lucella’s calm presence seemed to anchor him, if only slightly.

Lucella placed her hands on his face and shushed him gently. “All is well,” she assured him. “Your grandsire had the intent to crown Aegon, but he lost his head for it, along with those who conspired against my mother. But it was our marriage that truly united the family.”

Aemond blinked, stunned and stammering. “M-marriage? What about your marriage to Lord Cregan Stark?”

Lucella grimaced slightly. “Cregan? He’s married to Alysanne Blackwood.”

Aemond’s eyes widened in confusion. “He is?”

Lucella sighed, a hint of exasperation in her voice. “What in the hell was in that wine you were drinking with Aegon?”

Aemond paused at the mention of is brother.

"A-Aegon. How is he?"

“Other than being deep in his cups, he was fine the last time I saw him.” replied Lucella.

“What about Helaena?” Aemond pressed.

“She’s recovering well” said Lucella.

“F-From what?” asked Aemond.

“From birthing another child—a son named Maelor. That’s why you were drinking with Aegon; you were celebrating the news of his son.”

“S-Son? But he and Helaena, t-they d-don’t-” muttered Aemond.

“Things aren’t perfect between them, but in recent years they have found comfort with one another-Aegon is trying and that’s all we can hope for” said Lucella softly.

The revelations were disorienting, but the most startling came next.

Lucella glanced towards a corner of the room, where a soft babble could be heard.

Aemond’s attention snapped to the cot, and he moved swiftly to see the babe inside. He stared down at the child, who reached up toward him with tiny, outstretched arms.

He picked up the baby, cradling them gently, and rocked them with a sense of deep, overwhelming affection.

Lucella’s smile was warm as she observed him. “You always were better at soothing our daughter than I was,” she said.

Aemond looked at her, his eye wide with astonishment. “D-daughter? What about our son?”

Lucella smiled softly. “Aerion is asleep in his nursery across the hall.”

The enormity of it all seemed to sink in. Aemond was overwhelmed by the flood of memories that quickly returned to him—the execution of his grandsire, the crowning of Rhaenyra, the wedding to Lucella, the birth of their son, Aerion, and the moments of being with his family.

He remembered reading to Aerion, singing to him in High Valyrian, helping him learn to walk and talk. He saw Lucella beside him once more, giving birth to their daughter, Daenys.

Stunned and teary-eyed, he whispered, “It’s real-all of this is real.”

Lucella’s expression softened, and she gave him a playful pinch. Aemond winced, and Lucella’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she said, “Is that real enough for you?”

Aemond furrowed his brow but then his eye caught sight of the gold and white ribbon, delicately wrapped around a book.

Lucella followed Aemond's gaze and smiled, "The ribbon that bound our hands on our wedding day-"

"Y-You kept it" muttered Aemond, remembering the feel of it on the back of his hand.

"Yes-I did" replied Lucella softly.

Aemond’s face broke into a genuine smile as he leaned in to kiss her lips. She then went on her tiptoes, whispering in his ear, “I’m with child again.”

Aemond’s joyous laughter sounded round the room, his arms holding their daughter even closer.

“T-Truly?”

“Yes-it seems that your seed really likes to take root inside me ” replied Lucella smirking.

As Aemond pressed another kiss to her lips, his attention was caught by the door as it creaked open softly.

Aemond looked to see their son, Aerion, standing in the doorway.

The little boy was sucking his thumb and clutching a stuffed dragon teddy to his chest, his silver hair tousled from sleep. His big, round eyes gazed at his parents, filled with the innocent worry only a child could have.

Lucella smiled warmly at the sight of their son. "What’s wrong, sweet boy?" she asked, her voice gentle.

Aerion shuffled into the room, his thumb still in his mouth as he mumbled, “No sleep, Mama.”

Lucella’s heart melted at the sight of him. She walked over and scooped him up in her arms, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "How about some snuggles with your father?" she suggested softly.

Aerion nodded, his thumb popping out of his mouth as he hugged his stuffed dragon tighter. Lucella carried him to the bed and placed him beside Aemond, who had just settled with Daenys resting on his chest.

Aemond smiled tenderly as Aerion snuggled up against his side, seeking comfort and warmth.

Aemond gently adjusted his position, leaning back against the pillows to support both children.

Daenys, nestled on his chest, made small, contented noises in her sleep, while Aerion curled up close to his father.

The boy's tiny fingers clung to Aemond's loose cotton shirt, his stuffed dragon tucked securely under his arm.

Lucella climbed into bed beside them, her eyes filled with love as she watched her family. She reached out, gently brushing her fingers through Aerion’s hair before leaning into place a soft kiss on Aemond’s cheek.

Aemond turned his head slightly, meeting her gaze, and smiled—an expression filled with deep contentment and peace.

In that moment, Aemond felt like he finally had everything he had ever wanted. The weight of his past, the burdens of a war that would never come to pass, and the haunting visions that had plagued him all seemed to dissipate, replaced by the warmth and love surrounding him.

His family was whole, safe, and with him—everything else faded away.

As they all settled into the quiet, Lucella lay her head on Aemond's shoulder, her hand resting lightly on Aerion's form.

The gentle rise and fall of their children’s breathing filled the room, a soothing rhythm that lulled them all into a sense of serene calm.

Aemond glanced down at the two small faces resting against him, then over at Lucella, who smiled up at him, her eyes shining with the same love he felt in his heart.

The world outside could wait.

For now, in the sanctuary of their bed, surrounded by those he loved most, Aemond was content.

He finally had his family, his children, his wife—the life he had longed for, and it was more beautiful than he had ever dared to dream.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

In Bloom 4

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, allusions to trauma, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: After wasting much of your youth in a toxic situation, things are starting to look up. That’s until you meet a certain flower seller.

Characters: Cole Turner, short!reader

Note: It's deluluday.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You sit on the floor in the corner, your arms across your knees, your head on top of them. That’s how you used to be. Cowering, waiting for things to go quiet again. 

Aunt Bev finds you after dinner. She knocks on the door but you don’t answer. You can’t. She lets herself in, “honey, I’m just checking on you.” Her tone is cautious as you listen to her soft steps. She nears and squats down before you. “You okay?” 

You nod but don’t raise your head. You don’t have the strength to lie out loud. 

“Well, everyone’s gone now. Doing their own thing.” She lowers herself to sit down across from you. You tilt your head up at her, peeking out from behind your arms. “Do you want the rest of your dessert?” 

You shake your head. 

“It’s in the fridge if you change your mind. Are you embarrassed?” She asks. 

You push your lower lip out and furrow your brows, “embarrassed?” 

“Why did you run away?” She coaxes gently. She’s not like your mom, she doesn’t accuse you. 

“I was...” you think. You’re not entirely sure why. In the moment, you just felt the need to get away. To be alone. “Afraid, maybe...” 

“Afraid? Of us?” 

“No,” you sniff. 

“Of Cole?” She sounds even more stunned. 

“Not really,” you hunch further down. 

“Then what was so scary, honey? Too many people?” She offers a sympathetic smile. 

“Mhmm,” you nod. “That must’ve been it.” 

“Well, that’s okay. I’m glad you could separate yourself from an overwhelming situation.” She considers you. “But... you shouldn’t be on the floor like this. Come on,” she stands with a grown and rubs her lowers back. “You should get your pajamas on and lay down.” She offers her hand and you accept it. She helps you up and takes you to the bed. “Why don’t you get changed and I’ll bring you some chamomile?” 

“Sure,” you squeak as she lets you go. 

Before she leaves, she takes out a pair of striped pajama pants and a loose camisole for you. You wait until the door shuts. You switch out the skirt and blouse for the plain cotton. You fold the borrowed clothes up nicely and put them on the dresser. 

She knocks again before she enters. She sets a mug down on a coaster she brought with her. You thank her and hang your head as you sit on the edge of the mattress. 

“Sure you’re alright? You wanna talk?” She offers. 

You stare at your arm and shift it. You examine the scars across your skin, most of them faded, and you touch them with your thumb. You shudder and sit up a bit straighter. 

“Yes. Aunt Bev...” you gulp. You don’t know how to say what you’re thinking. 

She turns and sits next to you. 

“Am I messed up?” You ask at last. 

“Honey...” she reproaches gently. “Don’t say that.” 

“I am. I know it. My mom always said so.” 

“Yes, well she was wrong about a lot of things,” she says more firmly. 

“Other people... don’t have scars. They don’t do this to themselves.” You exhale and hide your face, “other people have parents who love them. They’re normal. Like Lena and Mason... and Cole.” 

She shifts closer but doesn’t touch you. She’s careful of that since you screamed at her for tapping your shoulder. It wasn’t meant to hurt you but it did. 

“You are not messed up,” she insists. “Do you hear me? You are tough. You’re strong. Resilient. Not everyone’s been through what you’ve been through, that doesn’t mean you’re wrong or bad or anything. It means you survived.” 

Your eyes tingle and you swallow again. “You’re just saying that.” 

“No, I mean it. I know it. It’s okay to be you, honey. It’s okay to need time, to need space, but you also can’t hide forever.” 

“Yeah...” 

“But you can have your moments. You’re allowed to do that. So, you’re going to have your tea and get a good night’s sleep, and tomorrow you’re going to take it easy. I don’t want you to do a thing but relax. No chore. If I come home to a full dishwasher, I swear...” 

You chuckle at her false threat. She can be funny. If it was your mom, she would be screaming at you for the opposite. Then she would raise her arm and—No, don’t think about that. 

“And next weekend, when you’re feeling better, we’ll go to Cole’s to see all his flowers. Just you and me.” 

“Cole’s?” You utter. 

“Yeah. It’ll be okay. You’ll have lots of time between now and then and I’m sure you’ll want some new stuff to put in the garden. It’ll be a lot less busy than the market.” She explains. 

You think about it. She’s right. The market is always crowded and loud. And you can’t really say no. You feel bad making her go alone when she’s asking. 

“You’re not going to ditch your aunt, are ya? I know I’m old and boring.” She chuckles. 

“I’ve never been to a farm,” you say at last. 

“Really? Oh, honey, well, it’ll be lots of fun. And if you like it, there’s a place down the highway and they do berry picking. We can make another afternoon of that some time.” She leans in and gently brushes against you. “You know, I just like getting to spend time with my niece.” 

You smile and look at her. Your eyes glaze over and you blink away the hot swell. You sit up straight and nod, “thank you, Aunt Bev.” 

“No, thank you! You’re great company. I’m so lucky to have you, honey.” She stands up slowly and stretches. “You enjoy your tea. I’ve got to go get your uncle to take that trash out. I swear, I’ve told him six times today.” 

“Okay, thanks, er... good night.” 

“Good night, honey,” she returns as she rounds the foot of the bed.  

The door shuts behind you and you heave out a breath. The bittersweet moment dulls to melancholy. Why couldn’t Aunt Bev have been your mother? Why did you have to survive? Why couldn’t you have just been like your cousins? As nice as she is, you know you’re different. Not just in how you act but how she treats you. 

💮

The days flow like water, rippling steadily on. You spend the sunlight out in the garden or reading in your bedroom, coming out only to help your aunt or have a meal. You don’t like to feel in the way and with not much else to do with yourself, it’s hard not to think you are. 

You try not to think about the weekend. As it looms closer, you hope that Aunt Bev forgot, or pray that something comes up. It doesn’t and time goes by as it always has.  

Saturday arrives and you wake earlier. It’s not excitement, more anxiety. You think about that night Cole came over and that question rings in your head. Are you embarrassed? Should you have been? Running away isn’t exactly admirable, is it? 

You don’t put much thought into what you wear. You only really care if it’s clean. Before, most of your wardrobe was wrinkly and musty. Clean laundry is another luxury in your bright new life. Another simplicity that seems so much more than it should. 

A floral tee shirt and a pair of loose capris. As you try to get your hair under control, Aunt Bev calls through your door. You heard her wake up about an hour ago, then you smelled the coffee. 

You cross the room and open the door. She smiles, “you remembered?” 

You nod and gnaw on your dread. 

“That’s a cute shirt,” she says. “It’s going to be a hot day, sure you don’t wanna put on a skirt or some shorts?” 

“I’m okay.” you insist. “What time are we leaving?” 

“Give me about an hour to get myself straight,” she says. “You take your time, hon.” 

She goes and you retreat behind the door. You take out a loosely crocheted sweater and pull it on. It’s thin enough it won’t suffocate, and the sleeves will distract from your arms. 

You sit and try to read. It’s hard to focus. You end up rocking in place until Bev returns. You follow her to the front door and put on your sneakers. You sit in the passenger’s seat with a basket of muffins in your lap. You helped bake them last night but you didn’t know they were a gift. 

The drive is long. You slump in the seat and watch the city buildings turn sparse and the fields of tall grass and wheat rise in their stead. Between the crops stretch wide plateaus of tilled soil. Bev stops and tuts as she idles along the apron of the dirt road. 

“I think I’m going the right way but we’re in a dead zone. No signal.” She frowns at the GPS in the dashboard. “He said left... then...” she mutters to herself. “Ah, right. I think I got it.” 

She pulls back onto the empty road and you fidget. Maybe she’ll get lost and you’ll have to turn back. Maybe, maybe, maybe. 

She turns onto a gravel offshoot and your chest goes heavy. No turning back now. A farmhouse appears, a large barn as well, and further back, another roof, though you can’t make out much of the building. The fields are lush and a wooden fence marks the property line. 

Aunt Bev drives up behind a truck and shuts off the engine. She undoes her belt and you do the same. She gets out and you do your best not to spill the muffins as you mirror her. You hear a clatter and look over as Cole emerges from the front door of the two-storey house. 

“Ah, you’re here! Ma’s been waiting,” he tramps down the steps. He wears a plain white tea with some dirt along the left side and a pair of blue jeans, his tan work boots clomping on the wood. He approaches Bev and hugs her. You hover around the other side of the car. 

He turns to you and smiles. “Hey.” 

You nod and hug the basket in one arm and give a small wave. 

“Anyway--” 

You stalk forward and push the basket towards him, “Aunt Bev made these.” 

You sound stupid. You don’t know why you blurted it out like that. His brows pop up and he reaches to take the basket. His hands brush yours and you wince. The basket bobbles but he gets a hold of it as you recoil. 

“Oh, don’t be so humble. She did most of the work,” Bev beams. “I can’t wait to meet your ma.” 

“Dad will be back soon. He agreed to man the stall today. We’ll see how that goes,” he says and backs up. He beckons you both forward as he angles to the side. “Come on, no use sweating out here in this heat.” 

Bev leads the way. You’re happy she does. You always feel awkward in other peoples’ houses. Even hers. 

Cole follows you and quickly flits around Bev to open the door for her. He grins as you trail behind her, passing him closely. You step inside and he girds you to keep your shoes on. 

“No use, all the dirty blows in anyway.” He says, “just straight down. She’s in the kitchen I think.” 

Bev continues on, slowly, pausing to admire the decor. The framed photos and the cross-stitched pictures. You feel Cole lurking behind you. 

“Ah, you must be Beverly?” A woman screeches as you aunt passes through the doorway. 

“Jill, is it?” Bev replies, “I’ve heard so much.” 

“Oh, me too. Cole told me all about you.” The women embrace each other like old friends. As the part, Cole’s mom, you assume, spots you standing in the doorframe. “Oh and this must be your niece? That’s it, right?” 

Cole introduces you by name and his timbre tickles your spine. Something about the way he says it tingles. His mother storms you with her arms wide open. Bev stutters and watches with wide eyes as she turns around and Cole swiftly shields you with a hand, stopping his mother with a touch of her shoulder. 

“Ma, she’s not much of a hugger. Remember? We talked about this.” 

“I’m so sorry. It’s habit,” she wrings her hands. “I just... I was excited. You just tell me when I’m too much, honey pie.” 

“It’s-- it’s okay.” You assure her. A knot of guilt ties inside your stomach. You wish you weren’t this way. That people didn’t have to tread as if the floor were covered in glass. 

“They brought muffins,” Cole says and offers up the basket. “Carrot?” 

“Some carrot, some apple,” Bev explains proudly. 

Jill accepts the basket and takes a whiff. 

“Delicious. I bet they are fabulous with a bit of warming and butter. You like tea, Bevvy?” Jill trills. 

“Oh, that sound wonderful,” your aunt agrees and hesitates, glancing back at you. 

“Well, I promised I'd show her the gardens, so if you two wanna chat?” Cole suggests, “unless you’d like us to wait and you can come along, Bev?” 

“No, no, please. She’s so excited to see the flowers. Go on, honey,” Bev smiles and flutters her fingers.  

You stare at her, helpless. You tuck your chin down and turn to Cole. He shifts his weight, “or did you want to stay and have tea?” 

You shake your head. You don’t want to spoil this for Aunt Bev. She deserves a friend her own age. A real friend, not her sad niece. 

“I’ll come see the flowers,” you murmur. 

[ronance4everbrainrot]

MMMMore incorrect quotes from Merlin Academy! (with ships) Long post

Maleficent: Listen, we’re done, we’re over! Okay?

Hades: Whatever bitch, you ain’t never gonna find no one like me.

Maleficent: Yeah, that's the point shithead!

(gasp the IT-couple has broken up. I have a feeling it could be like Jade and Beck but they are both Jade)

---

Fay: Fight me!

Hades: Ha, look at your size! What are you gonna do, kick my ankle?

*Later*

Morgie: Why is Hades crying?

Maleficent: Fay kicked them really hard on the ankle.

(Maleficent was impressed)

---

Fay: Why are we friends?

Maleficent: Poor decisions on your part.

(like either of you don't like each other. Ha ha)

---

Fay: So, I heard you like bad girls… I time travel in Animal Crossing.

(I don't even know what that means but okay)

---

Fay: Maleficent.. I'm gonna cry!

Maleficent: Please don't.

Fay, crying: Request denied.

---

Maleficent: I never understood why people cared so much about their dumb friends until I got a dumb friend myself.

Maleficent: *Picks up Fay*

Maleficent: I’ve only befriended Fay for a day and a half, but if anything happened to them I would kill everyone in this room and then my self.

(Only she is allowed to bully Fay)

---

Uliana: I'm bored.

Maleficent: Wanna commit first degree murder?

Uliana: Sure!

Ella, hearing them: No- Stop, don't do that! Put that knife down! Put Bridget down!!

(She is the mom of the group for some reason)

---

Ella: Don’t say a word.

Bridget: Fergalicious.

Ella: Bridget, I said no words.

Bridget: Oh, I see how it works. Two weeks ago, we’re playing Scrabble, it’s not a word, now suddenly it is a word because it’s convenient for you.

(Canon)

---

Bridget: Can you cut me some slack, Ella? I’m sort of in love.

Ella: I’m sorry, but that’s really not my problem.

Bridget: I’m in love with you.

Ella: *blushes* Oh. That brings me in the loop a little.

(duh)

---

Charming: The moon looks beautiful, doesn’t it?

Bridget, looking at Charming: Yeah… but do you know what’s more beautiful?

Bridget and Charming in unison: *sighs* Ella

(🎶I'm sorry that you 🤭 seem to be confused 🤔 she belongs to me 🧐 that girl is mine 😑 🎶 honestly that song has been playing in my head for a while for no reason) (it's now making me realize how Bridgella is kinda giving "it's over isn't it" idk why)

---

Ella: A mouse!

Maleficent, pulling out a knife: Go back to where you came from or I'll stab you.

Hades, pulling out a frying pan: It'll make a nice meal!

Bridget, giving the mouse cheese: You deserve a treat, little guy.

Morgie gasping: It's Ratatouille!

Hook: His name is Remi, dummy.

Ella: ...I was going to say to just trap it and throw it out the window... what is wrong with you people.

(I just had to. Also she is excluding Bridget from that statement)

---

Hook, to Morgie: I'll be under the mistletoe when you start feeling desperate!

(yeah)

---

Uliana: Oh, so when crows remember people who wronged them and hold grudges, its “intelligent” and “really cool”.

Uliana: But when I do it, I’m “petty” and “need to let it go”.

(I mean that thing with the flamingo feathers was your fault 🤷)

---

Bridget: Hey, Ella, have you thought about having children?

Ella: ...

Ella: Does looking over you and the others not seem like I already do? Because I promise you, it sure feels like it.

Hook: But we're not childr-

Ella, already distracted: HADES, PUT THE FIRE DOWN!

(again. She is the mom of the group for some reason. Give her a rest)

---

Morgie: Hello friends!

The Squad:

Morgie: You might be wondering why I’m taped to the ceiling

(you'd think it was Hades and Hook. But they are just as amused and surprised. Idk how Morgie made that happen)

---

Uliana: I should've left you on that street corner where you were standing.

Morgie: But ya' didn't!

(canon? It is now)

---

Hook: You know my motto: carpe diem, carpe noctem, carpe coles.

Ella: Seize the day, seize the night, what’s the last one?

Hook: Seize the dick.

(Slay King Slay)

---

Bridget: *Gets down on one knee*

Uliana: Oh my god! It’s finally happening!

Bridget: *Collapses*

Uliana: The poison’s kicking in!

(Yeah. Honestly. It's got something. But idk)

---

Fay: Where have you been all day?

Bridget: Oh, just dealing with things way beyond my maturity level.

(like having broken up without actually dating because it was just a one sided homoerotic friendship)

---

Ella: When you said 'Magic in Bed', I wasn't expecting this...

Bridget: *pulls out card from deck* Now, was this your card?

Ella: Holy moly-

(See what I mean. Also canon)

---

Hook, Hades and Morgie in the back of Ella's car: MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS! MCDONALDS!

Bridget/Fay: We have food at home.

Ella/Uliana/Maleficent: *pulls into the McDonald's drivethrough*

Hades/Hook/Morgie: YAYYYYYY!

Ella/Uliana/Maleficent: *orders one black coffee and leaves*

(Ha Ha. Sad)

---

Hades: Legend says that when you can’t sleep, it means you’re awake in someone else’s dreams.

Hades: When I find out who you are, I’m going to punch you in the face.

(um. It's not me....I swear)

---

Uliana: I love sarcasm! It’s like punching people in the face, but with words!

(not like you can easily punch others with your eight arms)

---

Uliana: Stop failing.

Hades: Don’t tell me what to do! I'll fail right now!

Hades: *Succeeds*

Hades: Dang it!

(he finally realized he's a god. But still failed not to listen)

---

Bridget: Morgie told me that brown is just navy orange, and I have never been more disappointed with something I agree with.

(omg I'm a navy ginger)

---

Ella: *sneaking in through their window*

Bridget: *turning in their chair and flicking the light one* You want to tell me where you've been all night?

Ella: I was with Charming?

Charming: *turning in their chair* Wanna try again?

(Gasp. What was Ella doing 👀)

---

Ella: I can’t believe we have to be stuck in this room together!

Uliana, swallowing the key: Truly (poor) unfortunate (soul).

(oh. She was stuck with Uliana...ALSO WHAT- ULIANA?! THE KEY? 😭 Nah)

---

Uliana: I thought you were going to give me a book recommendation or something.

Ella: *laughs* Book recommendation? I can’t read!

(new HC: Ella can't read. Or more like, has a hard time with it. Idk lol.)

---

Ella: I’ve come to a point in my life where I need a stronger word than fuck.

(absolutely)

---

Morgie: Don’t mansplain this to me!

Uliana: Wh- I’m a woman! I can't mansplain anything to you!

Morgie: …Well, I’m a feminist, and I believe a woman can do anything a man does!

(he's got the spirit)

---

Hook: I made lightly fried fish fillets for dinner.

Morgie: Dude, It’s 1:15 am, what the fuck.

Hook: Do you want the lightly fried fish fillets or not.

Morgie: Well, I mean yeah.

Hook: So come downstairs while they’re still hot.

Morgie: Wait, you just made them?

Hook: Yeah, I wasn’t tired so I decided to make lightly fried fish fillets.

Morgie: Say lightly fried fish fillets one more time James.

(Morgie uses Dude romantically. And when he's annoyed at Hook he calls him by his first name)

---

Bridget: My level of gay has reached “sighing deeply whenever anything extremely heterosexual happens near me”.

(that's me with movies/series. She's definitely not talking about Ella and Charming)

---

*The Squad when asked about their earlier confession of love*

Ella: Yeah, you're lucky. I like you.

Bridget: I'd understand if you didn't feel the same way...

Fay: *has a panic attack* What confession?

Hook: *winks* I know, babe. You like me too.

Hades: So what? Are you going to date me or not?

Uliana: It was a dare.

Maleficent: Your smile is like a magic spell, and it's annoying me daily

Charming: Let's flip a coin. Heads I'm yours. Tail you're mine.

Morgie: Relationships are like a walk in the park. Jurassic park.

(I added the last three myself because I wanted them all to have one. What do you think? Accurate?)

---

Ella: Here's two facts about me.

Ella: 1. I hate hot people/royalty

Ella: 2. I'm a hypocrite.

(canon)

---

Fay: You saved me! Why?

Hades: People would think I murdered you if I didn't.

(people being Maleficent, also Ella and Bridget)

---

Hope you liked it!

Does Uliana have a crush on Ella? Maybe. Does Ella like her back? Absolutely not.

Ok byeee

[edwardslvrr]

༯ 405, TREVOR ZEGRAS

trevor zegras x singer!reader

the one where rumour has it YN has a new boyfriend and Trevor has a new girlfriend

taglist if you’d like to be added to my taglist, message me privately or comment on this post

warning this is all fake and just for fun, no hate to any of the people mentioned. Just a reminder that this is pure for entertainment xoxo

last part main masterlist trevor zegras masterlist

ynupdates

via twitter

REPLIES

username imagine if she’s back together w trevor

username after that album? bro is sobbing in the corner

username would be such a YN thing to do tho

username what if new bf is old bf 👀

username so many paparazzi and no one thought tp take a picture of the dudes face???

username this outrageous behaviour, YN. we’re out here sobbing to her new album and she has been macking on some new dude

username no fr she has me sobbing here like a child for days now

username atleast she looks hella good

username cool and whatever but tour dates pls?

username YN it was suppose to be me next😔

username imagine it is jack hughes

username jack’s probably trying to shoot his shot w trevor now tbh

username she wasn’t interested in Trevor’s unemployed ass anymore lol

yourinstagram

los angeles, california

liked by jackhughes and 1.395.728 others

yourinstagram good riddance deluxe is out NOWW!!

view 19.738 comments

username oh wow- this is depressing

username “i hate the fact that i miss you around” MOOD

username jack really feeding into the rumours abt him and YN by liking this

username not people believing that rumour what??

username honestly the weirdest rumour i’ve ever heard

username y’all will believe anything atp

username WHAT DID U PUT IN 405 WHAT

username “how are you looking at me like a stranger” my heart bro??

username imma go call my therapist.. this is too much

yourbestfriend okay OUCH?

yourinstagram oops?

username ayo jack i see u dude

username the last picture such a mood

username too much pain girly

username “i loved you so hard for a time” trevor go sit in the corner and think about what you did.

trevorzegras

liked by colecaufield and 104.749 others

trevorzegras all summer long

view 1.284 comments

username in his tim mcgraw era?

username bringing up taylor swift any time he can in his personality

username uhm.. last picture?

colecaufield suspicious

username glad u seem to think so too

username cole spill what you know

username soft launch?

jackhughes winner

username wtf does that even mean

username ellen, get jack back on the leash pls

username pls let that be YN 🙏

username YN out w her new man, Trevor hinting his new girl. Can i please go cry..

username as long as it isn’t some tiktoker you got my approval.

username trevor just wants to be a tiktok star, leave him be

username he’s unemployed, he needs to get money from somewhere

username a lot of questions rn

ynupdates

via twitter

REPLIES

username that’s definitely jack

username bro u say that abt an ARM

username she isn’t a homie hopper dude

username could be trevor🤷🏼‍♀️

username why do i feel like her and trevor are back together, like there’s no way it’s a coincidence they both have a new partner at the same time

username how did people ever get to the fact she could be dating jack?! y’all are so weird

username nah after that album i refuse to believe she has already moved on

username she’s probs dating him again

username i mean the album was writing a while back tho-

username i refuse.

username yn probably panicked so hard when she realised she posted that

username she def cried

imessages

taglist - @ihrtdan

[aemysbabyofficial]

Sweet Favor; Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!OC

O, young Lucerys. So young and naive ventured down journeys and halls that never called his name.

Warnings: descriptions of sex; targcest; p in v sex; implied rough sex; description of nude bodies; dirty talk; swearing; description of sex

MDNI

Lucerys Velaryon had a favor for someone. It was something special yet difficult. It required the utmost levels of precision. Not everyone was fit for the challenge. Not his brothers, no. They would mess up before he even asked them. Lucerys kicked the dirt off his boots before commencing his search inside the castle.

No, this favor required the skills of one special kind of person. Someone he knew he could trust. Someone that always had his back, even in the darkest of nights. This person knew all the ins and outs and was secretive with it. This person was also everyone's favorite, so there was chance his favor could take time. The right wink was needed for the right flush of the cheeks.

"Saela?"

Lucerys noticed the odd shift in Daemon's shoulders when he spoke his cousin’s name. His head of brown curls poked into the quiet room and his voice echoed against the high walls. Out of everyone, Daemon would know where his favorite daughter was.

"Haven't seen her since the morning. Is she not riding with her sisters?"

Lucerys shook his head. Hope had crested off the cliff's edge into the frigid blue depths.

After breaking their fast, Baela and Rhaena took off on their dragons with Jacaerys and hadn't returned. Saela told them she wasn't feeling well and excused herself from the table to rest in the library, leaving she, Lucerys, and King Viserys' children inside. Currently, from the other rooms and halls he poked his head into, Helaena was outside digging through the gardens. She muttered prophecies that scared Lucerys away from even asking her a question. Aegon hadn't shown his face since dinner two nights ago--there was no question where he was nor what he was doing. Aemond was squaring off with Ser Criston Cole a while ago and where he was now didn't pinch the boy's mind.

"You need her for something?" Daemon craned his neck. Lucerys shook his head and bid the prince farewell before he could spill his favor.

Where the Heart of the House had disappeared flew over the prince’s head. This is her home. Lucerys was forced to remember after he turned every corner that he was only a guest at his cousin’s home. Saela knew the Keep better than anyone. The layout was stamped to her mind hotter and fresher than anyone. It was because of that Lucerys bore jealousy for her impeccable memory. With all the years they spent apart and she was forced to roam these cold walls, it came to no surprise that Saela knew the best places to hide.

Midday at the Red Keep saw few to no people in the halls. As it was a bright day outside and peace had touched the land, rather than waste the odd day, all the nobles either roamed the town or returned to their homelands. No one knew how long symphony would sing its strings in King’s Landing. Such quiet gave Lucerys to roam hallways, secret paths, and passages he would never once do. It was a shame Saela wasn’t with him to be his guide and Jace was missing the greatest action, but adventures by himself built up his small strength for greater feats.

A hall he had never seen before, or maybe, hadn’t remembered from his time away stood to his right. Lucerys looked to his left and right. He stood far from anyone’s bedchambers or busy hallways. It was empty, this hall. No guard stood posted outside a door nor did a handmaid walk. A heavy ball dropped in the young prince’s gut when he stepped foot into the hall. It felt like he entered a new world. Candles lighting the paths were blown off and an rogue breeze brushed his hair sideways. An open door? The sounds of children laughing and light voices trailed from an open door out of Lucerys reached. To not startle anyone or expose his position, the boy craned his eyes just far enough to see the awkward skirt of a handmaid and wooden toys for children.

“A nursery…” Lucerys whispered. Jaehaera, Maelor, and Jaehaerys must be playing inside.

An open window allowed for the ocean breeze to pave its way. A young child--Lucerys' could not figure the age for the life of him--ran to the far corners of the room to an older woman. A wetnurse rocked on a chair while the other handmaids spoke better High Valyrian he expected. Across the floor were various clothing items and hoods detailed with colored ribbon. The lure of young ones laughing and running with glee reminded the boy of his youngest siblings. A mixture of High Valyrian and Common Tongue fell from the children’s tongues. He wished to join them in the large room, jealous they could speak his mother’s tongue better than him, but doing so would distract him from his mission.

He needed to find his favorite cousin now.

Lucerys ran past the nursery with light steps. The prince pushed past the door at the end of the hallway and came face to face with a storage. Another dead end. Magic must have stolen Saela away because she was nowhere to be found. Lucerys kicked a hanging rug behind him, basking him into a cloud dust.

"Gods..."

A breathy voice trailed its way to Lucerys' ears. As the last syllable burned his flesh, the skin of his ears blushed a flaming pink. His head checked all directions in the storage. He was alone, was he not? Who could be making such a devilish sound? A mix of muffled and hushed voices spoke to the boy’s confused mind behind a door hidden behind the fallen rug. With careful steps, he crept closer and closer to a spare room.

“N-no worries. ‘tis quiet now, right?” the airy voice spoke again, warring on a thin line between pain and pleased. Was the voice talking about him?

Lucerys furrowed his brows.  

What his cousin was doing in such an abandoned place made no sense, but the surprise he would give her would ultimately reveal the truth. Out of the three, Saela was the easiest to give up. Baela would resist with arms of steel and Rhaena would somehow evade his unique questioning, but Saela? If he needed anyone to cover his messes, wanted to know a little secret, or needed a little favour, Saela was the perfect girl to give into little Lucerys.

The smile on his face tugged his lips upwards when he rested a hand on the door. Whoever closed the door was confident no one would pass the hall because it was unlocked. Nothing stopped Lucerys from barging in. Nothing stopped him from lightly pushing the door with his fingers. Nothing stopped him from bribing Saela.

"Oh gods, right there! Don't stop, please!"

A loud voice froze the boy's smile. Lucerys' body stilled so much he could hear his heart pounding in his ears. But past the deep thumping of his heart and blood rushing through his veins were the moans from his dear cousin. The giggles he loved to hear after making her laugh were interlaced with breathy moans and pleads for whatever to go faster. The quiet of the hallway made everything behind the door much louder.

What he saw made his stomach turn.

Atop a simple bed were two bodies tangled together in a mess of clothes and limbs. The skirt of Saela's skirt was bunched at her waist while one of her legs were strung over Aemond's shoulder. Her breasts spilled from the neckline of her dress and both their hands, in the mix of haggard hair, groped each other’s soft skin. Aemond’s hands trailed up from her waist to her neck while Saela interlaced her right hand with his and braced herself onto his other wrist. The vicious slap Aemond’s hips made every time he thrusted into her made Lucerys sick.

But what shocked him most were the words spilling from Saela’s mouth.

Her full, round lips would once sing him imaginary songs to sleep and whisper him funny stories she thought up in the Godswood. Yet in the cramped space she opened her legs to Aemond, filth dripped from her tongue every passing second.

“Aem-ugh, right there!” Saela screamed as her back arched. Her eyes shut closed. Lucerys watched pain and pleasure wash over her face. The head of silver waterfalls basked her chest when Aemond sucked her breasts. Her moans sharpened when he bit her nipples. His hips never stopped smacking into Saela but quickened its pace when her moans and screams grew louder.

Aemond had rid himself of his trousers and boots, leaving him a heaving statue dressed in a cotton shirt. Contorts of his muscled back flexed with every move he made. Sweat glistened off the sun’s rays, resembling his appearance to an imaginary spirit rather than a statue or man.

“Gods be good, Saela.” Mutters of Lucerys’ cousin fell from Aemond’s lips. It was like he worshipped her in the cramped space. Her moans and pleads were a chorals song to Aemond’s prayers that were fulfilled every second.

No. No! Lucerys covered his ears and stepped back from the door. What we doing here? He shouldn’t be here? The prince froze in place, unable to move nor block out the lewd sounds he heard. His mother always said she would teach him about manhood—what it meant to love a woman, fight for her honor, and eventually take her maiden head. But here in this cramped space, Rhaenyra was already beaten. I can’t look away, the boy’s brain honed his eyes to the sweaty fucking before him.

Lucerys couldn’t look away from Saela’s bouncing breast, her nipples shinning with Aemond’s spit.

Lucery couldn’t look away from Aemond’s dick vanishing into her hole, already coated in juices.

Lucerys couldn’t look away from Aemond nuzzling his face into Saela’s neck, whispering sweet whispers and pressing kisses to her skin.

No, I can’t look away. Lucerys’ body was hot. I am a grown boy bound to learn love sooner or later. Something in him throbbed, he didn’t know what, but it made his body blush.

"Give me a babe, Aemond. I want to be full of your seed."

Babes? Lucerys couldn’t believe his burned ears.

“You want to be full of me, again?” Aemond breathed against Saela’s neck. The whisper was loud enough for Lucerys to hear over the loud sex. “You want to parade yourself around as my little whore again?”

“Fuck what the lot think. All I want is my cunt to be filled with you.” the hooded stare Saela gave Aemond would have any man melting at the knees, but the prince hovered over her like a god unfazed. No, he wasn’t unfazed, his desire peaked to higher levels. Whatever throbbed in Lucerys moved to his heart and mind. Who was this woman that his cousin’s face?

“No one satisfies me the way you do,” the prince’s voice became airy. “No one fucks the way you do, sweet talks them into anything. No one loves the way you do.”

Aemond showed the fury of a swordsman in that small room. His voice growled against her cheek. His balls ached with release each time they slapped into Saela’s wet entrance. Juices leaked from them both, coating their thighs in slick layers Lucerys couldn’t imagine. “I will give you whatever you wish for in this cursed place. As long as you stay with me.”

“Forever and ever, love.” Saela’s voice was soft even if her face contorted in pain. In just saying those four words, the couple lost themselves to each other.

A mixture of a laugh and moan fell from Saela’s mouth when the hand fisting her hair tightened its hold. Aemond’s other hand sunk into the softness of her thigh and kneaded the skin without mercy. What Lucerys half-understood as Valyrian curses erupted from Aemond when he dug himself deep into Saela. One. Two. Three. Four. One at a time, Lucerys watched Aemond “shoot his load,” as Aegon whispered into his ear in passing. His ears burned with the hot hiss from his uncle, and they bled every time Aemond cursed steps away from him.

A drunk smile spread on Saela's lips as her back arched. Her eyes clenched close as a searing pain shot up her thigh. The grip Aemond hand on her forced her body closer to his. Their bodies stuck to each other from the sweat and desires they oozed. She trembled with ecstasy while Aemond's hot breath fanned her equally hot skin. His kisses on her neck were wet and his thrusts slowed to a gentle beat. Lucerys could see flames of desire ignite everything around them.

When the moans stopped and the couple peeled themselves away from each other, the boy finally snapped back into reality. His body stumbled against the cold floor and his chest rose faster the more he listened to the shuffling of their clothes.

Lucerys' breath hitched when the door opened. How did she get up so fast? Saela gasped when she saw her cousin's wide eyes. After the pounding she received, Lucerys wished to ask her “are you not in pain?” but speaking in this quiet space warranted him a death sentence. Her hands flew to cover her chest, but what was there the boy hadn't seen she needed to cover? The red of his face and panicked rise of his chest gave it away. He saw. And what could Saela do?

"Are you alright, love?"

Saela whipped her head back into the room. Her curls fell over her shoulders, hiding the trail of bites from her chest to her ear. She closed the door just slightly, hiding Lucerys from both she and Aemond's eyes. Whatever Aemond was doing kept him from the door, saving Lucerys the rest of his life.

"Yes, I'm fine. Thought I saw a rat." A deep chuckle from the One-Eyed Prince echoed in the room before more shuffling. “A nasty thing, that would be.” She whispered something to him, craning her body closer to him, hopefully keeping Aemond from the door while Lucerys shuffled himself back to his feet. When he looked back up, another pair of eyes stared down at him.

That wasn't Saela. Whoever he was looking at wasn't his dear cousin who laughed at anyone's jokes. The woman half-dressed with red eyes wasn't the sweet lady that cheered him up when Jace won others affection. The woman who looked like she could kill wasn't his favourite cousin that would sneak down with him and steal lemon cakes and fruit at the hour of the owl. No, no, the lady in front of him had her legs open to the prince that taunted his family. She accepted the seed of a man who mocked his parentage, called him a bastard, and nearly killed him after claiming another’s dragon. This woman called the prince every loving name in the world. She was the lady that wished to have his babes.

"Luke."

The nickname was curt and hard. It was whispered like a needle, pricking his skin without warning. The boy shook his head, unsure if he nodded.

Saela stepped out of the room, her shoulders rolled back and head held up high. Whatever she did, she was used to. She must always hide and fuck Aemond whenever she wished. Whoever stumbled upon them were victim to the madness in the girl’s veins. She was comfortable with the power she wielded in this situation. The air around the Velaryon and Targaryen grew thick and heavy, challenging Lucerys to breathe. The stare as sharp as a sword sliced him up and down, silently checking if he was a threat. Of course he wasn't. This woman wasn't scared of a boy like him.

"I always do favors for you." Saela batted her eyes. In a second she was the girl he ran in the halls with when everyone was asleep. The girl that helped him learn most of the High Valyrian he remembered. Her lips crested into the sweet smile he missed after so long.

"You can do this one for me. Right?”

The magic Lucerys looked for was used on him. It was only Saela Targaryen, amongst anyone in their family, that could use magic that would make any man bend the knee without thought.

[stargalaxxy]

🧸ྀིCole Brookstone x Reader₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎

⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅Hai, so I'm sick so that's something that's going on with me... (¬`‸´¬) But now I'm off from work so maybe this will get me to write more stories ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) But fr fr I've been thinking about this concept for a while but I was a bit shy in posting it bcs it is a bit suggestive... Ofc if it makes you uncomfortable I have other stories that you can read, I like this enough to keep it ૮꒰ྀི∩´ ᵕ `∩꒱ྀིა You and Cole are in your 20's But I hope you guys like ittt.... Also I gave reader a bit of culture sooooo.... That's alll hope you enjoy!!!

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋

⭑.ᐟNow Playing: What You Know Bout Love by, Pop Smoke₊˚⊹♡

Tw. Suggestive, talk of nudity and possible sexy talk ahaha (ó﹏ò｡)

⋆.˚✮🎧✮˚.⋆Living Together (๑>؂•̀๑)

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Cole was the one who asked you to live with him, wanting to take your relationship to the next level.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Having known each other for two years and being in a relationship for a year, you guys were more than ready to live on your own excited to take the next step together in your relationship.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ When you said yes, you both worked on finding an apartment to live in together. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ It was a one-bedroom apartment, and was something you both were excited about when you first saw the home on the market in your guy’s budget.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Saying goodbye to your friends and family, Cole says goodbye to his team having lived with his brothers for so long he couldn’t help but thank them for the memories that they all shared together.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ They gave you both presents for your apartment either small gifts such as Knick knacks, or flowers wishing you two a happy future.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Even with the sad departure the team always visits you two, as if you had never left. They would come in at your times of intimacy too, frustrating the both of you as they would playfully interrupt knowing full and well of what they were doing.

“y’know, it’s kinda like you guys never left~” Kai teases taking a bite of the dinner you made that was originally for you and Cole. 

“Hah, y’don’t say…” Cole huffs sitting with Kai, the rest on the floor watching tv. “Y’know this apartment isn’t really made for more than two people…” you pout as Nya giggles, “Don’t worry (y/n) we’ll be outta here soon just so you can get back to kissing your boyfriend~” You blush as you shove Nya playfully making her laugh. “Yea, and when Nya and I get our own place you guys can bother us whenever.” Jay grins as you smirk at Nya who smiled shyly. “Oh, you don’t have to tell me that, I’m gonna come and bother all of you when you get your own places~” Cole nods as he tilts his bowl up and finishes the soup you made.

…

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Master Wu even gave you both gifts, different assortments of teas, both healing and with different flavors, it was something you both loved as the teas held different purpose of use. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ After getting settled in, you got straight to decorating, trying to find different things to match your guy’s styles.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You had fun thinking of styles to share for your new home together, when you finished you, both loved the combinations of styles that worked well together.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ When asking Cole, he didn’t have much of a preference, just asking if you could put his records somewhere nice.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Cole loves watching you decorate the house, helping with moving furniture to your liking seeing you put so much love into your home it made Cole so happy.

…

Cole loved it when you took him into furniture stores and obsess over different styles and colors to decorate your home with. Cole enjoyed the domestic lifestyle that he had. Wishing for a lifestyle such as this for the longest time, 

“Aah, this looks so good!” You gush as you both stare at the living room, folded moving boxes in the corner that had been left behind due to both of your procrastinations.

“Yea, I like it.” Cole had a hand around your waist a pleased expression on his face as he looks to the newly decorated room. 

Cole didn’t really have a preference letting you decorate, the only thing he wanted was his records somewhere. He liked how you always asked him what he thought about some stuff even if he didn’t have much of an opinion.

“As long as you’re happy, babe.” He would repeat as you’d shrug going crazy on your creativity to make it something that you both would love. 

You stretch as you pop your back. Moving to a new place is stressful, you both have been busy with jobs and Cole balancing ninja duties. Wanting to relax you would pull Cole by the arm towards the couch. 

Cole would pull you into a song to dance with him whenever he wanted to find ways to relax. But tonight, you both would criticize actors’ stupidity on tv, while Cole devours the dinner you make for him.

Cole stretches his arms, twisting his torso to the direction that he was stretching. You smile at him as you admire his muscles perturbing from his stretch.

You giggle as you kiss the muscle at his shoulder blade, “I’ll get dinner ready, kay?” You walk to the kitchen as you grab a pot and started to boil water.

…

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ On your first night together you both were so nervous, of course you both have slept together before, but now you guys would be sleeping together every night. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Cole was nervous about his snoring, or crushing you, while you were anxious about accidently kicking him in your sleep or taking the covers.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ It took a while for you both to finally fall asleep, you were stiff, and Cole hardly moved. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ On the third night you both were so tired from shopping for groceries and furniture that you passed out on top of each other.

…

You whine on top of Cole your cheek resting against his bare chest, your legs straddled against his thigh as his chest rumbles from his soft snores. It lulled you back to sleep, his arm rests over your waist holding you, Cole’s stomach wakes him up propping an eye open to see the dark room.

You both had fallen asleep as soon as you guys had gotten home from shopping, Cole sniffs as he looks down, feeling a small weight on top of him. Smiling down he catches your sleeping face your quiet snores left your slightly a gaped mouth, his larger hand moves up your back rubbing your shoulder. His fingers graze your upper back tracing shapes, soon you wake up moving slightly you look up to Cole still asleep you rub your eyes trying to wake up.

“Hey babe~” Cole’s voice was horsed, hearing his morning voice brought butterflies to your stomach as your face grew hot. “C-Cole? When did we fall asleep?” you try to get up nervous from thinking you were hurting him. “When we got home, I guess we passed out” Cole explains pushing your body back down to his chest. Your face grows flustered feeling his warm chest against your cheek again, you slowly grow comfortable to place a hand on his bicep smoothly running your hand across his chest as he continues to trace shapes over your shoulder. 

Your time together was quiet and peaceful, hoping for this moment to last forever. The smile on both of your faces told you that there will be more of these quiet moments together, 

Groowwl 

“ehehe~” Cole chuckles nervously as you side eye him playfully grinning, “way to ruin the moment, blockhead~” he scratches the back of his head grinning as you rise from his chest. “Want some pasta?” you smile holding out your hand for Cole to take as his mouth starts to water, “can we have garlic bread?” Cole rises holding your hand as you both walk to the kitchen. “Just as long as you don’t burn it this time~” you tease pushing your finger into Cole’s cheek making him smile, “that was one time…” he trails as you huff at him, “of many, you’re horrible in the kitchen!”

…

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Doing most of the cooking Cole would assist you by cutting, and washing to make side dishes, Cole can’t be left alone in the kitchen as he will find a way to burn it down. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You both worked to pay for rent and other bills, with Cole still going on missions there are times where you would wait for him to come home. Times of when Cole did come back, he would find you in a different spot of your apartment passed out.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Cole would always tell you not to wait for him as he didn’t want you to lose sleep because of him.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ But you tell him that you can’t sleep without knowing that he’ll come back safe, nodding off you finally fall asleep in his arms as he lays you down on the bed. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ He would shower before coming to bed, Being the element of earth brought a lot of dirt into the house and his body,

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ He would help clean, but you would help bathe him to get the extra dirt off him, being a routinely event of you laying him on the kitchen counter and washing his hair over the sink massaging his scalp chuckling as you hear his quiet snores.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ He loved those days of when you would wash his hair for him, you both knew he could do it himself, but you just wanted the extra moments with him, helping him take a load off his plate as well.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You would teach him how to braid or brush your hair whenever he asks if he could do your hair. It was sweet how he wanted to return the favor.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Another thing you both would do is have spa days together, creating homemade face masks for you both while Cole ate the cucumbers that were for your eyes. You would give him one of your animal headbands so the mask wouldn’t get in his hair,

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ He gets the bear ears no arguments.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You both would play video games or listen to music letting the mask work its magic, drinking tea or eating treats that you both baked together.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You would take care of Cole in other ways as well, whenever Cole got sick you would be there to keep him in bed reporting to either his job or team that he wasn’t feeling well ignoring his protest in being fine.

…

Placing a cold compress on Cole’s forehead he coughs opening his eyes, “you poor thing, I made soup do you wanna eat?” you run your fingers through his shaggy hair as he nods. 

“Even when sick I’ll never say no to your cooking~” Cole’s voice was rasped as he grins. “That would be so much more romantic without all the mucus, honey~” you giggle as Cole pouts at your teasing. 

“Ugh, being sick is the worst” Cole complains as you leave to get a bowl of chicken soup coming back and sitting next to him stirring the soup as you get a nice scoop.

Blowing softly, you bring the spoon to Coles lips, “open wide~” you sing as Cole opens his mouth and bites down on the spoon. 

Removing the spoon, you brought it back to the bowl as you get another scoop waiting for Cole to finish what was in his mouth.

“You’re enjoying this aren’t you?” Cole lifts a brow as you smile, 

“I don’t like seeing you in pain but feeding you does make me happy” you smile as you brought the spoon back to Coles lips. 

“I always love taking care of you Cole, I love you.” You confess as your cheeks grew warm, even with how much you have spent together, you both still blushed whenever displaying loving acts for each other. Cole’s face was also pink as he smiles up at you, 

“Thank you for taking care of me, every day I think back to that day I confessed to you and think how lucky I am to have someone like you.” You shake your head your smile still holding strong, “I’m the lucky one Cole, you brighten up my day, I’m so happy that you asked me to live with you. I can’t express how happy I am.” Tears start to collect as you lean down to kiss Cole’s forehead, Cole smiles as he basks in your affection. He raises his hand to capture your cheek as you lean into his touch, “I love you, (y/n).” you hum smiling. “I love you too Cole.” You whine, holding the back of his warm hand in your cheek. 

…

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You were both shy in showing your bodies to each other, as you would change in the room given up by Cole and he would change in the bathroom. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ However, as you both got more and more comfortable you guys would forget to put clothes on, with you walking around the apartment to find a towel after showering. Or Cole walking in boxers during a hot day, or on laundry day when you both had on undergarments. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You have been living with each other for months now, loving every moment you spend together, talking about your future…

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ as well as both your interests in a new addition.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Whenever you both would go out you would notice how Cole would stare at baby clothes in shops, viewing from outside the window. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You would gush at the many outfits or watch family’s hand in hand, or the chubby cheeks of family’s babies would give you both baby fever.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ However, your flustered faces would convince each other that possibly now was not the time to think about having a baby.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ So instead, you both adopted a pet, you both were looking at shelters or even breeders. 

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ But you both decided on adopting an older cat, wanting to give it a chance at a home and making their life comfortable, but also to start easy as this would be your first fur baby together.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Your cat was calm as expected and would follow you both around rubbing itself against your legs and feet in affectionate greetings. Finding a name for her was difficult as calling her cheese given by the shelter didn’t fit the dark furred cat, so Cole thought of the name ‘Flint’. It was cute and so you guys stuck with the name,

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You both would baby her as if she were a kitten, she would snuggle herself between you two in bed being another block in intimate moments but you both excused it because she’s cute.

…

You lay on the couch staring at the tv with Cole on top of you lazily, having come back from work he was exhausted and rightfully so. Running your fingers through his hair you smile, Cole’s head laid on your chest as he watches tv along with you.

You noticed how his breathing slowed, chuckling softly as Cole was close to falling asleep on top of you. You do admit it was a bit hard to breath, Cole felt like a big dog crushing its owner because they want to act like a lap dog.

But it felt comforting in a way, like a weighted blanket keeping you grounded, you liked it when Cole would be on top of you especially if you felt anxious or during the cold weather. His strong arms wrapped around your body or hanging off the couch like a sloth, you loved every second that you would take pictures of each other. Having so much that you two could make a collage. 

…

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ Random thought.. but Cole loves taking pictures of you whether secretly or together, he keeps them in a box, or he’ll pin them on the wall.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You would blush finding his box full of pictures of you, some you don’t remember him taking.

✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡ You did admire them though as you knew Cole took those pictures out of love for you. 

…

The night came and went as the morning sun kissed your face good morning; you hum as you look over to Cole your bodies tangled up.

Cole’s eyes were still closed, he was a heavy sleeper, so it takes a while to wake him up. You slowly move away unwrapping your arms and legs from him, you look back at his sleeping form. His knitted brows and slightly parted lips, you could hear his soft breathing.

Smiling you lift your body up from the bed to look at the nightstand next to Cole.

Cole’s camera sat on the table, with a picture of you and him. Laying on top of him your hand wrapped around his naked chest; your breast thankfully covered as the picture was taken from a side view. Cole’s hair was messy having a sleepy smile as he held a peace sign over your sleeping head. You wondered how the picture got there, as Cole fell asleep before you and you assumed he’s still sleeping.

You then feel yourself being pulled down onto the bed again, he just had to make a liar outta you. 

You look back at Cole his eye propped open as his hand holding your wrist, “where ya goin’ little girl~?” Cole’s morning voice rung like heaven in your ears as your blush.

“Breakfast, I thought you might like some in bed” you suggest as you turn your body to run your fingers through his hair with your free hand. Cole hums as he stares at your other hand in his as he brings it to his lips kissing it softly.

You chuckle as you pull away, “c’mon let’s eat big guy” you pull him up struggling as he decides to use his full weight for you to try and hold up. You laugh as he groans, “don’t be stubborn you big teddy bear, let’s eat we didn’t have dinner so I’m sure you’re hungry.”

“On the contrary~” Cole leans over you as he finally stands up pushing your body against his as you huff blushing. “Real food, you dummy~” you playfully smack his chest as you reach into your shared drawers and pulled out a shirt and shorts. “I’m hungry so c’mon!” You slip on your clothes as you walk out Cole chuckles as he brought out sweatpants and goes to follow you. 

He comes to the kitchen as he watches you work; he leans on the counter as he looks to the time. “Y’know, it’s pretty late for breakfast” he grins as you look to him, “call it brunch then~” you chop your vegetables as you place them in your pot, having already placed other things you needed it was a quick brunch.

Cole sniffs as he hums the ingredients finally coming together to make a delicious smelling aroma. “Mm, what’s that?” He walks over leaning down resting his chin on your shoulder.

“It’s called changua, it’s a Colombian egg soup, it’s really good!” You grab a spoon and stir as you fill it with the soup. You place your hand under it to blow and hold it up to Cole’s lips.

He opens as he leans forward to place the spoon in his mouth. He hums as you bring the spoon back, “you’re right it is good~” he walks to the cabinets to pull out two bowls as he sets them on the counter. 

You fill them up as you turn off the stove walking to the table to sit next to Cole. “My dad would make this all the time for me when I was little, so I learned how to make it.” You take a bite as you sway happily, Cole chuckles as he takes a bite as well. 

“It’s good, thank you” Cole smiles loving how he can still learn new things about you. “‘M’lucky (y/n), to have a girl like you, I can’t express how much I love you and cherish you for deciding to be my partner” Cole looks to your smile,

Cole brings you closer you both practically sharing one seat. He kisses the top of your head as you hold him close as well, “I love you, (y/n), so much. More than words could ever express.” You loved it when Cole would say those words to you, it made you so happy at how your heart would swell with so much love for him. And you knew you would get a thousand more as you both continue to be together.

“I love you too, Cole” you kiss him as you both look to each other, another kiss suggesting until both your stomachs growled in protest. You nervously chuckle as Cole rolls his eyes at his stomach being a mood killer.

You both turn to your bowls as you lift your spoons filling it with soup as you both brought to your mouths.

“Hmm”

“Mm”

You both hum as you look to each other after swallowing, you both smile and laugh at how in common you guys were. You soon settle and take another bite enjoying your quiet brunch.

AAAAA I finished, it feels short but this is what I could think of with fuzzy brain. ૮(˶╥︿╥)ა I hope you like anywayssss (˶ ˘ ³˘)ˆᵕ ˆ˶) 𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ Love, ⋆˚࿔ Karrots 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

[snazzilystoopid]

What it's like to date Cole Brookstone

The dragons rising trailer gave me Cole fever 😭😭 so yk I just gotta do a Cole post to appreciate this lego man's existence

Enjoy this yall heheh

Starting off strong: texting. The guy will spam you if you don't answer within 5 minutes

He's always worrying if something bad had happened to you 😭

He's also a ninja (obviously) so he's gonna be busy most of the time

That doesn't mean he doesn't make time for you though heheh

Before he'd leave for a mission he'd send you a sweet message, or leave small pouch of your favourite sweets for you

For your 3 month anniversary, he got you a pair of headphones

They're extra special bc they match with his <3

He sends you gym pics. Ok? He just does.

Mainly because he knows on the other side of that screen you're a blushing mess

Sometimes Cole will just walk around you shirtless to tease you, because he knows you're always gonna be staring

If you can bake, this man will BEG you to make cakes.

If you can't, you at least try. He'll always eat them, even if they are a little burnt

Its the thought that counts though, right?

His love language is touch, so you guys cuddle often

If cuddling isn't really your thing, that's okay! He'll settle for always holding your hand

When it comes to kissing however, hes so passionate that you usually have to lean on something, like a wall or a table 😭

When things get a little steamy he'll definitely be hoisting you up and wrapping his arms around you

(HELP WHY AM I GRINNING WHILE WRITING THIS AHAHAHAHSHS)

Your dates usually consist of desert places, picnics, and CD/Vinyl records shopping

He love love loves music so whenever you tag along with him to these shops he loves it, and also really appreciates the company

Sometimes you both put in one ear each of Cole's earphones and just lie on his bed together listening to music

Its so therapeutic for both of you

He tried to teach you how to play the drums a few times, but you're horrible at it, sorry 💀

(Unless you can acc play the drums ofc)

When you met Lou, he told you a bunch of funny stories about his dance lessons as a kid

Cole gets so annoyed whenever he does this but you think its cute <333

Lou would also go on to tell you how much Lily would've loved you

It felt a little uncomfortable talking about his mother, because you know how much of a sensitive subject it is for him

But Cole did agree, you reminded him a little of his mother

In truth, Lou sees himself and Lily in you and Cole

Although he denies it, Cole loves it when you trace his scars

Especially the ghost scar on his forehead

Also loves it when you trace his jaw

Whenever you randomly do, I promise this guy WILL just melt right there

Since his hair is really long, you're always trying out random hairstyles on him

He always protests, but he really does love it hehe

The man is such a tease, sometimes he'll swoop down to capture your lips in a kiss, only for him to kiss the corner of your mouth instead

Other times (when you're alone ofc,) Cole trails kisses down your neck and just randomly stops, and you always complain

He finds you so adorable when you're complaining 😭

He has a passion for singing, but will never sing in front of anyone apart from you

Most of the time, whenever he sings to you its a love song that both of you like 🥰

He's usually a pretty chill boyfriend, and doesn't normally get jealous

But on the very rare occasion that he does, he won't show it

Instead he'll get all pouty and whenever you ask what's wrong, his only response is to pull you into a hug

He'll most likely feel a little self-conscious and wonder if you're becoming uninterested in him

DONT give Cole a reason to feel sad. Do not. 😒

Anyways

He didn't tell the ninja he had a partner until Jay and Nya spotted you two in a vinyl records store holding hands

They interrogated the poor thing for like 3 hours when he got back

But once they all met you they really liked you!

Kai and Jay subjected you to more embarrassing Cole stories, which the earth ninja was NOT happy about

He prefers to spend time with you alone, away from other people

He vents to you a lot of the time and tells you about his struggles and his feelings

Hes actually really open with you, but he never pressures you to tell him anything

He wants to be able to earn your trust <3

(Sorry for any typos!!)

That is all ! I hope you guys enjoyed this little hc post 🤭 stay tuned for more !!

[mrs-gauche]

Let's talk (some more) about the Red Lyrium Idol

So, if there's anyone who actually read all of this and is for some reason still interested in even more ramblings, here is Part 2 of my way too long tinfoil theory/summary post about the red lyrium idol, and I swear, it's the last one. 😂 Again, I just needed to get this out before we might get the first real trailer TOMORROW and I'm proven completely wrong, because that's just so funny to me. lol

(Note: This post was written before the title of DA4 was changed into "The Veilguard", so the implications of this title for the narrative were not taken into account for any of this. 💀)

The Phylactery Theory

"A phylactery is a vessel, often a glass vial, containing the essence of a magical being. The Circle of Magi and the Chantry use small phylacteries filled with blood, to track down mages that turn apostate."

"Phylacteries, ironically, are a form of blood magic. When a templar wishes to track down a fugitive mage they will use the phylactery as a way of homing in on the fugitive by way of a "hot and cold" situation, i.e., the phylactery glows, becoming brighter the closer it gets to its respective mage."

In Tevinter Nights, the Carta assassin described the idol to feel rather heavy, like there was "liquid inside". In the 2018 teaser, we see glowing cracks creeping up the idol's surface.

Inquisitor: "You don't need to sacrifice a slave's life to make a dagger." Solas: "I suppose it depends upon the dagger."

(- Solas when talking about blood magic)

In DAO, the Arcane Warrior specialization can be unlocked while doing the "Nature of the Beast" quest line, in the Lower Ruins of the Brecilian Ruins, south the Elven Burial Chamber. Inside a small chamber which looks like a ruined library, there is a broken stone altar. A phylactery is hidden in the far corner of the room. When you touch the phylactery you experience the memories of an elven arcane warrior who has remained trapped inside of the phylactery for centuries. It offers to teach you the secrets of the arcane warriors in exchange for setting its spirit free by placing the phylactery on an ancient altar.

In the "The Hunt of the Fell Wolf" poem in JOH, there is an idol that seems to possess a spirit that is connected to a demon wolf in a way that he can only be defeated if both him and the idol/spirit are destroyed and struck down at the same time.

As demon-stone was shattered, Ameridan struck true: Beast and spirit—both felled at once, Though neither hunter knew.

The Black Vials are six small glass phylacteries that can be found around Ferelden. When the Warden takes a vial, the glass fractures and releases a hostile revenant. A revenant is a form of undead that is created when a powerful demon, usually that of desire or pride, possesses a corpse. Upon their death, each revenant drops a scrap of vellum/codex entry that reads:

"Bound by your true name, no mortal hand shall reach you."

In the Tevinter Nights story "Genitivi Dies at the End", Rasaan and the Qunari were searching for Solas' "true name".

In the final chamber of the Solasan temple, there's an ancient inscription that reads:

Faintly carved into the stone is a figure bound in chains. Two other figures have turned their gaze from the central image. "Pride in our accomplishments and in our hearts. That same pride became (a word meaning corrupted or altered) within him, he sought to claim (indecipherable), cast from favor and so he was bound." "Hidden from mortal eyes, death lies within."

A codex about an encounter with a revenant, 5:71 Exalted:

"[…] The descriptions of the creature's abilities were eerily similar to those our brothers at Marnas Pell encountered almost a century ago […]"

Solas' hideout in The Missing was located in the Deep Roads beneath Marnas Pell.

Cole's comments in Trespasser suggest that Solas was bound to Mythal.

"He did not want a body, but she asked him to come. He left a scar when he burned her off his face."

While Solas seemed to have burned her vallaslin off his face, could there be a chance that he is still bound to Mythal by his true name? Could it be that he is still bound to whatever part of Mythal is trapped within the idol?

Again, the ancient spirit in DAO can only be freed from the phylactery if it is placed on an ancient altar.

So, the question is, if the idol is indeed a phylactery containing Solas'/Mythal's blood and a part of her spirit that needs to be placed on its original location/altar to free her, and if it was ripped off its original location, then where did it originally belong?

The Place Where It All Began

In 2018, we got the first DA4 teaser, showing the idol in various close-ups as well as the focal point of this mural.

Look at how the idol is suspiciously placed in the very center of the circle/tambourine which we assume to represent the Veil.

Now, what else sits at the center of the Fade that is ever present and visible but cannot be reached?

Right, the Black City.

Again, the idol is very likely depicting Mythal's death.

Now, tell me, where do you think was Mythal murdered?

Or rather, where do you think did the Blight originate?

I'm convinced that the Black/Golden City is/was Arlathan. The place where the false gods were imprisoned when Solas created the Veil. The idol/blade was likely forged after Mythal died. The 2022 cinematic clearly shows that the Blight started to spread from the center of the Golden City before it turned black and began to consume the rest of the world, but seemed to have then been contained by the Veil preventing it from spreading further.

"Had I not created the Veil, the Evanuris would have destroyed the entire world."

Corypheus is physically covered in red lyrium. We can assume that he turned into a blighted creature when he entered the Black City, which was already black and corrupted when they opened its gates.

Red lyrium only began appearing throughout the surface of all of southern Thedas in crystalline nodes following the opening of the Breach.

In Future Redcliffe, a year has past with the Breach still open and the red lyrium has spread everywhere.

It is proven that the Veil is inedvitably getting weaker alltogether, and that it will eventually come down at some point, regardless of Solas' actions.

The Veil getting weaker correlates with the Blight spreading further. If the root of the Blight lies within the Black City, and if the Blight was contained/prevented from spreading further through the creation of the Veil, and if the seven Old Gods are connected to the seven imprisoned, tainted Evanuris and serve as seals to the seven gates/mirrors of the Black City, then this banter and these visuals make a lot of sense:

Seven semi-circles with two of them still “lit” and the “tambourine”/Veil looking more broken with each new update….

Seven Old Gods/Evanuris that were banished when Solas created the Veil…..

Seven mirrors shattering….

Seven gates of the Black City, which Kordillus Drakon prophesied will someday shatter and cover both the mortal and spirit realms in darkness….

Solas: Your Order… the Grey Wardens… Blackwall: What about them? Solas: The Wardens see themselves as the world's defense against the Blight, do they not? Blackwall: Yes… why do you sound so skeptical? Doesn't everyone know this? Solas: When an Archdemon rises, they slay it. What will they do when all the Archdemons are slain? Blackwall: Retire? Solas: Without Archdemons, there can be no Blights. Is that the reasoning? Blackwall: Right. Where are you going with this? Solas: Nowhere. I hope they are correct.

Varric: Give [the Grey Wardens] some credit, it's not like you can study the Blight safely. I may not like everything they've done, but without the wardens, we'd all be blighted by now. Solas: They've bought us some time, I will grant them that.

DA4 will likely be set ten year after the events of DAI. And the Veil has gotten even weaker/Solas might succeed in tearing it down.

In Tevinter Nights, Solas claims that whatever he's going to do will "save this world".

Maybe the idol will solely be used to destroy the Veil and merge the World and the Fade, in order for him to, quote, "casually reshape reality".

BUT, you know what was proven to be the ultimate power source for Dreamers to reshape reality in a time before the Veil?

Say it with me.....

Great. Dragon. Blood.

So let's go back and assume that the idol is a phylactery that contains some part of Mythal/blood and that Solas is somehow still bound to by his true name. Mythal was likely murdered in the Black City, which might've also been the catalyst for the Blight. Solas might want to enter the Black City with the idol. Again, the ancient spirit in Origins can only be freed from the phylactery if it is placed on an ancient altar.

So… What if Solas plans to bring the idol back to its original location and free her spirit?

The Mother's Return

"Why did Mythal come to you?" "For a reckoning that will shake the very heavens."

At last, let me put on the tinfoil hat one final time and break this all down.

*takes deep breath*

The fact that it is Mythal's mosaic that is revealed to be on the platform in that final fight with Corypheus (symbolically surrounded by red lyrium!), the same ruins that were once the foundations of the Temple of Sacred Ashes.

The Sacred Ashes of Andraste, which possesses healing qualities "unsurpassed by even the most powerful spells".

Andraste, who was said to be too weak to bear children, but then miraculously was able to give birth to two daughters later in life. Almost like something came into her life that enabled her to do so. Like, for example, drinking the blood of a Great dragon.

Andraste, who might have not only been a mage, but also an Old God Baby like Kieran, carrying the soul of Dumat.

Old God souls, which a certain person seems to be particularly interested in collecting.

Not the Maker, but Mythal being drawn to Andraste's Old God soul, like a moth to a flame.

Andraste becoming Mythal's host, but that host ultimately burned at the stake, so she had to find another one.

Fast forward a few hundred years. Mythal has found another host in Flemeth, who just so happens to make a bargain with Calenhad Theirin, making him, again, drink the blood of a Great dragon, to gain special powers, leading him to become the first king of Ferelden.

So she watches the Theirin bloodline, until the fateful day Alistair gets almost killed at Ostagar. So she swoops in again, nudging the course of history by saving Alistair and the HOF.

Next up is Hawke, whom she saves so Hawke could find the idol and free Corypheus, setting the events of DAI in motion.

In DAI, if the Inquisitor drinks from the Well of Sorrows and you listen very carefully to the super creepy background noises while playing the audio backwards, the voices of the Well will tell you to "Stop her" and something else that sounds like "She speaks the Calling".

The Calling. A voice, a song, dreams that will haunt the Grey Wardens. Just like a certain idol does.

The Calling, which will force the Grey Wardens to go mad and join the Darkspawn as a collective hivemind to wake the Old Gods, but only after they consumed the Archdemon's blood in the Joining.

A being controlling people as a hivemind?

Like the Titans guiding their children like a collective mind? Titans, whom Mythal was the first to kill and mine their blood and something else to create bodies for her own people.

"The First of my People do not die so easily." (- Solas in Trespasser)

An Archdemon cannot be killed, because their soul will just transfer to the nearest soulless darkspawn. Transfering the soul. The secret of effective immortality.

How do you kill an Archdemon?

By drinking their blood, slaying them and taking in their soul.

What is an Archdemon/Old God?

A dragon.

What WAS Mythal?

"The new ones are faithful to Mythal, but do not understand what she was in her fullness."

Mythal's entire image is based on that of a dragon, a form that in ancient times was reserved for the gods. Because before the Veil, it was the dragon's blood that gave those dreamers the power to shape reality, so powerful that they came to be worshiped as gods. But, I think, not only had Mythal the chief role in the pantheon because she had great dragon blood within her, but because…

Her true form IS actually a motherflippin dragon.

So. What did the Evanuris do in order to KILL Mythal?

They slayed her, drank her blood and each of the seven obtained a part of her soul, but instead of getting killed themselves, they sought to become essentially invincible through both Mythal's blood and the tainted Titan blood/red lyrium.

Let me quote this wonderful post by @virlath from a few years ago.

With her conquering of the titans, I think it’s likely that her blood is a part of the blight and the red lyrium corruption. Mythal ran the elves' lyrium operations. She had a connection to the titans and their children. She also stole knowledge of the Void from Andruil. Combining all this knowledge it makes sense that she could use this to her advantage once she was imprisoned and corrupted, because she had a connection to both dragon's blood and lyrium. She just needed a physical aspect- Flemeth, and now Solas, to act out her plans. The use of dragon fire in Dark Fortress is further indication that the combination of dragons and lyrium results in a massive power nexus. I think it’s possible that red lyrium is simply lyrium tainted with dragon's blood. More specifically, Mythal's blood. This is why dragons were strictly reserved for the evanuris in ancient elvhen times- because the key to their immortality and power was dragons and more specifically, great dragon's blood. Mythal had strict rules about taking on the form of 'divinity’. I think this was likely because dragons and dragon fire/dragon's blood was the true source of the evanuris' power, and is what allowed them to appear immortal. This could explain why the old gods are so inexplicably linked to the evanuris in the lore. I think the evanuris each had a dragon- an old god, and they each used dragon's blood and dragon fire to make their dreams into literal reality. No one could infiltrate their dreams because only they had access to the power of dragons, which they claimed was their right.

Before BioWare settled on dragons, the Archdemons were supposed to look very different.

Meaning that, each of the seven Old God souls…. is what?

Yeah, I think it's all Mythal's.

Again, WHAT did the voices of the Well tell the Inquisitor? WHO speaks the CALLING?

It's the voice of the one who's the real owner of that soul. The one who for centuries has been trying to gather the scattered pieces of HER SOUL, driven by nothing but vengeance.

"So Mythal endures."

If the idol contains a part of Mythal, and if Solas used the idol/blade to trick the Evanuris like in Dalish legends, maybe it was because they were desperate to destroy the idol and get rid of Mythal once and for all.

Remember the visions described in Trespasser.

“Hail Mythal, adjudicator and savior! She has struck down the pillars of the earth and rendered their demesne unto the People! Praise her name forever!“ “In this place we prepare to hunt the pillars of the earth. Their workers scurry, witless, soulless. This death will be a mercy. We will make the earth blossom with their passing.” “The runes say the Evanuris fought the Titans. They mined their bodies for lyrium and… something else. It’s not clear.” “They made bodies from the earth. And the earth was afraid. It fought back. But they made it forget.” "For a moment, the scent of blood fills the air, and there is a vivid image of green vines growing and enveloping a sphere of fire." “For one moment, there is a vivid image of two overlapping spheres; unknown flowers bloom inside their centers. Then it fades.”

A sphere of fire… you mean, like the SUN? You mean, Mythal actually creating a MOON, just like in Dalish mythology?

Bear with me here.

We established that Mythal mined the Titan's blood, which I believe was then used for centuries in combination with her fire to create bodies for her own people/spirits. On top of that, I believe that, after her victory, Mythal used part of a dead Titan and lifted it into the sky to use it as a "cornerstone" to build the capital city of Elvhenan, Arlathan, on top of her "enemy's corpse".

I believe that in the moment of Mythal's death, her blood altered the Titan's blood (which also sundered the Song) and that something happened to the moon that she had created, which in turn led to the unbridled power of the sun to corrupt part of the Titan that the Golden City, Arlathan, was build on, as well as both their blood. And that's when it turned black. That's when the Blight was created.

Elgar'nan is the God of the Sun in Dalish mythology. He was likely the main instigator behind the Evanuris' betrayal and Mythal's murder.

The sun imagery keeps appearing throughout DA4's promotional stuff.

If the Old God Lusacan is connected to Elgar'nan, they would represent two polar opposites. The God of the Sun and the God of Night and Darkness. Again, Kordillus Drakon prophesied that the seven gates of the Black City would someday shatter and cover both the mortal and spirit realms in darkness.

"All the world will soon share the peace and comfort of my reign."

“Lusacan, the Dragon of Night, calls to you. He lives where it is darkest and waits for the day he will rise. Drink of his blood and know the power in darkness: either fear the Night or wield it.“ "The darkspawn yearn to awaken and corrupt Lusacan to start a new age of darkness.” “A night that will never end”

But why does this need to happen? Because Mythal needs to act out her vengeance upon the ones who murdered her and doomed the world with the creation of the Blight.

"She was betrayed as I was betrayed! As the world was betrayed!" "Mythal clawed and crawled her way through the ages to me, and I will see her avenged!"

Solas wants to save his people no matter what, and for that, the Veil needs to be torn down, resulting in the World and the Fade becoming one again…

But, to truly restore his People, I believe that he needs the Mother to come back.

Mythal represents both Justice and Vengeance. If justice is corrupted, it will turn into vengeance. Solas makes no difference between spirits and demons.

"I am sorry as well, old friend."

That last line of Flemythal to Solas. It's so simple, but what does it truly mean? Why is she apologizing to him?

Is it because none of this would have happened if she didn't die and everything that happened to the people and the world was because of her downfall? Because it was her who started all this in the first place with the death of the Titans, stealing their hearts and corrupting their blood?

With her gone and no one left to keep the false gods in check, if it hadn't been for her death, Solas wouldn't have been left with what seemed to be the only choice?

Is she sorry for everything he had to endure, from her giving him a body against his will, twisting his original purpose, to him having to live with the guilt over the death of a world and an entire civilization for a thousand years?

Or is she apologizing for using him?

"An eclipse as Fen'Harel stirred."

"Cry havoc in the moonlight. Let the fire of vengeance burn. The cause is clear." (- Solas reciting Mythal's invication)

She knew that Solas would do anything at this point to undo his mistakes and save the people he doomed. She knew exactly what Solas would do when he came to her in that after credits scene in DAI. She knew that he would need that power and the idol to complete his ritual in order to tear down the Veil, but to what end?

Without the Veil, whoever controls the dreams controls reality.

[simpingforthemm]

the garcia brothers

words: like 1.7k

summary: basically a similar scenario to the whole "Cole x Jackie x Alex" thingy but with u and the Garcia brothers

a/n: sorry for not posting on here in a while. I wrote this little thing to get into fanfic writing again and will get to the other requests soon <3 probably will make this a series if I feel inspired enough

You were sitting in the cafeteria with Lee, your best friend, poking at your food, absolutely not hungry after having seen that revolting documentary on the holocaust in history lesson.

“God, I wish I could erase the last 90 minutes out of my memory so I could at least keep some of this food down and not starve for the rest of the day”, you groaned, shoving a fry in your mouth.

“Same”, Lee sighed. “That Nazi shit is seriously messed up. Honestly, I think I heard Olivia sobbing in the back row or something when the teacher named the number of the children murdered in the second world war.”

You raised your eyebrows. "Damn. Understandable though. It's so inhumane.”

Lee nodded. You noticed someone sitting down next to you and putting their arm around your shoulder. “What are we talking about guys?”, an all too familiar voice asked. Isaac Garcia, the brother of your best friend, who you shared a lot of your classes with, including history. “Just the pleasantries of that history lesson”, you said as he snatched some of your fries.

“I’m amazed at your ability to still eat after that horrifying documentary.”, you admitted, watching as he stuffed his mouth with the fried potato sticks, visibly hungry, his arm still securely around you. You didn't mind sharing your food and you often did so with Isaac. He would offer you gum when he had a pack, you would bring a second fork for him when you got lunch and you almost always shared your energy drinks and snacks. You didn't know the particular reason for why you both did this except for that the two of you loved food and that you liked eating in class / eating snacks so you could focus better.

“That's only one of my many talents, dear miss Y/L/N”, he said, smirking at you and giving you a little wink. “Besides, I love fries.”

You just rolled your eyes a little, knowing that Isaac basically had every girl that crossed his path swooning over him and he even flirted with you, his brother's girl best friend. Yeah, you shared your food and were pretty friendly with each other but you still were kind of annoyed about how he was such a ladies' man.

“Sure”, you just said, freeing yourself from his arm, catching Isaac frowning in the corner of your eye.

“Okay Isaac, how ‘bout you leave me and my best friend alone and go mind your business with all of those cheerleaders waiting on you.”, Lee said, pointing over to a table overcrowded with a bunch of girls from the cheerleading squad, some of them looking over to your table, probably wondering what was keeping Isaac there.

Lee seemed overly annoyed with his brother. Chill Lee, you thought to yourself. You actually kinda liked Isaac (not that you’d ever tell Lee that) and you didn't get why your best friend was acting all hostile. Sure, Isaac was annoying at times but he didn't exaggerate it. But of course, you were on your best friend’s side. “No need to get possessive, I’m already going”, he said, getting up from his chair.

He frowned as he noticed your sort of tense expression.“You seem tense, everything all right?”, he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. He was right, you had been tense. Exam stress, pressure to succeed, getting good grades and then your parents fighting. You were struggling. But Isaac didn't have to know that. “Okay Isaac, just go”, Lee groaned before you could answer the other Garcia's question.

“Already going, jeez bro. See you later, Y/N.”, he smirked, ruffling your hair. Ugh.

Relieved about him going back to his own table and Lee being able to go back to his normal self, you leaned back into your chair. “I’m so sorry about my brother Y/N”, Lee apologized, rolling his eyes. “I know he can be a lot sometimes.”

“It's fine”, you assured him, not knowing why he was always so cold and hostile whenever the three of you were together. When you watched Lee and Isaac hanging out together, without you, everything seemed just fine and they were laughing and having fun together, like normal brothers. This was the same for when you and Lee hung out just the two of you, everything seemed completely normal and fine. But when it was you, Lee and Isaac, he acted so strange. He was bitchy and rude to his brother, usually without reason. He always acted like Isaac was this horrible person that you couldn't be associated with. You thought that maybe he couldn't stand the thought of you and Isaac being friends? Maybe he hated how physical Isaac could be? You didn't know, but you were determined to find out.

After school, you and Lee decided to hang out and get ice cream. A lot of people thought that you and Lee might be a couple since the two of you were so close. It was true, you liked Lee a lot. Maybe you had had a crush on him for a little while when the two of you first met. But that was a long time ago and the two of you were now simply best friends. You thought so at least. Still, you couldn't help thinking he was cute when he attempted to speak French in class (which he surprisingly was horrible at) or when he geeked out about some new skateboarding equipment or tricks he wanted to try. Of course, you would never tell him that.

“Y/N, can I ask you something?”, Lee suddenly blurted out. The two of you were standing in line at the ice cream shop, waiting for your turn. You were slightly standing on your tip-toes, trying to get a look on all the flavors available so you could already decide on what you wanted beforehand.

“Yeah, sure. What is it?”, you said casually, standing normally again and turning to look at him.

Lee looked down at his shoes, seemingly embarrassed. You frowned, didn't he know he could ask you anything? You were now getting impatient and nervous. Why was he stalling?

“Oh, come on, Lee. You're driving me crazy. Spit it out!”

“Do you like Isaac?”

Your eyes widened and you gulped. So much for obvious. But you didn't like him. At least not like Lee probably meant in this moment. Okay, maybe you thought he was hot and funny, but he was obnoxious. He was always bothering you, in class, outside of class, at the Walters’ House. Just last week, he threw you in the pool, then at a party he randomly asked you if you wanted to play beer pong with him. With you, out of all people? You, the unpopular nerd. Then there were other incidents like when your grade was called to the assembly hall for some informative presentation on future college opportunities and Isaac just randomly sat down next to you. And besides all that weirdness from his side, he made your best friend in the whole world angry and tense. You didn't like that.

You decided to go for the shocked and surprised answer. “What! Lee! Why would you think that??”

“I don't know”, he shrugged, his expression blank. “You just always seem to laugh more when he's around and you don't really seem to mind whenever he flirts with you.”

“Flirts with me? Lee, I don't know what you're talking abou-”

“Oh please Y/N”, Lee scoffed. “Don't act like you're blind. He always flirts with you. Just today in the cafeteria, he put his arm around you. Do you know how weird that is for me? Jesus, he's my brother, Y/N.” Lee looked disgusted as he turned away from you. You didn't know his feelings were this intense.

“Lee, of course I don't like him. But you know how Isaac is, he’s always flirting with every girl that's in his eyesight. I don't think he's taken special interest in me. And besides, we wouldn't even fit together, you know how different we are.”

That seemed to calm Lee down as his expression softened and he sighed, nodding.

"Sorry for overreacting. You're right."

You didn't know why he was so against you even slightly taking an interest in his brother and why he was so disgusted at even the idea of you getting closer to him. But you figured the two of you weren't really in a position to talk about that.

Later that day, you were sitting on your bed, listening to music and doing homework when your phone made that vibrating sound to tell you you had a new message. You frowned slightly, checking who would text you at this time. It certainly wouldn't be Lee, as right now he’d probably be outside with his cousins, teaching Parker how to skateboard or something. Instead it was an unknown number.

The message just said: “hi y/n”.

You texted back pretty quickly out of curiosity. "Who's this?”

Another message appeared within seconds, making your heart drop. “Isaac. I got your number from Jackie, hope that's ok”

Jesus, why would he be texting you? This was the last thing you needed rn. And now you seriously didn't know what to text back.

“Okaay, why did you ask for my number tho”, you typed.

“idk cuz I think ur cool”

Fuck. Why’d he say something like that?

“okay.. I don't think lee doesn't like us talking tho"

You were panicky now. Lee definitely couldn't find out about this. He'd be so mad.

“he needs to chill out”

Was he seriously saying this rn? Didn't he know Lee had no chill whenever it came to you?

You were staring at your phone for a while, waiting for him to say something else, but when he didn't, you just typed back:

“srry but did you want anything else? I got homework to do”

“we should hang out outside of class sometime”

“we really shouldn't”, you texted back, even though you did kind of want to. But you couldn't. Not when Lee was so against the idea of you being closer to his brother. You couldn't do that to your best friend.

“Come onn y/n just for like an hour or so. pretty plsss”

He kept spamming you with messages the next minutes which really annoyed you so just to shut him up you replied: “fine but istg if lee finds out you’re done for”

“yes ma’am 🧎‍♂️”

God. What had you gotten yourself into??

[spiderceo]

− ⌗ vaudeville vows pt.2 ⊹.∿

summary; alastor shows up to ruin your evening in his own fun little way.

tags; gender-neutral reader, reader can play piano and sing, reader gets used to alastor surprisingly fast and he (definitely) doesn’t like that, sugary sweet manipulation, scopophobia (fear of being watched or stared at), alastor’s stupid mangled body

word count; 2.2k

pairing; alastor x reader

a/n; i plan to make chapters longer in the future so hopefully you enjoy that kind of thing. i also have proof-read this. as usual, reposts are greatly appreciated <3

tag list; @chewbrry @zatrinaxxx

master post | part one

Days passed since your first encounter with Alastor. He hadn’t shown his face again in your apartment which you were extremely happy for. But even though he wasn’t there physically, there was always this awful feeling of being watched no matter where you went. It was that bad that you struggled to even go for a shower or get changed for work in the mornings.

The whole while this was happening, you couldn’t shake the idea of the demon’s proposal. The allure of fame and fortune continued to tug at your thoughts every time you passed by your piano. The instrument now served as a reminder of what you could have had. Having someone like Alastor to guide you to your full potential would mean you could have so many great things. It was a tantalising dream that seemed just out of reach.

The days turned into weeks and still you remained steadfast in your decision against accepting the deal. Life had gone back to normal and the staring had reduced in its intensity. Whenever you got home from work, you managed to sit down at your piano and get some practice in. Part of you wanted to prove you didn’t need to make a deal with a demon to achieve what you wanted.

However, fate works in mysterious ways and we don’t always get what we want.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and the city was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, you found yourself lost in your music once more. The melody flowed smoothly from your fingertips, weaving a tapestry of sound that filled the room with warmth and light. You sung along quietly with a content smile on your face. This had been your calmest night by far, until an awful feeling washed over you.

A chill ran down your spine as you looked around the room. The sensation of hundreds of little eyes watching you made your skin crawl as the temperature dropped. The lights in your apartment dimmed and flickered and your hands shakily slid away from the piano keys. Your eyes landed on a dark corner of the room where a lanky shadow stood. Eyes with a familiar shade of carmine pierced your soul and you couldn’t help but keep your body completely still.

He hadn’t moved from his spot, just tilted his head as if to tell you to continue what you were doing. If he hadn’t been a scary looking creature that wanted your soul, you probably would have found this gesture cute. Alastor’s eyes carried a look of amusement in them as he waited for you to do something.

Should you continue playing? Is that what he wanted?

You carefully turned your back to him and felt your hands tremble as they went back to their positions on the piano. With uncertainty, you pressed the keys and began to play a different song from before. This one was a bit more well known despite it’s age, and had also featured a lot in your grandad’s record collection.

‘Anything Goes’ by Cole Porter.

The beginning of the tune rung out and was immediately halted by Alastor’s presence reappearing on your left. “My dear musician,” he addressed you as if you were old friends, his voice exaggerated as always. “Your playing is splendid, but I feel that something is missing.”

You tensed at his words, unsure of what he meant. Before you could respond, Alastor took a step forward with his wicked grin becoming slightly smaller — he looked less like he was straining. This was how his expression usually sat, you guessed. But smiling constantly must be painful, right? Perhaps demons didn’t feel that type of pain.

“Why don’t you sing with me, my dear?” his gaze never left yours as you could feel your heart ready to beat out of your chest. A mix of excitement and trepidation coursed through your veins at the thought of singing with Alastor. Sharing a duet with a devil wasn’t something you got to do everyday. “Sing with you?” you queried, not quite sure if he was joking or not behind that talk-show voice of his. The idea of the duet was both thrilling and terrifying in equal measure. Sharing the stage with a demonic being was definitely something you could tell the grandkids one day.

“Why, of course! I wouldn’t pass up the chance to perform with a talent such as yourself, now would I?” Alastor sure knew how to sweet talk his way into getting what he wanted. You glanced at the piano, its keys beckoning you to return your hands to them. You knew you couldn’t resist this time, and decided it wouldn’t hurt to entertain Alastor just this once.

With a weary smile, you began to play once more, letting the melody of the song flow with effortless grace. And as you finished the intro, your voice began to accompany your playing. It was trembling, unlike when you were alone. Alastor’s overbearing presence was making it hard to focus on the words. It wasn’t until radio crackles filled the room and more instruments joined in. Along with them came the demon’s familiar accented voice.

Your singing quietened as you listened to the creature sing. His voice was pleasing to the ear and with the added effect of a vintage radio, it reminded you of home — listening to your grandad’s records play as you ran around his garden and he sat in his rocking chair on the porch. The pleasant memories brought a bigger smile to your face as you forgot all about the fact that who you were singing with was trying to capture your soul.

For a moment, you and Alastor were united in a devil’s duet. Your singing was more confident as the demon leaned against your piano casually. Even when he sung, his toothy smile never ceased. And as the music eventually faded back to static, you met his gaze that was just as oppressive as it had always been. A glimmer of approval appeared in them as he moved to pace behind you. You turned to watch him as his boots clicked against the floor and he twirled a cane behind his back.

“Marvellous, my dear! Simply marvellous!” he praised, coming to a stop and stretching his arms out wide with great exaggeration (You hadn’t noticed just how lanky his limbs were until now). His tone was dripping with satisfaction and you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of pride at the fact you had impressed him. Your subconscious was whispering to you that maybe taking his deal wouldn’t be so bad if these were the emotions you got out of it. It had been so long since you showed your music to anyone and his reaction was slowly pulling you towards his clutches.

As you pondered your next move, Alastor’s stare was unwavering. He had moved into a more relaxed position with his arms back behind him, still holding that cane of his. The demon’s presence was a reminder of the choice that lay before you. No matter what choice you made, there was always the certainty that Alastor would continue to be a pest in your life. If you refused his deal then there was nothing stopping him from sticking around until you finally caved or he came up with another proposition.

Exhaustion hit you like a brick wall when your eyes caught sight of the clock on the wall. It was almost two in the morning and you had work later in the day. You groaned and made a move to get up. “Leaving so soon?” the demon didn’t sound the least bit concerned about where you were going. His tone hinted at a secret plan to simply annoy you.

“The night is still young and I’d like another song.” Alastor requested, switching places with you. He now sat at your piano while you stood glaring at him through half-lidded eyes. “I need to get ready for bed,” you sighed, desperately trying to find words as to not offend him. Having an angry demon on your hands sounded worse than giving away your soul at the moment. “I have an early start tomorrow.” you tried to justify yourself.

Instead of a response, Alastor simply slipped away into shadows. You stared confused at the spot where he once sat. That was odd…not a single goodbye or comment. You tried not to linger on it too much and left to do your nightly routine.

The fluorescent light in your bathroom made a light buzzing sound as you turned it on. The tiles were cold on your feet as you shuffled in and grabbed your toothbrush. You knew you were alone now but that all familiar feeling of being watched remained persistent. Glancing nervously in the mirror, you half-expected to see Alastor’s sinister grin staring back at you. All that appeared, however, was your own tired visage which donned bags under its eyes.

After you finished, you left the bathroom and immediately went to change. You grabbed the first set of pyjamas out your drawers and slipped into them with haste. Crawling into bed, you made yourself comfortable and turned out the lamp on your side table. You tried to ignore the creaks of the floorboards and the uncharacteristic cold in the room but it was bothering you too much.

“Still awake there?” came Alastor’s voice from somewhere in the room. You rolled face first into one of your pillows sleepily. You knew he hadn’t left altogether. “Go away, Alastor,” your voice was muffled by fabric as you willed it not to shake. He still made you uneasy but you could manage it as long as you didn’t look him in the eye. “I just want to sleep.” you squeezed your eyes shut tighter and mentally hoped he would take the hint and go.

But Alastor was tenacious, his laughter that filled the room was accompanied by a faint laugh track. “But where’s the fun in that?” he teased, his voice coming from multiple directions at once. “Surely you wouldn’t deny me the pleasure of your company?”

You grit your teeth. Trying to ignore him was almost impossible as his voice bounced off the walls of your room. You tried to block out the sound with your pillow but even that did nothing to muffle it. No matter how hard you tried, sleep remained elusive as your new pest continued to ask you numerous questions purely for his own entertainment.

His insidious whispers penetrated your mind, you could feel them twisting and coiling like serpents, their venomous words seeping into every crevice of your consciousness. With a surge of frustration and fear, you bolted upright, your gaze fixating on the ghastly figure perched at the foot of your bed.

His form was twisted and contorted, limbs elongated and skeletal, like some grotesque parody of the human form. Antlers sprouted from his skull, their jagged points piercing through the walls and ceiling of your room. The glow of his eyes illuminated the darkness, casting an unearthly green hue that seemed to dance with malevolent intent as radio dials ticked within them.

But it was his grin that sent a shiver down your spine, a macabre smile stitched together with glowing green threads that threatened to unravel at any moment. Each stitch seemed to pulse with a sickly light, as if straining against the weight of the demon’s own malevolence.

You narrowed your eyes, your resolve hardening in the face of his unsettling presence. You craved sleep more than anything and if it meant scolding a demon to get it, then so be it. Despite the fear gnawing at the edges of your mind, you refused to cower before this twisted abomination. Your voice was filled with steely determination as you met his gaze and spoke.

“Leave me alone, Alastor.” you commanded, your tone ringing with defiance. The dead serious expression on your face was almost laughable. For a moment, Alastor’s smile faltered and his form shrunk down. A low chuckle crackled from his chest as he disappeared into the darkness, leaving your alone with only the memory of what you saw.

Now that he was gone, you let out the gasping breath you didn’t realise you were holding in. You tried to steady your racing heart as you placed a hand to your chest. With trembling hands, you reached for the lamp on your bedside table, casting a warm glow across the room that banished the shadows to the corners. But even in the soft light, you couldn’t shake the feeling of unease that clung to the air like a suffocating fog.

As you lay back against the pillows, exhaustion weighing heavy on your limbs, you couldn’t help but wonder: Was this only a temporary reprieve? The idea left a nagging sense of dread that picked away at your conscious. If he was like this now, you hated to see what he would pull later on. A demon like him was hound to have more tricks up his sleeve than just shapeshifting.

You were baffled that he even listened to you. Something told you that he was limited to what he could and couldn’t do without a contract between you both. You knew he could probably cause you physical harm given the way he could interact with your environment. So maybe it wasn’t what he could do to you, but rather how much time he had with you. You pushed the thoughts aside for the night and pulled yourself back under the covers.

Lingering fear aside, sleep eventually claimed you, dragging you down into the depths of unconsciousness where dreams and nightmares intertwined in a tangled web of darkness.