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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 6 months ago

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Dancing 'til the break of dawn - Pt6

<Pt5

(TWST zombie apocalypse au for all your crack-fic needs)

It was a few days later, and Deuce was still messing with the radio. It was, frankly, becoming something like an obsession. He hadn’t yet taken it apart, because there was a chance he could get electrocuted (and, more importantly, there was no way he would be able to put it back together after, and Yuu and Ace had already told him that they would not be making another trip to the store if it broke), but he continued to fiddle with the dials and antennae.

He had said that he wanted to see if he could use it to contact the mainland.

There was no way there was a receiver of any kind on the cheap, dinky little radio. It was even less likely that the radio had that kind of range.

But it kept him busy and it wasn’t hurting anyone – or, at least, not yet, Yuu was kind of waiting for Deuce’s inevitable mental breakdown at this point – so they weren’t going to stop him.

Besides, they were busy. Ace and Yuu were huddled on the futon. Ace had finally figured out the basics of knitting, and was trying to teach a very confused Yuu the ropes. Or, rather, the yarns.

Listen, you can only mess up knitting so many times before you start to go insane.

And Yuu was being dragged through the apocalypse kicking and screaming. He deserves his terrible little jokes. As a treat. Because there are no actual treats.

… the marshmallow guns did not include any marshmallows. Needless to say, the teens were all devastated.

Maybe this was why Deuce gave a cry of frustration and finally launched the radio at the nearest wall.

It imbedded itself in the cheap plaster and hung there.

Ace pressed his face into his hands, hissing curses under his breath. He’d jumped at the sudden noise and ended up dropping a stitch. Maybe karma does exist.

But he soon forgot about this, because the weirdest thing happened:

The radio sputtered to life.

Dang, percussive maintenance really does fix everything.

“– and there is very little foot traffic, but I should warn anyone hiding out on Tokaido that I heard a lot of screaming coming from that direction. It kept me up all night. Kinda sucked!”

Yuu blinked. The radio tower they were broadcasting from must be close, because they’d heard the screaming, too. Someone had accidentally set a fire a few streets down, and zombies had been picking off everyone who came to try and put it out. Eventually, when it began to look like it might spread too close to their store, Yuu had pulled out the puppy dog eyes to try and convince Grim to let people get rid of the fires. Grim, being a cat, had not taken to anything even partially associated with dogs. So, Deuce had made Yuu promise to go on strike as the group chef for a few days.

Never get between Grim and his food.

Or Ace and his food, frankly. Ace was very annoying.

Needless to say, the fire had been put out rather quickly. He was pretty sure that Grim had even sent some zombies to help. That must have been trippy for any survivors who happened to see it.

“But that’s in the past! Let’s talk about the present! Here’s Cater, with the weather.”

Another person was there? Wow, they were really good at being quiet and waiting for their cue.

“Thank you, Cater.”

Oh, no, he had just gone a little insane. Okay, that made way more sense.

“Now, if you look outside, you will see –.”

When Cater presumably opened the window to ‘look outside’, the distinctive, low groan of many zombies met their ears, punctuated only by Cater’s shrill screams.

Oh, and also several gunshots.

Grim’s ears flattened against his head. Yuu would say that he wasn’t sure whether he was feeling the ghosts of bullets embedding themselves in his fellow hivemind members, or if he just didn’t like all of the sound spitting out of the radio… but Grim had never shown himself to feel the pain that other zombies felt before (if zombies could even feel pain, which was debatable), so it was definitely the volume.

Yuu would turn it down, but the volume button was currently one with the wall, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to try and pull the radio out yet. They had just gotten the thing working, after all. What if taking it out of the wall somehow broke it again? He wasn’t sure Deuce would ever forgive him.

Wait, since when has he cared about Deuce?

He stood to go and grab the radio, but the sound came to an abrupt end without his help. The only thing that indicated that the fight hadn’t caused a couple of wires to be tripped was Cater’s groaning.

Not in the way that zombies groan, mind you, that was a very distinctive kind of groan that made the hair stand on end, this was just a kind of exasperated one.

“Why do I even do that? The joke is not worth it,” Cater grumbled into the mic. “Weather is overcast, as usual. Back to Cater, with our daily music session.”

“Thank you Cater. Today, we will be playing Freebird. Again! Because I do not know any other songs.”

The opening riff began to play, and all of the teens, for lack of a better word, panicked. They must destroy the radio before they are subjected to the song that every guy with a guitar plays at parties.

They were saved from that by the plaster finally giving out under the weight of the radio and sending it crashing backward into the wall, where it finally met its end.

Yuu breathed a sigh of relief. That was close.

Anyways.

Back to what they were doing. Ace picked up the once-abandoned knitting needles, looked at the dropped stitch, remembered why he had abandoned it in the first place, and went through the five stages of grief again. Honestly, if Yuu didn’t know that Ace was just very dramatic, he would have thought the boy had interpreted the unraveling square of yarn as some sort of metaphor for his life right now (or maybe a simile… Yuu didn’t know the difference). Yuu guided him through his emotions with pats on the back, only mildly condescending, because his friend was going through some stuff and he needed someone now more than ever.

Unfortunately, despite Yuu’s claim that everyone had gone back to their previous activities, that was not possible for Deuce. His previous activity was lost to the wall-void and there was no hope of getting it back. Which meant he had time to think.

“Wait, guys!”

Yuu and Ace jumped when hands clamped down over their shoulders. They turned their heads to look at Deuce, who was beaming in that way that meant he had had an idea.

Oh no.

“We should go to the radio station! They have the place up and working! We might be able to get in contact with the mainland!”

Ace and Yuu flinched again, their eyes flicking to meet each other’s briefly.

That… might actually work.

Yeah. No. They could not let that happen.

You see, Deuce was running on the idea that, somehow, the rest of the world just hadn’t realized that Japan was struggling. That the world had simply not noticed an entire country going offline.

This was not the case. You see, Japan is an isolated, island nation. The rest of the world knew, they just didn’t care. Because zombies couldn’t swim, hadn’t yet bothered to learn how to operate heavy machinery, zombies weren’t their problem.

Frankly, they were all lucky that America hadn’t just straight-up bombed them into the ground already.

Probably because America wasn’t yet aware that zombies were affected by fire, but regardless. They were taking the win.

However, they were not going to give America the literal ammunition by letting them find out that zombies were affected by fire. Yeah, no, Yuu liked living.

He opened his mouth to make up some kind of excuse as to why they couldn’t go, but Deuce was faster, straightening, stars in his eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go! The guy has a gun, and Yuu really needs a weapon, anyway! And the guy running the station sounds desperate for people to talk to, he’d probably let us use the place if we stayed for a day! We have a chance!”

The words died in his throat.

“That… I can’t argue with that!” Ace said, which certainly didn’t help.

As Deuce hurried off to prepare their backpacks, Ace and Yuu immediately turned to each other in a blind panic.

“What do we do?!” Yuu almost wailed, gripping Ace’s shirt and shaking the boy, as if hoping that if he just rattled Ace’s brain around enough an idea would fall out.

It did not work.

“Why do you think I know?!”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Okay, well, you have to tell him.”

Ace spluttered. “Me?!”

“Yeah, you’re a prick, you always fight, let it slip or something!”

Ace opened and closed his mouth like a fish. And then he scoffed. “You’re just scared. Like you always are.”

“And you aren’t?!”

“No, I’m just –!” If Ace really wasn’t scared, then he sure as hell couldn’t put a name to it right now, which Yuu was going to take as him winning anyway. “I’m not going to do it.”

If even Ace didn’t want to have to break the news, then what other option was there?!

Grim was giving him a flat look. The ‘there is an obvious answer here that you are ignoring’ look you usually get from a parent or teacher. Which meant that this was either a very expressive cat or Yuu had a guilty conscience.

But Yuu had never done anything wrong, ever, in his life, so there was no reason for him to feel guilty. Congrats to Grim for beating the odds and having an expressive face.

He glanced away, thinking hard. If they could not explain to Deuce why it was all a bad idea – shut up, Grim – then… well, even if the person decided not to let them use it, which Yuu doubted, Deuce would probably insist they fight ‘Cater’ for access, and it would be three against one, so they would win… and then they would gain control over the radio tower, which would give them even less reason not to do it. So, it was best not to go at all… what could make them stay home? For long enough that Deuce wouldn’t remember his original goal?

He sucked in a breath.

Ace narrowed his eyes at the change in his expression. “You have an idea, don’t you?”

Yuu nodded slightly.

“I’m not going to like it.”

Ace did not phrase that like a question, which is definitely the only reason why Yuu didn’t take the time to respond to it.

Thankfully, Deuce reappeared, lugging his backpack with him, only to stop cold the moment he saw them, his bright expression dimming temporarily. He looked at Yuu, gripping Ace’s shirt, both of their faces admittedly not as far away as they could have been considering they had both leaned in slightly to make sure that Deuce couldn’t overhear anything they were saying.

He gasped. “I knew it!”

Oh for the love of –!

“We’re still not dating!” Yuu snapped.

Ace just looked extremely confused.

Ah, the world without phones is a pain.

Like, sure, if you happen to get separated at all then you may never again know whether or not your loved ones are still alive (assuming that you didn’t already know they were dead, of course), and that was, Yuu could imagine, kind of sucky.

But you know what’s worse?

Not having Google Maps.

You never know how much you rely on modern technology until everything runs out of power and you’re stuck attempting to make maps out of what had once been flyers for tourist attractions for Americans.

Oh, Americans. How Yuu hates Americans, but apparently they are useful now. He does not know how to conflate these two ideas in his head.

So he won’t!

Thank you to the poor, overworked Japanese people who had made these flyers!

Where was he again before he had started hating on America?

Oh, right, they were lost.

Well, not yet, actually. They were still at the convenience store. Ace was mourning preemptively. He had pressed his forehead against the front of his store, well aware that this might be the last time they saw it. They had grabbed as many supplies as they could carry, and shoved the rest into the back to make it less likely for someone to come in and rob them, but…

Even assuming they could find the place again, it was unlikely they would find it in one piece.

Yuu fought a sniffle himself. This could be the end of an era.

Whatever.

That was enough being sad. Ace is distracted, which means his plan is a-go!

“Alright, I’m ready,” Ace said, starting over.

Damn it, he had spent too long going on a diatribe about America’s existence! See! This is exactly why he hates them!

He fought back a grimace, turning back to Deuce, who was struggling to figure out a map with Grim. Frankly, why they had given that job to them was a mystery. Even if Grim had shown himself to be intelligent, he couldn’t speak to them. And Deuce was… Deuce.

Whoops.

Wait, he doesn’t have time to regret things!

Crapcrapcrap!

Yuu feigned nonchalance, humming lightly as he looked around. You would think seeing a radio tower from the street would be easy, since they’re usually pretty tall, but no. Because the buildings are also tall. And closer – uh, perspective, was it? Something like that.

Point is, the radio tower was not currently visible.

He sighed and tossed his backpack to Ace. “I’m going to quickly climb up and see if I can find it.”

“Climb up… where?” said Deuce, looking up briefly with a slight frown. Which was a fair question, seeing as most of the trees on this street were little more than ashes.

Yuu absently checked his shoelaces, and then sent his friends a grin.

“You don’t get good at running away without knowing a little bit of parkour.”

He sprinted towards the nearest building, placing his foot on a windowsill and grabbing ahold of the top of the window so he could start pulling himself up.

Ace fumbled with Yuu’s backpack for a second, before looking at him with wide eyes as he realized what exactly his plan was. “Yuu, you – you –!”

Dang, Yuu didn’t think he had ever heard Ace stutter before. He felt bad for freaking him out like that…

“Doing parkour doesn’t make being a coward any less lame!”

Okay, nevermind, he didn’t feel bad at all.

Yuu fought the urge to lift a hand from the sill and flip him off. Because he was very nice. And also because he wasn’t nearly high enough to injure himself yet, and he didn’t think he would get to try this again if he fell here.

Which was probably Ace’s plan. The prick.

He wasn’t going to let him win.

He picked his way up the side carefully, pushing his way up to the top with a little more strain than he would ever admit to aloud. He had fallen out of practice. At least that would help sell it.

He stood up straight and quickly located the radio station.

It was only when he leaned over the side to point it out for them, that he registered just how far he would have to fall. How much it would hurt.

How much it would mess up.

He had earned a twisted ankle at the beginning of the apocalypse. Even an injury as small as that had nearly gotten him killed several times. Sure, things had definitely mellowed out somewhat since then – there were less people, less scrambling for resources, and the groups that had formed either learned how to cooperate or stopped being groups (one way or another), but… well, anyone that had survived this long was liable to have at least a few ‘unsavory’ qualities.

He had Ace and Deuce to rely on now, sure, but they weren’t infallible.

Yuu clambered down carefully, only relaxing when his feet were on steady ground once again.

A bag was shoved into his hands immediately, and he gave Ace a huff of annoyance. Ace just rolled his eyes at him.

Deuce beamed at them, ignoring the silent, petty argument in favor of starting off in the direction of the station, not even remembering to wait for Yuu to shoulder his bag and scoop up Grim.

Yuu didn’t bother rushing, though. Yuu and Ace were happy to follow at a slight distance.

“Pussy,” Ace muttered.

Despite his words (or, well, word, singular), he looked relieved.

The display of concern, however small, was not enough to keep Yuu from scowling at him. “You jump off a small building, then.”

Ace glanced at the nearest building, seemed to consider it. And then winced. “No thanks.”

“That’s what I thought, coward,” Yuu huffed.

They were silent as they watched Deuce almost skip ahead.

Well, they could always come up with something when they got to the radio station.

~~~~~~~

Pt7>

#dancing 'til the break of dawn #twisted wonderland #twst fanfic #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst yuu #twst grim #cater diamond #he is almost here but i was too wordy sozzzzz

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alicesivory · 3 months ago

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Old Habits Die Hard [4/?]

Previous Chapter // Main Masterlist // Next Chapter

Pairing: Nightwatch! Aemond Targaryen x wildling female! Reader

Genre: Historically accurate Aemond

WC: 3370

Summary: Aemond ventures beyond the Wall.

“Your hair looks nicer when it’s braided now.”

It seemed that the she-wildling could not keep her mouth shut. Rolling his eyes, Aemond changed the subject quickly, “How long ‘til we reach your people’s camp?” Aemond asked. “Just keep the horse in a steady pace up ahead and we’ll reach them in no time,” she answered him whilst comfortably sitting in front of him, between his arms that held the reins of the stallion. The reins were relaxed, and the stallion responded effortlessly to his light guidance through the cold and dark forest. The forest stands in eerie silence, its dense canopy casting a perpetual twilight over the twisted, gnarled trees. Shadows dance menacingly across the forest floor, where fallen leaves and branches lie in disarray, as if disturbed by some unseen force. The trees themselves seem alive, their bark scarred and contorted into grotesque shapes, carrying with it the faintest whisper of forgotten secrets, and the occasional creak or groan of the wood echoes through the stillness, adding to the sense of foreboding.

No wonder they call this the haunted forest.

“What lies in these woods?” Aemond asked once again. “Wild animals, mostly. But we don’t really hunt at night. It's a bad omen,” she replied. “Sometimes we see them at night, that’s where they emerge.” Her words made Aemond wonder, “Who do you speak of?”

“What do you think the walls were made for?”

Aemond thought for a moment.

“To keep your kind away from entering the realm,” he said, hesitantly. Not quite confident with his answer. For he knew that the wall’s purpose was more than just keeping a few wildlings out of Westeros but, he does not know what. “It wasn’t even built because of us. My people were separated from yours because we were unlucky enough to live beyond the wall when it was built,” she explained. “It was the others that they were afraid of.”

“Others? Other tribes?”

“No. The undead.”

Chills ran down from Aemond’s spine.

The White Walkers.

He has read countless books about the white walkers and the long night. How the battle for the dawn unfolded, yet all he knew was that it was all a myth. A fairytale. Stories to scare your child so they would sleep for the night. He recalled how the White Walkers were first written and mentioned during the Age of Heroes. Born of powerful and untested magic, they were created to protect the Children of the Forest during their war with the First Men. What once used to be puppets and soldiers for the Children of the Forest, the magic within the white walkers took a turn and rebelled against their creators and brought nothing but destruction to the realm.

“But they were nothing but old stories. Fiction, even,” Aemond protested.

“They are far from fiction, snow-hair.”

The wildling looked back to him, surprisingly close since they were cramped at horseback.

“What did they call you back there? I couldn’t recall. Was it Almond?”

“Aemond,” he grunts.

She chuckled, “I like snow-hair better.”

“And what of you?” Slowly speaking her name which seemed foreign to his tongue.

“Close enough,” she shrugged with a smirk, looking back into the road. Aemond wondered once again of the undead she mentioned. Were they lurking behind the old trees of this very forest? Were their lives at stake when they stepped their foot to this forest. “They took my brother,” she said, capturing Aemond’s attention. “The undead?” She nodded at his question. “He seemed to forget about time that day. But what kind of child remembers time, really? They wanted to play all day. So he did, running inside the woods without me or my mother’s attention, wanting to become a great hunter who enters the forest with no fear like my father. And he never came back.”

He felt sorry for the girl, for he himself had felt the same kind of grief when he heard of Aegon’s death. Especially when they could’ve done something to prevent their deaths. “Sometimes I wonder if they buried him at all. If they did, I wonder where they buried him,” she said, spacing off into the distance. “There is no sympathy from the dead. Nor do they care for the living,” he said to her. “I know. But I’d like to think they did. He was just a child.”

The whole ride quickly became gloomy and sour as the pair battled their grief as bad memories and remorse overcome their thoughts. “Does that stop you from hunting in the forest?” Aemond asked, trying to bring peace to her. “No, not really. I think I became eager to hunt here. Maybe one day I can find him well and just…cleverly hiding between trees,” she said with a bitter chuckle, sensing her denial of her brother’s disappearance. A sense of protectiveness washed over Aemond, knowing what it felt like to see light in the midst of darkness. Denying the truth to comfort yourself. He knew of that feeling.

“Maybe one day you would. One day.”

Crack. Swish.

“What was that?”

Crack. Crack. Crack.

“A wild beast?” Aemond asked.

A figure emerging slowly behind the tree as they pass. “That is no beast,” the wildling alarmingly said, taking over the reins and snapped it making their horse gallop through the dark forest. “I would’ve preferred it to be a wild beast so we can take it home, yet you and I know that is no beast, snow hair,” she spoke as the harsh winds of the north hits their faces. Aemond looked back, seeing two..three...four figures catching up onto them.

“How do we escape them?” He asked.

“Hold on tight.”

She took a turn in a swift motion, galloping off the road going between trees. In hopes for them to stop gaining on them. The wildling kept snapping the reins ordering the horse to go faster with only the moon being their source of light. “C’mon…c’mon…,” he heard her grunting as she took a glance behind and saw some still following their tracks. Galloping between trees, their horse finally took them to safety at the edge of the forest, to a clear opening.

Making Aemond have a clear vision of the undead.

Their skins were pale, almost blue.

They look like humans yet they were not at the same time.

The creatures frightened him more than anything else, but as they neared the edge of the forest, the White Walkers ceased their pursuit and vanished behind the trees. Aemond exhaled deeply, relieved that they had escaped the forest unharmed. Suddenly the horse neighed, abruptly stopping. Making both of them grunt in pain when they nearly fell. “What’s wrong?” The wildling asked the horse before an arrow striked a tree behind them. They looked around, trying to find any signs of life.

“What are you doing?” Aemond hissed when she stepped down from the horse. “Where’s my dagger?” She whispered, ignoring his previous question. Aemond sighed, tossing her the dagger beneath his black cloak. Catching it with ease, she spoke into the air,

“It’s only me! Gruff? Yuri?” Aemond was curious about those people she called out. Were they one of her people? Who were they?

“Blimey kid, you scared the shit out of us!”

A loud booming voice suddenly said, emerging from the snowy ecosystem. Their thick fur coats also seemed to be efficient for camouflage. Aemond saw how his peculiar she wildling smiled brightly when she spotted her friend, running towards the tall red haired man giving him a tight hug making them both laugh as he picked her up in his arms.

Aemond rolled his eye.

“Thought you were gone for! We saw those creepy dead people- thank the gods!” The red haired wildling said, ruffling her hair. “Oww! No! Do you think that low of me, old man?!” She asked with a laugh, shoving the man away from her. “Oi, I'm not that old, young lady.” Locking her head once again with his arm. “Yuri! Look who just came back from the dead!” The red haired shouted, now another wildling emerged from the opening. His hair was blonde, almost as light as the hair of the Lannisters. “We really thought you were dead, kid,” Yuri said, patting her shoulder.

Who were they? Why were they awfully close with her?

From what he witnessed, a young woman could only interact like this with the opposite gender if they were siblings or wedded. Even he never saw any of his wedded acquaintances interacting this way. Were they her siblings? They don’t seem to resemble one another, were they bastards? Did they came from different mothers?

Aemond cleared his throat, stepping down from his horse, interrupting their reunion.

“Ah yes- Gruff, Yuri, this is ehm..Aemond Targaryen. The man that I spoke of to the both of you,” she said. The red haired, who was named Gruff looked Aemond from head to toe. “Gruff and Yuri are my hunting friends. We’ve been hunting together since we were children and fun fact, we have the same grandsire.”

Gruff slowly approached the one eyed prine, keeping an eye on him. Aemond straightened his back to appear taller, gripping the handle of his sword, preparing himself. Once Gruff stopped in front of him, their noses bumping into each other, he spoke,

“Did your mum fucked a snowman?”

“I beg your pardon–,” Aemond stepped closer, ready to draw his sword out.

“–Alright that’s enough!” She quickly stepped between the two men. “What Gruff was trying to say was, how is your hair silver?” She asked. "My father, my grandsire, my great-grandsire—all of them had silver hair," Aemond hissed, his gaze fixed on the red-haired wildling. "How did they end up with silver hair?" the red-haired wildling asked, crossing his arms. Aemond couldn't believe how absurd this conversation had become. Frustrated, he let his hands drop. "We're from old Valyria," Aemond explained with resignation. "It's simply a trait we have—silver hair is just part of who we are."

“Valyria? What’s that?” The blonde wildling asked curiously. “It's a place far from the north, Yuri– Now come on! We must bring him to the Chief.” Walking past them, she held the horse’s reins and started walking ahead. Gruff purposely bumped Aemond’s shoulder as he passed through the one eyed prince. Aemond rolled his eyes again, resigned to the childish behavior of these people, before catching up and walking alongside her. Compared to the two wildlings, he found her more tolerable. At least she didn’t ask pointless questions.s. “I have told our Chief about you,” she said. “I am sure he will take it easy on you,” she said.

“Does he takes it easy with anyone else?”

“No, not really. He’s quite rude if you ask me.”

“As rude as your friend there?” Aemond chuckled bitterly.

“You’re in for a ride,” she chuckled, patting Aemond’s shoulder.

As much as Aemond would like to worry, he could not as he knew that she was the one who brought him to her people. For her people needed him, not the other way around. He hoped that this agreement would be the means for her to fulfill her promise and return him to Westeros once and for all. Additionally, he couldn’t help but notice her diminutive stature compared to his own—she barely reached his shoulder, smaller than any lady from Westeros yet possessing a fierceness and demeanor that defied conventional femininity. A smirk tugged at his lips..

And there he saw it. In the vast expanse of snow-covered terrain, a tribe lives a nomadic life, their existence marked by resilience and adaptability. Their tents, typically made of sturdy animal hides or woven materials, scattered across the field. The tents are insulated with layers of fur and cloth, designed to withstand the biting cold. The camp itself is a lively hub of activity despite the harsh environment. Smoke curls up from several central hearths, where fires are kept burning to provide warmth and to cook meals. The scent of roasting meat and simmering stews mingled with the crisp, cold air when he stepped closer to them.

Like when he first entered Winterfell, all eyes fell upon him, following him as he walked side by side with her. “It seems you have captured the people’s attention,” she teased with a cocky smile. “Why is it because of my hair or my eye?” He asked. “Neither. It’s your attire.” Aemond looked down to his clothing. Of course, he’s still dressed like a member of the night’s watch.

“We hate the crows in here, so it’s better for you to strip those clothes after you meet our Chief,” she said, giving him a wink. Before he could protest, a snow hit his cloak, making him flinch. Turning around, he saw a couple of children running around, even snickering at his presence. “Careful now boys!” She chuckled, greeting some of those children. “Never seen a crow, huh?” She crouched down, talking to the children surrounding her.

“He only has one eye!” One of the children tried to whisper to her. “Scary, isn’t he? Tell you what, I’ll let you pick on him when I’m not around,” she said to the kids, making them snicker and giggle in excitement.

She was really good with children.

Throughout his life, he rarely sees his mother or even his sister being this natural with children. It makes him wonder if she has one.

“For the meantime, can all of you keep an eye on our horse?” Offering the rein to the children, in which they eagerly accepted before taking the horse away. Aemond curiously kept his eye on the horse as the children led it away. “Don’t worry, they are very gentle with horses. They know their purpose,” she reassured him before she started to walk once more.

Approaching one of the biggest tents in the area, the spearwife stops beside him, “If the Chief likes you, you’ll live another day.” Before smiling mischievously stepping inside the tent. Slightly on edge, he hesitated to follow them inside. But he would not cower in fear and enter anyways. Reminding himself to keep himself in check if he wants to go home. He stepped inside, his eye falling onto a man sitting in his chair as his companions surrounded him, whispering to each other.

“Chief, I would like you to meet the crow I spoke of. This is Aemond Targaryen,” she introduced him. Aemond nodded with respect to their chief, an older wildling who carefully inspected Aemond, standing up from his seat. “Targaryen,” he said. “A peculiar tribe. Was it true that your family had power over dragons?” The Chief asked in which Aemond instantly nodded, “Yes, my Lord.”

All of them chuckled humorously.

“Lord? I’m flattered to be called a Lord,” the chief said in humour.

“So, where is your dragon now?”

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Aemond spoke.

“She was killed at war.” A sense of bitterness, trying to mask his grief and sadness for Vhagar’s death.

“A shame,” the Chief said.

A pregnant pause.

“I want everybody out of this tent.” Aemond’s eyes widened. Was he going to be murdered? Did he not fulfil the Chief’s expectations?

“But Chief–,”

“–Especially you, girl. I shall talk to you when I’m done with this crow.”

Aemond instantly locked his eye with hers. Even her expression was unreadable as she hesitantly turned around to exit the tent. She gave him a nod, giving him support before leaving him alone with the Chief. Aemond turned his gaze back to the Chief who was crossing his arms inspecting Aemond from head to toe.

“The girl likes you,” the Chief chuckles. “If it wasn’t for her you’d probably be dead by now. Killed by those crows.” Aemond kept his expression stoic as he brushed off the Chief’s words. “Speaking of crows, she told me you were forced to be one. Was that true?”

Aemond nodded.

“Yes, Chief.”

“What was your crime?”

“I was called a traitor to the Starks. Yet I beg to differ, for it was them who were traitors,” Aemond bravely said.

“Traitors to whom?”

“The Throne. My brother.”

“Your brother? Your brother sat on a throne?”

“Yes, Chief.”

“That makes you a prince, then.”

A title he deeply missed. Aemond stood proudly, straightened his back as he kept his chin up high.

“I am–,”

“You were.”

“For you are currently not in Westeros, my boy. You are beyond the wall. Everyone beyond the wall fights for survival. For nature does not care if you’re a king or a criminal. And so far as I know, you stand before me,” the Chief said, telling Aemond to abandon his title as prince. “Where does your loyalty lie, boy?” The Chief asked, stepping closer to the one eyed prince. “To the crows?–”

“–No,” Aemond spoke with no hesitation.

“The Starks?”

“Never.”

The Chief hummed in agreement. “The girl told me you wished to be rewarded. To go back to your family.” Aemond nodded, wishing nothing more than that. “So you’re loyal to your family,” he pointed out.

Aemond nodded.

“Good. A man should always stay loyal to his family.”

He poured his drink onto his cup, “But will you stay loyal to us as you serve my tribe? And lead us to victory?” Aemond looked down, seeing the cup lent to him. Offering a friendship– an alliance– trust. Trusting a wildling. It seemed impossible for him, but he recalled simple questions by those wildlings about his hair. They were a simple tribe, living out of the complicated politics of Westeros. He could outsmart them easily and they’re offering him friendship.

She paced back and forth in front of the Chief’s tent, waiting for the Targaryen to exit the tent unharmed. “You seemed stressed, kid,” Gruffed snickered, crossing his arms as he took notice on worried expression. “Of course, I am,” she said, stopping her steps abruptly. “May I know why?” He chuckled.

“Is it because of the crow?–”

“–He is not a crow. He loathes the crows as much as we do.”

Gruff chuckled amusingly.

“And? I bet Chief will tolerate him–,”

“–What if he doesn't? What if he beheaded that man and puts him on a spike?!–”

“–So what? What if he were beheaded? You should not care for that outsider—,”

“–I don’t care about him! I-I-I just want what’s best for our people–,”

“–You like him,” Gruff points at her with a mocking laugh. “I don’t! You pig!” She shouted defensively, quickly slapping Gruff’s arm repeatedly. “You do! You like that snow haired boy!” Gruff kept pointing at her as he teased her. The young she wildling grunts in frustration as he denies her feelings for the Targaryen. “If you speak of this one more time, I will kill you in your sleep, Gruff.”

“Oooh you’ll kill me in my sleep, eh? Right, sure you don’t like that boy, surely if he one day betrays us will you kill him in his sleep?”

“I will. And I’ll cut off his cock and hang it in front of your tent,” she speaks bluntly.

“Right, you sure you won’t use that for anything else?”

Her face turned red before she threw a hard punch across the red haired’s face. Groaning in pain, Gruff still laughed at her being so flustered with his words. “Why do you like him anyways? Is it because of his hair? His eye? Ooh his other eye, the sapphire?” Gruff asked, sitting up curiously looking at his friend. “For the last time, I do not like our new comer,” she repeated herself. “Keep telling that to yourself, kid. If I see silver haired babies one day–.”

The tent opened, Aemond stepping out of the tent.

Unharmed.

“Ah, so he gave you a chance to live another day,” she said quickly, changing her once worried demeanour into the confident young wildling she is. Aemond could only nod, towering over her. “I shall, and I will.”

His purple eye fixed on hers, “Where can I find new clothes?”

a/n: stay tuned for the next chapter and I apologize if this is not my best work but😊✨

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