#dances and daggers chapter 4

[yona049]

𝕻𝖍𝖆𝖓𝖙𝖔𝖒 𝖔𝖋 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝕺𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖆 𝖝 𝖗𝖊𝖆𝖉𝖊𝖗

Part 4

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(Phantom finally returns!)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

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Disclaimer!

>Many time skips

>Rushed chapter! (pls let me know if you spot a mistake)

>This has evolved into its own story, if its not something you're interested in, feel free to skip this one and check out some other fics on my page! °v°

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A horrible taste sat in Y/n's mouth as she stared out the window at the setting sun while sitting on the bed. She'd been in thought all day, trying to figure out what to do. She'd loved Aloïs, but this Aloïs was new to her, new personality, new possessions, new life.

She's pulled from her thoughts when a gentle hand rubs her head.

"You haven't touched your dinner, mon chéri."

Erik's adorable nickname flew right over her head.

"Oh! Yes of course."

She takes the plate and spoon from Erik only to fall back into thought after the first bite. Tapping on the plate slowly with the spoon.

Erik chuckles a little before taking her hand holding the spoon.

"Shall I feed you?" he pushes the spoon onto her lip.

Y/n takes the bite delicately with butterflies dancing in her stomach. Finally her thoughts were concentrated on Erik again and she starts eating.

Erik walks back to his bed and sat facing her. With a small wetstone he rhythmically scraped the edges of his dagger.

"I think, I should give Aloïs a chance."

Erik glances up at Y/n with a pause before resuming his sharpening.

"Oh? You didn't look so compliant this morning."

"I know, but if there's any chance My Aloïs is still there, perhaps I should take it. The riches that come after, is simply insurance for us."

"Us?"

Erik questions. Y/n realizes her words and suddenly their situation becomes clearer.

"Of course, I could never dream of abandoning you. You've saved me so many times-.."

"Then why not stay with me!" his interruption seems almost threatening this time. Eyes drilling into Y/n's.

Y/n sets down the plate and walks to Erik. She kneels down infront of him and takes his hands in hers, watching the words in his eyes.

"Erik, If I were to marry Aloïs. We'd be upper class. You could finally have a chance to see her again."

Erik quickly looks away and shakes his head.

"Who are you enquiring about?"

She delicately squeezes his hands, then also looks away, down at his hands.

"You don't have to deny it. I've seen you sing with her. Even if she is far from here, you always look out the windows as if you could see her. The sparkling in your eyes Erik. I... Could never hope to compete."

Erik didn't look back but his heart ached knowing Y/n's words were true to some extent. He still loved Christine even just a little. How could he not? He'd taught her how to find her voice, listened to her prayers night after night.

Y/n stood up and planted a kiss on Erik's head, then pulling him into a hug. His arms curled around her upper legs with his head on her stomach.

Patting his head delicately she smiled at his genuine, loving hug.

"Tomorrow, when Aloïs returns, I'll give him a chance. After that, we will decide what lays ahead."

She walks out of his grasp without another word and pulls the curtains shut. Once she couldn't see Erik anymore, he looked back at her.

A thin curtain keeping their bodies and souls apart, but so did a man and a woman who they both once loved.

Y/n lifts the ring that Aloïs gave her off the bed side table to look at it, quite coincidentally, so too did Erik lift Christine's ring.

○○○○

No sooner did morning come and Y/n found herself face to face with Aloïs outside the tavern.

Him dressed in a new fancy coat while she stood in the same dress she wore yesterday. Erik up in their room but with a keen ear listening to each word.

Y/n lifts her index finger up to Aloïs and stands confidently, chest out and feet steadfast in the ground.

"One outing. One chance to show me you're still the Aloïs I knew and loved."

Aloïs's eyes light up and he is quick to take Y/n's hand and kiss it catching her off gaurd. Not a good start.

"Thank you, chéri! We could go anywhere! Anywhere you'd like!"

Y/n shakes her head and pulls her hand back rubbing it.

"I think it's best if you decide."

"Alright then! Tonight we make for the new Opera house!"

The new Opera house! Where Christine sings? It wouldn't be right towards Erik. In many ways she'd feel like she was betraying him.

Y/n shakes her head trying to quickly object but once again Aloïs's excitement gets the best of him.

"Aloïs! Hold on, we can't! Um... Because, I-I have nothing to wear! "

Aloïs grabs onto the carriage as it starts moving.

"Don't worry! I shall have a dress and other essentials sent here! I will arrive shortly before 6 to pick you up."

Using his feathered hat he waves goodbye to Y/n who is already chewing on her nail with a stiff body.

Erik peaks out the window and watches Y/n rush up the stairs.

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"For the 100th time, Y/n. It's fine!"

Erik stated once again watching Y/n pull the biggest fancy blue dress out of the box it was delivered in.

"Still it doesn't feel right! After what we talked about last night. I should've stopped him sooner!"

With his hands on his hips he watches Y/n struggle with all the fancy things Aloïs sent to her for their date.

"Even if I did object, darling. We can't change it now."

Y/n, trying to pull the large frilly dress off the floor and into her arms, sighs heavily. She peaks through the bundle of a dress in her arms at Erik.

"I am sorry you have to be here alone tonight. Boris was nice enough to give us the night off. Will you be ok?"

She almost stumbles into the closed curtains to get dressed. Small sparkling bits of jewelry were spread out on the bed aswell as make up and fresh shoes.

"I'll be quite fine. I'm no stranger to one night alone. Besides, you should try to enjoy tonight."

Once again Erik watches Y/n's silhouette. She drops the dress she wore onto the floor before crawling her way in though the bottom of the hooped skirt and pushing herself through the arm and head holes.

"I won't be too long hopefully. Still, it will be nice to be back in an Opera house, all be it a completely different one."

She pulls a little and straightens out the dress and puts the shoes on the ground slipping them on. She takes the corset off the bed and pulls it around her torso then pulling the strings as much she could.

"Erik! I might need some help with the corset."

She steps out of the curtains looking down while trying to clip a necklace around the back of her neck.

"Of course I'll-..."

His words drift off once Y/n comes into full view. Her dress a beautiful dark blue with small decorated flakes of gold. A beautiful off shoulder medium length sleeve top with little white frills.

"... Help."

Finishing his sentence with a paced heart and eyes glued to Y/n. She looked so beautiful, it reminded him of all the gowns he'd seen rich woman wear going to see the Opera. A warming nostalgic feeling, mixed with astonished glances to Y/n's clean completion.

He takes a few steps to behind Y/n where he took the strings of the corset and pulled them tight.

Y/n gasped softly once the corset pushed her torso into shape. Erik's hand guide itself over her aside and onto her stomach.

A roaming hand on her stomach going up, Y/n felt the same longing for Erik's touch she'd felt many times before.

"How does it feel? Can you breath?"

Erik whispered to her sending shivers up the back of her neck.

Although she really couldn't breath because of how close Erik was, she nodded.

"Let me help with your hair."

Y/n didn't know how, but Erik seemed to know exactly how to put hair up neat and tidy. This once again brought Erik's past into question. What did he do in the Opera?

Even tho he'd answered the question before, Y/n doubted he helped only moving things around and doing maintenance.

Y/n's hair was freshly washed and dried. She hasn't worn her hair up in a while, she'd always danced with loose hair and gone her days without putting it up.

This means it was the first Erik had seen her like this. Open shoulders and beautiful neckline. He was very unsure why he felt this way for someone other than Christine.

He places a delicate kiss on Y/n's neck, again causing Y/n to gasp at the unexpected moment.

She looks back at Erik connecting with his gaze. A powerful moment from both of them. Y/n wanted to kiss Erik, he wanted exactly the same.

"You're beautiful, Y/n."

He whispers to her.

She smiles a little hearing his little praise and delicately she places her hand on the side of his head.

Nervous but entranced by her, not because she wore a fancy dress or makeup, but because of her smile, because of her lasting laughs and love to all things.

Now more than ever, he needed to decide. Loose one Dimond, or continue chasing another he'd lost sight of long ago.

Within an instant Erik's lips meet hers. Suddenly fireworks spark and all moments they've shared before mix into one. Erik's hand on her stomach push her closer towards him and Y/n grips the back of his hair lightly.

Y/n felt the warmth in his lips, soft hands holding her like he'd never let go. Body language threatening to keep her captured and protected. His forever. She'd felt his embrace so many times before, but this felt warmer than sunshine on her face.

A lasting kiss mixed with uncertainty when the sound of horses come down the street.

Y/n Quickly pulls away putting her hand over her mouth and Erik grits his teeth at the interrupted kiss.

"Erik, I'm sorry, I had no right." Y/n felt the need to apologize.

"Nonsense! This was my decision."

His hands were now shaking, his decision now greatly turned to one side. To Y/n. He wanted to tell her not to go. He wanted to hold her and run to where Aloïs couldn't touch her or even look at her again.

"Y/n-..."

"Stop!" Y/n demanded pulling Erik's hand off her stomach.

"Please don't make this harder than it is! I've tried to ignore it. I'm trying not to be selfish."

She takes a deep shaky breath and rubs her eyes keeping the tears from rushing out.

"I'm trying not to love you, because I know you love her."

With a crumpled bit of her dress squeezed in her fists she clears her throat.

"I'll be back soon, then we can talk!"

She looks up at Erik with glossed eyes then lifts her dress off the ground and running out of the room.

Erik stood frozen, his thoughts rushing with uncertain desire. A longing for another.

Y/n ran downstairs with heavy breathing and tears falling onto the floor but she shook her head and plastered on a smile.

She waved goodbye to Boris who called her pretty girl before she left, giving her a little more reason to smile.

Finally coming out of the tavern. Aloïs is stunned and offers his hand.

"My lady, beautiful as always." Aloïs complimented and placed a small kiss on her hand.

A bouquet of flowers is pulled out of the carriage and given to Y/n. She looked down at the brightly colored flowers and smelled them.

"Their beautiful, Aloïs. Thank you."

Aloïs smiled but stopped for a moment.

"You're not wearing the ring?"

Y/n shakes her head and looks back at the tavern to their room.

"I must have forgotten it."

"Well then! Let's be off, mon amour. The Opera awaits! And perhaps more good news! Christine is preforming tonight. One of the Opera performances you danced for, I think."

Helping Y/n into the carriage, their off into the night air and to the Opera. The Opera house was shining bright in the dimly lit Paris night and was visible even from the tavern.

Erik was still caught in the room, his fists clenched and his jaw locked.

A sudden swing into the wall breaking the wooden plank instantly. Heavy breathing and hair hanging over his eye.

"She is not your mon amour."

His body fuming with anger, feeling once again he was too late! Once again he'd lost to a pretty rich boy. The sunshine when he was the darkness.

He pulled his bloody splintered hand out of the wooden wall still not satisfied. He wanted to bash Aloïs's skull in. He wanted to take Y/n and tell her he loved her, how it took him this long to realize was his own wrong doing.

Her teary and frightened eyes popping into his head. How could someone so beautiful look so sad. Erik felt all the signs flood back from hidden memories.

Y/n's gentle voice helping him stay awake while she carried him after the fire. Her soft hand washing his wound. Her smile not fearing his face. Never once did she shutter away from his touch. All he wanted was to see her smile so happily after a long night's dance.

He made a decision. He wasn't going to let the fool take her, he would take her first.

He once again pushed out the false bottom out of the closet floor to reveal a white mask and black cape along with clothing he wore once before.

He chuckles deeply and pulls the mask onto his face.

"I'll need you once again, old friend. Beware, the Phantom of the Opera."

With a maniacal laughter he swings his cloak on and dissappears into darkness.

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The Opera house burned bright with people and chatter! Golden statues of beautiful men and woman, and a miraculous staircase upon entering.

Y/n felt so out of place when walking on the red carpet. Not even a speck of dust on the polished floors.

Her eyes dazzled with excitement and she'd never felt so far from home.

"Erik! Look at the chandelier!" she pointed with a gloved hand.

Aloïs turns away from his conversation with another older looking noble couple and runs up to her.

"Darling! It's quite beautiful isn't it!"

He quickly puts his arm around her waist and pulls her to his side.

"Don't mind her silly little mind. She gets confused who she's with sometimes."

He explains to the couple. Y/n's mind quickly corrects itself remembering Erik isn't here and her cheeks flush.

Aloïs takes her hand and kisses it before pulling it to his heart.

"My darling Y/n and I are celebrating our engagement! Aren't we?"

Y/n looks at Aloïs confused for a second before the nobel woman claps her hands together happily.

"That's wonderful! I'm happy that the daughter of the famous dancer, will marry my nephew, soon."

Aloïs smiles proudly.

"Yes! Quite a spectacle! Now if you'll excuse us. We have many people to meet."

Aloïs bows his head gently and pulls Y/n towards another couple giving Y/n a chance to plant her feet in the ground and stop.

Her eyes move to Aloïs's with a stern glare.

"Aloïs. We didn't agree to this! We agreed that after I'd make my decision."

Aloïs sighs then nods with a guilty sigh.

"I know, mon amor. But I'm very confident in your answer. As I've said. This is a better life. Besides, I don't want you to rot in that tavern any longer."

His fingertips delicately brush over her cheek and he smiles.

"You're my darling, Y/n. I will keep you safe, till the end of your days until you die comfortably in a silk bed with as many fur children you'd like."

Y/n looks away for a second before thinking of Erik's face, the expression he made every night listening to Christine sing in their cramped little room. She could help him as much as she could help herself.

She looks back up at Aloïs with his glittering outfit and fine polished shoes. Her hand reaches for his bicep and she smiles.

"W-who else do we need to meet? Um.. Darling?"

Aloïs once again smiles with joy and pulls her off to another noble man where she smiles carefully and nods politely.

By the time they arrived in box 5 high above the stage, Y/n was exhausted. She sunk into her seat like a tierd dad after work. She took a breath and quickly straightens herself out to sit straight.

She looks around the box because she'd always wondered why rich nobles found these seats so desirable. She could see the entire stage, tho it was a little far to make out the details.

Aloïs still with heaps of energy flips though the thin paper pamphlet and leans over to Y/n.

"Ah! This opera is the same one that Christine debuted in. I remember her white dress, it took incredibly long to sew all those little white pearls into the dress!"

Y/n smiles and nods.

"I remember, your hands had so many bandaids on for weeks, I was worried about you."

Aloïs puts the pamphlet onto his lap and lifts Y/n's hand to place a small kiss on her knuckles.

"I remember the small cuts, but I remember how you kissed each finger and held me so gently when we fell asleep. "

His thumb traces over her fingers as he stares at them thinking.

"One day, I will create a white dress for you too, mi amor."

For a very small moment, Y/n felt her heart spark. Her Aloïs was starting to shine though again.

Aloïs pulls his hand back and the light dims.

Suddenly a spotlight on stage and the play begins. Dancers fill the stage and Y/n couldn't help her excitement. She clapped watching a dance she knew off by heart. Her feet started bouncing with her urge to dance.

Aloïs smiled and placed a small kiss on her cheek then whispered into her ear.

"Your passion burns bright and beautiful, Y/n."

Another spark made Y/n giggle genuinely before she looks back at the stage.

The orchestra starts with a sudden blast of music filling the large Opera house. Up close and personal she could hear a voice start off with a strong note.

The spotlight shifts, and there she was. The famous and beautiful, Christine Daaé. Y/n's friend and inspiration to dance.

Her toes point on instinct in the very uncomfortable shoes which reminded her not to act like a child.

She presses her lips together and dims down her excitement to a gentle foot tap.

She watches the opening Opera sequence and soon the play has begun. Actors singing out their lines and an occasional cheers from the crowd.

Y/n took full advantage of moments of cheers to yell her support, knowing all the effort that goes into each play. The preparation and weeks of rehearsals.

Nearing the end of the play Y/n is fully distracted by the singing beauty, she didn't notice the quietly approaching figure behind her. A hand slowly reaching for her shoulder and suddenly grabbing it.

Y/n jumps suddenly and turns to look. An old noblmen with wine in his hand and quite drunk.

The noblmen slurs as he asks.

"Has the play started yet, Aloïs?"

Aloïs takes the mans hand off her shoulder quickly and pulls him towards him.

"Monsieur Du Beu, you're in the wrong box I'm afraid."

Y/n shakes her head and tries to focus on the Opera. After some time, Aloïs and the noblmen were still talking about business? Or something. Y/n tried to ignore it, but the chatter was too loud.

She bit her lip before deciding to slip out and closer to the stage.

"I'm going to get some fresh air." she whispers and Aloïs nods back acknowledging.

She lifts her big dress and hurries down the corridor towards the stage. The rooms were dark and very dimly lit until she saw a bright little room, calling her towards it.

She smiles once entering seeing a dressing room with many little bits of dresses and costumes.

She spots one in particular hung over a chair in the middle of the room, from the play being performed right now and smiles to herself.

She lifts the dancing dress and presses it against her body measuring.

"Perhaps they wouldn't mind if I borrowed this? Only for this dance number. No one will see me! "

She convinced herself in her excitement to dance formally again.

She quickly dresses in the dress and pulls on some dancing shoes she found with the dress. Wierd how it fit so perfectly?

She taps her toes on the ground to nuzzle her feet into each cranny comfortably.

Sneaking back out into the corridor she looks for an open space where she could preform the next dance number coming up.

It was a dance that required a partner and usually, it was only one duo dancing on center stage. No background dancers. Only the singer in the front corner.

Finally in the darkness she sees a large open room, incredibly dark but she could dance the routine there.

She smiled taking her place in the middle of the room lifting her arms and waiting for the music to echo from the stage. Something felt too perfect about this. And it turns out, she was quite right.

Suddenly, the lights go on and the curtains whoosh open to reveal the entire audience infront of her. Somehow she'd wandered right onto stage, into some kind of trap? Now she needed to preform the dance for real.

Y/n stood frozen in place, both from shock and terror from how she'd gotten herself into this mess.

The dance partner walks behind bed and moves his hand around her waist ready to start the choreography. A dance partner she had no practice time with whatsoever.

She looked up at Aloïs who looked back. He was confused, he couldn't tell if Y/n stood on stage because it was too far. So he kept watching.

The music starts and Christine is stood in the front corner, singing her musical number. Each step Y/n takes is on fire, with fear that someone would realize she's not the right dancer.

As she and this stranger dances together, she hears a deep chuckle.

"So stiff? Wondering how you possibly wandered onto stage?"

Y/n's head turns to look at the partner she'd gotten and once again she's shot with another surprise.

A white mask she'd never seen up close. But everyone knows of after the fire. The man who kidnapped Christine and set the flames ablaze.

The Phantom of the Opera was now lifting her into the air and following each step of the dance precisely.

His mask was so well blended with the costumes actors wore. No audience member would feel the need to be alert.

White mask and black sleek back hair, a thick coat and formal wear only a nobleman would wear. Y/n couldn't be sure, but she knew to some extent, it must be the Phantom.

"Phantom.."

She questioned in a whisper.

"So you do recognize me."

He confirms her suspicious and spins her round.

She stops spinning and only takes small steps on her toes. Her shock turns to anger.

"You criminal! Monster! Murderer!"

She growls and felt the need to pull away and run! But the Phantom grabs her hands and pulls her back into his chest as the dance routine commanded.

"Now, now my dear. You wouldn't want to alert anyone that you're not where you're supposed to be."

She looks at the audience and then at Aloïs before pressing her lips together into a smile.

"Are you trying to get to Christine again! Well there she is! Go get her!"

Y/n taunts with an angry glare.

She steps back throwing her body back into a dip, trusting the Phantoms arm around her wist to catch and pull her back to her feet. Following each dance step to a T.

"I'm not here for Christine."

On beat he takes her chin and moves it to look at him.

"I'm here for you."

His words deep and mysterious, but somehow Y/n believed every part of it.

She felt her body shake in fear. Her mind spun back to the fire that burnt her lover. Almost killed her, and had killed so many others that she loved. Her home burnt to ashes, causing so much pain for her to start over.

She took this oppertunity to push herself out of phantoms arms and run to the front of the stage.

"Aloïs-.."

She screamed, but she's quickly pulled back into Phantom's arms. His black gloved hand covering her mouth and nose restricting her breathing. He pulled her to the back of the stage.

Aloïs finally caught on and jumped to his feet.

"It's the Phantom of the Opera!"

His voice loud enough to echo through the quiet opera house. The music brought to a sudden halt and Christine stopped singing. Everyone starts to panic and rush to the exit.

Y/n still kicking and trying to pull Phantom's hand off her mouth, felt her vision blur and her body slowly goes limp. Knowing Y/n couldn't run, Phantom pulls Y/n against him holding her securely.

He smirks suddenly wrapping Y/n in his cloak and grabbing hold of a roap that hung at the back of the stage. Precisely placed and planned.

With a zip of a mechanism, Y/n and Phantom are pulled through the air and out of sight.

"NO! Y/N!"

Aloïs yells and suddenly runs out of the box throwing off his coat.

He rushes towards the stage with some guards following closely behind. With a slide and a turn he enters the costume room where he spotted the, big puffy blue dress Y/n wore, on the ground.

Ontop of her dress was a note and a white rose with a black bow tied around the stem.

Aloïs takes the note that read 'I remembered her. Now she is here with me, I've decided.'

Aloïs growls and crumpled the note in his hand. He turns to the soldiers and yells.

"Search the Opera house basement! Search the tavern! FIND HER! Find Y/N!"

[ashblooddragons]

The Red Queen (Chapter 4/?)

110 ac

Your pov

I sit on the floor of my room clutching my stuffed Caraxes, tears rolling down my face as I listen to my Papa and Kepus fight. They do this every time Nyra and I have a spat, or in truth when Nyra yells at me for one reason or another. This time it was because I was dancing in the halls with Laena and I tripped and bumped into her which made her almost trip and fall into a puddle. The only difference this time is Nyra grabbed my arm hard as she yelled at me, the Maester said I’ll heal perfectly fine but it still stings. What concerned him the most was the cuts on my arms from her nails stating “to grab the princess this tightly–it makes one wonder how cruel Princess Rhaenyra can be.”    

“Why Viserys? Why can’t you just be a fucking father for once in your life and take care of this? Why has it had to come to her being bruised so badly a maester is called for you to finally realize there is a problem?” Kepus yells furiously. 

“Do not tell me how to raise my girls, Daemon!” Papa yells back. “Up until this Rhaenyra hasn’t been violent, we need to find out if there is more to the story. This truly couldn’t have happened over something so miniscule.” Papa says trying to calm him and Kepus down but from what Kepus says next it doesn’t seem like it did. 

“Are you jesting right now? Viserys, tell me this is a jest! Have you not seen what me and Aemma, Seven hells the whole court has seen?” Kepus’s yelling isn’t scaring me as much as what he says next, for his voice sounds calm and yet it still sends chills down my spine. “If you won’t do something about this Viserys, I will. And let it be known you won’t like what happens.”  I hear Papa stuttering as Kepus opens my door and slams it behind him as he walks over to me.

“Don’t be mad at Nyra, she said she was sorry.” 

He chuckles but there is no joy behind it, he pinches the bridge of his nose, a habit I’ve noticed he does when frustrated. “Only because your mother made her, Sweetling. She didn’t want to, she was forced to. She must be punished for this, something like this can’t go unanswered.” He says as he picks me up and holds me close.

“Laena bit her so she’d let me go, is Laena going to be in trouble? I don’t want her to be in trouble, Kepus.” I say as I think about how she tried to save me.

Tears roll down my eyes as I feel her nails dig into my arm, it stings, it burns, it hurts. I look around for any help but find none as it’s only me, Laena, and Nyra in this hall. 

“Could you be any more stupid! You almost ruined my dress you brat!” 

 I try to get free of her grip but Nyra is stronger than me, her grip feels like a vice on my arm. I cry out when she twists my arm harshly, that’s when I hear Laena make what sounds like a battle cry as she runs over trying to free me from my sister’s grasp. 

“Let her go! Let her go this instant! I’ll hit you! I’ll do it you Bitch!” Laena screams 

“Oh shut up, you couldn’t hurt me even if you tried! I could have your head on a spike if I wished!” Nyra says as she goes to push Laena. Thankfully  Laena saw it coming, she grabbed Nyra’s hand and bit down hard making Nyra cry out. 

“What is the meaning of this!” I hear Kepus yell. Nyra goes wide eyed and lets me go staring at our uncle terrified. She backs away as he storms over to us. “You best get going, I find you’ll want your father's punishment more than mine.” he says as he grips the dagger that lays at his hip

I watch as he smiles proudly. “No, I’ll make sure of it. You have made a wonderful friend in Lady Laena, hold onto that friendship with everything you have. Can you do that for me, Sweetling?” At this request I nod which makes him smile fondly down at me. 

“You protect me too. You kill the scary spiders, and scare the monsters away from under my bed.” I say which seems to have amused him as he throws his head back laughing. 

“Those are very important things to protect you from, my girl.” he says smiling his first real smile since Nyra hurt me. 

That’s when we hear a knock at my door. “Are you in there?” I smile big and wiggle in his arms to get free, once he sets me down I rush to open the door. When I do I see Laena standing there smiling mischievously. “Guess what! My Mama told the King I got in trouble, but really she gave me a candy.” she says smiling as I hug her.  “Do you want to play? I’m so bored without you.” She asks. I nod vigorously as she takes my hand as we run off towards the gardens.

As we play in the royal gardens, Laena and I talk about our dragons. “The dragon keepers said Moonfyre is probably one of Sliverings babies. That’s why she’s so big.” Laena says proudly. And she’s not wrong, Moonfyre is as big as Dreamfyre which is considered a very large dragon, at least thats what Kepus told me. 

“Stromchaser is almost as big as Meleys, which means she’s a little bit smaller than Caraxes. I even heard that she may have babies in her tummy. Kepus told me, he said that they’re hers and Caraxes. Well at least that’s what the dragon keepers told him.”

“Wait, do you know where babies come from? Everytime I ask my Mama or Papa they change the subject or tell me, I'll know when I’m older.” 

I stop and think about it and shake my head. “I thought Mama's bellies get big because of the baby and then they show up.”

“But how do the babies get in the belly?” Laena whispers like we’re talking about something that will get us in trouble

“I never thought about that.” I whisper back. 

“We’ll ask at supper, they can’t lie if we both ask.” Laena says confidently.

Daemons pov

I’m talking to Viserys and Lord Corlys when you and your friend’s nursemaids walk you two into the dining hall for supper. You two seem to be bickering about something, which is odd as I can’t recall a moment you two were at odds with one another. 

When you two finally sit, you turn and stare at each other; it's as if you're having a conversation through eye contact alone. Finally you sigh and nod. “In a moment.” you whisper to which the little Velaryon nods.

I take your plate and fill it with all your favorites watching as you fidget nervously. When I set it down you start eating quickly, almost too quickly. Same goes for your friend, which strikes me as odd as you two are usually very dignified when you eat. Well as dignified as a four and five year old can be.

We all laugh about memories or talk about politics if you are my brother and Lord Corlys. It's no shock that Lord Corlys is trying to sweet talk my brother into agreeing to a trading deal with him and the crown. 

“And that, Your Grace, is why I think we can both benefit from this tra-” He continues to drone on until you interrupt him blurting out. 

“How are babies made?”

I choke on my wine, Viserys spits his out. Aemma blushes so profusely I think she’ll permanently be a shade of red. Corlys sits there with his gaping like a fish. The only one who seems composed after that question is my ravened haired cousin who only sighs and shakes her head seemingly trying not to laugh.

“Um wh-why do you ask, Darling?” Viserys asks as he clears his throat and squirms in his seat, obviously uncomfortable with where this evening's conversion has turned too. 

It’s not you that answers though, it’s the little Velaryon. “Well we were talking about our dragons, and then she told me Stormchaser is gonna have a clutch and that Caraxes is the Papa. Which made me wonder about how babies are made, which made her wonder, which led to this question.” She says matter of factly and waits for all of thirty seconds before huffing and asking. “Well, how do they get in the belly?” 

Everyone looks at each other trying to figure out who will answer and with what. That is until you pull on the sleeve of my doublet. “Do you know, Kepus?” you ask with a look that pulls at my heartstrings. 

Always so trusting of me, always believing the best in me, always making me feel loved. You're the only one in this gods forsaken keep that makes me feel appreciated, makes me wanted, the only one that misses me. So how can I not at least give you a half truth, for I most definitely won’t tell the full of it to you. 

I clear my throat before answering . “Of course I know, my girl. The way babes are made is…a lot of kissing.” I answer. 

You and the Velaryon girl gasp and look at each other, you two start whispering excitedly to each other. That is until you stop and look up at me confused. “But Nyra has kissed boys before, why doesn’t she have a baby?” You ask curiously

Viserys' eyes go wide when he hears this. “Who? Who has your sister kissed?” He asks trying to keep his anger at bay

You look at him and shrug. “One time I saw her kiss a knight with a flower on his chest, and Lanea said she saw her kiss a stable boy.” 

“A cute stable boy.” Laena corrects.

I watch as Aemma bites her lips and looks at my brother, a clear sign she’s furious but holding back for the children. “It seems our eldest needs a longer punishment, my love.” she says.

You flinch and reach for me when your father slams his fist on the table. “I swear that girl will be the death of me. Why must she always put herself in a position that can ruin her? Have we not warned her enough?” Viserys says furiously. 

Laena leans closer to the table and looks at Viserys. “Does it not help that the stable boy was cute?” She asks innocently, which seems to break the tension as we all chuckle and you girls join even though you have no idea why it’s funny. 

“I’m afraid not, Lady Laena. But thank you for pointing that out nonetheless.” Aemma responds, smiling softly.

After that eventful dinner I carry you to your room, you play a bit more as I can tell you're not even remotely tired yet. I had asked your nursemaid to get you changed into a nightgown and leave us. Once she has left you turn to look at me curiously. 

“Why don’t I have a baby?” You ask as you brush out your dolls hair, the one I gave you for your fourth nameday. It is supposed to take after your likeness, and I must say the craftsmanship is quite remarkable for it looks almost exactly like you.

“What do you mean, Sweetling?” I asked confused.

“You kiss me, but I don’t have a baby.” You say as if it’s obvious. I can’t help but burst out laughing, only stopping when you hang your head pouting. 

“Sweetling, where do I kiss you?” I ask, trying not to laugh. You point to your forehead and then touch your cheeks, I nod and pull you close. “Yes, but to have a babe you need someone to kiss your lips. Do you understand?” 

You think about it for a bit before nodding. “So when I want a babe I’ll need to kiss a boy's lips?” you confirm.

I nod, smiling trying to push down that beast that rears its head up at the thought of you needing anyone but me for anything you’d desire in this world. I never understood why this violent creature had shown once you were born, I remember holding you for the first time. It was like a religious experience. It felt like for the first time in my gods forsaken life I had my purpose for being here. As if you were sent to me by the gods of old Valyria, as if they knew you would be the one thing to keep me sane. 

Finally when I’ve calmed down I say. “Yes, but there is more to it, but you will learn of those things when you're older.” I can’t help but chuckle when you groan and turn around, turning your back to me. Annoyed that you must wait to learn what you believe should be taught to you now. I can not blame you, for even though everyone says you have time, you wish to know now and yet no one will teach you. Ah, to be a child with infinite wonder and curiosity, and yet told to not be and to be patient with the information of the world. Must be a frustrating thing indeed.

Viserys pov

I lean over the railing looking down at you and Daemon as you play and he chases you, I can’t help but smile when you run away giggling, trying to out run him so he can’t catch you, or should I say run away from the scary monster so he doesn’t eat you. My brother is a violent man, but yet with you he’s only ever gentle, kind, and loving ever devoted to you and your happiness. Though there is a dark side to this devotion, my mind can’t help but go to what he said the other day, If you won’t do something about this Viserys, I will. And let it be known, you won’t like what happens.

I’m taken out of my thoughts when the Lord Hand walks over to me, he looks down at you two as well. I can see him frown when you squeal happily when my brother picks you up and pretends to eat your fingers. Your fits of giggles could be heard by all in Kingslanding, I am sure of it. 

“Does this not worry you, Your Grace?” Otto asks, gesturing to you and Daemon.

“What do you mean?” I ask confused as I look down at the scene before me. There is nothing of note happening, besides an uncle playing with his niece.

“I mean no offense when I say this Your Grace, but does the prince’s attachment to the young princess not worry you? Many at court whisper of it, it’s quite concerning as the girl is only the age of four” He says critically.

He does this often, speaks of yours and Daemon’s closeness. It has begun to get tiresome for I know of the whispers and gossip, as I’ve told Otto many times. But does he listen? No. There are days I wonder what my brother had done to anger the Lord Hand again to make him bring this subject up yet again.

“Otto, we have been over this, there is nothing to concern ourselves with. My brother is only being a good and kind uncle to my daughter.” I answer sternly, making it clear there is no room for discussion. 

“Of course Your Grace.” He says, but I know this will not be the last time he brings up this subject.

“Have you made sure the dragon keepers know to not let Rhaenyra see her dragon for the moon?” I ask, smiling as you laugh joyously as Daemon carries you on his shoulders. 

You grip his hair pulling it every which way as if he were a horse. I can’t help chuckling every time he grimaces when you pull the strands roughly, yet each time he smiles when he hears a new fit of laughter come forth from you. 

“Yes, they have had to turn her away four times now, she is not pleased.” He answers 

“The punishment is not to please her, surely you understand what a punishment is supposed to do?” I say with a scoff

“Of course, Your Grace, I just know how you hate your daughters being at odds with you.” he says. 

I nod and turn back watching you and Daemon. You cling to him as if he is your lifeline, and there are some days I catch him doing the same to you. There is nothing to worry about with your relationship, at least not for now there isn’t.

Sorry for the late update! I got a head cold which wiped me out for some reason, I hope you enjoyed!

@baybaybear1 @ilikefelines @sugutoad

Special thanks to @sugutoad for making the header!

[nomie-11]

The Wounded Healer, The Drowned, and The Guilty Masterlist (ongoing, under editing!)

The Empyrean Book 1: Fourth Wing - Xaden Riorson x OC, Violet Sorrengail x Liam Mairi

Read Book 2 Here!

Word Count: 146.1k Chapter: 27/28

In the dark, suffocating confines of a basement dungeon, Genevieve Hale has spent over a year enduring relentless torture at the hands of Lilith Sorrengail. Her only companions are the stars she's etched into the ceiling—symbols of the hope she once had. But when Lilith offers a twisted deal that promises freedom in exchange for betrayal, Genevieve is forced to confront a future she never imagined. Now, set to become a rider at Basgiath War College, Genevieve emerges from captivity not as a broken prisoner, but as a weapon forged in pain and driven by a burning desire for vengeance. As she steps into the light, a dangerous resolve takes hold—Lilith Sorrengail will pay, and no one will stand in her way.

Chapter 1 -Chains of Starlight* (rewritten!)

Chapter 2 - Into the Storm* (rewritten!)

Chapter 3 - Secrets at Sunrise* (rewritten!)

Chapter 4 - The Dance of Survival

Chapter 5 - The Unyielding Duel

Chapter 6 - Echoing of Silent Screams

Chapter 7 - Forged in Flames

Chapter 8 - So What?

Chapter 9 - The Freedom of Wings

Chapter 10 - Shifting Tides

Chapter 11 - The Awakening of a Life Weaver

Chapter 12 - Above the Clouds, Beneath the Earth

Chapter 13 - An Inferno of Desire

Chapter 14 - Threads Unraveling

Chapter 15 - A Moment of Peace

Chapter 16 - Whispers of Winter

Chapter 17 - The Pursuit of Knowledge

Chapter 18 - The Scrutiny of a Sorrengail

Chapter 19 - Shadows of Secrets

Chapter 20 - The Silent Clash Before the Fall

Chapter 21 - A Renaissance of a Heart

Chapter 22 - To Take a Leap of Faith

Chapter 23 - Between the Fading Stars and Fireworks

Chapter 24 - The Double-Edged Dagger

Chapter 25 - When Death Waits Just Beyond The Horizon

Chapter 26 - Shadows of Blue and Silver

Chapter 27 - Starchild Rising

[inexplicifics]

I’m listening to the podfic of With Tenderness and Nobleness and just got to the part in Chapter 4 when Aiden and Lambert are discussing who could better wear a dress. It got me thinking about if there might be an occasion when Sasha goes somewhere outside of Kaer Morhen and Aiden wants to go with him and keep him safe without drawing attention to the fact that he has a male lover. Maybe Sasha goes to his brother’s wedding along with a contingent of witchers, and he knows that having a man on his arm would drum up trouble for his little brother, so he’s resigned to being courtly and unobtrusive. But THEN everyone has gotten ready and Aiden is in a dress and Lambert’s braided his hair and he’s learned the lady’s part of the court dances, and as far as the Redanians know he’s a lady witcher. They go to the wedding and the feast and they have a good time (and Aiden’s extra excited because NOW HE KNOWS HOW MILENA CARRIES HER DAGGERS).

Why would Aiden go dressed as a woman? He doesn’t care what the Redanians think of him and he respects women, and he wants his Sasha to have the full experience of attending his brother’s wedding with the person he loves, and he respects that Sasha does not want to draw attention or cause a scandal for his brother.

I don’t know if you were actually foreshadowing putting Aiden in a dress or if he and Lambert were just following their discussion through to it’s logical end, but that’s what I’m thinking about. Cheers!

I wasn't actually foreshadowing Aiden wearing a dress, but I think he'd enjoy the experience if he did. Skirts go swish! All the hidden knives! Sasha looks pleasingly Gobsmacked and Lustful!

I think the sticking point would be the beard. Aiden's quite proud of his beard.

[farieofshampoo]

THE WOLF & THE DRAGON (5/?)

warnings: violence

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 6

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC

word count: 4.5k

tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage

rating: 18+, !MDNI!

The Blade of a Wolf

Alarra hadn't touched her sword in weeks. When she arrived at Dragonstone, she swore off carrying it and it laid untouched in a cabinet for one moon. Her sword remained in that cabinet even in King's Landing. It had been sitting for days since she’d arrived. She didn't figure she'd need it. Even as much as she wished to have it by her side, the dagger at her thigh would suffice for the time being. 

Alarra entered the training grounds, peeking behind the walls of the castle to watch the one-eyed prince and his dog train. She did this multiple times each day. Wishing it were her sweeping the men off of their feet onto their arses. 

But that would never happen. 

“Looks like we have a new onlooker, my prince.” Ser Criston Cole rang, loud enough so that Alarra could hear from whichever wall she was hiding. Aemond turned and saw a head of red hair behind a pillar. 

“I wouldn't mind a new opponent,” Aemond started stalking towards Alarra. 

“You, Ser, are predictable.” He muttered, and he felt the offended gaze of the knight on the back of his head. 

“Alarra the Fierce.” Alarra jumped, turning to face the prince. She bowed out of respect, feeling slightly embarrassed, her cheeks becoming red and warm. 

“Prince Aemond,” Aemond inspected her with his eye, and Alarra felt like a bird in a bear’s trap. 

“I was just watching. In Winterfell, I used to train with my brother with a proper sword I-” Alarra stopped herself, realizing she was talking too much for the prince’s interest. “I apologize. I overstep-”

“Do you own a sword?”

“Yes.”

“Is it with you?”

“In my room-”

“Fetch it.” Was she a dog? Some hound to fetch something for the prince? Alarra’s eyebrow rose, but she decided to not argue with the prince. She had already done that enough with his brother. Alarra arrived in her room to grab her sword, the sword of pure Valyrian steel. Alarra’s hand wrapped around the hilt tightly, and a small smile appeared on her face. It was nice to hold it again, to feel the coolness of its composure and its weight beneath her fingers. Alarra felt slightly embarrassed walking through the halls with a sword at her hip. Why was she so embarrassed? Alarra the Fierce does not get embarrassed. Alarra does not get flustered over a boy. Alarra lifted her head as she entered the training grounds, and both Aemond and Ser Criston Cole turned to her. 

She was Alarra the Fierce. 

“I have fetched my sword,” Alarra said as she joined Aemond and the knight where they were standing, men beginning to circle them as they awaited. “Am I to be your squire? Fetch you wine and water. Fetch you your sword. Perhaps feed grapes into your mouth?”

“No. Show me your skills.” Aemond said and Ser Criston Cole whipped his head so fast at the prince Alarra thought his head might have fallen off of his body. 

“What?” The knight said, his eyes thinning onto Alarra. “She is a woman-” The men around them started to laugh. 

“I am Alarra the Fierce. Would you like me to show you?” They stopped laughing. Ser Criston Cole was stunned for a moment, before a condescending grin grew upon his face. 

“Gladly.” He said his hand pointing towards the training area, motioning for Alarra to go first. Alarra stared at him as she passed, barely grazing her shoulder over his wishing she bumped into him. He grabbed a shield and Alarra looked back at him, smirking. 

“You need a piece of wood to protect you?” Ser Criston looked down at the shield before throwing it on the ground and waltzed over to her a smug look on his face to find Alarra who was already in stance, her sword unsheathed in her hand. Oh, how she wished to wipe that smirk off of his face. 

“Pure Valyrian steel…” He muttered looking at her sword then unsheathing his own sword, it glimmering in the sunlight. Aemond was watching them from afar, silently rooting for the Stark girl to put Ser Criston Cole’s dignity in the dirt. Someone had to. “Fighting in a dress? Isn't that…difficult?” The knight scanned Alarra’s frame, wearing a dark blue dress, quivering an eyebrow. 

“Maybe for a man like yourself.” She responded cooly, her sword now at eyes width. Alarra then lunged widely, her sword pointed at the man and Ser Criston Cole quickly lifted his sword, catching hers. He huffed letting out a small laugh. 

“Not fair.”

“Nothing is fair, Ser.” Alarra swiped again this time quicker but the knight still caught her. She hadn't practiced in three moons. Anytime Alarra advanced, the knight kept stopping her, his sword always colliding with hers no matter how much she succeeded. He was skilled, and it seemed he was too cocky for his own good, like most men. His ego was something that would not be tarnished by a woman. Especially a young girl from the North. 

Ser Criston Cole was slowly losing his confidence, and Alarra was gaining the upper-hand. His overbearing smile soon diminished, and he was scared of the girl he saw in front of him. She was no longer a princess but a fighter. She was fierce. And in that moment Ser Criston realized that the rumors were in fact not a lie but the truth. Alarra was fierce. And any man that faced her would soon regret it. 

But then Alarra found an opening. Ser Criston Cole’s eyes widened, almost as if he knew what she was about to do before she did and Alarra sweeped the knight off of his feet onto his back, her sword pointed directly at his neck, his sword sitting above his head. There was a beat of silence, only the heavy breathing coming from Alarra being heard. Then the men around them started to clap, cheering for her. 

For her. 

Alarra smiled to herself, sheathing her sword as Ser Criston Cole sat on the ground, his eyebrows furrowed as he stared at Alarra. 

“How did you do that? You managed to not only disarm me but land me on my-”

“Arse?” Alarra questioned, moving to stand in front of him. Ser Criston gave her a look of pure disbelief, and her confidence lingered in the air as the crowd's applause diminished. The knight was in awe for a moment before he became angry that she had embarrassed him. 

“The men of the North are skilled but-”

“You forget yourself, Ser. The Wolf of the North has taught me everything I know. I am a man from the North.” A man with tits, she wanted to say that to him also, but she was still a guest. But her Northern honor would not hide from the South. Her pride would not cower. From the corner of her eye, Alarra saw Aemond push through the crowd, and men made way for the Targaryen prince. She still had a smile on her face and Aemond was now in front of her, a look of dignation on his face. 

“I bet you won't do the same to me.” Aemond said, his sword unsheathed from his side and Alarra relished in his statement. Oh, how wrong the prince was. 

“Would you prefer to meet the same fate as Ser Criston Cole or something much less humiliating for a royal?” Alarra took her own sword out and the crowd grew quiet once again. Ser Criston Cole was now standing, looking tense, his eyes narrowed on Alarra. She had upset the knight. 

Aemond was the one who moved first, a grunt leaving his lips as he slashed at Alarra but she was light on her feet, able to miss the graze of his sword. Aemond huffed in annoyance, slashing again but her sword caught him.

Their swords clanged, echoing through the courtyard’s silence. Alarra felt the strength of Aemond’s strike reverberate down her arm, but she held her ground, smirking at him over the steel of their locked blades. Alarra tilted her head to the side, her hair falling over her face, and Aemond’s eye narrowed, his grip tightening on his hilt. He pressed forward, pushing Alarra back towards the crowd. 

Alarra twisted her wrist breaking their lock that forced Aemond to stumble back a few steps. Aemond had slowly become more and more agitated the more Alarra had taunted him. Aemond lunged again, seeming more ruthless this time as his blade whistled over Alarra’s head. Every move he made, she already saw. She anticipated everything he did. And this infuriated the prince. 

And then she fell, her sword on the ground and Aemond’s sword at her neck. Alarra’s shock was not hidden on her face, as she stared at the steel, her eyes wide. But, Alarra knew better than to let her guard down. She knew better than to yield just yet. 

Alarra’s hand went under her dress and Aemond’s eyebrows furrowed as she pulled out her dagger, pushing his blade away from her face with it and the sword fell to the ground. Alarra stood, her blade at Aemond’s neck. Aemond and Alarra stared at each other, their heavy breathing synchronized. She had never been so close to the prince, so close to his face, her blade at his neck. One swipe and he would be choking on his own blood. 

“Yield.” She said, lightly pressing her dagger against his throat. He stared at her, neither scared nor smug. Aemond was shocked. Ser Criston Cole was now in front of her, pushing her harshly away from the prince. 

“He yields.” The knight said, glaring at her. Alarra lifted her dress to put her dagger back at her thigh, her sword soon following now sheathed at her hip. She watched as Ser Criston Cole was saying something to the prince but he wasn't paying attention because he was only looking at the wolf from the North that had just bested him. 

Alarra turned, stomping away a few feet from the crowd and Ser Criston Cole when Aemond had trailed behind her, shoving past the knight and the crowd. 

“You are insufferable.” He was right behind her now and she turned fast, her hair almost hitting his face.

“Am I?” Alarra took a step forward, her face nearing Aemond’s steel gaze. 

“You are a dirty dog.” Aemond spat, his eye scanning her face. 

“Mhm…” Alarra smiled, her eyes never looking away from Aemond’s. “And yet, this dirty dog still handed you and your shit-wiper your arses.” She whispered, bumping into his shoulder as she walked past him. But, Aemond was quick and grabbed her wrist forcing her around to look at him again. His eye trailed over her face, no doubt staring at her scar. His eye always gravitated towards it, like it was haunting him. His hand stayed on her wrist, gripping it. Then suddenly, Aemond ripped his hand away, striding away from her back towards Ser Criston Cole who was watching their exchange closely. 

“You bested two of the best swordsmen in King’s Landing. That is something to be proud of.” 

Alarra was laying on the ground in the grass somewhere outside the Red Keep and Rhaena was sitting beside her, trying to comfort her. They were on a hill, watching the water in front of them. 

“I am not proud of it. Only embarrassed.” 

“Embarrassed of what exactly?” 

“That I let my ego get the best of me.” Rhaena laughed, looking back towards the water in front of them. 

“And I’m embarrassed of many things but I do not dwell on it.” Rhaena said, beginning to stand, wiping her hands on her dress. Rhaena was basking in sunlight as she opened her hand out to Alarra. Alarra grunted, taking her outreaching palm to pull her up onto her feet. Alarra paused, looking at the water again. 

“I never learned how to swim.” Alarra admitted, the wind blowing her hair and giving her a chill down her spine. 

“I can teach you if you’d like.” 

“I fear I’d only drown the both of us.” 

Alarra and Rhaena had just entered the Red Keep again, finding the three Velaryon boys playing in a grass courtyard. They were laughing maniacally, the musings of their voices heard from the depths of the castle. The older prince was chasing the younger two, and he caught up to them pushing them to the ground with him. Alarra laughed as she watched them interact, starting to miss her own brother. 

“My brother and I used to play like that. When we were children.” Alarra said, and she watched as they giggled rolling around in the dirt. 

Just then, the three boys stood up quickly, seeming to react to something or someone. Alarra turned her head to find Ser Criston Cole approaching them furiously, a determined look on his face. Alarra was quick to make the decision to walk over to them, interrupting what the knight was telling them. 

“-princes do not play.” The knight had just finished speaking when the disgusted look on his face grew even more when falling upon Alarra. 

“Is something the matter?” She questioned, and he turned towards her his hand falling upon the hilt of his sword. 

“Nothing is wrong. I am only telling these immature princes what royalty actually does-“ 

“What else are they to do? They are children-“

“Princes do not roll around in the dirt.” He said, taking a step towards her now. Alarra stood her ground, not to be intimidated by the knight. 

“You do not reprimand them, Ser.” She said, her hands forming into fists at her side. Jacaerys intervened, standing between them. 

“We will no longer play in the grass, Ser.” Jacaerys said, his eyes telling the knight to walk away. And he did. Alarra watched as Ser Criston Cole stalked away from them, seething as he did. Alarra watched as his shining armor shimmered through the halls. As if the knight had the honor to be wearing it. Alarra didn’t feel that he deserved it. He deserved his skin and bones beneath the dirt. 

“If you shall play in the grass, you shall play in the grass.” Alarra muttered, still watching the retreating body of Ser Criston. 

Nighttime came, and Alarra could not find peace in her bed. She twisted and turned unable to find rest beneath her linen sheets and feather pillows. The bed wasn’t the issue but her mind. She could not stop thinking about what she had done. She felt stupid. Stupid for allowing the knight and his prince to lead her into a trap. 

When Alarra could not sleep, she found herself reading in the library. She did not care what she read, as long as it was something to keep her brain from running circles. She even did this in Winterfell. Her brother would find her fast asleep on a table, a book beneath her face. He would scold her for sleeping in that position telling her that when she was old and gray, her back would be her enemy. 

When she first went to the library, a certain one-eyed prince had found her there but she had disappeared out the door before he could see her. After that, she never went to the library again at night. But tonight, she was desperate to find sleep. 

Alarra opened the large doors of the library, and they creaked slowly as she did. She hoped that it wasn’t too loud, but the library was hidden from most of the chambers that lay within the Red Keep. It wasn’t the main library, but one of multiple. This library was small, about the size of a council room but it held many books Alarra found interesting. She had managed to steal a book about the beginnings of Valyrian steel, and wanted to return it after finishing. 

Alarra quietly approached the shelf where she originally found the book, a lit candle in her hand as she did. The library was eerily quiet and her candle light was the only thing that she could visibly see. There were tall, narrow windows on the opposite side of the library, and the moon light filtered through the room, giving Alarra some other form of lighting. Alarra was browsing the books, her finger lightly tracing the spines when the door creaked open again. Alarra gasped quietly, ducking below the shelf. Another candle light shone through the room and Alarra quickly blew her own out. 

“I can see you.” A voice said, and Alarra closed her eyes lightly in disappointment. 

“I am sorry,” Alarra stood, playing with the ends of her night gown as she stared at the ground. She was encased in a dark blue robe her brother had gifted her. “I was only looking. I apologize if I am not allowed-“ Alarra looked up from the ground to see Aemond, his eyepatch gone and face illuminated solely with a single candle, her words getting caught in her throat. She hadn’t meant to stare or get flushed but she just did. Now she understood. 

“What are you doing here?” He asked, lowering his candle from his face. His hair was down, and he wore what looked to be his night time attire. 

“I could not sleep. I know the hour is late but-“ 

“How did you find this place?” Alarra closed the robe around her body tighter. 

“I wander when I cannot sleep.”

“You should not be here. I shall get a guard to escort you to your bed chambers-“ Aemond moved to the door but Alarra jumped towards him, throwing her hand out. 

“No! Wait-“ Aemond stopped, turning back towards her. Her hand fell back at her side. “I just want one book and I’ll be on my way. Please.” She whispered the plea and Aemond seemed to pause, setting the candle down on a nearby table. Alarra couldn’t see him now, only his frame encased in black shadows visible. 

Alarra assumed he could not see her at all, and she moved back towards the book shelf to where she was previously browsing. Then Alarra remembered she blew her candle out, and she blindly looked at books. She frowned, unable to see any books in front of her. She picked the first one in front of her, turning around but she jumped gasping. Aemond was now closer to her, the candle still sitting on the table, but she could see the outline of his body a few feet away from her. 

Aemond picked back up the candle, and it slowly illuminated his arm up to his face, and Alarra watched him move towards her again, this time closer. The light made Alarra’s own shocked face visible and Aemond was looking at the book in her hand. 

“History hen Valyrio.” He said, his eyes reaching hers and Alarra furrowed her eyebrows bringing the book to her eyesight. It was thick, and the only language on it was something she did not recognize. “I did not know the princess from the North spoke high Valyrian?” He jested, a small smirk on his lips. Alarra’s face got deep red and he leaned down to take the book from her hands. He was so close to her. Close enough to where she could smell the faint scent of soap and pine. She could even see his missing eye clearly. And she was mesmerized. It was a glowing purple, and Alarra quickly looked away when his eyes met hers. When he retracted the book from her hands slowly, she took a step away from him.

“I was just curious.” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. Aemond moved towards the table, sitting down at a chair, setting the candle and book next to him. Alarra stood there, watching him with a curious glance. What was he doing?

He opened the book, his fingers tracing over the pages lightly. Alarra watched him flip through the pages filled with history in a language she didn’t understand. 

“Have I taken your tongue? Are you going to just stand there, zokla?” Alarra stiffened, and Aemond was still looking through the book, the soft rustle of paper as he turned pages interrupting the sanctuary of the library. 

“I…” She started, her words in her throat once again. 

“You?” He prompted, his voice low. The turning of pages promptly stopped, and Alarra watched as Aemond looked up from the book at her. 

“I… know a little high Valyrian. My handmaiden speaks it.” Alarra confessed, moving towards the table. 

“But enough to read it? I assume not.” Alarra huffed, feeling vulnerable. They were in a library together, speaking in a civil manner. Alone. 

“I only know one word because my handmaiden says it a lot. Aek-” Aemond cut her bad pronunciation off, finishing the word. 

“Aeksio. It means lord…where is your handmaiden from?” 

“Essos…she was enslaved there and was sent here when she was young.” She said, sitting down at the chair in front of Aemond. Aemond stared at her for a moment, almost stunned that she had sat down, but he composed himself quickly and began scanning the pages of the book again. “What does the book say?” Alarra leaned over, to peek at the pages but Aemond slammed the book shut, standing with his candle in hand.

Alarra watched as he walked back over to the shelf, scanning the books with his candle before finding a particular book and bringing it back over to the table. This book was much larger than the one before, and had a wolf printed on the front of it. It was titled The Wolf in the North. Alarra sat up quickly, and Aemond opened the book skimming to find a particular page. 

“Why is there a book about-“ Aemond shushed her and Alarra slouched back in her chair reluctantly. Then Aemond stopped turning pages, and flipped the book so it was facing Alarra. He pointed to a particular paragraph. 

“Read it.” He muttered sternly, like a father scolding a child before leaning back in his chair. Alarra obeyed, reading the specific passage. 

“The prophecy in which is forgotten by the Gods. A Wolf from the North will bleed into the South. Blood of a Wolf can start wars, but the blood of a Dragon will end the realm.When one dragon meets fate, a Wolf will seek refuge.” Alarra stopped reading, her eyebrows forming into a straight line. 

“Continue.” Aemond said, his fingers pointing to the rest of the page. 

“Packs are large but dragons are much larger. A Wolf from the North. A Dragon from the South. Wolves bite, and dragons take flight.” Alarra looked up at Aemond quickly. Helaena had said those words to her. 

“What-“ 

“The rest of the book is about your heritage and family. But, why would a prophecy be in a book about the history of the North?” Aemond questioned, snatching the book back from Alarra, shutting it quickly. Alarra was quiet, not quite sure how to respond. But, Aemond was only questioning himself. 

“Why did you choose to read that particular book?” Alarra asked, her eyes falling upon the book again before raising to meet Aemond’s gaze, his sapphire eye staring back at her. 

“I’ve read every book in this library.” Alarra snorted, covering her mouth with her hand and Aemond’s face contorted into annoyance and anger. The library wasn’t too large, and there weren’t many books, maybe five shelves full, but Alarra still did not believe him. Aemond arched an eyebrow at Alarra’s skepticism. 

“You are a woman who is a skilled swordsman. I am sure there are less shocking things in the realm.” Aemond echoed, the corner of his mouth twitching faintly to form into a satisfied smirk. He had called her skilled. Alarra laughed, her hands falling on the table to grab the book from him again. 

“I will be needing this to fall asleep. Thank you for the humor, my prince.” She stood, and he stood with her grabbing his candle. 

“Your candle?” He questioned and Alarra moved towards the floor where her candle lay. She reached Aemond, and he touched his candle with hers letting her candle ignite, two flames now glowing in the dim of the library. They both stood in silence, both of their candles burning slowly. Aemond then nodded his head, before turning and leaving the library, his candle light now gone. 

The night had gone cold when Alarra ventured to her chambers after her encounter with the prince. And sleep had found Alarra that night. Alarra had not been able to sleep properly in weeks since leaving Winterfell. But that night, Alarra snuggled closer into her sheets, and for the first time she slept peacefully. 

The next morning, Alarra had been summoned to speak with Rhaenyra. Rhaenyra was in her chambers, tending to one of her white-headed children Alarra did not know the name of. Rhaneyra smiled as Alarra entered and she approached the princess, respectfully bowing. 

“Please, sit.” She pointed to a chair with her free hand, still holding the babe in the other. She passed the babe to a handmaiden, before sitting across from Alarra. “How are you this morning?”

“I am well.” Rhaenyra crossed her hands on her lap, clearing her throat. 

“Your brother has sent a letter for you, but that is not why I have asked for you.” Alarra perked up, her eyebrows instantly raising at the mention of her brother. Rhaenyra was skeptical at first, but she smiled at Alarra again, but this smile was more reassuring. 

“What is it, my princess?” 

“I wish for you to train my sons, Jacaerys and Lucerys,” Rhaenyra shook her head, eyes closed for a moment. “If you are up for it, of course. I had heard the rumors of your…skill. I will say, I doubted it at first but Jace had convinced me otherwise telling me of your bravery,” Rhaenyra reached across for Alarra’s hand, squeezing it tightly. “You remind me of when I was young. I see myself in you.” Alarra swallowed harshly, before she squeezed the princesses hand back. Alarra could never refuse the words of a princess. Of a future queen. Alarra knew her answer the moment Rhaenyra had asked her. 

“I will train them. If the princes can keep up with a Northerner.”

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I'm so excited to dive into Alarra and Aemond’s relationship. While it is enemies to lovers, the beginning will not be as ‘enemy’ as the middle of the story. The worst is yet to come! They will start out as “friends” and then turn into enemies. So don't get disappointed just yet! I'm also very excited to see where Eyla’s character ends up because she is such a crucial character to the story and Alarra.

Tags: @mamawiggers1980, @kritara

[macbethsymphony]

The Swordsman and the Blacksmith | Chapter 20

Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Chapter wc: 4.5k

Chapter rating: NSFW-ish

Content/Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Fem!Reader, Enemies to lovers, SLOW slow burn, Eventual smut, vague mentions of past abuse

Summary: Your skills as a blacksmith have made you desirable to both the government and pirates. You know you have to leave this island if you want to escape your fate, but that doesn't make the choice of leaving any easier. Roronoa Zoro is intrigued by your skills as a blacksmith. Your work is like nothing he's ever seen before. Unfortunately, you're hot-headed and he's rude and you both definitely hate each other.

Chapters [1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8] [9] [10] [11] [12] [13] [14] [15] [16] [17] [18] [19]

Masterlist

Slowly crossposting from AO3 Feel like binging the rest of it? it's all there!

Chapter 20: Scars

Roronoa Zoro's patience was wearing thin. For days now, he had been locked in a relentless struggle, battling against the stubborn resistance of the black steel that had been entrusted to him. With a furrowed brow, he scrutinized the swirling patterns of the cursed blade in his hands, attempting to summon the same techniques you had demonstrated to him.

As his haki surged forth, seeking to assert its dominance over the rebellious metal, Zoro felt a twinge of irritation building within him. He had to remind himself—kindness, reassurance. But the steel seemed to mock his efforts, its resistance growing stronger with each passing moment.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath, the frustration evident in his voice. His haki faltered, its once steady advance now stalling in the face of the sword's defiance.

He was close, he could feel it.

He let the blade clatter to the deck, the metallic sound echoing loudly. Seating himself in front of it, he released an exasperated sigh, his annoyance palpable in the morning air. Running a hand through his unruly hair, he couldn't help but glance towards the door of the forge, subconsciously searching for your form.

Shiawase had been so much like you—stubborn, abrasive, though with a certain resilience that was hard to ignore. But this sword was different. It exuded a strange mixture of longing and fear, almost as if it yearned to be wielded yet recoiled at any hint of command.

You’d told him it was an echo of who you’d been. It made him wonder what happened to you to change so much.

His fingers wrapped against the silk of the handle, his haki extending in as slow an advance he could muster.

Kindness.

The term resounded in his mind like a distant memory, a notion he struggled to grasp. He had always been more familiar with the language of steel and battle, where actions spoke louder than words.

Reassurance.

Even worse than kindness, it seemed foreign to him, a concept reserved for those who understood the nuances of empathy and compassion.

He saw you move in the periphery of his vision. His head snapped towards you instinctively, drawn by the unmistakable storm of your haki swirling in the air like an electric charge.

The sight of you, wreathed in the crackling lightning of your power, was mesmerizing to him. He couldn't help but marvel at the beauty of it, a spectacle that never failed to captivate his attention. It was a force of nature, raw and untamed, a technique that eluded his grasp despite his best efforts to understand it.

As your hammer echoed loudly against the blackened steel of the dagger that consumed your psyche, Zoro's gaze lingered on you, a mixture of admiration and frustration flickering in his mind.

His eye traced the contours of your form, hovering on the gentle curves that drew his attention like a magnet. His fingers twitched involuntarily, all thoughts of Uragiri fading into insignificance.

The memory of your touch flooded his mind, igniting a fire inside him that he struggled to contain. The sensation of soft flesh yielding beneath the inquisitive exploration of his hands danced at the edge of his consciousness, a vivid recollection that stirred something primal deep within his being.

His eye drifted to the delicate expanse of your nape, where a few stray curls peeked out from under the linen cloth, clinging to the perspiration-dampened skin beneath. The sight ignited a whirlwind of memories within him, each flashback vibrant and intoxicating.

He recalled the taste of you, a heady blend of alcohol and desire that lingered on his tongue long after you had parted. The souvenir of your compliance, your willingness to yield to his every command, the sound of your soft moans as his fingers had tangled roughly in your hair. It sent a shiver down his spine, a scorching heat of lust.

He groaned.

Fuck.

He pried his gaze away, struggled to come back to reality. His eye traced the sharp edge of Uragiri.

Kind. Reassuring. He could do that.

Your brows furrowed. You were close. Oh, so very close to destroying that dagger. You’d taken a note from the swordsman’s approach. Fuck subtlety, you could overpower it to the point of destruction.

You allowed your haki to roar as forcefully as it could. The power felt intoxicating, on the verge of swallowing your mind. You hadn’t let out this much haki since you’d forged Yokubari, you were teetering dangerously on the edge of giving away your own life force. But, in this moment, you didn’t care.

You watched with keen eyes as your hammer clanged on the cursed blade. Black filaments scaled away slowly, revealing the vulnerability beneath the surface.

Good.

It was starting to break down.

With each strike, exhaustion threatened your muscles. You’d been at this for days now, the toil of the endeavor was beginning to take a toll on you. Yet, you continued to rain blow upon blow on the steel, determination to set it free unwavering.

With a loud clang, the blade broke.

It wasn’t entirely unbound of its torment yet, but it still brought a smile to your face.

You grabbed at the small broken piece with heavy tongs, throwing it in the burning coals in a practiced movement. Your eyes widened as you watched the steel melt.

A thunderous ‘yes’ escaped your lips in victory as you observed the black tendrils of haki dissipate in the hungry flames.

A triumphant grin spread on your features as you reveled in the moment of success. A surge of adrenaline passed through your veins, deceptively washing away the tiredness in your limbs. With renewed vigor you went back to your work, ready to be done with the ordeal once and for all.

The sun had long since dipped below the horizon, casting the deck of the Thousand Sunny into darkness, when you finished melting the dagger. You wished you weren’t so tired, wished the exhaustion in your muscles would dissipate for a moment, wished you could revel on your accomplishment with more fervor. The gentle sway of the ship and the sound of the waves against its hull provided a soothing rhythm as you made your way to the bathing area with a satisfied smile on your lips. With each step, you left a black cloud of dust on the floor. Nami would effectively throw you overboard if you tried to enter the women’s quarters this covered up in soot.

You walked in the small room in a daze, lazily turning the handle for hot water. With a tired sigh, you began to undress, folding your clothes neatly in the nearby cubbies. You snorted to yourself as you eyed the blackened fabric, wondering why you bothered. It was a habit you guessed. 

The hazy glow of the lanterns cast soft shadows across the walls, creating an atmosphere of cozy intimacy as you sat on a wooden bench. You washed your hair, the water turning dark and murky as it descended down the drain. The warm stream cascaded your body getting clearer and clearer as you diligently scrubbed at your ash ladened skin. It didn’t matter how many layers of clothing you wore, the dirt always found a way to cling to the stickiness of sweat covered flesh. 

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice the sound of footsteps approaching nor the loud clang of swords in the changing area. Just as you stepped into the bubbly water of the bath, the door swung open, pulling you out of your reverie. 

You tensed in surprise as you realized you weren't alone. Zoro paused in the doorway, his gaze meeting yours with a hint of shock before quickly averting his eye. 

"Sorry, I didn't realize anyone was here," he muttered, his voice low and gruff, turning away to make his exit.

"It's fine," you replied, uncaring in your exhaustion. You let yourself sink deeper in the water, your lids closing heavily as you leaned back on the ceramic edge. The warmth felt heavenly on the soreness of your muscles. "If you don’t mind a little bit of ashes in the water, there’s plenty of space." 

He stopped in his tracks as he considered your offer.

“If you don’t mind, then-“ he didn’t finish the sentence on his tongue as he sat down near the small shower head. You hummed in answer, too tired for anything concrete to cross your lips.

The silence enveloped you both in a comfortable embrace, punctuated only by the rhythmic sound of scrubbing, a soothing backdrop to the moment. Through the veil of your lashes, you studied him quietly, the soft glow of the lights accentuated his features. Clad only in a towel, his back was turned to you, offering a glimpse of the strength and grace that lay beneath the surface. Your gaze traced the contours of his muscles, following the path of droplets as they cascaded down his skin in a mesmerizing dance. 

You spotted his eye observing at you through the mirror on the wall. He snorted. You closed your eyes again, giving him privacy. You felt the water ripple around you and rise as he stepped in far from you, at the other side of the bath. 

“You did it, didn’t you?” he let out a satisfied sigh once he was sitting down fully. 

You looked at him with lidded eyes. You couldn’t help the proud smile forming on your lips as you answered. “I did.” 

The water stilled, the only sound the distant crash of waves on the hull. “You figured it out too, didn’t you?” You allowed your hand to rise to the surface, fingers playing aimlessly with the bubbles, sending soft ripples.

“I did,” there was a hint of satisfaction in his voice at the admission.

You chuckled. “I knew you’d get it, you mastered Uragiri this morning, right? I was surprised when you didn’t come get Yokubari. I thought you were itching to get your hands on that troublemaker.”

“You looked busy,” he stated, body relaxing further in the warmth of the water.

A smile plastered itself on your lips. “I didn’t know you were so considerate,” you teased glancing at him through heavy lashes.

He huffed. You had half a mind to continue to taunt him but you were just so tired.

“So which of your babies am I going to be allowed to study next?” You couldn’t help but ask, your voice sluggish.

He hummed, considering. “Shusui,” he decided.

Your brows furrowed as your brain struggled to process what he’d just said.

“Shusui?!” You suddenly perked up, your impulsive reaction putting you at the edge of decency, the bubbles barely covering your nakedness. “Why not Wado Ichimonji?” All marks of tiredness left your body at the thought of the legendary Shusui in your hands.

Zoro's gaze flicked to you, a hint of amusement dancing in his eye as he took in your instantaneous burst of enthusiasm. "Wado Ichimonji is special," he explained, his tone was slightly strained as he spoke his next words. "It belonged to Kuina."

Kuina… that wasn’t a name you’d ever heard. You didn’t press in your curiosity, the way he’d said it had been filled with sorrow. It shouldn’t surprise you, you guessed, everyone had ghosts from their past.

You inched closer, threading the edge of the bath. The water rippled at your slow movement. You settled in front of him, bringing your knees to your chest so you didn’t touch. 

“Say,” you mused, the sound echoing softly against the walls. “How did you even come by Shusui?”

 Zoro's eye met yours, his gaze lingering on your face. The space between you seemed to shrink under the weight of his stare. You shifted, he looked away. 

"Shusui... It's a long story," he replied after a while.

There was a sparkle in your eyes as you wondered what the tale behind the legendary sword was. "I have time.” 

Zoro's attention returned to you, the hint of amusement resurfacing at your enthusiasm. 

"Shusui found me," he answered cryptically, his voice carrying memories. "It really is a long story."

You gave his foot a small kick under the water. "I told you, I've got time," you insisted with a touch of petulance.

He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away before backtracking to meet yours. 

"It was when we fought Gecko Moria," he entertained your interest, his tone almost nostalgic. 

Your eyes widened in awe as he recounted the adventure. You leaned back, letting your feet tangle with his as he spoke.

"Ryuma..." you whispered when he stopped, the name rolling off your tongue like a sacred chant.

Zoro nodded, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "I fought against his zombie, and in the end, I claimed Shusui as my own."

The image of Zoro facing off against a legendary swordsman was strangely alluring in your mind. Your eyes traced his features, traveled down his neck. The bubbles were starting to fade, the scar on his torso slightly visible. You saw his muscles twitch, flex a little, an indication that you’d been caught in your observations, yet you couldn't tear your gaze away from him. 

Your attention flickered back to his face, taking in the smug smirk on his lips. 

“You’re staring, witch,” he remarked, the gravel in his voice more present than usual. 

“Just curious about the scars,” you tried to justify as you fought the heat in your cheeks. “Look,” you started playfully, letting one of your legs rise to the surface. “We even have a matching one,” you gestured at the scar slightly above your ankle.

His eye traced along your skin before observing the white line that spanned the circumference of your leg. You suddenly felt self-conscious and with a quick movement you brought it back under the water. Before you could retreat fully, his hand grasped your ankle, settling your foot to his knee. 

Your heart skipped a beat, the touch searing hot in the now tepid water.

“S-so, how’d you get yours?” You asked, giving a small tug, trying to pry your foot from his clutch unsuccessfully. “I’m afraid my story isn’t so interesting.”

The swordsman’s hold on your ankle tightened slightly, his eye lingering on the scar through the thin curtain of bubbles remaining before he met your gaze. “How’d you get it?” He ignored your question. 

“I told you it wasn’t interesting, swordsman,” you furrowed your brows, frustration coloring your voice at the memories.

His grip softened, fingers tracing the white line on your flesh in almost delicate circles.

You hesitated. “I tried to cut off my leg,” you admitted reluctantly. Your face scrunched up in a bitter expression, you bit at the fragile skin of your inner lips in an anxious pattern. “Happy? Swordsman?”

His eyebrow quirked at the stiffness of your tone. He leaned back, his eye not leaving yours, his fingers not stopping their mindless exploration.

The silence dragged on.

“It was when I was forging Yokubari,” you confessed when it started to feel uncomfortable. “My mentor wasn’t kind to say the least. He was strict before I made him Uragiri, but when he turned mad under its influence, he began finding pleasure in other people’s pain,” your hand trembled at the memories, you closed your fist in an attempt to rein the torment inside, to calm yourself. “He got scared at some point that I’d disappear. My sister and I had tried to escape but he always found a way to drag us back. So, he decided to chain me to the anvil,” there was a silence before you continued. “You know, not all swords take the same amount of work. Some take a day, others take months to make. Yokubari took about a year of labor. I’d been forging for weeks, pouring my life force into steel when I got desperate enough to try and cut off my own leg.”

He listened to your words, you couldn’t make out any shift in his expression, his features not betraying his thoughts. But his touch on your scar was gentle, almost soothing.

“I see,” he said, when you stopped talking. There was no pity in his voice, you were grateful to him for that. 

“I was too much of a coward to follow through though, it turns out that trying to cut your leg off is both harder than it seems and far more painful than you’d expect,” you added with levity, attempting to lighten the mood. “See? Pretty boring, right? So, how’d you get yours?”

He ignored you again.

“Hey,” you snapped. “I told you the story behind mine, now you tell me yours, swordsman. It can’t be that bad.”

He smirked. 

“Maybe another day, witch,” he answered with a hint of evasion. 

You narrowed your eyes, curious at the mystery he was clearly hoping to preserve. “Fine, swordsman,” you conceded with a pout as you realized he wasn’t going to budge. “But I won’t let this go until you’ve told me.”

Zoro chuckled at your expression, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his stare. “Stubborn as ever,” he remarked, his tone teasing.

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. Don’t act like you’re not the most obstinate idiot on this ship, moss head,” you retorted, adding the nickname in an imitation of the cook. You flicked water in his direction.

He snorted. Mischief passed in his gaze at your action. His grip tightened on your ankle. Your eyes widened. You barely had the time to take a breath as you realized what he was about to do.

He pulled you under. You bubbled for a moment before coming back up for a big gulp of air. You pried your foot out of his hand in an angry motion.

“Oi,” you yelled at him, swiping the curtains of wet hair out from your eyes as you inched closer to him.  “What was that for, you bastard?” You said, your index hitting him in the chest forcefully as though to make your point.

His fingers wrapped around your wrist, stopping the painful poking. “That mouth of yours is infuriating, witch,” he drew you nearer, his voice low and intense. “Always thinking you can get away with anything." 

His hand went to your face in an almost gentle movement. His thumb swiped at your lips in a fleeting touch. You glared at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the building heat in your veins.

He tugged softly at your wrist, closing the distance ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise, your other hand settling on his chest for support. He pressed a little stronger on your lips in a familiar movement.

“You drive me mad,” he admitted, his words made something stir in your stomach. All resolve you had held crumbling in the face of the searing warmth that ignited within you.

You opened your mouth, granting him access. Your tongue met the rough pad of his thumb. You felt the rumble in his chest under your fingertips more than you heard it.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, the pupil of his eye blowing up.

His hand snaked from your lips to the back of your neck. He leaned in, his lips finding yours tentatively at first, then with the hunger of a starving man.

He growled low in his throat, a primal sound that made you moan as you crashed into him, the bare skin of your chest melting into his. The water sloshed loudly, escaping the bath, and puddling on the floor as he switched your positions, trapping you underneath him.

The world around you spun, disoriented by the waves of desire coursing through your veins. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless. Your hands tightened on the muscles of his arms in an attempt to orient yourself before they traveled up to the back of his neck and tangled in the dampness of his hair.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue demanding, almost forceful. Your nails dug in, leaving tiny red marks on his nape. He moaned into your mouth, the sound muffled. You smirked against his lips at his reaction.

His fingers gripped your locks as he backed away. Your lidded eyes met his hungry gaze. He tightened his hold pulling your head back, your back arched against the ceramic edge of the bath. Your hands fell from his hair, fingertips digging for purchase in his chest for support. You felt his hand trail your outer thigh, under your knee, opening your leg. You whined as you sensed his knee slot itself between your thighs, so close to your core, yet so far. 

His touch was featherlight as his fingers shifted back up your leg, fleeting as he traveled your abdomen, almost imperceptible as the rough pad of his thumb traced the curve of your breast.

“Look at you, witch,” he whispered as he leaned forward, his breath hot against yours, satisfaction dripping out of his words.

A low moan crossed your lips, barely noticeable, even in the closeness of your bodies.

A small knock reverberated from the door, Nami’s voice cutting through.

You both halted.

“Oi, (Y/n)” the voice echoed against the walls. “You’re not asleep in there again, are you?” She asked.

Your heart stopped, the grip in your hair loosened, you slumped back slowly in the water without the intense hold he’d had on you. 

“I-I’m awake!” You shouted, panicky. 

The swordsman snorted, your eyes widened, your hand going to cover his mouth. ‘Don’t you dare’ you mouthed at him, gaze wild.

“I’ll be out in a minute!” You shouted again. “I just need to finish cleaning out the ashes around here.”

The handle of the door rattled. Your breath stopped. 

“Hey, I told you not to lock the door when you’re bathing alone!” Nami admonished, her words muffled. “It’s dangerous if you fall down or something.”

“Sorry! I must have done it without thinking!” You apologized.

Your eyes met the swordsman’s, brows furrowing in confusion. “You locked the door?” You hissed in a quiet whisper.

You felt his grin widen against your fingers, you hit his chest hard. Zoro’s chuckles vibrated against your palm as he leaned back slightly.

Your attention went back to the door when you heard Nami’s sigh. 

“Fine!” She relented, the handle clicking back in place. “Just don’t take too long.”

“I’ll be right out,” you reassured her.

You stayed frozen as you listened to the navigator’s retreating steps. 

“You locked the door?” You asked again, incredulity in your voice.

His hand left your hair, lingering for a moment on your nape before going to the hand covering his mouth. 

“I might have,” he admitted with a smirk, his lips brushing against your fingers with each word.

You tried to pry your hand from his grip, he didn’t relent.

“Get off me, you idiot,” you snapped at him. 

He let go, leaning back against the edge of the bath, amusement in his gaze.

“I’m getting out, close that eye of yours,” you announced.

“Why?” He cocked his head. “You’re acting like you weren’t just writhing under me.”

“I wasn’t writhing, don’t flatter yourself so much,” you argued back. “Just close that eye of yours while I fetch my fucking towel.”

“What’s the point? The water’s been clear for the past half hour, it’s nothing I haven’t already seen,” still he closed his eye, expression lulling back in relaxation.

You felt your cheeks heat at the comment. With an exasperated huff, you quickly scrambled out of the bath. Your eyes met his half-lidded one in the mirror as you grabbed the towel. 

“Seriously?” You muttered, shaking your head as you wrapped yourself in the fuzzy fabric. Your movements were fast and practiced as you tried your best to ignore the lingering warmth of his gaze. “You’re impossible.” 

You watched his reflection as he lazily shifted around, reaching for the hot water handle. The sound of water cascading into the bath punctuated the silence between you. 

“Bring me Shusui tomorrow,” you demanded, turning to face him. “You can take Yokubari while you’re at it too.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that. “That’s not our deal.” He stated after much consideration.

“It isn’t,” you agreed. “But I have a condition I’d like to add for Yokubari, it’s only fair that you get it sooner.”

“What is it?” He couldn’t help but ask.

You started to make your way towards the door, snatching your dirty clothes quickly. “You’ll see,” you said. “Try not to fall asleep and drown in there.”

Exhaustion weighed heavily on you, the night having offered no respite from the memory of his touch and the intensity of his lips. Leaning forward, your elbows found refuge on the worn wooden table as you took a bite of a croissant, the flaky pastry acting as a brief distraction from your restless thoughts.

"Hey, swordsman," you called out, swallowing before continuing. "So, what's the story behind those scars around your legs?" You tried your luck again, your question drew the attention of the scattered crew, their curiosity piqued.

Nami couldn't contain her amusement, a loud snort escaping her lips, while Zoro's expression darkened into a scowl.

"What's so funny?" you asked innocently, the prospect of uncovering the tale now even more intriguing.

"It's none of your business, witch" Zoro replied tersely, his tone clipped.

A shiver went down your spine, the nickname feeling different after the happenings of the night before.

Nami was not to be deterred by the swordsman’s warning, a mischievous glint dancing in her gaze as she took back your attention and launched into a saga of events.

Tears of laughter pricked at your eyes as Nami recounted the embarrassing incident, and once your mirth subsided, you couldn't resist teasing Zoro further.

"So, you were just embarrassed, swordsman?" you snorted, unable to contain your amusement.

Zoro's scowl deepened, a faint pink hue tinting his ears as he grumbled, "Like I said, it's none of your business."

Your chuckling bubbled up once more, the images in your imagination vivid thanks to the navigator’s amazing retelling of the story. "But seriously," you continued, teasingly, "what were you planning to do after cutting your legs? You can't exactly fight like that."

The table erupted into laughter, the camaraderie between the crew members palpable as they shared in the light-hearted moment.

Zoro turned his head, clearly embarrassed through the cracking mask of indifference he usually wore.

“Oh!” Chopper exclaimed, hopping onto Zoro’s shoulder as he looked at the back of his neck. Red marks plagued his nape in lines and crescents. “Did you hurt yourself, Zoro?” the reindeer asked innocently, a small hoof probing at the scrapes.

The swordsman’s gaze met yours, a brazen smirk gracing his lips. You felt heat rising in your cheeks. “Must have scratched myself by accident,” he answered, his voice smug.  

← Previous chapter | Next chapter →

Masterlist

[mangooes]

Chapter 3 - Ready for another dance, Shadow Monarch?

Chapter 1 - All will eventually fall upon the earth

Chapter 2 - I weep for the departed

Chapter 4 - Interwined for now, perhaps forever?

(TW!! Slight Yandere tendencies- i believe Jinwoo went insane)

As the black armored man stands keeping distance from the girl, the said girl turns around now facing her opponent with red eyes that seems to hold nothing. Within seconds, a gust of wind with a sword just inches away from the man aiming for the man’s neck was seen as the girl swung her sword without hesitation. 

The man blocks the sword with ease just as equal with his fast reaction, laughing in the process as a nostalgic look was seen across his face. “You haven’t changed, the acheron I know of would never hesitate on striking her sword.” As the man jumps back avoiding another attack that was sent by the girl. 

“Have we met before…. shadow monarch? I don't recall ever telling you my name.” Acheron said her eyes never moved from the armored figure as she sent another attack towards the person. 

“The last time we met, you told me I would forget about everything, about a mere dream where you were apart of it.” The man chuckled as he summoned his dagger. “Here I am to prove you wrong, perhaps you may have forgotten me, but I'll be glad to do introductions once again.” The man paused before dashing towards the girl with his dagger in hand, “It’s nice to meet you again Acheron, My name is Sung Jinwoo. I hope you won't ever forget that name again. “

Acheron hums in acknowledgement as she jumps, avoiding the attack sent by the man as red electricity sparks towards the man, “It seems our paths cross once more…ready for another dance, Monarch?” 

The man grins as he summons black tendrils towards the girl, eye glowing a terrifying purple. “The pleasure is mine, Eminator of Nihility.” 

As the man and the girl exchange what seems like attacks after another it all comes to a tie when the man and the girl stand facing each other with a distance. The now surrounding area is on the brink of destruction with everything falling apart as the result of their little “dance”.

In the midst of it, the man getting distracted from the view of the girl in front of him as he fails to notice the girl striking him forward, sending him to the ground as the man falls on his back with the girl holding her sword towards his neck pinning him to the ground.

”Distracted much?..” acheron said before noticing the thousands, no millions of shadow soldiers behind her standing pointing their weapons to defend their king as the ominous feeling grows stronger around her.  “Is this all of them..? Can’t fight me on your own?” The girl said as she looked down at the man that was below her.

The man laughs, a deep chuckle settled from his throat as nostalgic feelings surface up once more. 

”My liege your orders?” A certain knight of shadows asked like a loyal knight. Next to the knight is a giant ant that also awaits for his master’s response. 

“Stand down, she won't hurt me. You all know who she is, no?” The man said as he stared at the girl above him. The girl stared back, before removing her sword from the man’s neck, sheathing it back. “Death does not await you, Sung Jinwoo. For that I will not strike you down.” The girl said as she stood up offering a hand towards the man. 

The millions of shadow soldiers seem to react to her response as the tense atmosphere disappears little by little. The man laughs as he takes her hand, standing up now facing her from eye to eye as he says, “So you do remember me Acheron?” The girl turned away avoiding the look on his face as she said, “I tend to have a poor memory of myself, I remembered you but it’s vivid. It’s not clear…” the girl sighed as she looked down.. “If there is nothing else, then I will take my leave...” 

Before the girl could take another step away, the man tightly grips the girl’s arm as millions of soldiers stand in her way blocking her from escaping. “What is the meaning of this?” Acheron turned towards the man with a pointed look. 

“Do you think I'll let you go the second time? Just how hard it is to track your presence in this damn world…. after all you’ve always been good at hide and seek.” Jinwoo chuckles darkly as he holds the girl’s chin gently. “I’m not letting you leave me again, Acheron, Mei, never in a million years.” As the man kissed the girl’s knuckles with a possessive glint in his eyes.

Hey guys!! i'm not that satisfied with this chapter (?) so i'll rewrite this later aksdjajs anyways uh good news, other than the robin fic, i've come up with 6 other different ideas of a new fanfic so i'll be writing those later when i have the courage to do so :((

[badsongpetey]

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5

The Water Guardian: Part 6

The question wasn’t would Lance come back, it was simply how soon. How soon turned out to be very not soon enough in Lance’s considerable estimation. School, work, and family obligations conspired upon him in a clearly targeted and evil scheme to keep him from gaining internet fame through an exclusive friendship with a reclusive cryptid. All of which led to Lance standing by Keith’s pool nearly two weeks after his last visit.

It’s just as beautiful and serene as the first time he saw it: water splashing gently down the rocks; birds and frogs chirping their songs; trees rustling in a gentle breeze. The kind of place that could instantly relax a person — that is if the person weren’t a Lance person currently standing around waiting on a very conspicuously absent dragon.

“Um, Keith?” Lance hesitantly asks the forest. He feels like an idiot. If there were any other people around he’d die of embarrassment, but fortunately or not, he seems to be completely alone.

Is Keith here? Is Keith even its name? Keith seemed like a pretty bland name for a cryptid, maybe he’d heard it wrong. Maybe it was really like “Kyitth” or something more magical, and now he was offending the dragon by mispronouncing it. Or maybe he really had been poisoned by contaminated pond water and had hallucinated the entire exchange. The longer he stands there, the more he worries. Dammit Hunk, why weren’t you faster getting out that test kit? Sure, yeah, maybe he could’ve waited to dive in…

“You’re late.”

Lance spins to see Keith up to his chest in the water, glaring daggers at him.

“Whoa, dude, maybe give a guy a head’s up or something before popping up outta nowhere?” Lance only half jokes, trying to cover for the near heart attack he just experienced.

“You’re late.”

Lance huffs, “Look, we didn’t exactly put this little get together in our calendars or anything. Things were crazy, I came back as soon as I could.”

In response Keith sinks up to his nose in the water, and squints with ferocity in Lance’s direction.

“I really tried.” Lance throws his hands up in the air in exasperation, how did he forget how annoying Keith is? “I TRIED. I was BUSY. But, look, I’m here. I came back. Isn’t that what matters?”

At this Keith disappears beneath the water completely, leaving behind only a few delicate bubbles which dance across the surface.

Lance sighs audibly. Like what does Keith expect him to do? Instantly give up his entire life to be at Keith’s beck and call? Figures he’s somehow managed to find the world’s most entitled cryptid.

Loud splashing draws his attention back to the water as Keith vaults effortlessly out of the pool and onto the surrounding rocks, and, yup, naked again. But this time Lance has come prepared. Looking away, because again, his mama raised a gentleman, he reaches into his backpack and tosses some clothes in Keith direction. He hears a satisfying thump as the bundle clearly hits its target — he always had impeccable aim.

“Lance?”

Lance figures that’s his signal that it’s safe to look. Keith stands before him wearing black sweatpants and an old grey t-shirt he was willing to part with. And it’s, fuck, it’s cute, okay?

“You’re really attached to the clothing huh?” Keith is smirking again.

“People wear clothing, Keith. It’s just polite. If you’re gonna look like people, you gotta cover up. It’s non-negotiable.” Lance is dying on this hill.

Keith shrugs, “If you say so.”

“I do. Say so. Yes.” This is gotta be the one of the more ridiculous demands Lance has ever made, telling a cute guy to cover up, but Keith isn’t a guy, even if he’s cute. What he needs is a subject change, immediately. “So, ah, what do you do around here for fun?”

Keith frowns, “Fun?”

“Yeah!” Lance smiles, “I mean, I know you’ve got the whole guard duty thing, but it’s pretty quiet around here, you must do something to pass the time.”

“This water is my sacred responsibility, and my life-force, it’s not just a job.” Keith growls.

Ok, open mouth insert foot, Lance didn’t usually have such a hard time starting up a conversation. “Hey, I didn’t mean that what you do isn’t important. I mean, this waterfall, it’s beautiful. You do a good job taking care of it, I’m sure it’s a lot of work.”

Keith softens a bit at the praise, “It is. But I do what I can.”

Lance decides to come at the question from a different angle. “Does watching over this leave you any time for anything else?”

Keith cocks his head, thoughtful. “I patrol, swim, take care of the animals, repair damage to the land, and sometimes…”

Lance thinks he can hear Keith end that sentence, but it’s so soft he can’t make it out. “Sometimes you?” He prompts.

Keith looks away. Embarrassed? “Sometimes, when there’s time, I, read.”

Lance’s eyebrows shoot all the way up past his hairline. The cryptid, READS?! “You read?? Like, books?”

“What else do you read?” Keith fires back.

“Hey no,” Lance backtracks, “I didn’t mean… I just, I didn’t expect you to have books out here?”

Keith scowls, “Why? Because I’m just some monster to you?”

“What? No!” Crap, were all dragons this touchy or did Lance just get extra lucky? “I didn’t mean that, it’s just that you live out here in the middle of absolute nowhere. It’s not like there’s a library. I didn’t figure you’d have, I dunno, human stuff.”

Keith looks away. “They… were my father’s.”

Oh shit. Did that mean there was some even bigger and grumpier dragon around? No, Keith said they were his father’s, that means… Keith has turned almost completely away from him. This is definitely not a bear he should poke.

“Uh, sorry.” It’s a lame response, but Lance isn’t sure what the protocol is on consolidating a cryptid on the loss of a family member.

Keith shrugs, “I didn’t know him.”

In the awkward silence that follows Lance becomes convinced that Keith can hear the sound of the gears grinding in his head trying to come up with a way to salvage the conversation, because he quietly adds, “Would you like to see them?”

“I’d LOVE to!” Lance practically shouts in relief before attempting to regain his cool. “I mean, sure, if you want to, it’d be cool.”

Keith glances back at him, and, yep, there’s the eye roll again. But also a tiny smile? Lance will take the win.

[separatist-apologist]

Love Is A Lie

Summary: After her mothers death, Arina goes from the well-loved daughter of a nobleman to a servant in his home. She dreams of escaping to the coast and making her own way, and when she learns of a ball the King of Avalon is hosting to pick a wife, Arina sees her chance. With a little help from a fairy godmother, Arina agrees to exchange a favor for one night with the King.

But Eris Vanserra has other plans when they meet, and Arina isn't sure she's ready for the consequences of one night dancing at a ball.

Part Two of OUAT series

Read on AO3 | Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

The sound of heels against stone drew Arina from her reverie. Three days in the dungeons had made her numb to noise—to the moaning, the pleading, and the rattling chains. Unfortunately, it hadn’t numbed her to the smell—coming back to consciousness brought with it the smell of human filth and misery. Turning her head through the gloom, Arina saw the beautiful face of her fairy godmother.

Amarantha.

“Tsk, tsk,” she began, slipping through the bars as though she were made of water. “You were caught.”

Arina turned her head, staring dead-eyed at the wall in front of her. There was no point in pleading with the witch.

“I could free you,” Amarantha continued, snapping her fingers so the barred door that held Arina swung open of its own accord. “Let you try again, if you like?”

Arina didn’t respond. 

“Or maybe you failed on purpose. Love,” she spat as though the word tasted foul. “Look where it got you.”

“Just kill me,” she said tonelessly. 

“In time, perhaps. I’m not quite finished with you just yet. You did fail me—the prince lives and so, too, does little Elain Archeron. I can’t seem to stay ahead of the little wretch.”

That drew Arina’s attention. What did Elain have to do with all this? Amarantha wasn’t really talking to Arina, merely at her. 

“I’m merciful. You still have time to make this right,” Amarantha crooned, turning her attention back toward Arina. Arina shook her head.

“He won’t see me. He hates me.”

“Yes, I’ve heard the rumors. He loved you once, though,” Amarantha said in that syrupy voice of hers. It was as if she wanted to make things better having already destroyed so much. “Perhaps he’d see you if you got on your knees and begged.”

Arina swallowed her revulsion. “Got on my knees only to stab him in the back, you mean?”

“Why not whisper how much you love him right before you press the dagger into his ribs?” Amarantha suggested, revealing the same dagger Eris had taken from her. “Let it be the final words between you.”

“Why this dagger?” Arina questioned, reaching for the jeweled hilt sitting at her bare feet. “Poisoning him would be far easier.”

“Ah, there’s a trick to this blade,” Amrantha told her, delight burning in her beetle black eyes. “It keeps a soul trapped until I have use of them. A king is a useful toy to have in my possession. Now, I want you to take your pretty little self back to his bed and plead with him until he is close enough you can drive this into his body. But just in case you think to defy me…”

Amarantha snapped her fingers and in an instant, heavy, iron shoes were strapped to Arina’s once bare feet. She watched in horror as the metal began to warm, the metal brightening until the heat was overwhelming. Shrieking, she reached to pull them off only to scald her fingertips.

“You like to dance, don’t you? Consider this an incentive. Kill Eris Vanserra or dance for me until I’m no longer amused. Understand?”

Arina nodded, tears streaming down her face. All at once, the metal began to cool, though not quick enough for her liking. She couldn’t move her feet without touching skin to the contraption. “Take these off.”

“Oh, I think I’ll leave them. Just in case,” Amarantha said with a sharp-toothed smile. “I want you to think only of me and just how unpleasant my displeasure will be should you fail me a second time.”

With a snap of her fingers, Amarantha was gone. The door to her cell was still open—as if it mattered. And though Arina’s feet were burned, she was mostly intact. Arina counted her breaths, wiping her eyes on the sleeve of her dress as she waited for night to fall.

Minutes felt like days, the hours stretching miserably. With no windows and only the dim torchlight just outside her cell, Arina had no way of telling time. While she waited, Arina picked at the metal shoes that held her feet. There had to be a way out of them, though it felt like the more she tugged, the tighter they adhered to her skin. 

Finally, she heard the clipped sound of boots against stone followed by the pale, lined face of the man she’d married. Eris took her in, eyes sweeping her curled form, the dagger balancing on her knees and the iron shoes now strapped against her feet.

“She came?” he whispered, standing in the doorframe. 

“Yes,” Arina agreed, biting her lower lip. “She brought me this.”

“Did she explain its importance?”

“It’s imbued with magic…it’ll trap you. This isn’t about you, Eris. It’s about Elain,” she whispered, waiting to see what would happen next. Eris had asked her to trust him and she had, though that had only resulted in her being thrown in the dungeons while he ordered the guards not to speak a word that she was there. He’d get to decide what happened to her and having spent three days alone in the dark, Arina was beginning to wonder if he wouldn’t just kill her after all.

Eris crossed the filthy cell, joining her gingerly on the bench. He was so wildly out of place in his fine clothes.

“Are you hurt?”

Arina wanted to cry. “I’m okay,” she lied, unwilling to tell him the truth. Just in case. Eris reached for her face, sweeping his thumb over her cheek. 

“You’re not. But you will be. Are you ready for what comes next?”

“I don’t know.”

“Come on,” Eris said, offering Arina his hand. She hesitated before taking it, crying out softly when her injured feet touched the ground. Her knees buckled and the only thing that kept her from slamming to the stone was Eris’s arms. “You are hurt.”

“I’m fine,” she panted, though she pressed her cheek against his chest all the same. It felt good to be touched after days of utter deprivation. In her worst moments, Arina indulged in a fantasy in which Eris just never came back. Sometimes she imagined the speech he’d give in which he’d laugh at her, asking if she genuinely believed he could ever love her. 

“You’re not,” Eris whispered, kissing the top of her head. “And I won’t be either if I have to sleep another night alone. This is what she wants, isn’t it? For you to charm me?”

“And then kill you,” Arina reminded him. 

“I would gladly die at your hands.”

Arina had to choke back her laughter before it devolved into tears. Maybe Eris recognized it because he murmured, “It’s almost over now.”

Arina didn’t think that was true though there was no point in arguing. Eris led her out of the dungeon, hands tight around her body. If she’d thought there would be a reprieve once they were back in his bedroom, Elain was mistaken. Eris’s brothers were waiting with Elain Vanserra, all of whom looked equally furious. Not at Arina, whom Eris set gently on the bed.

“She means to trap me,” Eris told his brothers softly, taking out the blade to show them.”

“I knew it,” Elain murmured, wrapping her arms around her body. “She knows I’d bargain for your freedom.”

“You won’t,” Eris snarled, whirling on Elain as Connall picked up Arina’s damaged foot to examine the contraption binding her. “This is not the time for heroics.”

“Any soul, right?” Arina murmured as Tanwen sat on her other side. “Including hers?”

“It won’t work,” Eris began, but Lucien’s once serious gaze had brightened. 

“It will work,” Lucien breathed, looking at Elain. “She’s not clever—she’ll come to gloat and that’s when we’ll have her. We can trap her until we figure out a way to kill her.”

“What about my sisters?” Elain demanded, rounding on her husband. “They’re still out there and I need to know how to free them.”

“I promise we will,” Lucien said, taking his wife's hands within his own. “I swear it. But for right now, we have to do this.”

“She’ll know—”

“She won’t,” Eris interrupted, turning to look at Arina. “You can do this, can’t you?”

Arina agreed with Elain. Amarantha would suspect a trick, would be prepared to kill them all. What were the odds she and Eris survived? It seemed impossible. Still…maybe it was better to go down trying than it was to lay down and accept defeat. And if there was a chance they could be together, Arina had to take it. 

“Do you trust me?” Eris asked, turning the full weight of his amber eyes on her. She saw his hope, his determination. 

“Tell me what to do.”

ERIS: Eris felt Arina’s legs straddle his hips. In other circumstances it would have been a dream to know she wanted to be on top of him. Now it was all he could do to keep himself still and quiet and let her work. He could feel her trembling hands, could all but taste her fear. She didn’t think this would work.

 Neither did Eris, truthfully. Still, they had to try. The alternative was losing Arina and Eris wasn’t willing to accept that. They were so close. All she had to do was take that knife and cut exactly where he’d told her to. After that, everything was out of their hands. 

Eris felt the knife pierce his clothes, felt the warm gush of blood spill against the bed. Arina whispered, “I’m so sorry,” before dropping the knife loudly to the floor just as they’d agreed. 

“So sweet,” came a twisted, crooning voice from the dark. Eris didn’t dare move even as Arina scrambled back, her metal clad feet clanking against the marble floors. “If only love was enough to save you. It’s nothing personal.”

Arina cried out, knees buckling as the room illuminated in a sickening, orange glow. Her shoes had ignited in the moments after Amarantha’s arrival, forcing her to either hop foot to foot in some sick kind of dance or frantically try and get them off her feet. 

Eris rose from his place in bed, their plan already falling apart. 

“Tell me where little Elain Archeron is, and I’ll spare your pretty wife, princeling.” 

Eris didn’t dare look at his wife lest he ruin the entire thing. Her death wouldn’t be on his hands. He could play it cool just long enough to free them, if only temporarily. Gesturing absently, he said, “She’s around.”

“Call for her,” Amarantha ordered. Eris heard Arina whimper at his feet and dug his nails against his palms to keep himself from reaching for her. They were so close. Elain could fix this for them—Eris knew it. She’d see the pieces laid before her and she’d make it happen.

So Eris called for her, well aware Elain was merely in the next room surrounded by his brothers. Amarantha must have known it too, because her head turned toward the closet doors before Elain ever emerged. 

With one hand resting on her rounded stomach, Elain was the picture of serene grace. Like she hadn’t once survived an attempt on her life by the same witch now standing in front of her. Eris was in hell watching things play out, all the while having to see Arina writhe below, forgotten by everyone but him. How long could her feet remain in that contraption before they were no longer of any use to her? 

Grinding his teeth, Eris forced himself to remain where he was, still bloodied from the blade before. Of course the blood was fake—but it was only ever meant to lure Amarantha to him. She wanted Eris dead but not so badly she couldn’t resist trying to get Elain back, too. Her hubris would be her undoing, though Eris wasn’t fool enough to think they’d manage anything but containing the witch today.

“Look at you,” Amarantha breathed, ignoring the way the metal around Arina’s feet glowed orange. Eris and Elain met each others gaze in the dark, her resolve unmistakable even as she jutted out her bottom lip and held her stomach protectively.

Was Lucien losing his mind behind the door? Eris thought he understood how his brother must feel. If he had to wait another minute, someone was going to die.

Probably him. 

“You’ve been busy,” Armantha breathed, her focus wholly on Elain. “You look ready to burst.”

“What do you want?” Elain asked, adjusting her stance in an attempt to look threatening. She failed—miserably—but Amarantha wasn’t looking at Arina on the floor. The witch didn’t see how Arina’s fingers curled around that dagger, sliding it slowly across the floor where Eris was able to catch it beneath the toe of his boot. 

“What do I want?” Amarantha cackled, throwing her head back so her blood red hair cascaded like a river of blood down her back. With her attention on Elain, Eris crouched as slowly as he dared, eyes locked with his wife. If he failed, they’d all die here and his kingdom would crumble to ruins. His heart swam in his stomach as ice flooded up his spine, causing his fingers to tremble ever so slightly.

They would succeed, he told himself, if only because they had to. 

“If you leave them alone, I’ll give it to you,” Elain breathed, causing Lucien to finally emerge from behind the door, hand on his blade.

“No!” Lucien interrupted, causing just enough of a commotion that no one caught Eris rise to his feet, blade in hand. “No, Elain—”

“Let the girl speak!” Amarantha ordered, wholly focused on Elain in front of her. What did she imagine she could get? What kind of twisted bargain was she working in her mind? Elain inched closer to Eris and he knew right then what Elain wanted.

Retribution for the pain and suffering she’d experienced. For what they’d all been through. He reached for her, pulling her back to his chest so she could reach for the dagger concealed in his other hand. Elain’s fingers also trembled though no part of her expression waivered. 

“What about my child?” Elain suggested as Lucien surged forward again. This time Amarantha flicked her fingers, throwing his brother roughly against the far wall. 

“You’d give me your unborn baby in exchange for this man's life?”

“For everyone's life,” Elain whispered, her eyes on Amarntha. The witch stood facing Lucien, her back half-turned to Elain. All they needed was one more diversion from his brother and they could make their move. “I can have more children.”

“Your first two children,” Amarantha crooned. “There are twins in there.”

Lucien moaned, pushing himself to his feet. “Elain, this is madness. They’re our babies—”

“We can have more,” she said, her voice heavy with sorrow. Eris nearly believed Elain’s grief. “You want them both?”

Amarantha’s joy was obscene. “Yes. Both your babes, in exchange for the lives in this room.”

There was a trick to her words—some game they were all missing. Arina whimpered, dragging herself closer to Eris while trying desperately not to touch her skin against the scalding metal contraptions. 

“No!” Lucien roared, running forward to head butt Amarantha. It was the distraction they needed. The witch turned her attention toward Eris’s brother just as Elain stepped forward and buried her blade in Amarantha’s neck. The witch let out a blood curdling laugh, head thrown back even as blood began to pour from the wound. 

“Foolish girl,” she hissed, the words gurgled from her mouth. “Now you’ll never find the eldest.”

Still holding her dagger, Elain leaned forward. “I’ll find her and when we’re reunited, we’ll be back to kill you.”

“We shall see,” Amarantha replied, her edges fading into the room. It took another moment before the knife Elain held clattered to the floor, leaving only a pool of blood behind. 

“Get these off me,” Arina whispered, prompting the room into a flurry of movement. Lucien reached for Elain, pulling her into his body as she cried into his chest, swearing she would never have given up their unborn children.

The metal burned Eris’s fingertips badly, but in the end he managed to get them off Arina’s feet and haul her up into his arms before Elain ever finished apologizing.

“That dagger doesn’t leave my sight,” Eris ordered, nodding at Elain to put it on his side table while he set Arina gently to the bed. “Holy fucking gods.”

“Everyone is okay,” Elain murmured, but Eris wasn’t having it.

“Get out,” he added. It had been days since he’d last seen his wife.

And he wanted to talk to her.

[sav-not-tav]

Summary:

"Ah, little mouse, drowning your sorrows, are we?" His voice is smooth, dripping with mockery, each word a velvet dagger. Tav's eyes widen in shock, then narrow in panic. The room seems to close in around her, the flickering candlelight now casting Raphael's sharp features in harsh relief. "Raphael... what do you want?" she stammers, her mind racing. Her gaze settles on his lips as they curl into a devilish grin, and she feels her stomach twist and tighten. Gods above, she is too tipsy to be sat in front of him right now. —⥈— What begins as a tense, manipulative patronage soon evolves into something more complex. Tav finds herself drawn to Raphael, their interactions a dangerous dance of power and passion. As she navigates her new reality, the line between duty and desire blurs. This fic is a post-canon storytelling.

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: F!Tav/Raphael or OFC/Raphael

Links to AO3:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

[yazthebookish]

I just reread the bonus chapter and I'm just, as always, struck by how fucking obvious Gwyn and Azriel's set up is.

✨ He found it already occupied. His shadows had not warned him. It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running, Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

I'm telling you those shadows are going to play wingmen for Az.

✨ His shadows peered over his wings at her. The young priestess smiled--and Azriel thought it might have been directed at his curious shadows.

Does anyone ever really smile at his shadows except for Gwyn 😭

✨ "Happy Solstice," she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing. -- He snorted. "Are you kicking me out?" -- Gwyn's teal eyes flashed with alarm. "No! I mean, I don't mind sharing the ring. I just...I know you like to be alone." Her mouth  quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose. "Is that why you came up here?"

Gwyn really indirectly said he was going to be a brooding ass so let's wish him a happy solstice and let him go and he still teased her back instead of taking the opening she gave him. Also, no one pays enough attention to this detail but SHE KNOWS he likes to be alone 👀 girl is paying close attention to him alright 👀

✨ Sort of. "I forgot something," he reminded her. -- "At two in the morning?" Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he'd spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile. "I can't sleep without my favorite dagger."-- "A comfort to every growing child." -- Azriel's lips twitched.

Gwyn has no filters on I love her 😂😂😂 she really indirectly called his lying ass out.

✨ "How was the party?" Her breath curled in front of her mouth, and one of his shadows darted out to dance with it before twirling back to him. Like it heard some silent music. -- "Fine," he said, and realized a heartbeat later that it wasn’t a socially acceptable answer. "It was nice."   Not much better. So he asked, "Did you and the priestesses have a celebration?"

For a 500+ year old immortal Az you should've been better at this game, but I'm proud of you for at least being self-aware and trying to have a normal conversation. 2/5 on the effort but still appreciated.

✨ She angled her head, hair shining like molten metal. "Do you sing?” -- He blinked. It wasn't every day that people took him by surprise, but..."Why do you ask?" -- "They call you shadowsinger. Is it because you sing?" -- “I am a shadowsinger--it's not a title that someone just made.” -- She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. "Do you, though?" she pressed. "Sing?" -- Azriel couldn't help his soft chuckle. "Yes."

1. Not many people take him by surprise but she did. -- 2. I wouldn't be surprised because it's funny as hell if she asked him because of shadowSINGER -- 3. Azriel taking offense and reaffirming he is, in fact, a SHADOWSINGER. -- 4. Sarah confirmed there will be a scene of him singing, as far as we know Gwyn is likely the only character who knows he does, also the fact that SJM created something common between the two of them and it's that they both sing? -- 5. It's sweet to think that Gwyn wanted to know something about him and asked him about something she herself loves to do, which is sing.

✨ "I blame Cassian for this. He's too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days." Azriel laughed. "I’ll give you that."  

Gwyn complaining about Nessian and Az is like "I can relate " 😂

✨ Gwyn smiled broadly. "Thank you." -- Azriel dipped his head in a sketch of a bow, something restless settling in him. Even his shadows had calmed. As if content to lounge on his shoulders and watch.  

She smiled at him and both him and his shadows felt calm 🥹 like compare how aloof and depressed he was at the start of his scene with Gwyn to him feeling this just after one conversation with her 😭😭 it's so 😭😭 I love them so fucking much.

✨ Gwyn nodded her farewell, again facing the ribbon. A warrior sizing up an opponent, all traces of that charming irreverence gone. Azriel entered the warmth of the stairwell, and as he descended, he could have sworn a faint, beautiful singing followed him. Could have sworn his shadows sang in answer.

"That charming irreverence" Gwyn is so unapologetic about that irreverence I love her for it -- also, that's a clear, in-your-face, clue about a mating bond. I stand by that and my opinion remains unchanged since I first read the bonus chapter in 2021.

✨ Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, "I’ll give it to Gwyneth, Tell her a friend left it for her". -- He wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but... "Fine. Thank you."  

I don't really find this alarming when people try to push into my face. It's obvious they're not in love "yet" and Azriel doesn't have any friends outside the IC, he doesn't know how to label it. It's still early to even label it. That "but..." leaves an opening there.

✨ Clotho's pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her. -- Something sparked in Azriel's chest, but he only nodded his thanks and left. He could picture it, though, as he ascended the stairs back to the House proper. How Gwyn's teal eyes might light upon seeing the necklace. For whatever reason... he could see it.  -- But Azriel tucked away the thought, consciously erasing the slight smile it brought to his face. Buried the image down deep, where it glowed quietly. -- A thing of secret, lovely beauty.

When Clotho thanked him for the joy the gift wil bring to Gwyn that's when something sparked in him. That's when he started to picture that joy. "For whatever reason" she's likely your mate bro that's why but we'll save that for later. He was aware and conscious enough to erase his smile yet bury the image of Gwyn's joy in his chest. He had a DAMN SMILE on his face while thinking of Gwyn's joy, like, that's so precious 😭 and Clotho is 100% true, she deserves all the joy the world has to offer for her (I just wish it wasn't a necklace meant for someone else). I get the kindness behind the act but it can bite him in the ass if SJM brings it up in the main book.

That's only a teaser for what's to come and that's the purpose of the bonus chapter. I can see why Sarah was more excited for readers to read Azriel's chapter than Feysand's chapter. She knew what she was doing here and what she's setting up. I didn't want to post the earlier scenes since I don't want to deal with people showing up with pitchforks and I don't need to talk about other ships I'm happy and content to gush about my own.

Every time I reread this chapter it just reminds me of how obvious Gwyn and Azriel's set up is and you don't need a pairing to bang or make out to create a set up. We didn't even get much but they are going to be such a fun couple, I need more of funny and easy-going Azriel.

[cressthebest]

Crimson Rivers thoughts pt. 13

chapter 24:

1. sirius 🫱🏻‍🫲🏼 james being codependent af

2. ooo reg you’re so close babes. think about that just a little more. he realizes he cares about how james treats him and feels about him. reg just almost gets it

3. “He thinks the arena makes everyone a bad person while they're here. The only exception to the rule is James. He's the only person who could drag himself through all of this filth and cruelty and still hold onto his shine.”

4. ☺️ this “without hesitation” line is gonna bite us in the ass, isn’t it?

5. they’re talking about what their life without tragedy would have looked like. and damn. i’m not okay. their life would have been so beautiful

6. “"In that life, I do," Regulus whispers. "I let you do whatever you want, and when you want to dance, we dance."”

i’m NASTY sobbing over this line. like, snot coming out of my nose sobbing

7. “Regulus said James was his first love, didn't he? James would give anything to be his last.” 😀😀😀 holy shit that hurts

8. that nightmare was VILE

9. god, reg was practically sobbing to hold james’ hand. why is the world cruel to them??

10. 😐 i am unamused. another fucking spider

11. “"Have a go at me. Don't thank me or anything. It's always you're so stupid, James; it's never you looked so sexy and heroic while saving everyone from the murderous spider, James."” PFFFFFTTTT

12. it hurts to read it, but i also have always known that if reg wasn’t called into the hunger games, james would have died for someone else. like he said, either peter or vanity

13. god, peter’s story line and character fucking hurts. his family was mathias, irene, vanity, james, and even reg. this hurts like hell

14. NOOO PETER!!!!!

15. THEY MADE IT!!! THEY SURVIVED! THE GAMES ARE OVER!! THANK GOD!!

16. 😀😧 the rule change is REVOKED??? IM ABOUT TO LOSE MY FUCKING SHIT!! IF I WAS IN THIS UNIVERSE, ID PERSONALLY BE THROWING HANDS WITH SLUGHORN!! I BET SIRIUS HAS TO BE PHYSICALLY RESTRAINED!!

17. “"You're hesitating, love," James says softly.”

SCREEEEEEEEEEECHH

18. “"Axus got me on their way into the water. At least it was your dagger, I suppose," James says with a weary chuckle, his throat bobbing on a harsh swallow. His mouth quirks up a bit at the corner, gentle and lovely. "Maybe this makes me insane, but if I'm honest, I wish it had been you."”

oh no, make no mistake james. this very much does make you insane

19. and james is compared to the fucking sun going down again. i- i’m not okay

20. i need therapy for my trust issues. i trusted my ex best freind who outed me. i trusted my old roommate who i recently found out had a notes app list of everything she didn’t like about me this year. and most importantly, i trusted zar. i trusted that this fic wouldn’t do this to me.

[cherrycola27]

false god

Series Warnings: Mythology!AU. Language, alcohol, drinking. Military inaccuracies. Mutual pining, unrequited love. Allusions to and eventual smut. Minors DNI. 18+. Individual chapter warnings will come as needed. Banner Credit @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

Specific Chapter Warning: Mentions/ description of anxiety/ panic attacks

...........................................

Chapter 4: Ghost

Adjusting to life in California had been surprisingly easy. Teaching at Top Gun made you feel useful. And respected. Something you hadn't felt in a very long time. In the four months that you had been here, you'd grown close to the Dagger Squad. They considered you one of their own now.

You had let yourself form friendships with them, though you didn't tell them every aspect of your life. You needed a few secrets here and there.

You'd also found yourself spending more and more time with Bradley. He brought a light to your life that you had been missing for quite some time. Both of you were still dancing around the line between friends or something more. You yearned to let him in, to let him see some of the skeletons in your closet, but there would be too many questions. There are too many things you didn't have explanations for.

So, you settled for being wingmen, and dare you say it, best friends.

It was better than nothing

True to his word, you hadn't been able to get rid of Bradley. He came over a few times a week to watch TV, eat whatever you'd made, and play with Hydra and Cerberus. If he wasn't in your apartment, you would pop by his. The two of you spent so much time together, you'd exchanged keys to the other's place.

You weren't planning for it to happen, but Bradley had to go home one weekend to Virginia to see his cousin graduate from college and he gave you a key to water his plants and check his mail.

Phoenix and Halo had whisked you away the next weekend for a girl's trip, and you'd asked him to keep an eye on your Cerby and Hydra. Neither of you had returned the lent spare keys, but neither of you really minded. You enjoyed having that small piece of each other constantly with you.

You hadn't had someone you could count on in your life like this for a very long time. Sure, Minthe and Hecate were there to support you, but it was nice to have someone closer to you. It was nice to feel—wanted.

It was nice to be wanted

.............

The warm days of spring faded into the hot months of summer. One Monday afternoon, Hangman stopped you on the way to your card and handed you an envelope.

"What's this, Jake?" You asked him.

"It's an invite. I'm have a birthday BBQ and pool party at my house this weekend. I'll have food and drinks. You can bring your own beverages if there is something you really want, but not required, just pack a swimsuit and the SPF." Jake said before walking away to flag down more of the squad.

You tucked the invitation into your bag and got in your car to drive home. Later that night, you tossed and turned in your bed before drifting into a fitful sleep.

As you drifted off, the silk sheets suddenly became salt water. Your limbs felt like weights as you struggled against the drag of the water. Everything was cold and dark as you tried to keep your head up. You desperately gasped for air as you fought to keep from sinking, but the current was too strong. It was dragging you under. You couldn't breathe.

The water filled your lungs. You scream so loud, but no one heard a thing. Suddenly, you shot up out of bed and gasped for breath. A cold sweat had broken out across your body, and Cerberus and Hydra stood at the edge of your bed, looking at you.

You looked around and saw that you were still in your room on dry land.

You panted as you tried to calm yourself. You opened your nightstand and grabbed some of the lotus flower Dinoysus had given you. You broke off a small part of one and grabbed your water bottle.

Hydra and Cerberus gave you a judging look as you swallowed the herb. "Oh, don't look at me like that." You told them, as you laid back down and let the calming effects of the lotus wash over you and send you to a dreamless slumber.

You just wanted to be numb

Wednesday afternoon, Bradley came over. You'd unintentionally started a routine of pizza and reality TV. There were no expectations, no pressure, just the two of you, some food, and some mindless show. It was—nice.

During a commercial break, you got up to get some drinks for the two of you and take your plates to the kitchen. You were shuffling around when Bradley asked, "You're coming to Jake's party on Saturday, right, Angel?"

You paused as you stepped away from your fridge and closed it.

Why did he have to ask?

"Um—no, probably not." You replied quickly.

"What? What do you mean? Jake can be a massive dick, but he throws some great parties. Do you have other plans or something?" Bradley asks as he hops up from your couch and joins you.

"No, I don't. I was just planing in hanging out here." You shrug. "Then why aren't you going? You're a part of the team now. Everyone is going to be there. Jake is making a shit ton of food, and he had his own pool. We wouldn't have to share it with anyone like we do the one here." Bradley tries to convince you.

"C'mon, Angel, you'll have a good time." Bradley softens he holds your gaze for a moment and can see your jaw tick as you are trying to formulate an excuse.

You don't want to talk about this

"Why don't you want to go?" He asks you.

"I'm just not a party person. Can we talk about something else? Or go sit down before we miss the rest of the show?" You try to push past him and change the subject, but Bradley plants his feet and stays firmly in place.

"No, there is obviously something bothering you about this. I'm your friend, Hades. I just want to know why you're so against it." Bradley continues to pry.

"Bradley, can we not do this? You're going to think it's stupid or that I'm just overreacting." You try to convince him to drop the subject. But if you've leaned anything about him, you know that Bradley is just as stubborn as he is kind.

"Try me." Bradley says.

You sigh and finally give in and gesture towards your couch. You sit at one end, and Bradley takes a seat across from you. Hydra jumps up into your lap while Cerberus curls up at Bradley's feet.

"I don't want to go to Jake's party because I'm scared of drowning." You tell him. Bradley blinks slowly and looks at you with a strange expression.

"Drowning? Angel, correct me if I'm wrong, but you have to be able to swim pretty well to be in the Navy. And you have to go through tons of emergency water training. Why would you be scared of drowning in a pool?" Bradley asks you.

"Because of my last mission." You whisper. You drop your eyes to avoid Bradley's gaze.

"What happened on your last mission?" He asks you.

You sigh and take a deep breath. Were you really about to bear your heart to him?

What if Bradley thought you were weak after this?

What if he looked at you differently?

"I was stationed on a ship in the Indian Ocean. My squad, we went out and did a nighttime recon mission. It was supposed to be routine, nothing crazy. A monsoon was coming in, and the water was just crazy, we ended up moving the mission up because of the weather. Everything was fine at first, but on the way back, we had some faulty intel." We started taking fire." You explain to him.

"I was mission leader, I made sure my crew made it back safe, but I took a lot of hits. Lost both engines. I tried to gain altitude before I ejected, but I couldn't. I hit the water hard when I punched out." You continued.

I was all tangled up in my chute and couldn't detach from it. It was so dark, and the water was so choppy. I kept getting tossed around, and the waves kept pulling me under. It took hours for them to find me. I was unconscious when they did minutes away from drowning." You tell him.

"I spent weeks in recovery and therapy. I couldn't even look at water, let alone go in it. I can barely spend more than fifteen minutes in the shower without having a panic attack." You confess.

You don't tell Bradley, but you did drown on that mission. You just reincarnated before you were rescued. In your three thousand years of life, you'd died a lot of deaths, but drowning, that was the worst one. It was also the only one you had nightmares about.

"Hades—Angel—I—I'm so sorry that happened to you. I had no idea." Bradley says. He isn't totally sure how to respond.

"It's fine, no one knows." You say as you wipe a few stray tears from your cheeks. You can't believe you've let yourself be this vulnerable around him. Bradley is the first person besides the Navy mandated therapist your last post made you see that you've told all of this too.

Now he knows that you aren't as strong as he thought you were

Bradley lets out a heavy sigh. You know he is trying to process what you've told him and trying to come up with the best response to make the situation better because that's what Bradley does. He tries to fix everything. It's endearing really.

"Come to the party with me on Saturday. You don't have to swim, but you can still lounge around, have some good food, and day drink with us. And if anyone gives you shit, I'll take care of it." Bradley tells you.

"Bradley—"

"Angel, I wasn't asking. I'll pick you up at ten." Bradley tells you before turning his attention back to the TV with a smirk on his face. You shake your head.

What had you gotten yourself into?

True to his word, Bradley is knocking on your door just before ten on Saturday morning. Even though he has a key, he doesn't want to just barge into your apartment.

You're just about ready when you open the door for him. He does a double taken when he sees you.

"Wow." He says. "You look amazing."

You smile and thank him. He isn't wrong. You look pretty good. You're wearing a black one-piece suit. The top has a sweetheart neckline that makes your chest look amazing. There is a triangular shape cut out just under your breasts that offers a teasing peak of one of your tattoos. You have a long floral skirt tied around your waist as a cover-up. Your hair is in low messy bun, with a wide brimmed hat over it. Your aviator sunglasses are perched on your nose as you slide your feet into some sandals and grab your bag with your sunscreen, a towel, and a book.

You grab a case of wine coolers from your fridge, and Bradley promptly takes them from your hand as the two of you walk out of your apartment.

He insists on driving because you're both going to the same place, so there is no point in taking two cars. Bradley puts your things and his in back of his Bronco before opening your door and helping you in. He then jogs to the other side, his open Hawaiian print shirt flapping around as he does so before he climbs in. It gives you a wonderful view of the tonned skin under it.

It takes you a minute to realize it, but the two of you almost match. You chuckle to yourself.

The drive to Jake's is about twenty-five minutes. It's filled with fun conversations and throwback eighties rock, which is a personal favorite of Bradley's.

The last bars of an AC/DC song play, and Bradley is about to say something when you hear the almost tropical beginning of your favorite song play. You quickly hold your hand up to shush him.

Before he can even register what is happening, you're belting out the opening to Bon Jovi's "Miracle." Bradley slows down for a red light and watches you, awestruck as you sing every word to the song. He can't help but join in with you on the second verse, and the two of you are harmonizing as he drives down the road with the wind whipping through your hair and the windows down.

As the song finishes, he turns down the radio before turning to you. "You know that song?" Bradley asks with a surprised tone.

"It's only my most favorite song, ever." You tell him with a laugh.

"Really?" He acts like he doesn't believe you. "Yeah, there's just something about it." You shake your head.

"It was one of my mom's favorite songs, too. She said my dad learned how to play it for her on piano and surprise her with it. She used to sing it all the time, even after he passed." Bradley said.

"Well, she had great taste." You tell him.

A few minutes later, the two of you are pulling into Jake's driveway. Bradley throws the Bronco in park before saying, "Don't even think about touching that door handle." He hops out and jogs to the passengers side and opens the door and extends his hand to help you out.

You thank him and remind him you could have done it yourself, and he reminds you yet again, that he was raised better than that.

You grab your things from the backseat, and Bradley grabs the wine coolers you brought before the two of you make your way to the front door. Javy, let's the two of you in. He takes your drinks and puts them in a cooler before wrapping an arm around Natasha's middle and joining the conversation she was having with Bob and Halo.

You find Jake out by the pool in a pair of American flag swim trunks. He is grilling and drinking a beer. He greets you and Bradley warmly before telling you where the bathroom is, where some extra towels are, and that anything in his kitchen is fair game.

You spot a lounge chair under a massive umbrella and take your things to set up shop. The rest of the team meander outside. You apply some sunscreen as Phoenix sits down next to you. Coyote gives her a quick peck on the lips before jumping into the pool with Fanboy and Payback.

Once your arms and face are covered in SPF, you stand up and untie the floral skirt cover you have on and put it in your bag.

Jake lets out a long whistle as he saunters over to you. "Hades, didn't know you had so much ink." He remarks as he shamelessly looks over your thigh and the lettering peaking out from the cutout in your bathingsuit.

"Yeah, I have a thigh sleeve of everywhere I've been stationed." You tell him. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to put on some sunscreen, and if you could not burn whatever you're cooking while you oogle me, that would be great." You tell him before plopping down. You're just about ready but can't reach your back. You would ask Phoenix or Halo, but they are on the other side of the pool talking now, and most of the boys are splashing around in the water. So, you politely call Bradley over and ask for his help.

He's more than willing to spread the coconut scented lotion over your back and shoulders. And you'd be lying if you said that his calloused hands on you didn't feel good. You wonder what they might feel like in other places.

He's your best friend and wingman. Stop

Once his finished, you thank him and slather a layer of sunscreen playfully on his face. You aren't sure how much it will help. It seems like no amount of SPF in the world keeps him from turning red.

The afternoon is actually going surprisingly well until sweet, stupid Bob makes the comment, "Hades, why haven't you gotten in the pool? It's like a hundred degrees today. Surely you're hot sitting up there?"

"Oh, I'm fine, Bob, really. I'm just enjoying getting my tan on and reading my book." You reply. That seems to satisfy him and the rest of the squad for now. Everyone except for Jake.

When Jake Seresin threw a pool party, everyone got in the pool. It was like the laws of nature.

After feasting on bugers and hot dogs and ice cream for lunch, everyone took a break to reapply sunscreen, refresh drinks, and chat for a bit. After about thirty minutes, Phoenix and Halo dove in the cool water and begged you to join them. You declined them.

A few of the boys got in and tossed a football around. You peered over the cover of your book. Using your sunglasses as a cover, you shamelessly checked out Bradley. The water glistened off his toned and slightly sunburnt body. You had to bite down on your lip to suppress a moan.

A few minutes later, Jake declared that everyone should play a few rounds of Chicken.

Nat quickly hopped up on Javys' shoulders while Paybacm hoisted Fanboy on his. Omaha helped Halo up, while Bradley scooped up Bob. The rest of the squad watched and laughed at the chaos.

You laughed at how ridiculous everyone looked. Everything was fine until Jake came up to you and grabbed you by the hand.

"C'mon, Hades, you're going to be my partner." He said as he tried to drag you to the water.

"No, Jake, I don't want to." You protested. "It will be fun. It's a pool party, you have to get in the pool." Jake said. You dug your heels in, but Jake didn't seem to care. He quickly scooped you up and ran towards the edge to jump in.

You flailed your arms and screamed at him to put you down, but it was no use. "Bradley heard the panic in your voice, but there was nothing he could do to stop Jake from tossing you into the deep end of the pool before he jumped in behind you.

The blue water enveloped you as you sank down. You struggled to orient yourself as you desperately sought the surface.

It seemed like it took an eternity for your head to break through the water. Once you did, you drew in a panicked breath, and the anxiety set it.

You were gasping for air as Jake and a few others laughed, but the moment they saw the wild look in your eyes, they knew something was wrong.

You were vaugly aware of Bradley and a few others calling your name, but you were blinded with the need to get out of the water.

You gripped the edge and hauled yourself out of the pool, not caring if your knees scraped on the concrete before grabbing your towel and running inside like a frightened animal.

A silence falls over the rest of the group as everyone gets out of the pool to process what just happened.

As soon as his feet hit the concrete, Bradley barrels toward Jake like a bull in a china shop.

"Bagman! What the fuck was that!" Bradley screams as he squares up with Jake. His hands land on his chest and push him back a few feet. Jake recovers and tries to remain composed.

"I was just messing around. I didn't know she was going to freak out like that." Jake defends himself.

"She said she didn't want to get in. You couldn't respect that, could you?" Bradley continues.

"Listen, I wasn't trying to hurt anyone. I was just playing around. It was supposed to be a joke! It's not like she gave a good reason for not wanting to get in!" Jake shouts as Bradley continues to invade his space.

"It doesn't matter if she gave one or not! She had a good reason for not wanting to get in. Hades doesn't owe you an explanation. You should have just let it go. But no! Now you've probably given her a fucking PTSD flashback!" Bradley shouts.

That catches everyone's attention. "Wha—what do you mean?" Jake asks, suddenly shrinking down and lowering his voice.

"I mean—ugh—she asked me not to say anything, but Hades wasn't going to come today because on her last mission, before she transferred here, she almost died. She got shot down over the ocean, and her parachute got caught in currents. It was a night mission, and the water was rough, and she almost drowned. She said water has freaked her out ever since." Bradley explains to everyone.

Jake swallowed thickly. "I—I didn't know." He states. "Yeah, neither did I until she told me. I hope you're happy with yourself, Jake." Bradley spits out before turning to grab his shirt and towel and heading into the house to look for you.

You had bolted into Jake's house. You made a beeline for the bathroom and slammed the door behind you before dropping to your knees in front of the toilet and dry heaving. You really thought you were going to puke your guts out, but nothing came. After a few minutes of coughing and sputtering, you sat back and leaned against the bathtub. And then the tears came.

They streamed down your face like a river. They were tears of anger, embarrassment, and shame. You were angry at Jake for throwing you in the pool, but you were angrier at yourself, and the reaction you had.

You were embarrassed and ashamed that everyone saw you freak out. They were probably all laughing and making jokes at your expense right now. I mean, you were in the fucking Navy and afraid of the water.

You could hear them laughing at you now.

The thought of made you cry even harder. You were cold and alone and ashamed of yourself as you sat on the floor of Jake's bathroom. Your shoulders started to shake because you were sobbing so hard.

You tried to take a few deep breaths to calm down, but the anxiety thrummed through your body, racking your brain.

A few minutes passed, and you heard a knock on the door.

"G—go away, Jake. I don't want to talk to you." You stammered out between sobs.

"It's not Jake." You heard Bradley's voice through the door. "Can I come in?" You hesitated before reaching up to unlock the door. Bradley slowly opened it, and his heart sank when he saw you.

You were propped up against the tub, knees to your chest, tear stained cheeks, and shaking.

Bradley dropped to the floor beside you. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around your shoulders before pulling you into his lap. Bradley immediately began rubbing soothing circles on your back and whispering calming words.

You melted into his chest as you continued to tremble. "I'm sorry." You sqeaked out.

"Don't be, Angel. I used to have panic attacks when I was a kid. I've been where you've been. My mom used to take care of me and talk me through them. Just take some deep breaths. Try to relax." Bradley told you calmly.

You tried to relax and breathe, but the overwhelming feeling of dread wouldn't go away. Bradley could feel how tense you were in his arms, so he tried something else that his mom did for him. He sang to you.

At first, you didn't register it, but Bradley's soft voice washed over you as the familiar tune of "You Are My Sunshine" filled the small space.

You pressed your head further into his chest and listened to his heartbeat. That, in combination with his voice, started to bring you back from the edge.

You steadied yourself enough to sit up and speak to him.

"Thank you." You told him as you wiped the tears from your face. "Don't worry about it. Like I said, I've been there. My mom used to sing that song to me when they were really bad." Bradley smiles at you.

"She sounds like she was a great lady." You tell him. "She was." Bradley replies.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Bradley asks you with genuine concern in his voice.

"I'm so embarrassed." You tell him. He looks at you confused. "Why? Do you think you're the first one on the team to have a breakdown in front of the group? When we were training for our last mission, Phoenix and Bob had to eject. The first time, they tried to get back in a jet after Bob froze on the tarmac and locked himself in the locker room, and Phoenix started shaking so bad she puked on Coyote when he went to comfort her." Bradley told you.

"Yeah, but you guys knew what happened. Nobody out there knew about my accident. All they know is the legend that follows me around. I'm supposed to be strong, unbreakable—not—not weak. And over something as menial as water?" You sigh and bury your head in your hands. Fresh tears threaten spill over.

"No one thinks you're weak, Hades. And don't be mad, but I kind of blew up on Jake and told everyone what happened. I probably shouldn't have, but I wanted him to know how much of an ass he was." Bradley admits to you.

"It's fine. It was going to come out sometime. You didn't hit him did you?" You ask him.

"No, but when I left to come in here, Nat was giving him down the road, and I wouldn't be surprised if she did." You both laugh.

"I'm sorry that I probably ruined everyone's day. Jake probably hates me for ruining his party. Good gods, that's all I ever do is ruin things." You sigh.

Bradley shakes his head and takes your face between his hands. "Listen to me, Angel, you didn't ruin anything. No one hates you, and no one thinks you're weak. You have been walking around with his burden alone when you didn't have to be. I've seen you fly. Hell, I've taken a peak at your file. You are an amazing person, and so fucking strong. You've got to be to put up with us all the time." Bradley laughs.

He looks deep in your eyes, and you can tell he's sincere. "I think you're amazing. You're the best pilot I've ever flown with. You're a great person in the air and on the ground." He assures you.

Your lip quivers as you fight the urge to cry again. Bradley rubs his thumbs across your cheeks, and before you can register what's happening, he leans forward and presses his lips to yours.

They're soft and warm and taste faintly of the salty margaritas all of you had at lunch. You're just getting used to the feeling of his plush mouth against yours when he suddenly pulls back and looks at you with wide eyes. You push yourself off of his lap and put some space between the two of you.

"Hades—I—I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that. I don't know what I was thinking. You're my superior officer, and my wingman and my best friend. I just—I'm sorry, can we pretend that never happened?" Bradley stammers out. Panic setting deep in his features

"Yeah." You say flatly. You've never felt more dejected in your life.

"Do you want to go home? Get some rest?" Bradley asks as he stands up and helps you to your feet.

"Yeah, that's fine." You sigh, willing yourself not to cry.

"Great. I'll go get our things and meet you out front." He tells you before bolting out of the bathroom. You're left standing there in a daze, the tingle of his lips still on yours.

Bradley quickly goes to grab your things and his. He's still mad at Jake, but more than that, he's mad at himself. He is still dizzy from the way your lips felt on his, how your body moulded with his, like it's where you were always meant to be.

The way you tasted, sweet, with a dash of salty, was exactly how he had imagined it—no it was better. He knew that he'd never get enough of it. But now he was kicking himself. He'd pushed you away so easily when he should have pulled you closer. But, he didn't want to take advantage of you. You were emotional and vulnerable, and it's not the way he wanted your first kiss to go.

He can't believe that he told you to forget it happened and that he gave you some bullshit excuse. You looked so hurt, and that's when he realized you'd wanted it just as much as he did.

"Fuck," Bradley cursed as he shoved your things into your bag, you probably think he is an ass now and he has probably ruined his chance with you.

"Is Hades okay?" Bob comes up to Bradley and asks him.

"Yeah, she's okay. But I'm going to take her home. She's still kinda shaken up." Bradley tells him.

"Understandable. You've gotta take care of your girl." Bob says. Bradley tenses at the comment. "She's not my girl, Bob, were just friends." Bradley tells him sharply.

"You sure about that?" Bob asks, as if he can read Bradley's mind. "Yeah, I'm sure." Bradley says before telling everyone else goodbye.

You're standing by the Bronco waiting for him when he makes it to the front of Jake's house. He unlocks your door, but you yank it open before he even has the chance to do it for you.

The drive back to your apartment complex is silent. There is no throwback playlist on, no playful conversation. Just the sound of the wind blowing around the two of you, and even that isn't loud enough to drown out the quiet for Bradley.

You don't look at him the whole drive back. Your beautiful smile, the one he's grown to love so much, is nowhere to be found.

He silently pulls into his designated parking space. You jump out of his car before he has even cut the engine. You grab all of your things before quietly heading to the elevator. It's a silent ride up to your floor.

You don't expect Bradley to get off when you reach your level, but he follows you down the hall to your door.

You unlock it without a word. "Angel, if you need anything, text me, I'll be right down." Bradley tells you as he stands in your doorway. He's hesitant to cross the threshold and come in. He's not as confident as he was before.

"Thanks." You say not meeting his eyes. "Angel, look—I—" Bradley doesn't know what to say, and quiet frankly, you don't want to hear it. So he settles for telling you that he hopes you have a good evening before turning on his heels to leave.

"Rooster, wait." You call to him. He pauses, you called him Rooster. You haven't used his call sign since the first week you moved here. Now he knows he's really messed things up.

"Yeah, Angel?" He asks as he turns to face you, still using the nickname he gave you.

"Here." You say to him as you had him the spare key to his apartment that you've had for well over a month that he hasn't bothered to ask for.

He's reluctant to take it from you. He liked the idea of you having a key to his place. He feels a piece of his heart break as you press the cool metal into his hand.

"Thanks." He breaths out before leaving.

You close the door behind him and lock it. You shake your head, trying to keep the tears that cloud your vision from falling. You were kicking yourself. This is why you didn't let yourself fall for someone because it always ended in heart break.

Who could love someone like you, anyway?

Taglist: @roosterscock @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @mayhemmanaged @wkndwlff @roosterforme @daggerspare-standingby @dakotakazansky @startrekfangirl2233 @hecate-steps-on-me @cassiemitchell @na-ta-sh-aa @milestellerlover @katieshook02 @desert-fern @je-suis-prest-rachel @soulmates8 @sometimesanalice @diorrfairy @eli2447 @xoxabs88xox @djs8891 @roosters-girl @sebsxphia @rosiahills22 @dempyrean @callsign-magnolia @alchemxx @gretagerwigsmuse @withahappyrefrain @lt-spork @multifandomlover4life @lewmagoo @bradshawsbaby @seitmai @kmc1989 @bcarolinablr @roosterisdaddy36 @itsdesiree86 @waywardhunter95 @hisredheadedgoddess28 @whatislovevavy @asshlyyyy @inkandarsenic @lillyrosenight @tomanybandstolove @jiminie-08 @dingochef @laracrofted

[myfavouritefoodismilkbread]

Underworld Ties

Amidst the shadows of Seoul's underworld, Lee Know of Stray Kids Mafia finds himself entangled in a dangerous game of alliances and rivalries. When he crosses paths with a formidable adversary from the Kangs, tensions ignite, revealing a past fraught with unresolved tensions and undeniable attraction. As their worlds collide in a tumultuous dance of power and passion, they must navigate a treacherous path of loyalty, love, and betrayal.

Chapters:

Ch. 1: Blood Feud Ch. 2: Shadows of the Past Ch. 3: The Contract Ch. 4: Hostile Negotiations Ch. 5: Fractured Alliances Ch. 6: Veiled Threats Ch. 7: Dangerous Liaisons Ch. 8: Unlikely Allies Ch. 9: Undercover Ch. 10: Cloack and Dagger Ch. 11: Loyalty Tested Ch. 12: Betrayal Ch. 13: Heart of Darkness Ch. 14: Point of No Return Ch. 15: Revelations Ch. 16: Crossfire Ch. 17: Redemption Ch. 18: Breaking Point Ch. 19: Surrender Ch. 20: Epilogue - Beyond the Shadows

Warnings: enemies to lovers, Lee Know centric, smut at some point, angst, slow burn, violence, guns, (mafia world related stuff). I am not good at warnings sorry.

I'll update every Thursday. <3

[topguncortez]

What to Expect | Chapter 4

previous part | masterlist | next part

synopsis: The dagger squad comes and visits your students at school. You and Jake share a steamy moment in your bedroom.

word count: 3.2k

warnings: pregnancy, vomiting, cursing, mentions of infidelity, fighting, spotting, cramping, fear of miscarriage.a filler before the DRAMA

Jake probably broke every single traffic law as he sped through the dark streets of California to get to the Kazansky house. He was still in his sleep shirt, boxers, socks and slides, not bothering to put on proper clothing as he got the text from you. You didn’t use the distress signal often, in fact there was only one time in the whole five years that Jake was with you that you had sent a ‘mayday’ text to him. It was when you got into a car accident and were being taken to the hospital. Jake felt like his heart stopped in his chest as he left work to get to you. And right now, he had that same feeling in his chest. 

He hardly put the car in park, as he ran to your front door. You opened it before he had the chance to knock. You didn’t say a word as you grabbed his hand and pulled him to the bathroom on the first floor of your parents house. 

“Hey, what’s going on?” Jake said, looking you over. 

“I-I know Doctor Miller said it’s normal, but I’m still spotting a-and I feel like it’s not normal,” You cried and Jake’s heart broke, “It’s not enough to be concerned but I-I don’t like it.” 

“Oh, pretty girl,” Jake said and pulled you into his chest. You sobbed into his chest and he shushed you, running his hand down your back, “If you’re really that scared, we can go back to Doctor Miller.” 

“I just saw her last week,” You sniffled, “She said the same thing.” 

Last week was your twelve week scan, and you had told Doctor Miller that you were still experiencing some spotting. She did a full pelvic exam and ran more bloodwork, but she told you the same thing she had two weeks prior, that nothing was wrong. Jake wasn’t able to join you because he had work but Bradley had been there with you. 

“What can I do?” Jake asked, grabbing your face in his hands, and brushing a tear from your cheek. 

“My head hurts,” You whimpered, “I’ve been getting headaches every single day.” 

“Come on,” Jake grabbed your hand and opened the door. 

The Kazansky house was decorated beautifully for the Christmas season. Sarah took her time making sure every little decoration was done perfectly. A large Christmas tree was placed by the fireplace that twinkled with lights and ornate ornaments. Tinsel and garland were wrapped around the railing that illuminated the steps of the grand staircase. Jake walked to your room, which you had also decorated for Christmas. He led you to your bed, and pulled back your covers. It was still made, telling Jake that you hadn’t even been to bed yet. He wondered how long you stayed up worrying about your unborn child. 

“Lay down,” Jake instructed, and you wordlessly followed. You got into your warm king bed, and Jake walked around to the other side. 

He slid in under the covers, and pulled you into his chest. You closed your eyes, feeling the familiar heartbeat against your skin, and breathing in the scent of his body wash. Jake always smelled like the earth after it rained with a hint of jet fuel. He lazily ran his hand up and down your spin, trying to calm you down. His other hand danced slowly on your hip, until he reached down and pulled your leg over his hips. You used to sleep like this against him all the time. It was familiar, comfortable. You let yourself relax against him, until you felt his hand on the back of your neck. 

“It’s okay,” Jake said as you tensed up. His hand rubbed lightly at the skin, and you could feel the tension in your head cease, “I got you,” Jake leaned down and kissed your forehead as he lulled you into a dream filled sleep. 

— — — 

You weren’t sure why you were nervous. Maybe it was the fact that you are about to have eight aviators in your classroom. Five of them seemed to have the worst filter that you had ever witnessed in your life. Ever since Jake had met Owen a couple weeks ago, he had been asking when he could come back and visit the class. You had to get permission from your principal, but you decided to turn it into a science lesson and have them talk about what it’s like to fly. Your dad was always on board to come talk to children. He said it was how recruiting the next generation starts. 

Your kids were currently at recess as you waited in the front office for your father and the dagger squad to show up. Ice asked what uniform you wanted them in and you said to surprise them. Alyssa was making copies for her class, when she looked up and saw the group walking in. She smirked and let out a low whistle. 

“The hunk squad is here,” Alyssa said and you looked up at the front door. Jake was the first one you saw, donned in his summer dress whites. 

“Oh god,” You said, and Alyssa chuckled. 

“Ooo baby daddy looks good,” She nudged you and you rolled your eyes, “Who’s the one in the flight suit?” 

Your eyes landed on Phoenix, and you smirked at Alyssa, “Got a lil crush?” 

“Shush,” Alyssa blushed, “You can’t be the only one with a pilot. I gotta go get the kids. Get me her number,” You laughed and nodded as the dagger squad walked into the front office. 

You clapped your hands and smiled, “Ready to meet about twenty-five nine year olds?” 

“Oh hell yeah,” Fanboy said and Payback smacked his stomach, “Sorry. . .heck yeah.” 

“We had a briefing on language, they should be on their best behavior,” Your dad said as you led them down to your classroom. The kids were starting to come back and fill the halls of the Second Grade wing. Alyssa was going to bring your two classes in last so you could surprise the kids with the aviators. You had even gone and pulled out some of your fighter jet decorations, putting them up over the christmas decor. 

“Alright, you guys sit up here,” You pointed to the chairs at the front. You could hear the laughter of your kids and smiled, “I’m going to control the rugrats before they come in.” 

You looked at Jake and he smiled at you. You looked away quickly and Jake frowned. You hadn’t even said anything to him since the other night, and he was confused. He knew that your mood swings were rough at this point, but you were starting to give him whiplash. 

“Alright, aviators,” You said as you stepped out in the hallway, seeing your second graders lining up against the wall, “This is your teacher speaking, and we have some very special guests waiting inside our classroom. You all need to be on your best behavior and use your good manners. Alright?” 

“Alright!” You kids responded. 

You smiled, “Goodness, gracious-” 

“GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!” 

Bradley smiled at the door, hearing the voices of young children. He remembered the time at your old school when he came and played the piano for your class. He played ‘Great Balls of Fire’ and it quickly became the call and response for your class that year. It warmed his heart at the fact that you still used it. Jake looked over at Bradley and glared at him. Coyote could see the way Jake was throwing daggers with his eyes at Jake, and kicked his chair. Jake looked at his friend confused, but Coyote pointed to the door as a bunch of wide eyed second graders started filling in. Jake sat up a bit straighter and fixed the white cap that sat on his knee. 

“It’s Mister Jake!” Owen gasped and pointed to him. Jake smiled and lifted his hand in a wave towards the little boy, “I told you he’s real!” 

“Whatever,” Another boy said and shoved past Owen to get to his desk. 

“Lil dickhead,” Coyote whispered and Jake nodded. 

Once all the kids were seated, you walked to the front of your classroom, “Alright my little aviators, as you can see, I have brought some friends in to help with today’s science lesson. I present to you, the commander of the pacific fleet, Admiral Tom Kaznasky, callsign, Iceman.” 

“Is he your dad?!” An excited second grader shouted as Ice stood up. 

Ice chuckled, “I am her dad,” You nodded and sat down at your desk. Jake was the closest to you, and he looked at you, sending you a wink. You rolled your eyes and focused on what your dad was telling your class. Each member of the dagger squad introduced themselves and said their callsigns. 

“Why is your name Bob?” One of your kids, Eli asked. 

“It’s my callsign,” Bob answered. 

“Yeah. . .but why?” 

Bob opened his mouth but Jake answered instead, “It means Badass on Board.” 

You groaned, closing your eyes as you heard the gasps from your kids. 

“He said a bad word!” 

“That’s 500 hundred push-ups,” Hondo said, and patted Jake on the back. 

At the end of the presentation, the Dagger Squad taught the kids how to build paper airplanes. It was the sweetest sight as you looked at your classroom and saw the various members sitting next to your second graders. You held your tea mug in your heads as you sat on top of your desk, watching everything. 

“How are you feeling?” Jake asked, coming up and resting against the desk next to you. 

“Better today,” You said, taking a sip of the hot drink. 

“Ginger tea?” 

You nodded, “Mrs. Hernandez down the hall said it helped her during her first trimester.” 

“It gets better soon,” Jake said, “Rachel said that her favorite part was the second trimester. Things calm down with the morning sickness and nausea, she had a lot more energy, she wasn’t huge-” 

“Finish that statement, I dare you,” You pointed your index finger at him. Jake held his hands up in defense and walked away from you with a cheeky smile on his face. 

“Attention aviators!” Ice said, stepping in front of class, “Your TopGun training is over. It is time for your final hop! This is for the trophy, and the chance to get your name on the plaque.” 

“You heard the Admiral!” You said to your kids, “Line up at the door!” 

You took the kids down to the gym, where they were going to throw their paper airplanes to see who would go the farthest. It was meant to just be the kids, but you noticed some of the dagger squad had also made paper airplanes as well. You chuckled as Fanboy and Payback argued about whose design was better. The paper airplane TopGun challenge was something Ice did back when you were in grade school. You looked forward to it every single year growing up, and you continued the tradition when you became a teacher. 

“Aviators, line up on the line,” You said, and watched as the dagger squad members stepped up, “The little aviators, line up on the line.” Some of the dagger squad rolled their eyes and let the second graders step up to the painted lines on the gym floor. 

“Okay, in three. . . two. . . one. . . take off!” You yelled and twenty five paper airplanes went soaring through the air and landed at various spots in the gym. Jake and Bob were on the other side, looking for the top five farthest planes. 

“Aviators, form up, so we can give out awards!” Ice smiled. 

The daggers had to help the little ones to stand in a proper formation, which caused some protest because certain kids wanted to stand by their friends. Once Jake and Bob picked up the top five planes, they walked over to Ice and Maverick. The “trophy” was just a goodie bag with some candy and a first in line pass for lunch. You read the top four names and had the kids come stand up at the front of the formation. 

“The top Aviator, who will get the trophy and their name on the plaque  is. . . . Owen!” 

The little boy’s eyes lit up as he ran to the front of the formation. You handed him his airplane and the goodie bag. Once the formation was “dismissed” some of the kids asked the aviators to sign their airplane and play with them in the gym. It warmed your heart to see how good they were with kids. You couldn’t help but imagine what it’ll be like in just a short six months when you give birth to your child. You could see it now, barbeques and parties in your parents backyard, the Dagger Squad showing up with more gifts than you would know what to do with. Jake had a bright smile on his face as he jogged around the gym, trying to avoid the dodgeballs being thrown at him. 

“He’s good with them,” You said as Rooster walked over to you. 

“Yeah, I’ll give him that,” Rooster sighed and put his hands on his hips. You noticed he was wearing his khaki uniform today, something you knew he hated with a passion, but you loved how he looked in it. 

“You look good, Bradshaw.” 

A smirk rose on his lips as he looked at you, “I am good, Kazansky, very good.” 

You rolled your eyes and playfully shoved him, “I gotta get the rugrats rounded up.” 

“Can I do it?” Rooster asked and you nodded, “Goodness, gracious!” He yelled and all the second graders stopped in their spots. 

“GREAT BALLS OF FIRE!” They responded. 

“Okay, now that’s fucking cool,” Bradley said. 

“That’s five hundred!” Hondo pointed at him. 

You chuckled, “Line up, aviators! Time to return to the carrier.” All your kids quickly ran to line up by the wall like you have taught them to. You did a quick headcount making sure you got all of them, “My second graders, what do we tell the Dagger Squad, Captain Mitchell and Admiral Kazansky for coming in today?” 

“Thank you!” They all responded. Ice’s lit up with a smile. 

“You are very welcome,” Ice said, “Chief Hondo is going to hand you your wings as you leave. I hope to see you all very soon!” 

“Jessie, lead them to the class,” You said to your line leader. He nodded and walked towards the door of the gym. Some of the aviators waited by the door to give them high fives, as Hondo gave them stickers that looked identical to the gold wings pinned to some of their uniforms. You felt an arm drape around your shoulders and turned your head to see Jake standing next to you. 

“I’m glad Owen won,” Jake said. You narrowed your eyes at him and then gasped. 

“Jake, you didn’t. . .” You said and Jake sheepishly pulled out a paper airplane from his pocket and handed it to you. You read the name and shook your head. 

“I watched him push Owen into the door when they went to get more construction paper from Ally’s room.” 

“Thank you,” You said and held the paper airplane tightly in your hands. You looked Jake up and down again, really taking in the sight of him in his uniform. You bit your lip and took a step forward, whispering in his ear, 

“Come over tonight.” Jake opened his mouth to say something, but you kissed his cheek and headed to where your class was. 

— — — 

Jake came over that night like you told him too, but you gave him a specific time to be there. You had known your dad’s night time schedule since you were old enough to read a clock. Iceman was always in bed by 9:30 and asleep by 10. You had used that knowledge to your advantage, and became very good at sneaking around the house at a young age. So Jake arrived at your house at 11:30, and parked down the street like you told him too. You also had him come through the garage door because it was on the opposite side of the house from your parents bedroom. 

Once again, you didn’t say anything as you grabbed Jake’s hand and pulled him through the house. You made him take his shoes off and hide them in one of the storage closets in the garage. He stumbled a bit through the dark house and you shushed him. It felt like deja vu from that night twelve weeks ago, except this time you were pregnant and you both were sober. 

The second you got to your room, you closed the door and pushed Jake up against it and kissed him. Jake froze for a second, but kissed you back, placing his hands on your hips. Your hands tangled in his perfect blonde hair as you kissed against your door. 

“Wait,” Jake said, pulling away, “What are we doing?” 

“Fucking,” You said and leaned into kiss him again but he stopped you. 

“What?” 

“Ugh,” You groaned, “Doing the same thing we did to get me knocked up.” You leaned in again and this time Jake didn’t stop you. He gently walked you towards your bed, his lips never leaving yours. When the back of your knees hit your bed, he picked you up a bit to lay you down on the mattress. 

The past week you had been having vivid dreams of Jake and waking up every morning desperate. You knew that your hormones were raging, but you didn’t think they could get you like this. And seeing Jake in his dress uniform today was not helping you at all. Your hands roamed Jake’s body, going down to the hem of his shirt, and tugging it up his perfectly sculpted body. Jake only broke the kiss to take his shirt off, leaving him in the jeans that hugged his thighs and ass perfectly. 

“God, you’re so fucking hot,” You said, pushing his shoulder so he’d lay on his back. You climbed on top of him, straddling his waist. Your hands ran down the valley of his pecs, and Jake watched with hooded eyes as you kissed down his chest. He groaned as your tongue swirled over his nipple, your hips lazily grinding over his hard on. 

“Jesus, what has gotten into you?” Jake asked. You sat up quickly and Jake couldn’t believe his eyes as you started crying, “Whoa hey, what’s wrong?” 

“I hate you!” You cried and hit his chest with your fists, before crawling off of him. 

“What did I do!?” Jake asked, his eyes wide as you pulled your knees to your chest, “Y/N, love, what did I do? Did I hurt you?” 

“You asked me what has gotten into me! You got into me! You knocked me up! And now I just wanna rip your clothes off and smack you at the same time!” 

Jake tried to bite back a smile as he wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest. You didn’t fight against him as you cried into his neck. He knew that this would pass almost as quickly as it started, and you’d be laughing about it in no time. When the sniffles subsided, your fingers twirled around the dogtags on his neck. 

“Jake,” You asked softly. 

“Hm?” 

“Do you think we can go get ice cream?” You looked up at him with puppy dog eyes and Jake smiled down at you. 

He kissed your forehead and said, “Of Course.”

taglist: @materialgirl01 @cherrycola27 @love2write2626 @averyhotchner @maddievevo @xoxabs88xox @nagygreta @bioodforbiood @violyn20 @abaker74 @misshoneypaper @callsign-joyride @auroraboreallisfine @thedroneranger @rosewritesitout @nobody7102 @bradleybeachbabe @wildxwidow @cm27078 @caitsymichelle13 @whisperofsong @bonitanightmxres @maverooster @mizzzpink @khaylin27 @shawnsblue @shelbycillian @sexualparkour @thenewdaysalreadyhere @fandom-princess-forevermore @double-j @momc95 @buxkybarnez @paige-alexandra-may @coffeebooksandfandom @86laura11 @some-lovely-day @ohemgeewhat @itsmytimetoodream @emmaelix @springholland @atarmychick007 @okiegirl24 @i3k2ts @gassyandsassy1 @happierbelle @lemoonandlestars @captain-beskar @celestialeviereads @kandierteveilchen

THE TAGLIST IS FULL. DO NOT ASK TO BE TAGGED CAUSE YOU WON'T BE.

[farieofshampoo]

THE WOLF & THE DRAGON (6/?)

series masterlist, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, chapter 4, chapter 5

summary: To dance with dragons is to play with wolves. After surviving her own assassination attempt, Alarra Stark endured a large scar across her face, slicing her face in half. For years after Alarra was now known as "Alarra The Fierce" due to her ferocity at the young age, defending herself valiantly at merely thirteen-years-old. After then, she spent years training with her older brother, Cregan Stark, so that one day she could avoid the pain and suffering of anyone in her family; including herself. But, after those years spent training with men much larger than her, she is sent away and betrothed to Joffrey Velaryon for alliance towards the rightful heir to the Iron Throne: Rhaenyra Targaryen. Accompanying the family to Kingslanding, Alarra realized maybe marrying the young Velaryon boy wasn't so awful. But that was until she met a peculiar "one-eyed" prince.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Stark!OC

word count: 4.2k

tags: slow burn, forbidden love, canon Aemond, enemies to lovers, long fic, original characters, war, arranged marriage

rating: 18+, !MDNI!

Blood upon the snow

To my dear sister Alarra,

The days are longer without you here. Ser Wildrow seems more bored than ever, not having you to torment him. I hope you are well and I hope your sword has not touched the scales of any dragons yet. I have been busy with duties so I have not had the time to write. I assume you are just as busy as I have not received a raven from you just yet. I hope to hear from you soon, I am only a raven away after all.

Cregan

Alarra set the letter down, leaning back in her chair. She missed Cregan terribly. And now the guilt was beginning to eat away at her. She didn’t know exactly what to say to him. She could tell him the good things, how great things were with the little princes. She would not tell him about how awful Ser Criston Cole was, how he tormented her at every waking moment. And she doesn't know why. She assumed he was envious. But why should a knight be envious of a princess? Alarra picked up her quill, filling it with ink before she started to write to her brother.

Dear Cregan,

I am angry at you for not warning me of the waves. They made me terribly sick. My food did not rise like the others but it was still awful! I am well, my dagger has not been in use just yet. I do miss pushing you to the ground. The princes have been a pleasant replacement for you. Jacaerys reminds me of you. I want to come home

Alarra erased the last bit, putting a thick line through it. She crumpled up the piece of parchment, throwing it somewhere across her room. The door creaked open, a knock sounding after.

“Still in your nightgown, my lady?” Eyla entered the room, heading for Alarra who was sitting in her vanity, her hair a tangled mess. “‘Tis early.” Eyla countered, her hands running through Alarra’s hair before she reached for a brush on the table. Eyla noticed a pile of crumpled paper by her bed and let out a tiny snicker.

“Writing is not as easy as it seems.” Alarra grumbled as Eyla tugged through a rough knot in her hair.

“Not as easy as swinging a sword, is it?” Eyla teased, working through the knots. Alarra sighed, leaning her head back as the brush glided through her hair, the knots disappearing slowly. “Just tell him what you truly feel. That is what letters are for are they not?”

“But I do not want him to worry. He already was skeptical about this arrangement-”

“Your brother cares for you, my lady. He only wants to hear from you,” Alarra glanced at the discarded letters on the ground, the words “I want to come home” still etched freshly in her mind. Alarra was still unsure of what to say to Cregan. Maybe she should just pour her heart out to him, telling him exactly how she felt. But, Alarra would not do that. That would only make the girl seem weak. And Alarra knew one thing for certain: she was not weak.

“Jace, you need to fix your posture.” Alarra reprimanded the boy, standing behind him as he was hunched over slightly. Alarra pushed his back lightly, so that he would stand up more. And he instantly stood up, turning his head to glare lightly at Alarra. Alarra grabbed a wooden sword from off of the ground, the one Lucerys had been previously using, and set it between Jace’s shoulder blades, within his arms. He looked like a duck flapping its wings, and he groaned, turning annoyingly to Alarra.

“How am I supposed to yield a sword now?” He slashed mindlessly and unsuccessfully (the sword barely raised above his head), unable to move his arms properly.

“You have to keep your body upright. No more slouching. This will teach you.” Alarra was now in front of him and he gave her an unsatisfied look.

“Go on!” Alarra waved a hand, gesturing for Jace to swing his sword. Lucerys was lightly giggling from behind Jace, and Jace whipped around facing his younger brother. Lucerys quickly stopped laughing, and cleared his throat.

“What is funny Luke?” Alarra had instructed Luke to work on his balance by standing on one foot. He was no longer doing that, and was laughing at his brother instead. Luke straightened up, looking at Alarra with wide eyes. He quickly stood back on one leg and Alarra tried to hide her laugh.

“Alarra?”

“Yes, Luke.” Alarra sighed, her hands on her hips. She had decided to wear a tunic and pants today, for she and the princes were alone in the courtyard early that morning. No one else was to be around, so Alarra deemed it appropriate.

“How much longer do I have to stand like this?” He was wobbling slightly, starting to fall but he caught himself.

“Until I say,” Alarra responded, and Luke paled, starting to wobble more. Alarra let out a laugh, approaching the boy. “Alright, that’s enough for today.” Luke sighed, standing on both of his feet. Alarra had been training the boys for about a week. They were both skilled in swordsmanship but they had a lot of improvement ahead of them. Alarra enjoyed spending time with both of them; they reminded her of home. Alarra felt like Cregan whenever she reprimanded them. She felt closer to him every time she picked up a sword. Jace and Luke left the courtyard after thanking Alarra for her time. Alarra always told them to not thank her because she was glad to share her skill with others. She was happy to help them, it may help them later on.

Alarra was walking through the halls, ready for a bath after sweating all morning, when she passed by a room, the door slightly ajar. Coughing was coming from the room, loud and it echoed into Alarra’s ears. She jolted for the door immediately, instantaneously thinking of her father. The door creaked open loudly, and the king was hunched over his desk as another cough rang out of him.

“Your grace!” Alarra rushed over to him, her hands reaching for his shoulders. The king waved his hands before Alarra could help him, a cough coming from him again before he spoke.

“No, no I am alright!” The king was irritated, his voice coming out harsh like pebbles hitting rocks. He coughed again, breathing in a ragged breath. It was quiet while he breathed in and out and Alarra cleared her throat.

“I apologize, your grace. I was only concerned-”

“What is your name?”

“Alarra, your grace.” He hummed, sitting down harshly in his chair.

“And you are a servant? What are you doing in these parts of the Red Keep?”

“No I-”

“A harlot then? Get on your way-”

“No!” Alarra’s voice was louder than she proposed, and her face was contorted into one of pure disgust. She cleared her throat, wiping her face clean of any open expressions. “Your grace.” She muttered, stepping back a foot.

“A handmaiden, perhaps?” Alarra rolled back her shoulders, tucking her tongue beneath her throat holding in a remark.

“Yes, a…handmaiden.” He clicked his tongue. Alarra figured he wouldn't remember her anyway, a tiny lie would not hurt. He was old and deficit, his brain slower than molasses.

“I knew I’d seen you before.” He muttered quietly to himself, staring at the desk in front of him as he smiled, hundreds of papers laying untouched. Alarra hesitated, glancing at the frail, hunched form of the king as he looked over the pieces of parchment. The king was barely recognizable now, weakened and tired, his hands trembling as he rose them. Alarra slowly backed away, turning to leave the room when the king rang out once more.

“Faces are a blur, and names fade yet you remind me of...” Alarra stopped walking, turning around to look at the king again. The king shook his head, mumbling something before turning back to the scattered pages. “A woman with pants! Now that is a sight to see.” The king yelled as Alarra left the room hurriedly, closing the door tightly. She stood outside the room, looking around the halls to find no one in sight. Alarra really needed that bath.

Otto Hightower scoured the halls, the king nowhere to be found. The king couldn’t have wandered off, somewhere not too far. The hand stopped walking when he heard a cough from inside the king’s study. Otto burst open the door, scaring the king slightly. Otto bounded towards the king, looking exasperated.

“You are assigned bed rest, your grace. You cannot just-“

“I am the king! I will do what I want.” Viserys looked up from the desk at the hand, dropping the papers that were in his palm. Otto glanced at the pages among his desk.

“I told you- the council and I will take care of your affairs.”

“Only I can take care of my affairs. I don’t need you or a girl with pants and a sword at her hip to tell me what to do.” Otto ignored the last part: the king was old and sick after all.

“You can barely speak or walk. I will get a guard to carry you to your chambers.” The king was silent and Otto left the room to find a guard.

Alarra stood outside her chambers, just about to enter when she noticed her door was left cracked open. Alarra knew that she locked her door, she knew for certain that she shut it at least. Her hand hovered above the knob, gazing into the thin gap.

Someone was in there.

It was now nighttime and Alarra did not remember the time of day and how the sun had slipped past her. The room was dimly lit with candles in every space and crevice lighting up the room. She ventured into the room and realized it was unfamiliar.

This was not her room.

Alarra felt that everything was strangely distant, as if veiled in a cloud of mist. Alarra walked further into the room and pale blonde hair appeared in her view. The figure turned around and it appeared to be Helaena who was in her room. She looked deathly afraid, her lip trembling slightly.

“Helaena-” A babe’s cry erupted from Helaena’s arms.

“Protect them.” Helaena whispered, soothing the saddened babe as the crying got louder and louder. The babe had a head of black hair and Alarra gasped as the room seemed to shift, Helaena and the babe now gone from her sight. Alarra’s hand reached out but all that was in front of her was her own hands. She looked down at herself to see a thin white nightgown on her body. When had she put that on?

“Helaena!” Alarra turned, her breath getting caught in her throat. She was now in the hallway but not in the Red Keep but Castle Ward. Her home. Alarra's heart pounded as she took in her surroundings. She hadn’t set foot in Castle Ward in months, yet here she was, standing in the very corridor she knew so well: the cold stone walls, the flickering torches casting shadows along the tapestries she remembered from childhood. The familiar scent of pine and firewood lingered in the air, yet everything felt unnervingly hollow, as though a fog hung over the hall, dulling its colors and muffling its sounds. Alarra paused at an unfamiliar painting. It was larger than the rest and Alarra realized quickly that it was a painting of herself.

Alarra froze, staring up at the painting that loomed over her. In the waving torchlight, her own likeness gazed back yet it wasn’t quite her. The face was familiar, yet older, with shadows cast beneath her eyes and a hint of sorrow etched into her expression. She looked regal and hardened, her hand resting on the hilt of a sword, her posture proud yet burdened. She wore armor emblazoned with the sigil of her house, though it was marred by scratches and dents, as if she’d been through a long, grueling battle. Alarra’s fingers brushed over the frame hesitantly, feeling a chill run through her as she did. A low, distant sound, faint but clear, echoed down the corridor. It was the cry of a babe, the same haunting sound she’d heard moments ago.

A bright light shone down the end of the hall, and Alarra followed the path, the wails getting louder. Alarra peeled open the door at the end of the corridor to find the source. What lay in front of her now was her mother, laying on a bed with a babe in her arms, the crying ceased. Alarra’s eyes shimmered, able to see her mother again now. Tears pricked at Alarra’s eyes as she took in the scene before her. Her mother lay on the bed, looking as she had in Alarra’s memories: soft-eyed and gentle. Her mother held a newborn, swaddled tightly in soft cloth, the babe’s tiny fist clenched around a lock of her mother’s hair. The child’s cries softened at the gentle touch, settling into soft whimpers as her mother rocked him, humming a lullaby Alarra hadn’t heard in years.

“Mother.” Her mother did not notice her, for she was engulfed in the baby before her. Her mother spoke quietly.

“I shall name you…” And then her mother was gone, and Alarra let out a muffled cry, shaking her head. Alarra’s fingers passed through the empty mist that was once her mother and she staggered forward falling to her knees as the ground turned soft. Alarra was in a field of long thick pale needles and flowers of marigold and plum. Her fingers whispered amongst the shrubbery, lightly feeling the tall grassy hill. It was vast, and spread all around her but she could not see too far in front of her for a thick fog encapsulated the air. And then it started to snow.

She first saw a tiny spec of ice fall from the sky and land delicately in her hands. And then the ground was flooded with snow, encasing her legs as she knelt on the ground. It was not cold nor was it hot. Alarra felt at peace. Alarra closed her eyes just for a moment. For what felt like a second, letting the cool icicles settle on her skin as they softly melted away at the touch of her warm face.

The atmosphere around her was still and tranquil, almost as if Alarra was suspended in time and nothing could disturb the serene spirit of the snow. Alarra opened her eyes, the pure white snow had now been stained with a dark crimson color. The snow had been littered with blood all around her and Alarra’s breath caught in her throat again and again. She gulped in the air, turning head in a panic to find more blood scattered in the snow.

“Blood?” Alarra whispered to the emptiness and of course there was no answer for only the stillness of the snow clung to her.

“Vezhvenor.” A figure had appeared through the mist, approaching Alarra. Alarra’s head rose as she looked around her, wiping a stray tear from her cheek. Helaena was with her once more and she kneeled in front of Alarra.

“Wolves bite…” She started, her eyes scanning Alarra. Alarra finished the sentence for her.

“And dragons take flight.”

Alarra jolted awake in her bed, the sweat slick on her forehead. She was breathing heavily, and she felt her heart as it beat out of her chest. Alarra swung her feet over the edge of her bed, trying to comprehend her dreams. Her visions. The book she had been reading was frozen on her nightstand, and it lay untouched since she had grabbed it from the library. She was scared to read it. To see what it had within its pages for her to read. Alarra rose from her bed to grab a lit candle by her desk, returning to the edge of her bed. She sat the candle next to the book, reaching for the spine.

She sat the book in her lap, flipping open the first page. A picture of Bran the Builder was printed, and she traced the picture. Alarra grew up hearing stories of her ancestors. She knew almost everything about her family. Except what Aemond had shown her. And she was afraid of what the rest of the prophecy entailed. She had marked the page and she played with the book before turning open to the page of the prophecy. She scanned the page, reading the prophecy as a whole.

A prophecy forgotten by the Gods…

A Wolf from the North will bleed into the South.

Blood of a Wolf can start wars, but the blood of a Dragon will end the realm.

When one dragon meets fate, a Wolf will seek refuge.

Packs are large but dragons are much larger.

A Wolf from the North. A Dragon from the South.

Wolves bite, and dragons take flight.

The dragon's flame will burn the sky,

But in its ashes, a Wolf will rise.

Beneath the door, a path will unfold,

A bond of blood to be known by both shadow and light.

The Wolf will reign where it once bled.

For blood and bone is thicker than fire and steel.

Alarra finished reading the page, looking to the next to find that the rest of the next page had been ripped out. Alarra flipped through the rest of the book and it contained nothing but her past. Her house's legacy. Alarra scoffed, slamming the book shut. She knew exactly who did this and where he would be.

“Why did you rip out a page in this book?” Alarra slammed the book down in front of Aemond and he raised his eyes to meet hers, an irritated look on his face. He glanced at her before looking back down at the book on the table. His hair was draped carelessly over his shoulders and Alarra watched as he paid no mind to Alarra’s intrusion.

“That book is centuries old-” He started but Alarra would not have him avoid her inquiry.

“Answer the question.” Alarra bent down, setting her hands on the table inching forward towards Aemond. Alarra knew that she could not intimidate the prince but she still tried.

“The book was like that when I read it.” He responded while maintaining a steady gaze with Alarra. Alarra pushed herself backwards, away from Aemond. She huffed starting to get agitated with him. Liar.

“You are deceitful. And a liar-”

“I do not lie.” Alarra’s gaze hardened.

“That was a lie. All men lie.”

“Well I do not lie.” Alarra paced the floor while looking through the slim windows at the shine of the moon. How had she found herself alone with Aemond again?

“Do you dream during the moon’s rule, my prince?” Alarra raised an eyebrow at him and Aemond froze for a moment before responding softer than before.

“Dreams are not real.”

“But they can be. Your sister-”

“Do not bring my sister into your nightmares.”

“I never said they were night terrors.”

“I can see on your face that they were not pleasant,” Alarra gripped the table with her hands, a flash of anger contorting her features. “Alarra the Fierce scared? I did not think I would rue the day to see such a frightening individual cowering at ink on paper.” Alarra turned around from staring through the window to shoot him a sharp look.

“I am not scared.” She gritted below her teeth.

“Mhm, you call me a liar but you are a liar. Something is bothering Alarra the Fierce.” He said her name like he was mocking her and Alarra’s eyes hardened even more.

“You mock me.”

“I mock no one.”

“You lie again!” Alarra yelled, starting to move gradually towards Aemond. “I knocked you on your royal arse and you would be wise to not humor me.” Aemond stood from his seat, a small smirk on his face.

“Is that a threat?” Alarra was getting hot now.

“A promise.”

“You speak with such certainty…like a dog.” He snarled, slowly making his way over to Alarra. He now stood in front of her, his body towering over hers slightly. Alarra did not know what to do at that moment but remained still. “Do you obey your master like a dog as well?” He questioned, his head tilted to the side. He wanted to get a rise out of her. His hand rose as if he were going to grab her, and Alarra flinched. Aemond hummed lowly, his hand sinking back at his side. Aemond leaned down his face dangerously close to hers. Aemond didn’t know why he touched her. Why did he feel the urge to trace her scar, her face? Why was he so close to her?

The proximity was close; too close and Alarra held her breath for what felt like minutes; hours, waiting for the prince to speak. Aemond’s eyes scanned her face and his hand rose to her face, tracing the line of her scar. He dug his finger, his nail catching the healing skin, and Alarra blinked rapidly, her eyes watering, biting her tongue to swallow down a low groan of pain.

“Threaten me again and you will learn to obey.” His breath fanned over her face now, and Alarra swallowed as his finger traced her scar towards her lips before his hand stopped abruptly and he pulled away from her. He looked at her for a pregnant pause before swiftly turning and leaving the library. Alarra stood there, her thoughts a mess inside her head. Aemond had touched her. He had touched her face. Her scar. He had reached his hand voluntarily to touch her. Alarra raised a hand to touch her scar, feeling the blood already dripping on her cheek. Aemond was provoked by Alarra. But, Alarra was not angry.

No, she was fierce.

In the morning, the first thing Alarra did was visit the princess Helaena. She felt obligated to speak to the girl after her odd dreams. She wanted answers. And she thought that Helaena would give them to her, no matter how confusing her words might be. Helaena was standing on her terrace staring outside at King’s landing before her. At the structures and buildings, at her city. Alarra was behind her and Helaena turned, unafraid as if she was expecting her.

“Lady in Red.”

“Princess, I don't mean to intrude-”

“We spoke last night.”

“I'm sorry, I do not recall-”

“In the mist, we spoke in the mist.” Alarra approached the princess slowly, setting her hands on the railing of the balcony as she looked out into the city. Birds flew past in the morning dew and the sun was just starting to rise from below the skyline.

“I’m…scared.”

“We should all be scared for what is to come,” Helaena walked towards Alarra, standing next to her as Alarra still stared at the city.

“But, why-”

“I do not know. Answers are a precarious thing. Answers are something we seek but cannot find. They are hidden for a reason,” Helaena paused, seeming to gather her thoughts and sucking in a quiet rasp. “I dreamt of you, Lady in Red.” Alarra was getting slightly agitated now.

“Helaena, I do not wear red.” She said swiftly but Helaena’s eyes widened as if she were on the verge of tears and she grabbed Alarra by the shoulders tightly.

“It is not red that you will wear but the blood of those you have slain. Alarra the Fierce; Lady in Red,” Helaena shook Alarra as she held her and Alarra blinked, her face scrunched up in pure astonishment. “You, Alarra, have already begun the path. The door has closed and there is no return from what is to come.”

Cregan,

I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home. I want to come home.

A/N: Thanks so so much for continuing to read! I'm really excited to get more into the fantasy aspects and what roles Helaena will play in this story.

Tags: @mamawiggers1980, @kritara